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table, spread out every ten feet, each sitting in
a chair of ancient oak with elaborate carved wooden arms.
    “My liege, if I may begin,” Owen
called out.
    “You may. And keep it short. My
time is tight today.”
    “Your daughter will receive a
great many gifts today, which we all hope will fill her coffers. The thousands
of people paying tribute, presenting gifts to you personally, and filling our
brothels and taverns, will help fill the coffers, too. And yet the preparation
for today’s festivities will also deplete a good portion of the royal treasury.
I recommend an increase of tax on the people, and on the nobles. A one-time
tax, to alleviate the pressures of this great event.”
    MacGil saw the concern on his
treasurer’s face, and his stomach sank at the thought of the treasury’s
depletion. Yet he would not raise taxes again.
    “Better to have a poor treasury
and loyal subjects,” MacGil answered. “Our riches come in the happiness of our
subjects. We shall not impose more.”
    “But my liege, if we do not—”
    “I have decided. What else?”
    Owen sank back, crestfallen.
    “My king,” Brom said, in his deep
voice. “At your command, we have stationed the bulk of our forces in court for
today’s event. The show of power will be impressive. But we are stretched thin.
If there should be an attack elsewhere in the kingdom, we will be vulnerable.”
    MacGil nodded, thinking it
through.
    “Our enemies will not attack us
while we are feeding them.”
    The men laughed.
    “And what news from the
Highlands?”
    “There has been no reported
activity for weeks. It seems their troops have drawn down in preparation for
the wedding. Maybe they are ready to make peace.”
    MacGil was not so sure.
    “That either means the arranged
wedding has worked, or they wait to attack us at another time. And which do you
think it is, old man?” MacGil asked, turning to Aberthol.
    Aberthol cleared his throat, his
voice raspy as it came out: “My liege, your father and his father before him
never trusted the McClouds. Just because they lie sleeping, does not mean they
will not wake.”
    MacGil nodded, appreciating the
sentiment.
    “And what of the Legion?” he
asked, turning to Kolk.
    “Today we welcomed the new
recruits,” Kolk answered, with a quick nod.
    “My son among them?” MacGil asked.
    “He stands proudly with them all,
and a fine boy he is.”
    MacGil nodded, then turned to
Bradaigh.
    “And what word from beyond the
Canyon?”
    “My liege, our patrols have seen
more attempts to bridge the Canyon in recent weeks. There may be signs that the
Wilds are mobilizing for an attack.”
    A hushed whisper spread amongst
the men. MacGil felt his stomach tighten at the thought. The energy shield was
invincible; still, it did not bode well.
    “And what if there should be a
full-scale attack?” he asked.
    “As long as the shield is active,
we have nothing to fear. The Wilds have not succeeded in breaching the Canyon
for centuries. There is no reason to think otherwise.”
    MacGil was not so certain. An
attack from outside was long overdue, and he could not help but wonder when it
might be.
    “My liege,” Firth said in his
nasally voice, “I feel obliged to add that today our court is filled with many
dignitaries from the McCloud kingdom. It would be considered an insult for you
not to entertain them, rivals or not. I would advise that you use your
afternoon hours to greet each one. They have brought a large entourage, many
gifts—and, word is, many spies.”
    “Who is to say the spies are not
already here?” MacGil asked back, looking carefully at Firth as he did—and
wondering, as always, if he might be one himself.
    Firth opened his mouth to answer,
but MacGil sighed and held up a palm, having had enough. “If that is all, I
will leave now, to join my daughter’s wedding.”
    “My liege,” Kelvin said, clearing
his throat, “of course, there is one more thing. The tradition, on the day of
your