"I hadn't really thought about it," Mister Wolf said.
"Well, I have," she said. "I've had more than enough of wayside
hostels and seedy village inns. I need a bath, a clean bed and some
decent food. If you don't mind, I'll choose our lodging this time."
"Of course, Pol," Wolf said mildly. "Whatever you say."
"Very well, then," she said and rode on toward the city gate with the rest of them trailing behind her.
"What is your business in Camaar?" one of the fur-mantled guards at the broad gate asked rather rudely.
Aunt Pol threw back her hood and fixed the man with a steely gaze. "I
am the Duchess of Erat," she announced in ringing tones. "These are my
retainers, and my business in Camaar is my own affair."
The guard blinked and then bowed respectfully.
"Forgive me, your Grace," he said. "I didn't intend to give offense."
"Indeed?" Aunt Pol said, her tone still cold and her gaze still dangerous.
"I did not recognize your Grace," the poor man floundered, squirming under that imperious stare. "May I offer any assistance?"
"I hardly think so," Aunt Pol said, looking him up and down. "Which is the finest inn in Camaar?"
"That would be the Lion, my Lady."
"And-?" she said impatiently.
"And what, my Lady?" the man said, confused by her question.
"Where is it?" she demanded. "Don't stand there gaping like a dolt. Speak up."
"It lies beyond the customs houses," the guard replied, flushing at
her words. "Follow this street until you reach Customs Square. Anyone
there can direct you to the Lion."
Aunt Pol pulled her hood back up.
"Give the fellow something," she said over her shoulder and rode on into the city without a backward glance.
"My thanks," the guard said as Wolf leaned down to hand him a small
coin. "I must admit that I haven't heard of the Duchess of Erat before."
"You're a fortunate man," Wolf said.
"She's a great beauty," the man said admiringly.
"And has a temper to match," Wolf told him.
"I noticed that," the guard said.
"We noticed you noticing," Silk told him slyly.
They nudged their horses and caught up with Aunt Pol.
"The Duchess of Erat?" Silk asked mildly.
"The fellow's manner irritated me," Aunt Pol said loftily, "and I'm tired of putting on a poor face in front of strangers."
At Customs Square Silk accosted a busy-looking merchant trudging
across the snow-covered paving. "You-fellow," he said in the most
insulting way possible, pulling his horse directly in front of the
startled merchant. "My mistress, the Duchess of Erat, requires
directions to an inn called the Lion. Be so good as to provide them."
The merchant blinked, his face flushing at the rat-faced man's tone.
"Up that street," he said shortly, pointing. "Some goodly way. It will be on your left. There's a sign of a Lion at the front."
Silk sniffed ungraciously, tossed a few coins into the snow at the
man's feet and whirled his horse in a grand manner. The merchant, Garion
noted, looked outraged, but he did grope in the snow for the coins Silk
had thrown.
"I doubt that any of these people will quickly forget our passage," Wolf said sourly when they were some ways up the street.
"They'll remember the passage of an arrogant noblewoman," Silk said. "This is as good a disguise as any we've tried."
When they arnved at the inn, Aunt Pol commanded not just the usual
sleeping chambers but an entire apartment. "My chamberlain there will
pay you," she said to the innkeeper, indicating Mister Wolf. "Our
baggage horses are some days behind with the rest of my servants, so
I'll require the services of a dressmaker and a maid. See to it." And
she turned and swept imperially up the long staircase that led to her
apartment, following the servant who scurried ahead to show her the way.
"The duchess has a commanding presence, doesn't she?" the innkeeper ventured as Wolf began counting out coins.
"She has indeed," Wolf agreed. "I've discovered the wisdom of not countering her wishes."
"I'll be guided by you then," the innkeeper assured him. "My youngest
daughter is a serviceable girl. I'll dispatch her to serve as her
Grace's maid."
"Many thanks, friend," Silk told him. "Our Lady becomes most irntable
when those things she desires are delayed, and we're the ones who
suffer most from her displeasure."
They trooped up the stairs to the apartments Aunt Pol had taken and
stepped into the main sitting room, a splendid chamber far richer than
any Garion had seen before. The walls were covered by tapestries with
intricate pictures woven into the fabric. A wealth of candles - real wax
instead of smoky tallow - gleamed in sconces on the walls and in a
massive candelabra on the polished table. A good warm fire danced
merrily on the hearth, and a large carpet of curious design lay on the
floor.
Aunt Pol was standing before the fire, warming her hands. "Isn't this
better than some shabby, wharfside inn reeking of fish and unwashed
sailors?" she asked.
"If the Duchess of Erat will forgive my saying so," Wolf said
somewhat tartly, "this is hardly the way to escape notice, and the cost
of these lodgings would feed a legion for a week."
"Don't grow parsimonious in your dotage, Old Wolf," she replied. "No
one takes a sPolled noblewoman seriously, and your wagons weren't able
to keep that disgusting Brill from finding us. This guise is at least
comfortable, and it permits us to move more rapidly."
Wolf grunted. "I only hope we won't regret all this," he said.
"Stop grumbling, old man," she told him.
"Have it your way, Pol." He sighed.
"I intend to," she said.
"How are we to behave, Mistress Pol?" Durnik asked hesitantly. Her
sudden regal manner had obviously confused him. "I'm not familiar with
the ways of the gentry."
"It's quite simple, Durnik," she said. She eyed him up and down,
noting his plain, dependable face and his solid competence. "How would
you like to be chief groom to the Duchess of Erat? And master of her
stables?"
Durnik laughed uncomfortably. "Noble titles for work I've done all my
life," he said. "I could manage the work easily enough, but the titles
might grow a bit heavy."
"You'll do splendidly, friend Durnik," Silk assured him. "That honest
face of yours makes people believe anything you choose to tell them. If
I had a face like yours, I could steal half the world." He turned to
Aunt Pol. "And what role am I to play, my Lady?" he asked.