Fyskar

Chapter 23

Fearchar and Seonaid stared up in awe at the massive arched gate at the bottom of the mountain passage. It soared to heights Eoin's memories had not clearly conveyed. They sat in a covered cart waiting as the line of merchants and travellers entered and exited through the pass. The guard in his uniform and Eoin in a pure white shroud rode on the front bench. A gate guard turned from the cart and rode his horse at a gallop up the path toward the top of the mountain.

His guard had initially baulked at bringing Fearchar and Seonaid. With some cajoling, the man had relented. It had been months to get from the Isle of Skye to the middle of Persia. They had taken a ship around Spain and saw the Mediterranean through Egypt and into the depths of the desert.

They rolled through the main street of the city. Eoin's companions were surprised by the luxury that even the lowest of the people appeared to experience. Clear water ran in channels from the top of the mountain down to free-flowing fountains rimmed with vegetation and shade. The people, upon seeing the guard, were curious but didn't give the cart much thought. The wheels cracked and rattled on the cobbled road. It made slow progress as people milled about the street, selling and bartering goods.

Eoin clambered his way over the bench to the back of the wagon and dug around in his pack. Vanora ruffled her feathers at his scent so close to her perch. He whistled a low note of reassurance. She stepped sideways and then back, settling her plumage. He pulled from his bag a long length of gold chain, a thin gold necklace, a key, the signet ring, and a lock through which the loops of shimmering yellow were secured.

"Eoin?" Seonaid crooned softly. The thought still grated at her.

The white-haired man raised an eyebrow for a second and smiled reassuringly. It is how it needs to be, he placated as he looped the chain through his bracers and locked it. It's a show. It will be all right. He carefully tied the necklace, key, and ring back into his duffel bag, certain to keep it from getting lost. The Fyskar took a large wrapped package from his pack and set it on the bench. He pulled his shroud back on and clambered into the front.

They approached the second gate, this one grander than the last. Seonaid could not suppress her gasp at the staggering beauty. Eoin smirked under his shroud. He remembered that reaction, the same he had experienced on his first approach to the palace years ago.

The men at the gate called to the guard on the cart, and they discussed something Seonaid and Fearchar could not comprehend. Axel creaking, the coach came to a jittery stop. The gate guards surrounded the carriage to look in and were greatly surprised to see Fearchar in a brightly patterned kilt and Seonaid in her matched dress, wrapped in an equally bright tartan. Admittedly, they had never seen a red-haired man before, so that was unusual in and of itself.

They crept to the passenger side of the cart. Eoin threw up a hand, his bracer and chain flashing in the sunlight before they could tug his shroud away from him. The men backed away with a bark of orders. A bar dropped, and the gates opened with a clatter. One of the guards broke away from the group and ran through the gates.

The carriage tugged forward, and Eoin's heart was in his throat. He fidgeted with the package on his lap. The wood beneath his taping feet echoed under the creak and strain of the pulling donkeys.

Inside the palace gates, Fearchar and Seonaid could not stop staring. Around them, more fountains, more tile, more plants than they could have imagined lent the space a sense of paradise. Birds sang from the trees. Palms waved softly above them, throwing dappled shade around the perimeter of the brilliant courtyard. Honeysuckle bloomed profusely on grates, scenting the air heavily.

The guard pulled to a stop and allowed Fearchar and Seonaid off of the cart while he had a pair of servants take their luggage. Seonaid, taking Eoin's gauntlet, encouraged Vanora to her hand.