The Godspeaker Trilogy

by Karen Miller

  “Where is king?”

  “Asleep. Why? What does Alasdair have to do with the hotas ?”

  The look he gave her was gently derisive. What do you think?

  She lifted her chin. “I do what I will, Zandakar. I do what I must, to prepare myself for the struggle ahead. The hotas make me strong. They help me focus. When I dance the hotas I’m not a woman. I am Ethrea’s queen. Do you understand?”

  He almost smiled. “Zho.”

  “Good. Then may I join you?”

  Instead of answering he flowed once more into the first set pattern, an easy gliding sidestep and stretching of arm. She followed his lead. Tried to let the now-familiar steps take control of her body and calm her unquiet, doubt-plagued mind.

  Her mind refused to be calmed.

  “Zandakar,” she murmured, sweeping her knife in a slow, smooth arc, “how does it feel to kill a man?”

  He spared her a single disapproving glance. “You want hotas ? Dance hotas . You want to talk? Talk another place.”

  “Zandakar, please. I need to know.”

  “Why?”

  She abandoned the hotas and stood before him. “Because I’m afraid if I can’t convince the dukes who are coming here that I am the rightful Queen of Ethrea, there will be fighting. Not just with words, but with knives. With other weapons. I might have to fight, Zandakar, to keep what is rightfully mine. I might have to kill. I have never killed. Do you understand?”

  With a sigh, he stopped dancing. “Rhian …”

  “It doesn’t seem to trouble you. Killing,” she persisted. “Is that because you’re a warrior? Have you killed so many you can’t feel any more? If I kill, will I stop feeling? And if I do can I still be a good queen? What is a good queen? If I truly love Ethrea should I even be doing this? Should I be risking civil breakdown, putting our treaties with the trading nations at risk? Putting Ethrea’s future and sovereignty at risk? And do you have any idea what I’m saying? Or would I be better off asking these questions of a tree?”

  Zandakar frowned. “Trees talk in Ethrea?”

  Despite her rising distress, she had to laugh. “No. Of course not.” She shook herself. “I’m sorry. Never mind me. You’re just a warrior, how could you possibly understand?” She held up her knife. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

  But he didn’t resume the hotas . Instead he considered her with his pale, piercing eyes. “Rhian … not easy, be queen. You want queen, you fight.” His clenched fist struck his chest, above his heart. “You hard here. You afraid to fight, you afraid to kill, you no queen. You die. Ethrea die. You want to die?”

  “No. Of course not!”

  He shrugged. “Then fight. Kill. That is queen.”

  “Where you come from, perhaps! Wherever that is. But not here ! Not in Ethrea !”

  Another shrug. “All places, Rhian. All places men are men. Men want, men take. You want stop?” He raised his knife. “This stop.”

  She stared at him, appalled. Dear God, is he right? There’s been peace in this kingdom for so long … The treatied nations, they fight all the time. Small squabbles, bloody conflicts. Battles over land, religion, over trading routes, over husbands and wives, over who sells what thing of value to whom and for how much. But not here. Here we’ve been spared that for hundreds of years.

  Until now, perhaps. Because of me.

  “Zandakar,” she whispered. “ Tell me . What does it feel like to kill?”

  He sighed. “Kill bad, Rhian.”

  She shivered as a chill skittered over her skin. The look in his eyes … “Even when there’s no other choice? When it’s an enemy who wants to destroy you? Even when you’re killing for the greater good?”

  “Always bad, Rhian,” said Zandakar. “For you.”

  “Why for me?” she said, stung. “Because I’m a woman?”

  The strangest look came into his eyes, then. Sorrow and shadows. A memory? Perhaps. Something unpleasant if it was. He shook his head, his lips curved in a sad smile. “ Wei . Because you Rhian.”

  Strangely she found his comment comforting. The idea that anyone could get used to killing … or worse still, could en joy it … “I don’t want killing to be good, Zandakar,” she whispered. “I don’t want to kill at all. But I’m afraid that to save Ethrea I might have to.”

  “Kill bad, zho, ” he agreed. Then he shrugged, with a cold, resigned fatalism. “Rhian … die worse.”

  And that was it, wasn’t it? Really, when all was said and done? Sometimes, in the end, it was desperately simple. Kill or be killed . There was nothing else.

  She looked at the dagger in her hand. Felt its weight. Its promise. “Come on, then,” she said, and turned to face him. “What are we doing, standing here talking? Let’s dance our hotas . Let’s prepare for death.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Alasdair was in the library, going through the manor-house ledger a final time, when his cousin was ushered into the room.

  “Ludo!” He shoved back his chair and went to greet him. “It’s grand to see you.”

  “And you, Alasdair,” said Ludo. “Though the occasion lacks joy.”

  They embraced, then Alasdair looked to Sardre, still standing in the doorway. “You have need of me?”

  “Word from the venerable house, Your Grace,” said Sardre. “The venerables and chaplains will be arriving within the hour to make preparations.”

  He nodded. “Very good. See that all is ready for them.” And make certain our unusual guests are safely tucked away in their rooms, out of sight .

  Sardre nodded, hearing perfectly the unspoken command. “I shall see to everything, Your Grace.”

  And he would. It was, as ever, thank God for Sardre . As the door closed behind him, Alasdair turned back to his cousin. Tall, lean and elegantly attired, the jest between them had always been that Ludo had inherited the Linfoi charm and good looks, leaving nothing but the title for poor old Alasdair. And now he’ll have everything. If he wants it. If he stands by me . “I appreciate you coming early, Ludo.”

  “Nonsense! I’d’ve come days ago, if you’d asked for me,” said Ludo, throwing himself into one of the two chairs by the window. “But you always were one to lick your wounds alone.”

  Alasdair took the other chair. “Yes. Ludo, have you heard from your father recently?”

  “Yesterday,” said Ludo, nodding. “He’s sorely distressed at not being here, Alasdair. You don’t bear him ill will for staying in Kingseat, do you?”

  “Of course not. I need him in Kingseat. I need his voice on the council. His eyes and ears. My uncle is a canny bird.”

  “A canny bird who’s squawking about the princess,” said Ludo, torn between amusement and concern. “She’s still refusing to leave the clerica. He says the council’s about at daggers-drawn over it. Marlan’s defending her right to religious retreat for all he’s worth.” Ludo pulled a face. “It’d be easier to believe in his protestations if he didn’t have a man he wanted her to marry.”

  Alasdair stared at his hands. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ludo. “You’ve not erased Rhian from your heart yet, have you?”

  It was an astute observation, surprising from Ludo. Though he was two years older, Ludo oftentimes seemed the younger of them. He had a roving eye and a rollicking sense of humour. He was unmarried and showed no sign of repenting. Like a bee taking pollen he supped from this blossom, then from that. But never so deeply as to mire himself in scandal, he was too wily to get caught compromised in the wrong bed. His father Henrik was old-fashioned, and so was duchy Linfoi. Not even a ranking noble could flout moral convention with impunity.

  “Don’t fret on her, Alasdair,” Ludo added. “If you loved once, you’ll love again. And even if you don’t you still must marry. A duke must have a duchess, at least in the beginning.”

  Alasdair nodded. “Yes. I’m glad you can see that.” He looked up. “Ludo, I am married. I’ve married Rhian.”

  Ludo’s jaw dropped, the look
on his face comical.

  I might even laugh at it if this were not so serious.

  “But you can’t have, Alasdair,” Ludo protested. “Eberg forbade it. And anyway, she’s in a clerica at Todding.”

  “No, she’s upstairs actually. Taking a morning bath.”

  His cousin nearly fell out of his chair. “She’s here ?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve married her?”

  “Yes.”

  With an effort Ludo regained his composure. “Does my father know?”

  “We thought it safest not to tell him. Secret letters don’t always remain secret.”

  “No,” said Ludo. He sounded dazed. “Well, you always did love the wench.” He shook himself. “And the council doesn’t know? What about Marlan?”

  “We’re sure he knows she’s escaped the clerica and for his own reasons is keeping the news to himself. He knows Rhian will have no choice but to show herself, sooner or later. He’ll make his move against her then.”

  “But—but Alasdair, ” said Ludo, torn between astonishment and shouting. “How can you have married her? She’s a ward of the Church!”

  “We received a dispensation. Ludo—”

  But Ludo wasn’t listening. Shoving out of the comfortable armchair, he ranged about the library, the heel of one hand pressed to his brow. “Good God ! Do you know what this means? If you’ve married Rhian that makes you the—”

  “King,” said Alasdair. “Yes. I do realise.”

  Ludo spun around. “Alasdair!”

  He felt himself smile. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  “Ridiculous?” Ludo flung his arms in the air. “It’s—it’s—is it legal ?”

  “I’m told it is, yes.”

  “Told?” Ludo stared. “Told by whom?”

  Ludo had to know all of it. He and Rhian had agreed on that yesterday, as they’d talked through the implications and consequences of their marriage. If Ludo was to take his place as duke he had to know it all and support their decisions. “Chaplain Helfred. He’s the divine who dispensed with the Church wardship and married us. Ludo … he’s Marlan’s nephew.”

  Ludo collapsed once more in his chair. “I am speechless,” he announced. “Shocked beyond words. How in Rollin’s name did you convince the prolate’s nephew to do such a madcap thing? He’ll be stripped of his divinity and thrown into a Church prison for the rest of his days. And the council will declare the marriage invalid. It’ll have you arrested and likely executed for the rape of a royal princess!” He cleared his throat. “Ah—I take it there are grounds for a charge of—”

  “There are,” Alasdair said, coolly. “But you’re assuming Rhian will allow the council any such leeway. I promise you she won’t.”

  “ Rhian won’t allow—” Ludo’s jaw dropped again. “Alasdair—you don’t mean—you’re not telling me she’s—”

  “I do. She is. She intends to rule in her own right.”

  Ludo slumped, amazed. “A queen ruling Ethrea? It’s never been done!”

  “Thank you, Ludo,” he said, his voice dry as dust. “We hadn’t considered that.”

  Ludo wagged a finger at him. “There’s no point raising hackles at me, Alasdair. I’m not the one taken leave of his senses. Do you have the faintest notion what will happen when word of this spills out?”

  “Surprisingly we do. Ludo, we haven’t acted on a whim. We know there will be loud opposition from men who have only their own best interests at heart. But their opposition can be no more than empty posturing. There’s no question of Rhian’s breeding, she is Eberg’s heir and I’m of undisputed noble blood. The marriage was contracted lawfully … and, being married, Rhian is lawfully queen.”

  “Which makes you what, cousin? If you’re not to rule?”

  “It makes me king consort,” he said quietly. “And if you think to sit there and suggest I am somehow unmanned by that, Ludo, then shame on you.”

  Ludo’s cheeks flushed. “I—I— don’t, I never —Alasdair, you’re being unfair!”

  “Many will say it. I just don’t want you to be one of them.”

  “Well, I won’t !” said Ludo hotly, and pushed again to his feet. “And shame on you for thinking I’d be so base! We’ve been friends all our lives, Alasdair. Is this to be our first quarrel?”

  “No, our sixth,” he retorted. “At the very least. Or have you conveniently forgotten the others since you lost them all to me?”

  Ludo waved their previous arguments away. “I concede not a one of them. Nor will I argue with you now. You say you’re happy to be the king consort, who am I to gainsay that? You’re a man who knows his mind.”

  “I’m a man who needs a duke,” he said. “Now that I’m king, duchy Linfoi’s in want of governance.”

  “Me? You’ll make me duke?”

  “You’re already the heir presumptive.”

  “Yes, but I never thought—I never imagined —I imagined you married and siring a baby duke of your own.”

  “And so I am married, Ludo. But I’ll be siring a king.” He smiled. “Or a queen, perhaps. That’s for God to decide. My concern is this duchy of Linfoi. Will you accept it from me, cousin? Will you be my loyal duke?”

  All indignation and comical dismay vanished from Ludo’s face. He went down on one knee, his wide-fingered right hand pressed hard to his heart. “I will, Alasdair,” he said solemnly. “I’ll be yours until death. Only …”

  “Yes, Ludo. You will have to get married.”

  Ludo mimed himself arrow-shot. “God have mercy! Pierced to the heart!”

  Alasdair stood and extended his hand. “You’ll survive the experience, cousin,” he said, pulling Ludo to his feet. “I hope. Though I must give you fair warning … Rhian is making a list.”

  “A list?” echoed Ludo. “Of suitable damsels? You mean I can’t choose my own bride?”

  He pulled a face. “It seems unlikely. I’m sorry.”

  “Politics?” said Ludo, scowling. “Of course. Always politics. I should’ve married when I had the chance.”

  “Yes, you should’ve. Truly, I am sorry,” he added, sincerely. “So is Rhian. She knows how it feels to be used in this way. But—”

  “Don’t fret,” said Ludo. “My heart’s not given to anyone.”

  “A blessing.” He stepped back. “You’ll be invested as Linfoi’s duke after the funeral. That’s when Rhian and I will tell the other dukes how things now stand.”

  Ludo shook his head. “I fear we’re in for an interesting afternoon, Your Majesty.” His eyes opened wide, then. “Your Majesty,” he murmured. “Truly, it hardly feels real.”

  “Not to me, either. And if we fail in placing Rhian on the throne most likely it won’t be. Not beyond these four walls.”

  “Marlan will oppose you. He’ll instruct the Church to oppose you. Alasdair, I fear life will become monstrous ugly.”

  “Nothing is more certain. But … I’m told I must have faith, that we proceed upon divine counsel.”

  “Divine counsel?” Ludo stared. “Who told you that? This foolhardy Chaplain Helfred?”

  “No. Another man. You’ll meet him presently.”

  “And when do I meet your bride, Alasdair? When do I meet Rhian, Ethrea’s queen?”

  “After the funeral. She’ll witness your investiture and give her seal to your elevation.”

  “Which, along with your kingship, might not last beyond these four walls,” said Ludo, grimacing. “Alasdair, what will you do if the dukes refuse to recognise her? Or you? What will you do if you find yourselves alone in this?”

  “With God on my side?” he said, striving for lightness. “I’d hardly call that alone .”

  “Alasdair—”

  “I know, Ludo. I know,” he said, his hands raised placatingly. “But even without God, I’m not alone. I have you. I trust I’ll have your father too. And I trust the other dukes, once they recognise it’s a choice between Rhian and Marlan’s puppet, will not stand against us. At least, not
for long.”

  “And if Marlan threatens them with the power of the Church? If he declares God is on his side? Do you trust the other dukes will stand with you then?”

  Alasdair sighed. “Ludo, not counting you there are currently four dukes of Ethrea. Four men among the many thousands who live in this kingdom. Rhian is Eberg’s daughter and he was loved by the people. They will love her too. She’ll make a magnificent queen. If the people see she is persecuted by Marlan when her right to the Crown cannot be disputed they will turn against him.”

  “Even if he says that turning against him is to turn against God?” Ludo chewed his lip. “Alasdair, it’s a fearsome gamble.”

  “Yes, it is. But what choice do we have? Rhian is Ethrea’s rightful queen. The rest of it is nothing but greed and ambition. What kind of man would I be if I allowed myself to be intimidated out of acting for the truth?”

  “You wouldn’t be yourself, I know that much,” said Ludo. “And I’d not be myself if I didn’t stand with you. And the people of duchy Linfoi will stand with you too. We’re loyal to our own, Alasdair. And we’re loyal to the king—or queen. That’s as important as our loyalty to God. We’ve always been stubborn, cross-grained and independent. Comes of being despised by Ethrea’s spoilt south. If Marlan forces us to choose sides, I think I know whose side we’ll choose.”

  Moved almost to tears, Alasdair embraced his cousin. “God bless you, Ludo,” he whispered. “And God keep you safe. I must go now. The venerables and chaplains will soon arrive and I must greet them with the proper face. The dukes too. I expect them here by noon. Stay here. Rest and read a while. The most recent manor ledger is on the desk, there. You’ll need to make yourself familiar with the estates and their business. I’ll have Sardre bring you refreshments.”

  Ludo had never been one for books and study. He eyed the open ledger with despair. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you? Perhaps there’s a window or two that need washing…”

  Alasdair laughed. “Read the ledger, Ludo. I’ll come for you when it’s time.”

  “Tyrant,” muttered Ludo, and sat himself behind the desk.