The Immortal Crown (Age of X #2)(23)
Author: Richelle Mead

Geraki shook his head, which didn’t surprise Justin in the least, and then said almost hesitantly, “In my vision, I saw a golden eagle.”

Justin waited expectantly, but nothing else came. “That’s not particularly helpful.”

I don’t suppose that means anything to you guys? he asked the ravens.

No, admitted Horatio. Except that eagles are arrogant.

And, added Magnus, that if Odin sent his prophet a vision about it, it is a dire matter, one you should be taking seriously.

Give me more details, and we’ll talk.

But the ravens had none to give, and Justin could only write it all off as another part of the frustration of working with gods.

“At least go in prepared,” Geraki told him. “Have your weapons ready.”

“I don’t use weapons either,” said Justin.

“You know what I mean,” Geraki told him. “You’ve learned many of Odin’s secrets from me, from the ravens.”

It was true to a certain extent. In the last couple of months, Justin had unwillingly received a crash course in Odin’s lore and the Nordic runes: the mystical symbols his followers used both for guidance and spellcasting. It was part of the oath Justin had taken to learn such things, and his quick mind couldn’t help but take it in. But he’d gone out of his way not to put what he’d learned into any sort of practical application, aside from the charm that had hidden him as one of the elect in Nassau.

“Learning isn’t the same as practicing,” said Justin. “And I’m doing just fine with the former.”

Geraki sighed and crossed his muscled arms over his equally bulky chest. “Then you’re a fool. If a god told me I was walking into danger, I’d take every precaution necessary.”

“I don’t need him to tell me. And I’ve got more faith in our military than him, I’m afraid.”

“You’re a fool,” Geraki repeated.

The words had little effect on Justin, seeing as he heard them pretty regularly during their meetings. Geraki always spoke them with a kind of grudging fondness, though, like Justin were simply an unruly child. After a few more ominous words from Geraki, Justin was able to ascertain that the other man truly knew nothing more about Arcadia.

The ravens didn’t either, save that Odin had a task in mind. Satisfied he’d get nothing else, Justin took another cup of coffee to go and then headed back to his office to meet up with Mae for the briefing.

Fortunately, she was back in business mode and made no mention of her earlier pleadings or subsequent gratitude. Over in the senate, they were led to a conference room filled with a dozen men and women in suits and several black-uniformed praetorians. Mae didn’t let down her guard as she and Justin took seats near the end of a long table, but he saw her flash a smile to many of the praetorians, who smiled in return.

Conversation buzzed around them in small clusters, with no one really taking charge of the meeting. It wasn’t until ten minutes after the start time that Lucian burst in with aides and security trailing in his wake.

He beamed at the room with his trademark smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Got waylaid by some lobbyists who just couldn’t seem to understand that our country’s security was more important than setting up a golf date.”

There were polite chuckles around the room, and from the shining eyes in some of them, Justin found it hard to believe Lucian had anything to worry about in the polls. These people were eating out of his hand.

A man named Atticus Marley soon took charge—after making sure Lucian was comfortable, of course—and Justin learned he was the closest the RUNA had to an ambassador in Arcadia. He’d been instrumental in many negotiations and was an expert in their culture and social systems. Lucian might be the mascot in their party, but Atticus was the unofficial leader and guide. Most of the suits in the room were advisers staying in the RUNA, and he introduced them to the other key personnel who’d actually be traveling to Arcadia. One was a man named Phil Ramirez, who would be working on some technology and trade issues as a sign of good will toward the Arcadians.

The other man, named George Yi, was posing as a professor of comparative cultural arts but was, in reality, a military analyst hoping to spy out any illicit doings on the Arcadian side. He seemed pleasantly surprised that Justin was, in fact, a real religion expert.

“Here,” said Atticus, turning on a screen at the front of the room, “is where we’ll be staying. Although there are inns and hotels in Arcadia, it’s considered bad form to put high profile guests there.” A satellite image appeared, showing a top-down view of a cluster of buildings around some land covered in yellowing grass. He chuckled as he glanced back at the group. “So you can take pride at being shown this regard.”

Phil Ramirez looked dubious. “I’d rather have a high-rise with room service.”

Justin silently concurred. The compound looked like a glorified farm to him, and he listened as Atticus explained how their host was a high-ranking government official who’d go to the trouble of displacing his wives and children in order to accommodate them.

“Wives?” asked George Yi. “And here I thought that was just something out of the movies.”

“Not among the more powerful members of Arcadian society,” said Atticus. “They can afford multiple wives and concubines. Some among the lower classes have the brute force to kidnap them.”

One of the praetorians crossed her arms. “What’s the difference between a wife and a concubine?”

“Alimony?” suggested Phil.

“Not far off,” said Attitcus. “A wife is forever in Arcadia—barring rare examples of divorce. A man has certain obligations to provide for her and her children, though you’ll find some fulfill those responsibilities questionably. Wives are also afforded certain status and protection. Concubines are more transient. Sex and other labor only. A man can share or sell his concubine. He can sell her children. And although an Arcadian wife has few rights, as we view them, a concubine has even less.” His eyes fell on Mae and the other three praetorian women in turn. “And you, I’m afraid, are going to be fulfilling the roles of concubines.”

“I beg your pardon?” demanded another praetorian woman.

Atticus actually flushed. “I should be clearer. You’ll be, uh, playacting. Not actually performing any duties. The gender disparity you’re seeing here isn’t an accident.” He nodded to Lucian, Phil, George, and Justin. “They—and myself—are the principle players on this trip. This is what the Arcadians will expect. It wouldn’t even occur to them that important, powerful diplomats would be anything but men.