Responding to a blown whistle, several other Marah approached, menacing, sword hands ready. Among them was a face the man knew well but did not much care for. Rialus Neptos hung at the back of the new arrivals—no fighter he, but as usual eager to observe anything he could report to the queen. He was not her chancellor, as he was rumored to think himself, but everyone knew that he shared a closeness with Corinn Akaran that none could fathom. He was a councillor she seemed to grant as much access to as she offered her siblings.
Rialus was quicker than the rest to recognize the young man. For a moment he looked just as perplexed as the guards. “Draw no swords!” he shouted, pushing forward. “Draw no swords, you fools! Do you not see this is Prince Dariel?”
The second guard—the one who had touched him but not yet spoken—sputtered, “Prince—Prince Dariel?” He glanced at the others, his face twisted in puzzlement. He moved his hand away from his dagger as if shocked that he had ever gripped it. “Your Highness, I don’t understand.”
“Ah, you’ve pegged me,” the young man said, holding his mirthful expression a moment longer before breaking into laughter. “And your lack of comprehension is clear, friend! Your partners here are the more confused. Have I really been away for so long? I thought it just a few months!” He paused, but nobody had a ready response. “None of you has ever seen a prince in pauper’s clothing, I take it. It’s the man who makes the clothes, you know, not the other way around.” He danced in, suddenly light on his feet as if fencing. Nodding toward the councillor, he added, “Rialus Neptos, it seems, understands this better than most.”
The second guard continued to sputter, while his two companions begged forgiveness. Several of the newly arrived Marah bowed low to the ground. Rialus tried to form a question about his garb; seemed to sense the question was fraught with insult; and instead posed a series of queries, after none of which he kept quiet long enough to hear the answers to. Dariel mentioned casually that he was here to see the queen on matters of state. He should probably be on his way, but should Rialus prefer to interrogate him first … He sketched his indifference in the air with his hand. For that matter, he did not mind being delayed by each Marah who wished to question him. Of course, the queen might not like to be kept waiting. …
A moment later Dariel was striding along. Rialus shuffled a half step behind him, signaling furiously with his hands and arms and face at any soldier or guard that might possibly think to intercept them. By the confused looks the men and women sent him, it was clear few understood his antics. Not, at least, until they recognized Dariel’s face and bearing. Despite his garb the prince walked with assurance and obvious military fitness. All who might have questioned him instead stepped to the side.