A Man of His Word

by The Complete Series 01-04 (epub)

  Inos felt her heart swell and tears prickle at her eyes. She had summoned her people, and they had rallied to their queen! Her speech was ready on the tip of her tongue as the vanguard reached her perch. She raised her flaming brand in a heroic gesture and cried out, “My loyal subjects —”

  The army went right by her without an upward glance. Nothing she could say was going to be heard anyway. Echoes boomed from the walls as the bailey filled up with roaring men, their leaders already past the kitchen quarters and the stables and the wagon sheds, advancing remorselessly on the Great Hall. More and more poured past Inos, the forgotten leader.

  She peered around for Rap and found him below her, in the corner between the steps and the armory wall. He was doubled over, helpless with laughter. She could not recall ever having seen Rap laugh like that. She hurled her torch down at him in fury.

  “Idiot! There are people being killed in there! Do something!”

  He sprang up beside her as nimbly as a grasshopper. He had stopped laughing, but the old familiar half grin curled around the corners of his mouth. “You want me to call them back to listen to your harangue?”

  “No — of course I was wrong! But let’s get in there!”

  “Right,” he said cheerfully, and moved them both to the Throne Room. Shock!

  It was a good vantage point. The revelers in the Great Hall had just awakened to their peril. There was shouting and confusion. The jotnar were pulling on helmets and sword belts — even clothes in some cases. The orchestra wailed into silence. Then the great doors crashed open and a foam of swords and smoking torches rolled into the hall, the crest of a tidal wave of men.

  Inos hauled off her thick coat, discarding mitts and boots in the same flurry of movement. “Shoes!” she demanded.

  “Just like that? How about some proper respect?” But Rap ensorceled shoes onto her feet. They pinched her toes.

  The young jotnar were no cowards and as trained fighters they knew how to deal with a trap. Hastily forming a wedge, they charged the invasion, but they were too late to take the door. Servants, musicians, and girls all fled screaming from the developing battle, and the only place that offered even temporary shelter was the Throne Boom. Behind them the Great Hall rang with clashing swords. Men howled curses and roared defiance. Tables and benches went over, dishes rolled and smashed; bodies were falling on top of them.

  The first naked girl to arrive was Uki, the miller’s youngest. Inos threw her coat to her and scrambled up on a chair, raising her arms in welcome to the rest. The panicking mob stumbled to a halt, staring in disbelief.

  Voices cried, “Inos!” and “The princess!”

  “I am your queen, and Krasnegar is liberated!”

  Their replies were hardly audible over the hubbub of battle out in the hall. Inos waved an arm at the door to the stairs. “The room above here is warm!” she yelled, hoping Rap would take the hint. “Women upstairs!” The closer girls heard her and raced that way. The rest followed, piling up in the entrance in a squirming mass of bare flesh. The men, including Rap, watched the performance with interest.

  Inos was more concerned with the fight beyond the arch. She could see blood, shockingly bright in the flickering torchlight, and men were going down. No one had armor. But sheer weight of numbers was starting to carry the day, and the citizens were roused now, even imps screaming jotunn war cries back at the retreating brigands. In a moment it would all be over.

  She lifted her skirt and leaped from the chair. She ran for the throne, trusting her court sorcerer to follow. As she jumped up on the scarlet cushion, she wondered what her father would have thought of all this. She hoped that Kade was right, and he would have been just a little bit proud of her now.

  The tide of battle died out as one last half-naked jotunn was hacked down almost at her feet by three imps simultaneously. The shouting in the hall was fading, although a huge multitude outside still bellowed its eagerness enter.

  Rap was with her, standing alongside the throne. She reached out and tousled his hair. There was frost on it. “Bell?”

  At once the great bell of the castle boomed.

  “Gods save the queen!” a voice cried. Others began to pick it up in refrain: “Gods save the queen!” Boom! “Gods save the queen!”

  Boom! went the bell in the distance.

  Bloody swords were being waved overhead — dangerously. Pale faces and brown faces were grinning at her in a dazzling sea of faces. But her troubles were only beginning. Somehow she must gain control over this beast mob she had roused. They had swords. Most of them were reeling drunk — if not from beer, then from excitement. There had been few weapons in her father’s kingdom. If imp and jotunn fell out now, there would be a much greater bloodbath.

  She held up both arms for silence, and the noise began to dwindle.

  But not fast enough. “Quieten them, please,” she said softly, and a hush fell.

  “If there’s a body near you, and it’s one of the Nordlanders, please drag it out and throw it over the north battlements!” That command brought a brief cheer and some turbulent movement within the throng. “Help the wounded over to the fireplace!” She wondered how many of her followers had died in the last few minutes, and decided not to mention those. “I am Queen Inosolan, and I claim this throne by right of inheritance!”

  Another cheer, not quite so loud.

  “Money!” she whispered.

  “Money?” Rap echoed, looking up at her in astonishment.

  He had told her himself that there was no money left in the town. She could not guess how the people were surviving without it — by some form of barter, presumably.

  She peered over the nearby faces, and the only one she recognized was the old hostler. He was small and stooped, with both hands in his pockets, but his gnarled old face was grinning at her. Evidently he had given his sword to some younger man, but he was honest and respected.

  “Master Hononin! Set up a table by the door. I have brought money. Buy back the swords — five crowns per blade.”

  His jaw dropped. “Five?”

  Boom!

  “Five crowns per blade! Here, Sergeant, give this man the coin.”

  Rap snorted, but he held out two huge leather bags. The old man pushed forward grumpily, tried to take one in both hands, and dropped it. It fell with a metallic crash that silenced the returning tumult.

  Boom!

  “All surviving members of my father’s council pray attend me!” Inos shouted. “Help him, Rap!” she whispered.

  But Hononin was already snarling orders to recruit assistants, and in a moment the money was heading for the door. Now the important thing was to clear the hall while she still had control.

  She saw another familiar face. “Mistress Meolorne! The girls we rescued are upstairs in the Presence Chamber. Will you please take care of them — see they are clothed and returned to their families?”

  Boom!

  Quietly: “You can stop that accursed bell now, thank you.”

  Louder: “Tonight the beer is free! Tell every tavernmaster in town that when you toast your queen tonight, the crown will pick up the tab!”

  The resulting cheer shook the castle, and a whirlpool developed near the door as eager subjects began hurrying off to drink to her health before the supplies ran out — as they surely would, unless Rap chose to intervene.

  Inos paused to consider her next move, rubbing her throat.

  Then she saw a tall man being helped through the crowd toward her, and her heart jumped into her mouth.

  It was the factor, Foronod. His silver helmet of hair was unmistakable, and yet she thought that it was now more white than ash blond. He was ten years older than he had been in the spring. He was stooped, leaning on a cane, and dragging one foot. A patch hid one eye; his nose was misshapen. Who had done this — imp or jotunn?

  The faces closest around her were aging rapidly. The young bloods had been trusted to handle the fighting, but now the elders of the town were arriving to
oversee the political consequences. The burghers, the merchants, the senior craftmasters — these men she must win over, and they would be her opponents. All the cheering, blood-splattered, baby-faced smiths in the kingdom would count for nothing compared to the factor or a rich fishmonger. One thing had not changed since the last time. Foronod was still the key.

  “Factor Foronod!” she cried out as he drew near. “You are a sight for sore eyes! No, do not kneel!”

  The single ice-blue eye blinked angrily. Kneeling had likely been the last thing on his mind. Inos held out her hand to be kissed.

  He ignored it. “No Imperial army this time?” he barked. His sufferings had not broken his spirit, obviously, nor improved his manners.

  “The imperor has recognized me as Queen of Krasnegar! I bring a signed treaty of nonaggression between his realm and mine.” She saw the imps among them react to that.

  “And Thane Kalkor? What happens when he hears of this?”

  She had been expecting the question and could barely restrain a smile of triumph. She was much better equipped this time than last, when Andor had been newly exposed and her father not yet in his grave.

  “Thane Kalkor is dead. I saw him struck down by the Gods.”

  The jotnar recoiled. The imps beamed.

  Foronod recovered quickly. “And who is his successor?”

  Senator Epoxague had put that very question to Ambassador Krushjor for her.

  “That is very uncertain. There will be many claimants, and it may take years for them to kill one another off. Forget the Kalkor line, Factor. I am queen here by right of inheritance — or by right of conquest, if you prefer. I bring peace with our neighbors and peace among ourselves. I demand … ” Demand what? She could not recall any ceremony of homage or oath of fealty in rustic little Krasnegar. “I require your duty, Master Foronod.”

  She watched him wrestle with his heritage. Yet what alternative did he have? He must have been praying every day for months that Kalkor would arrive and turn out to be better than his odious young brother. Vain hope that had been, had the factor only realized! But now she had taken away even that thin chance. Unless he wanted to raise up a local king, such as himself, then she was the only claimant. And the young men were with her.

  Foronod thumped his cane forward one pace. Leaning heavily on it, he reached for her hand and raised it to his dry lips. “I am your Majesty’s loyal and obedient servant, and welcome your return with all my heart.” Then he straightened and stepped back. “Gods save your Majesty,” he added as an afterthought, pouting as if the words hurt.

  It was a fair surrender. “As you were for my … our … father, so for me you will always be one of our … er … my most trusted and honored counselors, Factor.” A little muddled; she needed practice.

  She recognized one of the senior imps nearby, a merchant whose name she had forgotten. He was something important in the import business, she knew, and had also been a member of the council. She scrambled down and settled herself on the scarlet cushion. Rap reached out and laid a small hassock at her feet.

  Inos glanced expectantly at the merchant.

  He shuffled forward and went down on his knees before her.

  2

  There was almost no daylight in Krasnegar in midwinter, but the full moon rolled all around the sky. Clocks were rare in that easygoing town, and Inos lost all track of time. There was so much to do that she forgot to eat or sleep or even sit down.

  She hardly saw Rap at all, but occasionally he would appear and order her to the table. Then she would gulp down whatever repast was there without noticing it. Even at those moments, the turmoil left her no peace. So many had gone — she was appalled. The bishop, dead of a fit. Mother Unonini, slain by a jotunn while trying to prevent a rape, and Sergeant Thosolin under similar circumstances. Chancellor Yaultari had died in a dungeon, Seneschal Kondoral of a broken heart, they said.

  Mistress Aganimi the housekeeper had survived, though, and she set to work restoring order in the pigpen that the jotnar had made of the castle.

  With her unending supply of gold, Inos hired men and women by the hundreds. There was normally little to do in winter, but she put the idle hands to work. Her money began to surge through the town, and that helped, also. Clothiers and carpenters and tradesmen of all descriptions suddenly found themselves doing business on a scale they had never dreamed of. Prices soared and she had to issue decrees against profiteering.

  She named a new council, expanding it from the eight or so her father had preferred to twenty-four, bringing in some women and even including a few youngsters of her own generation, like Kratharkran, the high-pitched, exuberant smith. The elders scowled at her innovations and she faced them down with the assurance of an adept and with the queenly glamour that Rap eventually admitted having cast on her. Her deadly green stare became legendary, deflecting query or argument like a steel shield.

  She demanded an inventory of food supplies, and the records were found to be in a hopeless muddle.

  That was partly due to Rap, who was quietly going around filling warehouses and storerooms when no one was looking. Foronod was driven almost to distraction, and Inos was very happy to have the old factor distracted; at least he could not then be stirring up trouble. Apparently the beating that had lamed him had been done by the jotnar, not by imps, but he was obviously not the man he had been, and she began to ponder a replacement for him.

  No one knew how many had died, nor how many mouths remained to consume the feedstocks, so she ordered a census taken, the first in the history of Krasnegar.

  Jotnar could always be counted on to let celebrations get out of hand. Inos was delighted to discover that Corporal Oopari had repented of his desertion — or wearied of his fiancée, perhaps — and had returned by ship during the summer. She promoted him to sergeant and put him in charge of the guard and the militia. He moved fast, but the aftermath of a riot was a full jail. King Holindarn had acted as his own chief justice. Unable to see herself in that role, Inos appointed an independent judiciary.

  Many houses had been deliberately burned in the Terror, and often the flames had spread to adjoining buildings. Timber was almost nonexistent, because in the past it had always been imported.

  At her first council meeting, the queen pointed out that there was unlimited wood a few days’ trek to the south.

  But no way to transport it, Foronod told her snappily.

  Why couldn’t we bring it in on sledges?

  Goblins … causeway … weather … horse fodder … Objections rolled out from the elders like smoke from wet peat. Inos looked at the grinning younger faces around the table and put the matter to a vote. The council promptly decreed that the Royal Krasnegarian Militia be expanded from eighteen to eighty, armed with Inos’s swords, and trained as soon as possible in ways of defending lumberjacks from goblin attacks.

  The expedition would need horses, and moving them across the causeway in winter had never even been attempted before. She ordered it done, and stabling made ready on the mainland.

  She wanted a special service of thanksgiving, and there must be funerals for the eight men who had died in the ephemeral war of liberation. Her former tutor, dull old Master Poraganu, was horrified when she appointed him acting bishop. She knew he was conscientious and would do a good job, but she wondered guiltily how much she was spiting him for uncounted hours of boredom.

  Almost every woman of bearing years in Krasnegar was pregnant, either by an imp legionary or a jotunn raider, and many were near their time. The medical facilities were hopelessly inadequate, so Inos ordered a whole wing of the castle converted to a maternity ward. That led her thoughts to a midwifery school and also a public child care organization for the summer, when the women would be needed to work.

  Half the fishing fleet had fled during the troubles, so she had to think about boat building and manpower.

  All these things pretty well took care of the first three days of her reign.

  3

&
nbsp; “And now you’re going to go and have a good night’s rest,” Mistress Aganimi said firmly.

  “Oh, I’d love to, but —”

  “No buts. Your bedroom’s ready at least, and I’ve had a good fire going in there to take the chill off. Off with you now! Can’t have our dear queen working herself to death …”

  As a child, Inos had disliked the bleak old housekeeper, who had often stolen her friends away to put them to work, while laying down laws that came from no statute book Inos had ever discovered. These last three days, though, the formidable Aganimi had been almost as indispensable as Rap.

  She tried to find some better arguments in her fatigue-softened head, and saw that there weren’t any. Gods, if the kingdom couldn’t last a night without her, what good was it?

  Was this really bedtime? The sky was a bright smear above the hills to the south, and that meant either sunrise or sunset, but noon for certain. There was enough light dribbling in the windows that she didn’t even need a lantern, for once.

  As she began dragging her feet up the stairs from the Throne Room, she wondered if she had the strength even to reach her bed. The kings of Krasnegar had always slept at the top of Inisso’s Tower. That was holy writ, although no one had known that the reason was to guard the other chamber, above the bedroom. Well, everyone must know about that now.

  She crossed the Presence Chamber, smiling at the boys there trying to bow to her while encumbered with shovels and buckets. The cleaning up was going well now.

  She crossed the Robing Room, and here girls were working with mops and rags. Why would Aganimi have kept boys and girls apart? Efficiency, probably. Less fun, though. Remember to change it.

  She crossed the empty Antechamber. Timber needed sledges and sledges needed runners and runners needed iron; so she had been informed. Iron was in short supply. To melt down dwarvish steel swords for such a purpose was unthinkable, the smiths had told her. Don’t think, then, just do it, she had replied.