Doom-Quest of Ara-Karn 2 The Divine Queen

by Adam Corby

She burst out laughing. He looked up sharply, blushing. ‘Oh, Dornan Ural!’ She laughed helplessly. ‘Am I to be cursed with your devotions until the barbarians lay waste the city? Hearken then my champion, and learn: what I did, and said, in the Imperial Gardens last autumn, I was under strict commandment to perform. Her majesty ordered me to it as a punishment of my insolence, though I begged her choose some other task. Little did I dream that I should still be suffering under it half a year later! Henceforth, if you must continue to pay your addresses, give them to her majesty. She was behind it all.’ She slipped quickly into her litter and let fall the silk hanging to cut short the last of his stammered entreaties. The litter of the Charan of Vapio had long since departed. Swiftly her slaves lifted her and bore her from the yard.

  Dornan Ural stood still, looking after her. Then he turned, and gazed up at the stone walls of the Hall of Rukor. He wrapped a corner of his cloak about his fist, turned and strode hurriedly out of the courtyard. Behind him the silent servants closed and barred the tall bronze doors.

  * * *

  ‘Well,’ said Fentan Efling dourly, ‘that was a fine dinner. But I’m at a loss to see what we have to celebrate.’

  In the great central dining hall, the few remaining guests awaited their host’s return. In the time of Ampeánor’s father, this ancient hall had been the setting for scenes of the most unbridled indulgence, and had been festooned with vile tapestries, brutish mosaics, and the now-infamous frescoes of Jarili Melstath. Now those things were gone: and in their place was fixed a collection of weapons of hunt and war, knives, swords, lances, clubs, shields, throw-stones, helms and more, reputed to be the finest in the South – which is to say, the world.

  ‘It would have been merrier had Qhelvin been here,’ muttered Bistro. ‘How can you wonder all our work is stultified, now that he is dead?’

  ‘The petty principalities headed by Pelthar will never join us now,’ agreed Tersimio. ‘Delba is ours, but what good? Those cities are so near the fighting now, they are more likely to ask aid than provide it.’

  ‘And where does it all lead?’ swore Bistro. ‘Now that his highness is no more, all our labors will go for nothing unless the High Regent admits the threat of Ara-Karn. Can no one convince him?’

  ‘Perhaps he is convinced now,’ replied Fentan Efling. ‘Yet I will credit that only when he acts, and assigns to her majesty or the Charan of Rukor full war-making powers.’

  ‘For myself, I doubt any of our labors will mean anything now,’ said Kornoth. ‘The Pelthari ambassador has told me that the war is over, and Ara-Karn as good as slain.’

  ‘He will return,’ said the Queen, in such a tone that none would dare argue.

  ‘There has been no news from Postio since the tale they threw the barbarian back into the Taril; and that was too long ago,’ Bistro said. ‘And my lords, we were better to speak of Belknule here. What did the messenger say? “His Supremacy Yorkjax announces the death by impalement of several treasonous lords, who had been plotting with a foreign court to overthrow the rightful rulers of the sovereign state of Belknule.” And think not he failed to inform other cities of Tarendahardil’s part in it! That alone has set us behind where we were at the beginning!’

  ‘Something foul has been passing among the foreign ambassadors as well,’ said Fentan Efling. ‘Early autumn they were all smiles and openness; now they are just civil enough to see me, and regard my every word with distrust. Yet at winter’s end they were all in a panic over the news of Postio. At least when Qhelvin was alive he had them all tamed to his hand.’

  ‘Oh, enough of Qhelvin!’ snapped the Queen. ‘Can you not leave his spirit in peace?’

  From the corner the Gerso, Ennius Kandi, laughed recklessly. ‘Well, for my part I thought it a most amusing party.’ The Queen gave him a fiery look, which he blandly returned; the others fell into an uncomfortable silence. It was in the face of this silence the Charan of Rukor and his attendants returned.

  ‘It’s clear what you have been discussing,’ he said. ‘Well, we must begin anew. If these intrigues, which ever seemed doubtful to me, promise poor harvest, we must look to the military side. There at least I have good news: Dornan Ural has just now confirmed to me that he is prepared to sign the documents naming me her majesty’s General. And my messengers have returned from Tezmon. Gen-Karn still holds the city, and has agreed to deal with us. In another month, we shall have the bow!’

  The agents were unanimous in their congratulations upon this success; all but the Queen, who stood silent. Even Fentan Efling came near to a smile. After some further conversation a round of wine was drunk, and one poured for the blessing of dark God. Then they departed, each with some word of praise to Ampeánor. The last to go was the Gerso, who merely smiled ingenuously at the Rukorian’s hints, and went on looking at the weapons.

  ‘My lord, if you will excuse us,’ Ampeánor said at last, ‘her majesty and I—’

  ‘What, more secrets?’ asked the Gerso, his brow arched. ‘Or did your lordship have something other than business in mind?’

  ‘These are private matters,’ replied the High Charan, flushing to the neck. ‘Your majesty, will you not—’

  ‘Let him stay if he will, Ampeánor,’ she said shortly.

  He sighed. ‘Very well. We only need arrange transferring the gold from the Citadel to the ship. Then I’ll sail for Tezmon.’

  ‘Why must it be you who goes?’ she asked.

  ‘My Queen, the barbarian will trust no one else. They are a moody, superstitious people. And I gave him my word. I cannot break it, even to such as him.’

  ‘Oh, certainly not,’ said the Gerso slyly.

  ‘My lord, I do not like your tone.’

  ‘Well, I like your parties,’ Ennius lazed in return. ‘I found the sword-dance especially enjoyable. I had the honor of instructing her majesty some small measure in those matters during the weeks we were together this past winter. I found her an extremely able and willing student.’

  ‘Cease this, both of you,’ Allissál ordered sharply. She walked back to the sunlit end of the hall, shivering a bit at the chill in the stones, feeling the long skirts brush uncomfortably against her legs. She had been more at ease in the soft leather hunting breeks. Riding down off the snow-clad roof of the world, she had found the lowlands already bursting with spring. Yet somehow it had only dismayed her. Even intermitted with sea-breezes, the heat oppressed her. The heavy scents of the innumerable blossoms of the Imperial Gardens only cloyed and sickened. Ennius had changed, becoming wilder, more reckless and savage. She sighed bitterly. Nothing had been right since her return.

  ‘My Queen,’ said Ampeánor softly beside her, ‘this is the chance for which we have waited so long. With Gen-Karn occupying her, Tezmon is more secure than either Armand or I could have made her. If Ara-Karn did not attack the city during the winter, it was because he dares not. It would mean the end of his grand alliance. It is his only weakness. I should depart as soon as possible.’

  She turned from him, seeking another corner.

  ‘Allissál, will you not give me leave to depart?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  What was it, she wondered, that set her so on edge? Why did she ask such questions when she knew the answer full well?

  ‘My Queen, can you not see I must go?’ She glanced back. Ennius stood examining the weapons at the far dark end of the hall. She relented a bit. ‘Why must it be you who goes? You will be needed here, when Dornan Ural confirms your appointment as our General Extraordinary. Tezmon is a clouded city. I do not want to lose you again, Ampeánor. Cannot Ferrakador go in your stead? Surely he can be trusted.’

  ‘My Queen, I have given my word.’

  ‘Let him go,’ said the Gerso. ‘Can your majesty not see he is set upon his little jaunt? All little boys have their dreams of glory. My lord, do not fear her majesty will be bored while you are away; perhaps I may have the pleasure to instruct her in more variations on the art of swords. In the meantim
e, I am sure you will have your fun – what was it you told us of these nude slave-girls Gen-Karn keeps about him?’

  Ampeánor swung on his heel and strode the length of the hall, bristling. ‘My lord, I think you were best to watch your filthy tongue,’ he said in tones of ice. ‘Qhelvin is no longer here to champion your cause.’

  ‘That reminds me,’ said the Gerso. ‘I have a gift for you.’

  ‘For me?’ Ampeánor asked, startled.

  ‘Yes, I left it with your servants when I arrived. If you would be so good to call them…’

  The summoned servants bore in a long package and leaned it against a wall. The Gerso, with the same faint smile, approached it, and removed its black wrappings.

  ‘My portrait!’ Allissál exclaimed.

  It was indeed that painting over which Qhelvin of Sorne had labored so long. The woman in the portrait, imperial, ideal, infinitely desirable, shone like a splash of gold against the gray stone of the walls. Ampeánor regarded it wordlessly, dazzled.

  ‘How did you come by it?’ she asked. ‘We thought it had been lost.’

  ‘It was my secret,’ Ennius replied easily. ‘Qhelvin gave it to me just before he died.’

  ‘But it is unfinished.’

  He smiled into her eyes. ‘Perhaps he had a premonition of his death.’

  Ampeánor still stood before it in silence, hearing none of their words.

  ‘Well, my lord, how does it please you?’ murmured the Gerso in his ear. ‘Is she not exquisite? I thought Qhelvin inspired so to leave just the one shoulder bare to view, enticing us with a maddening desire to see what other glories must lie beneath the gown. Perhaps you can take it with you on this heroic voyage of merchantry. I felt I could spare you the painting, possessing the woman in the flesh.’

  Ampeánor broke his stare at the painting, looked up and struck him on the mouth.

  The Gerso shrugged, smiling still, and gestured to the weapons on the wall. ‘Well, my lord, if you insist…’

  ‘Cease this, both of you!’ Allissál commanded. She had not heard what words Ennius had poured into Ampeánor’s ears, but had seen his manner. ‘We forbid this petty quarreling. Have you both forgotten the larger affair we are engaged in? Was Qhelvin’s death not enough of a setback? We cannot afford so much as a wound between you. Are you both mad?’

  ‘There was no reason to fear a wound here,’ Ampeánor said, his face pale as dried grass. ‘This Gerso is too much in the habit of running from battles.’

  ‘Charan, did you not hear us?’ she said icily. She walked to the couches and wearily sat down. ‘Well, if you cannot be dissuaded, we will permit you to go to Tezmon once again, though it displeases us greatly. Yet we insist that you bring enough men to protect you against any possible treachery on this barbarian’s part.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘What if I take our Gerso along with me?’

  Ennius’s dark flashing eyes widened. ‘I, my lord?’

  The charan barked a harsh, short laugh. ‘I believe it would be prudent. Gerso, you are not afraid to meet the barbarian face to face, are you? It is not treachery from Gen-Karn I fear, but from a rather closer source.’

  ‘What is this of treason?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Ampeánor, explain yourself.’

  ‘Very well. I had meant to speak of this in private, lest I offend any of our loyal friends, who have left. At the end of last summer, the formation of the League was a thing assured by the end of winter latest. Now all our work has come undone. Orolo, the ambassadors, now Belknule. Why?’

  ‘Because Elnavis died, and I myself broke the negotiations in my grief,’ she said flatly. ‘And later Qhelvin was murdered by thieves in the lower quarters. Ampeánor, I do not like this talk of treason.’

  ‘I would hear from our friend here on the matter,’ he said. ‘Surely so clever a man has likewise perceived this?’

  Ennius smiled lazily, and resumed his examination of the weapons on the walls. ‘You have a fine collection here, my lord,’ he said amiably. ‘This, for example, looks interesting. Are you aware of what it is?’ In his hands he held a murderous broad knife of polished black stone, honed and chipped to the sharpness of a silk-cutter’s knife.

  ‘It is supposed to be the sacrificial dagger of the Madpriests. That is what they plunge into the breasts of their naked female victims in the Death-Rite of Conjugation; the Book of Skhel has all the details. It is very old and valuable: be careful what you do with it. You have not answered me, Charan Ennius Kandi of Elsvar in Gerso. What think you of this traitor?’

  ‘Oh,’ he said casually, ‘I am sure that if there is a traitor among us, the Charan of Rukor will find him out in time. Yet, my lord, beware, lest he should find you first.’

  ‘And will you be so brave as to go with me to Tezmon?’

  ‘I will come,’ the Gerso answered carelessly, snapping the blade back into its scabbard on the wall.

  The Queen sighed her relief. ‘Now let us have some wine, to pray for success,’ she said.

  Ennius looked at her oddly. ‘Whose?’ he asked.

  * * *

  At length Dornan Ural arrived at his hall, which sat upon the edge of High Town, atop a steep slope too precipitous for building, overlooking the lower quarters of the great City. It was his office and his home.

  He opened a little door set into the stone wall and entered the little garden in the rear courtyard. It was his refuge away from the court, the officials, his labors and his troubles. His eyes wandered over the neat dirt rows of the plantings he had made this spring, of his vegetables and home-spices. One row had sprouted weeds – he stooped, and plucked them up. The weeds were already in flower, their purple and golden-streaked petals things of beauty. But they stole the virtue of the soil, and one could not eat blossoms. Dornan Ural wiped his coarse fingers upon the hem of his robes and went upon the stoa, whose cool recesses were striped with the shadows of the many pillars.

  There he stopped. His wife had emerged, dressed in a bright green lora.

  ‘Greetings, Khilivirn,’ he said.

  She eyed him in return. ‘Greetings. I had not expected you so soon. How went Ampeánor’s feast to welcome back her majesty?’

  ‘Were you going out?’

  ‘Yes, there is to be a tragedy performed at the Tarinx theater, with Baring Ghyl in the lead. My head feels better now.’

  ‘And where are my sons?’

  ‘Where but the gaming-dens of the Vapionil? Or if not there, they will be at Rina’s house with the rest of their cup companions.’

  Dornan Ural nodded. Rina’s was his sons’ favorite couching house. He could well imagine the bills that would later be presented to him. Dornan Ural watched his wife as she entered the litter the slaves had brought forth. Fifteen years he had been married to the Chara Khilivirn now: since the first year of his term as High Regent. She had been the daughter of an impoverished charan of Fulmine; he had been wealthy, and wished a wife to oversee his sons. Her blood and standing in the old court were to have won Dornan Ural’s acceptance among the charanti of Tarendahardil.

  Within the house, his clerks attended him, their wax pads and styli at the ready. Others held the parchments-racks filled with the tax lists of this year. But Dornan Ural shook his head, dismissing them. ‘I cannot attend to work now,’ he said wearily. Surprise and concern were large in their eyes as the clerks departed.

  Dornan Ural passed on silently through the house. He came to the forward section and stood in an archway opening on a great hall, its floor dirty from the tread of thousands of poorly shod feet. Once, in the time before Dornan Ural, this had been the banqueting hall of an idle aristocracy who had spent their creditors’ last denas in brutish festivities before drinking venomed wine. Now it served as Dornan Ural’s hall of audience. Here he saw the petitioners, ambassadors, dignitaries and many officials of the huge Empire he administered. There, might have stood poor men in patched cloaks, complaining of the injustices of great lords; there, the insolent nobles in their litter
s, protesting that the High Regent’s men had again intruded upon the prerogatives of the highborn. Along the walls Imperial Guardsmen would be positioned, ready to keep order and enforce the will of Dornan Ural. All eyes would be upon him as he made his entrance, and all hands out-reached to him. And he, tireless and vigilant, would sit before them and hearken to the petitions one after another, with a hundred wearying decisions great and petty to be adjudicated and enacted.

  When Dornan Ural had assumed the Regency, the state had been in debt some three hundred and seventy thousand silver denas, and there had been jests upon all men’s tongues about the corruptness of the Seven Ranks of Imperial officials. Now in the treasure in the depths of the Citadel were a hundred thousand denas of gold; and twelve new laws had been enacted to curb the excesses of the Imperial tax-gatherers. The pestilential swamps of Faliaril in Fulmine had been drained, and replaced with fertile farmland. Seven thousand fastces of new roads, three new dockyards, and twenty-five new public buildings had been designed and constructed, at costs less than anyone but Dornan Ural had expected. He had traveled the roads of the provinces a dozen times. He had labored while others slept, heard petitions while others ate, and regarded the public good as if it had been his best-beloved son. In all those years, he had received nothing in return, not even so much as a word of thanks; while in the meantime all men spoke with wonder and desire of the Divine Queen’s beautiful hair, and Elnavis grew to become the people’s darling. What were you then, Dornan Ural, what have you ever been, but a servant? O Dornan Ural, was your father granted his freedom so that his son should become a slave?

  Slowly, with the heavy weary movements of an old man, Dornan Ural emerged from the shadow of the archway. At the far end of the hall a chair stood upon a dais of marble. Beside the chair was a low desk strewn with a bundle of furled parchments and one unfurled. The chair was a plain and simple wooden chair, not half so large or ornate as the seats in the hall of the Council of Regents. It was the modest chair of a man whose authority needed no imposing props. It was the chair of Dornan Ural, High Regent of Tarendahardil in the name of her majesty Allissál nal Bordakasha.