It is a busy day at the city gates, even one this humble. No one important would ever come to the tiny East Gate, barely big enough for one cart to pass at a time. There is nothing but farmland for days in this direction, and it leads to a less savory part of town, mainly slaughterhouses and tanners. The guards are tense and tired, but they know their business, and the people they see are easily categorized. This one, for instance, is barefoot, wearing only a simple brown robe, and leading a shaggy mule. Only the fact that she is a woman distinguishes her from half a dozen religious types that have come through already.
"What is your business in the Great City of Kumalt?"
"I come to pay tribute to the King upon his coronation." Her voice is unusually cultured and soft for someone of such humble appearance, but many sects stress education, and the guards are more interested in her words than the tone in which they are delivered.
"You, pay tribute? With your one mule?" The scorn is barely veiled.
"I have come far, and a mule is sure of foot." The younger guard finds the woman's calm slightly unnerving. She isn't the least bit intimidated, despite the guards' position, numbers, and weapons.
The head guard sighs. "We'll have to look in your packs."
"As you wish." The packs contain a little food, a single change of clothing, and the bottoms are lined with rough rocks, most the size of large gravel. The guard entertains the notion that the woman is touched in the head, but she moves with purpose, and seems calm.
"You're going to give the king rocks as tribute?"
"I am."
"What if he doesn't want rocks?"
"We shall see."
"You're not going to throw them, are you?" There is a note of warning there, but he isn't really expecting a problem.
"I wouldn't think of it," she assures him.
The junior guard asks, "Maybe we should stop her?"
The senior guard has a more straightforward view, and sorer feet. "We are here to look for threats to the king. I don't see her being a threat to the king, so it's not our problem."
"Fine. You may pass." It isn't until several hours later that the junior guard realizes what else bothered him about the nameless woman. Despite the dry summer heat that left most travelers covered with a layer of dirt, she hadn't had a speck of dust on her, and despite his relatively low status, he has seen fine fabrics before. The brown of her robe has many shades, even gray, blue, and flecks of green that were no accident of a careless weaver. Perhaps even a message for someone wise enough to decipher it, which the guard is not.
The woman wanders into the city almost at random, never hurrying. She stops to search for accommodation at a low class inn. It is very busy, and her appearance doesn't inspire confidence in her ability to pay. The innkeeper decides to brush her off.
"All our rooms are booked up, sorry."
"I ask only a space by the hearth for the night." She sounds almost like she is doing him a favor, or offering him the chance to redeem himself.
"Two silver. In advance." The price is outrageous, but she pays without complaint. In the morning, she takes a single large stone from her packs and leaves the rest with her mule. She joins the line of well-wishers waiting to see the king. These are the common folk, most looking only for a glimpse of royalty. They gossip as they wait, many having high hopes for the future. The old king was not well-liked, and when he died without an heir, it started a round of battles, negotiations, alliances, and a few assassinations, with the new king eventually coming out on top. No one seemed to hold his methods against him, the general feeling being that he hadn't killed anyone that he didn't have to, and that was all anyone could expect. The woman waits with neither excitement nor the slightest trace of impatience, which slightly unnerves those near her. Some chatter to each other even more fervently, as if trying to cover her silence with their noise, but one by one they fall silent. Even so, there is no disturbance. The longer they wait, the less her neighbors feel nervous and more they feel a deep sense of calm. It stays with some for hours, some for days. Two cousins join a convent, and live the rest of their lives in contemplation. They never speak of what led them there. When the brown-robed woman arrives at the head of the line, hours later, she bows gracefully. "Please allow me to offer my congratulations on your coronation, your Majesty. Also, a small token of my esteem." She offers the king a fist-sized rock. The king is nonplussed. A guard steps forward, obviously feeling this is an insult, but the king holds up a hand to stop him and addresses the woman.
"Our coronation breakfast is tomorrow morning. We should be pleased if you would attend." Despite the gracious language, it is unmistakably an order.
"It would be my honor, Your Majesty." She seems neither intimidated nor flattered.
After she leaves, the king hands the rock to the anxious guard. "Things are not always what they seem. Find me someone who knows about rocks. If this one is no more than it seems, our guest will have a warm welcome tomorrow."
The guard knows nothing of rocks, but he does know of one kind of stone that might interest the king. He takes the rock to his local jeweler. The jeweler assures him that he will discover anything of interest about the stone, but it will take time. The guard lets him know time is in short supply.
The next morning, the guard returns to the jeweler, who seems oddly depressed. "This is beyond my meager skill. You must take it to another."
"It's not a puzzle, I didn't expect you to find anything..."
The jeweler interrupts. "You do not understand. It is a puzzle. How to cut... this can only be trusted to the finest stonesmith in the land. I can give you his name. I have done what little I can, though it took me the night through." He pulls the stone out of the bag he has kept it in. It is now reduced to the size of a child's fist, with only traces of the original surface remaining. One ray of early morning light creeps through the window. The stone catches and holds it, red as a beating heart. "This may be the greatest ruby ever seen. It will be known throughout the world. It has been the greatest honor of my life to work with it."
The guard offers to pay him, but the jeweler refuses. "I have been paid."
"You must not speak of this to anyone." The jeweler only waves a hand. He remembers there was something else about the stone that he should tell the guard, but he is tired, and sleep steals the thought away. The guard returns to the palace, knowing that if anyone on the street knew what he carried, his life would be forfeit, and that if he fails to return his burden safely to the king, being knifed in a dark alley will be the least of his worries.
When the woman arrives for the second time, her welcome is indeed a warm one. At the feast, she is seated to the king's left, closely attended by the guard, who is still the only one other than the king who knows about the stone, and is a trifle nervous about that fact.
The king leaves business until he has eaten his fill, and not incidentally, has shown his guest the hospitality of his table. She eats daintily, apparently unconcerned by the king's presence, and only mildly approving of the fare. Still, she gives him her full attention almost before he decides he wants it.
"So. Who are you?"
"My name is Elanna."
The king nods slightly, conceding her the point. "Perhaps I should have asked what are you?"
"Can you not deduce?" Her expression says that this is a test he should be able to pass easily. If he cannot, she will certainly think less of him.
"You wear no insignia, and the color of your robe is common to several religious orders..."
A raised eyebrow is the only sign that he is on the wrong track. He thinks for a moment.
"You are barefoot."
"Yes."
"Also common in several orders, but the stone... was merely a stone. How would you know it held a gem, unless you are an earth mage?"
"You are pleased with it, then?" She knows the answer already. Her tone is teasing now, rather than testing. "More than pleased. But you took quite a risk, presenting yourself this way. Many rulers would have turned you away, and had you beaten, at the least."
Elanna smiled, gently, and the earth moved, just enough to rattle the dishes. "I had hoped you might be more perceptive than some rulers. I represent Stony Reach."
The king does understand, only too well. Stony Reach is a wealthy area, despite being isolated high in the mountains. They make their wealth from gems mined in those mountains, and though they had paid their taxes without fail, the king's predecessor had felt that ten percent was not enough. There had been an attempted invasion, over thirty years ago. Most of the army had not returned, and Stony Reach remained unreachable. The next year, Stony Reach had paid half the tax they used to. The king had been furious, but he could little afford to lose another army. The taxes had remained the same throughout his reign, a constant reminder. The new king had no desire to acquire such a thorn in his side. There would be no attempt to invade during his reign. And, if the gods were kind, he would pass the information on to his sons. This woman did not in any way look fifty years old, but whether it was one mage with a long life or a line of mages, one could not count on the area being undefended any time soon. He would rather have his ten percent every year than try to take ten times as much, and end up with nothing.
"There will be peace as long as I reign," the king vows.
"You shall have our allegiance." Elanna winks. "And I brought our taxes. None as fine as your coronation gift, but I'm sure you will find them more than they seem."
The king congratulates himself on being wise enough to see things that others might not, and it is not until several days later that one last thought disturbs his equilibrium. Stony Reach is a month's journey on foot. Twelve days even on a fast horse. The old king died twenty-two days before his coronation...