The D'Karon Apprentice by Joseph R. Lallo

tamed, woven
into an intricate braid and topped with a silver chain headpiece.
To her left, standing carefully away from Ivy, was a young woman in
similar but lesser attire. To Ivy’s right was Greydon Celeste,
dressed in formal but, again, lesser attire.
    “I’m excited,” Ivy said, offering a nervous
smile to her lady-in-waiting. “Aren’t you?”
    She replied with a demure grin and nod.
    “I’m nervous too. Are you nervous?” Ivy
asked.
    Another smile was her only reply.
    “Why aren’t you answering?” Ivy asked.
    “Because her role is to see to secretarial
matters and those of etiquette. She isn’t to address any members of
the delegation directly. That is the role of the diplomats and
ambassadors,” Celeste quietly instructed.
    “Oh… yes, yes. That’s right. You told me
that.” She fidgeted. “I don’t know what to do with my hands.”
    “Fold them in front of you. And stand still,”
he said gently. “Do you remember the Tresson greeting?”
    “I hold out my right hand and clasp their
left shoulder, and they do the same to me.”
    “Correct. But do not touch their shoulder
until they raise their hand to do the same.”
    Ivy nodded and took a steadying breath.
Almost immediately she started fidgeting again.
    “These slippers don’t fit properly. Women’s
shoes just don’t fit my feet right. Can I do this barefoot?”
    “I would advise against it.”
    “I wish they would have let me cut a hole for
my tail. The dress is bulgy in the back.” She ran her hands down
the dress in a failed attempt to flatten it.
    Her breathing became faster, and she began
wringing her hands. When the horns sounded, heralding the arrival
of the dignitaries at the city gates, she nearly leaped out of her
skin.
    “This… this was a mistake. I shouldn’t be the
one doing this.” Her eyes darted, and though somewhat concealed by
the similarly colored dress, a blue aura flared faintly around
her.
    “It wasn’t your decision. They requested you.
It is your duty to serve.”
    She looked to him, desperation in her eyes.
“You should do this. You’re an ambassador. You can do this!”
    “They requested you. It would be an insult to
refuse.”
    “But what if they don’t like me?”
    “They won’t like you. You are a
malthrope and a Northerner. You are everything they have been
taught since birth to despise. But they are diplomats. If they are
well trained, they will behave with respect and decorum.”
    “Th-this is going to be a disaster! I’m going
to ruin things! I’m going to make all of Kenvard look bad. I-I
can’t do this.”
    The blue aura was intensifying, flickering
and flashing around her as she struggled to control it. Her
lady-in-waiting took two startled steps back, gasping.
    “I have to go! I have to go away right
now! ”
    She grasped her skirt and hiked it up to keep
from tripping over it, then turned toward the back of the church,
eying a door she knew led to the alley behind it.
    “Ivy.”
    Greydon did not bellow the name. He merely
spoke it, but somehow it had all of the force and authority of a
command called down from the mountaintops. She stopped and snapped
her head to him. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked her
evenly in the eyes.
    “Listen carefully. This meeting, this visit,
exists because of you. You are a warrior and this is your land. You
helped end the war. You are responsible for the peace we now
enjoy. The people who will walk through that door are diplomats.
They and a thousand like them were appointed by their king to
negotiate an end to the war and they failed. You succeeded.
You and the others have done more for the cause of peace than
anyone else in either kingdom for more than a century. They should
feel honored to stand in your presence. They came here to see you . They selected you because they knew there
was no greater honor than to meet you. All you need to do is greet
them and let them see the sort of person it takes to change the
world. Just be