She was working in the palace gardens, helping her father tend to the flowers when they came. She saw the carriage when it was still a ways off and got herself up, brushing the grass and pollen from her dress.
"Horses," her father observed. He lifted his head, still deep in his work. "Do you know the carriage?"
"It's Sebastian," she told him. Her voice was sweet and light. "The carriage is Mr. Carder's, but Sebastian is with him, I'm sure."
"Does the Seer have need of Carder?" he asked her, his hands continuing to work.
"Yes," she nodded. "He had told me he has some business in Delphi. He had hoped that Mr. Carder would join us in it."
"Dorcus..." he said, and his light grey eyes met the soft grey-blue of her own, "this doesn't involve the ambassador, does it?"
"I suppose it might," she admitted. "With Mr. Benzulum's passing, there is a need..."
"To fill the position, yes," her father stated, raising his tanned face. "But, Dorcus, the ambassador is appointed by the Council. Is it right for the Seer to be involved in his selection? We have always kept the positions separate."
"Yes, but..." Dorcus stopped herself, careful to remain respectful of her father and his words.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't," he assured her. "Only that you should be careful you are not overreaching. A seer could easily go off course, and an ambassador is not easy to find."
"Yes, sir," she muttered softly.
'What can I say?' She tugged nervously at the skirt of the lavender dress she wore. 'He sounds like Timothy.'
Dorcus Garner was only who she was because of the King's blessing and Sebastian's insistence. Though the sacred texts of the Kingsmen and the Altrüic governmental charter by no means forbid it, there was a certain stigma against women in positions of leadership, and, despite there having been a handful of cases referencing such heroic women recorded in the holy books, this stigma was held especially strong in Tyra and her home region of Sa'ar. It was one of the few points on which the neighboring regions refrained from squabbling, and one which her brother, Timothy, took very seriously.
Her father had always been a bit more supportive. Even so, times like this would come when he would speak and she would know he had been listening to Timothy again.
"Howbeit," she added quietly, "I don't believe that Seer Trimble would involve himself in anything so improperly scandalous as mishandling his office and usurping the ambassador's position."
"Perhaps," he said plainly.
The carriage approached, pulled along by an fine looking stallion of a beautiful chestnut hue, and driven by a man in a dark suit with a pink flower decorating his lapel and a top hat set upon his head. It was a hansom cab with a door on either side and privacy blinds to separate its riders from the troubles of the world around them. On its side, it bore the seal of the Delphian Regional Representative: the arms of two armored men of might, their hands clasped in promise with a blazing heart between them and the words: Forever Faithful, Forever Ready.
As the coach pulled around to the base of the palace stairs, Dorcus ran to meet them. The driver dismounted, opening the door to the welcome appearance of Jordan Carder in his classical Delphian garb and Sebastian Trimble in his usual fine robes and seer's cloak.
The two exited the cab promptly, and Dorcus humbled herself in greeting. "My lords," she said, curtsying as they approached her.
"Miss Garner," Jordan responded politely with a bow.
"Dorcus," Sebastian said, smiling. "How nice of you to come. Representative Carder and I are on our way to find a man in Delphi, and it would be very good if you would join us."
"Of course," she replied humbly, bowing her head. A strand of hair fell in her face, and she carefully moved it, tucking it back behind her ear.
"Good," Sebastian said. "We'll take a cart, then. This is lovely," he said, tapping the side of the Delphian carriage with his walking stick, "but cramped, and I do not wish to draw attention to us. We are to be observers only. Then, the summons will come following the Council's approval."
The stressed the end of the sentence, and she could guess why he did. There would be many like her father who would see the Seer's involvement in the selection process as a breach of the well maintained wall between the two positions of the Kingsmen Representatives in the King's Court. If rumors were to start or a newspaper to grab hold of it, the story would be a greater scandal than was his selection of her as his apprentice and eventual successor. The choice of an ambassador had to come from the Council and the Council only. The advertisement of the presence of a representative of the region would only draw greater attention to them and complicate things.
"Very well," Jordan agreed pleasantly. "But where is it we will be going in said cart?"
Dorcus held back from laughing. Jordan had a happy energetic spirit about him which was always refreshing and often quite amusing.
"Damascus," Sebastian told him. "We will go there and meet a man such as, I promise you, our eyes have never seen. He is a man of steadfast love and cheerful acceptance. He is unassuming and thinks of himself but a little. He has little desire for greatness but only desireth that which should come to him by the hand of our benevolent King." He paused. "Your heart will be towards him as mine is and more. Jordan, he will call you friend and you will love him as a brother. And you, Dorcus," he said, turning his eyes intensely towards her, "he will see you as he does himself. His heart will be forever towards you, and he will call you by his name. He will allow you neither harm nor hurt, and you will delight yourself in his acceptance."
She and Jordan were quiet, feeling the weight of the words he had spoken over them.
"Say," Jordan inquired softly of his friend, "Sebastian, who is this man?"
"Mr. Carder, how are you on your reading?" the Seer asked.
Jordan grinned as he breathed a breath of laughter. "Not too badly behind," he said. "Actually, I'm rather up to date, if you can imagine it."
"Good," Sebastian said, nodding. "Then, perhaps you've read either The Epitome of Faith or Neither Rhyme Nor Reason?"
"Yes," Jordan said, intrigued. "By Webber, aren't they?"
Sebastian smiled. "Yes, and as it happens, Mr. Webber will be speaking in Damascus this coming evening. Perhaps you would like to see him on our way?" he implicitly suggested.
Dorcus's ears perked. The books were well known, modern books of Kingsmen theory and theological discourse regarding the sacred texts and present application from the view of the armorial tradition. It was exciting, because the books were so widely read and loved throughout the empire. Although, the author himself, apart from his name as he signed it, remained a humble man of mystery, entirely unknown to the masses but for his writings, in which he spoke very little of himself.
Jordan smiled. "Oh, really?" He grabbed his orangey chinstrap of a beard with a curious look of satisfaction. "Yes. Yes, Mr. Trimble, why don't we?"
'E. H. Webber... I am delighted at the thought that I might meet him.' Dorcus thought for a minute, then smiled. 'Timothy hates him.'