John Flanagan - Erak_s ransom

Evanlyn inclined her head deeply. She'd been told by Lord Anthony that strict protocol required a woman to curtsey in this sort of situation. But she'd told him that she'd be damned if she did.

'Excellence,' she said, holding the bow for several seconds, then looking up.

The Wakir gestured for her to approach and as she stepped towards the low dais he said, 'Please be seated, my lady.'

Evanlyn froze in mid-step. A small frown crossed her face.

'I am Crown Princess of Araluen, Excellence. As such, I am addressed as "your highness". Or, if that isn't acceptable to your own dignity, "Princess Cassandra" would be suitable.'

Good girl, thought Halt, although his face remained inscrutable as ever.

The Wakir seemed a little flustered by her reaction. He glanced to one side and for a moment, Evanlyn had the distinct impression that he was looking to Selethen for guidance. She had an urge to look at the captain as well but she knew she must keep her gaze fixed on the Wakir.

'Of course, of course! A slip of the tongue. Apologies, Princess… your highness,' he said, waving a hand to dismiss his unintentional gaffe. 'Please, please, sit with me.'

For a moment, Evanlyn fought an overwhelming urge to giggle as she wondered what he'd do if she took him literally and hopped up to sit on his knee on the massive carved chair. She struggled to keep a straight face, realising that the urge was a reaction to her nervousness. Her hesitation served her well, however, as the Wakir took it as a further sign of her displeasure. He rose from his chair. Will had to hide a smile as he saw how awkward this movement was. The short-legged Arridi ruler had to skid his behind forward to the edge of the seat, then virtually drop to the floor.

Having been shorter than most of those around him all his life, Will enjoyed seeing someone else struggling with the problem.

'Sit, your highness, please!' he repeated and Evanlyn nodded her consent, moved to a richly upholstered bench that Selethen placed before her and sat gracefully. The Wakir nodded. He climbed back aboard his seat, wriggling his backside again to get into position, cast another sideways glance, then licked his lips nervously. Evanlyn thought she might as well take charge of matters.

'We've come to discuss the ransom of our friend Erak, Oberjarl of Skandia,' she said. Her voice was high and clear. 'We understand you have set a sum for this?'

'We have,' the Wakir replied. 'The sum required is… ' Again he hesitated and again there was that sideways shift of the eyes. Evanlyn frowned. The man seemed very unsure of himself, she thought. Then he continued. 'Eighty thousand reels of silver.' There was a renewed tone of confidence in his voice now that he spoke the figure, as if it had just been confirmed for him.

Evanlyn shook her head. 'Too high,' she said firmly. The Wakir jerked back in his seat in surprise.

'Too high?' he repeated and Evanlyn nodded. She was conscious of Anthony's briefing on this matter. They'll expect you to bargain, he had said. It's a virtual insult if you don't.

'We're offering fifty thousand,' Evanlyn told him calmly. The Wakir's hands flew about his head in an agitated fashion.

'Fifty thousand? But that's… ' He hesitated and Evanlyn finished for him.

'Our offer.'

The Wakir's hand played with his chin, tugging at the loose flesh below it. His eyes took on a crafty look.

'All very well to offer such a low price, your highness. But how do I know you are capable of paying even that much? How do I know you are authorised?'

'You have my seal,' Evanlyn said simply. She had seen the seal box that she had returned to Selethen the previous day. It was sitting on a side table beside the Wakir's chair. He looked at it now, picked it up and opened the hinged top.,

'Aaah, yes. Your seal,' he said, studying it.

'It identifies me as the Princess Cassandra of Araluen,' Evanlyn replied and Halt, listening intently, detected the slightest note of suspicion in her voice.

Again the Wakir fingered his chin.

'So you say. But this seal, of course, could belong to… ' He looked around the room, waved his hand indefinitely and finished, '… anybody.'

Evanlyn sat back on her bench for a few seconds, her mind racing. She' knew that countries kept a register of official seals and she knew that Arrida was on the list of countries with which Araluen had exchanged such information. Before she had left Araluen, Duncan and Anthony had assured her that in the last exchange, some six months prior, her seal had been included with Duncan's as a matter of course. The Wakir should know that. If he didn't, it could mean only one thing…

Abruptly, she rose from her chair and turned to her five waiting companions.

'Let's go,' she said crisply.

She didn't hesitate, but strode decisively through them. They hurried to follow in her wake, her boot heels loud on the tiled floor. Behind them, there was a buzz of activity on the dais. Will glanced back and saw the Wakir had come to his feet again, and was gesturing uncertainly towards Selethen. The captain stepped forward now and called after her.

'Princess Cassandra! Please wait!'

Evanlyn stopped and turned deliberately.

'Wait?' she asked and he moved towards her, hands stretched out in an imploring gesture. 'Why should I wait to be insulted any further? You've had me dealing with an impostor. I'll wait in the guesthouse, but only as long as the real Wakir doesn't make himself known by next tide, then, we're leaving.'

Selethen hesitated, then his shoulders relaxed and he smiled ruefully.

'My apologies, your highness.' He turned to the tubby little figure on the dais. 'Thank you, Aman. You did your best.'

The fake Wakir shrugged disconsolately. 'I'm sorry, Excellence. She caught me by surprise.'

The suspicion that had been growing in Evanlyn's mind was confirmed. She raised an eyebrow at the captain. 'Excellence?' she repeated and he shrugged.

'Aman is my accountant,' he said. 'As I think you just guessed, I am Wakir of Al Shabah. Now perhaps you could come back and we'll begin to negotiate in earnest.'

Evanlyn hesitated. She was tempted to stand on her dignity. Then she thought about Erak and realised that every second of delay would cause him discomfort and uncertainty.

'Very well,' she said and walked back to the dais. The four Araluans and Svengal followed her. As they marched back up the audience hall, Horace leaned down to Will and whispered in his ear.

'Is she good at this, or what?'

Selethen led them out of the large audience hall to a smaller chamber set to one side. There was a low central table surrounded by thick, comfortable cushions. Arched, unglazed windows looked out onto a shaded verandah while a slow-moving fan, obviously kept moving by an unseen servant, swung back and forth overhead, keeping a cool breeze moving through the room.

Selethen gestured for them to sit. This time, Will realised, there was no position of power for the Wakir. He sat on the same level as his guests. Two of his soldiers remained in the room standing impassively to either side of the door. At a signal from from one, servants emerged through a far archway and placed bowls of fruit on the table, along with a coffee and small cups. Evanlyn hid a smile as she saw the Rangers' eyes light up at the sight of the last items.

'My apologies for the play acting outside,' Selethen said smoothly. He looked slightly amused by the whole proceeding, Will thought. Evanlyn showed no sign of any reciprocal amusement.

'Was it really necessary?' she asked coldly and Selethen inclined his head.

'I'm afraid I felt it was, your highness,' he said. Evanlyn went to speak but he continued, 'You must appreciate that I needed to be sure I was dealing with someone who has full power to negotiate. After all, I expected Svengal here,' he nodded towards the Skandian, who was trying to make himself comfortable sitting cross-legged on a cushion, 'to return some months hence with the ransom money. A delegation from Araluen, arriving so soon and apparently acting on his behalf, was definitely a surprise. I suspected a trick.'