Later that evening, Kaylan entered the banquet hall bathed and dressed in freshly laundered clothes.  She was not accustomed to wearing gowns and flat out refused to wear one tonight.  Instead, she chose a loose white linen shirt that tied at the neck with a pair of leather breeches and a black velvet vest to match.  The shirt, of course, was not tied and the laces were pulled loose to allow her to breathe easier in a terribly uncomfortable environment.  Her freshly polished boots made a light clicking sound on the flagstone tiles as she traversed the perimeter of the hall.

Kaylan distinctly disliked formal events and worked hard to be absent from the fortress whenever there was a possibility that she would be subject to attend one.  The other ladies from the surrounding kingdom used these events to display the “wealth” of their husbands.  They were outfitted in gowns that must have required an entire bolt of fabric, if not two bolts, and consumed far too much of the dance floor wherever they stood or danced.  The glitter and glow of the ridiculous jewels that adorned their hair, ears, necks and fingers was almost blinding to Kaylan.  Then there were the men.  They were just as bad in their gaudy “finery”.  The splash of vibrant color moving across the dance floor looked more like a roving peacock on display.  She was a much simpler woman.  The only embellishment she wore was the dragon dagger insignia of her station that was embroidered in silver on the lapel of her vest and the Marshall family ring on a chain around her neck.  It had been designed for the Marshall family several hundred years past and sized for a man’s fingers not a woman’s.  She decided not to destroy the elegance of the ring by having it resized to fit her slender fingers.  Besides, she thought to herself, wearing the ring would just interfere with my swordplay.  She smiled to herself at the idea of a handicap on the sparring field as she approached Tramadon and the flock of courtiers that surrounded him.

Tramadon, too, looked decidedly uncomfortable in his deep blue and silver brocade coat complete with silver trim, white silk shirt and black leather breeches that shimmered in the candlelight provided by the giant chandelier in the center of the hall.  Kaylan noticed that he looked rather regal in spite of his discomfort, at least until he started pulling at the collar of his shirt.  She knew he did not care for these frivolities any more than she did.  She smiled openly as she saw him tug at the collar again.  She made her way over to the group that had gathered around Tramadon to present herself.  Upon her arrival, she bowed deeply to Cahill and Jamison, addressing neither specifically, then turned to Tramadon.

“Good evening my lords,” she said still smiling.  Tramadon tried not to show his disgust but without much success.

The duke and baron bowed slightly and replied, “Marshall,” in unison. Duke Cahill commented, “We did not see you at the table, Marshall.”

“No, my Lord, you did not.  I had need to complete a written account of my travels for the treasury before I was able to attend.  My apologies for keeping you from my company,” replied Kaylan with another winsome smile.  She turned to Tramadon in time to see him tug once more at his collar.  She grinned openly at his apparent suffering.  Tramadon ignored her grin and gazed out over the crowd dancing in the middle of the hall floor.  Kaylan stepped closer to Tramadon and whispered, “Having fun yet?”  She followed her question with a low sinister little giggle.

The look he shot her would have quelled a lesser individual.  She, however, was not one to be quelled.  She continued to revel in his obvious discomfort until he grinned with a devious glint in his eye when he looked at her.  She could see the wheels in his head turning and she knew this was not going to be good.  Before she could escape, however, Tramadon had linked his arm through hers and all but dragged her onto the dance floor while saying, “Marshall, would you do me the honor of this dance?”  Then, as if she could or would object, he said, “Excellent, thank you, Marshall.”  He led her to the far side of the hall, twirled her around to face him and began to dance.

“You are evil,” she accused him with a glare.

“Be sweet, Marshall, it wasn’t but a moment ago you were being slightly evil to me, were you not?” he asked her, smiling quite satisfied with his own cleverness.

Kaylan relented and returned his smile with a lighthearted laugh.  She was certain this was to be a ruse, one she would have to play along with or suffer dire consequences.  As quietly as possible she asked, “So, what’s with your new ‘friends’?  They seem a little… peculiar.”  She looked into his eyes to see if they betrayed anything that his words could not.

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” he started, just as quietly.  “They are trying to ascertain specifically what it is that you are searching for.  I think they already know and are only looking for confirmation, but honestly I am not certain.  They received word that you were questioning the elders about things that were, in their words, ‘simply not Marshall affairs.’  Kaylan, I get the distinct impression you are attempting to take on a beast the size of which we know nothing about.”  He looked at her affectionately knowing full well she would read volumes into that look and understand his concern for this had always been the way of their relationship.

“What business is it of theirs what I do?  I am your Marshall, subject only to you - no one else.  So far as what is and is not my concern, everything in this kingdom that has a potential effect on you or your rule is most definitely my concern.  You can tell them I said that too,” she stated almost vehemently.

“Your station is designed as such, yes, but as long as you require the basic essentials to live – you know, air to breathe, food to eat, water to drink – your life will also be in danger by those that fear you but do not fear punishment if an ‘accident’ were to happen,” Tramadon countered.  Kaylan’s mind flashed back to her conversation with Vatia who had essentially said the very same.

“What on earth would they gain by my death?  Between Vatia, Denadyne and these two morons nothing adds up other than someone may want me dead.  That’s not really anything new.  And why question you regarding my whereabouts?  You don’t always know or want to know, for that matter, where I am or what I am doing,” she said completely confused.

“That’s just it – they think I have given you too much free rein and I need to reel you back in – shorten your leash, so to speak.  They are afraid what old wounds you are reopening by dredging up ancient histories that renew an age old sentiment of hatred and distrust.  And who are Vatia and Denadyne?” Tramadon kept the frustration from his voice but there was still an edge to it that he didn’t typically have when speaking to her.  She could see these two pompous idiots had Tramadon’s patience and congeniality stretched to the limits.  He was not an unfair man, however, when push came to shove, he had a fairly stern shove.

“They aren’t important right now.  Although, I do need to travel to Vacchón based on something Denadyne mentioned.  I can’t go into details about it right now but just know that this could be vital to my search.  Considering the current situation it is probably better that I not give you any details anyway.  At least then you won’t have to lie when you say you don’t know what my reasons are.”   Kaylan tried not to sound too irritated that she had mentioned his name.  Tramadon did not seem alerted to her frustrations with herself only the two vultures hovering over him.

“Your ‘search’ may have to be put on hold for a little while.  I don’t know how feasible it’s going to be for you to leave the Fortress.  As I said, they seem to think I need to keep you on a shorter leash.  I realize they are politicians that will say whatever they need to in order to get what they want.  Politically, I have to take them at face value due to their titles.  That does not mean I have to force you to believe them nor trust them…. I certainly do not,” he lowered his voice even more to guarantee he would not be overheard by unwanted listeners.

Kaylan and Tramadon twirled and floated across the floor in time to the music as they spoke.  They gazed into each other’s eyes as if they were completely enamored with each other.  Perhaps in another lifetime under different circumstances, Kaylan thought, we could have spent our lives together as husband and wife instead of master and servant. 

Kaylan missed a step in the dance and was brought back to reality.  This particular type of ruse was not without substantial effort for Kaylan.  She was not the most graceful dancer but Tramadon’s expertise made it look effortless for them both.  She smiled thinking of these things and he returned it with one of his own without the slightest notion for why she was smiling.  The music slowed then came to an end.  They were standing at the far end of the hall where they turned to the musicians along the wall of the grand hall and bowed gently in applause.  The director, seeing the king’s pleasure, struck up another melody for the members to play before the king could change his mind.  He and Kaylan picked up their dance and their conversation where they had left off.

Kaylan studied Tramadon’s face while he gazed across the room to the two vipers that had been plaguing him with questions for the last three days.  He was not as young as he normally appeared and today he seemed worn and wearied.  He should not have so much concern for her personal wellbeing as he should for his kingdom.  She had heard that, when she accepted the position of Marshall, her father had requested the king take special measures not to endanger her life unnecessarily.  It wasn’t a request that should have been made but because of his loyalty and dedicated service to both Tramadon and his own father, King Kendrick, it was deemed to be at least a reasonable appeal.  Bruhndahl did not always agree with the kings he served but he was loyal to his station to protect both king and kingdom.  She knew, too, that because Tramadon respected Bruhndahl he would never relieve himself of guilt if she died while in service to him.