Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2)

by Craig Alanson

“Before we discuss details, are you certain you are ready for this, Your Highness?” Kallron asked cautiously. “The first action will be one of the provinces, such as LeVanne, posting a motion in the Council to declare no confidence in your mother, and putting forward your name as a candidate to replace her. Posting that motion will be declaring open warfare between your mother and yourself. That may not be as easy for you as you think now.”

  “I am ready,” Ariana said firmly, her jaw set. She had considered the emotional toll the upcoming fight would take on her, and on her mother. Her mother was not a bad person; she was unsuited to leading the nation in a time of war. Ariana would tell her mother that; tell her that as a daughter, she loved her mother. As the crown princess, she could no longer have Carlana serve as her Regent.

  “There is more than familial feelings to take into consideration,” Kallron warned, although he was greatly worried about how Carlana would react. The woman held power, and she could use it against those she perceived as her enemies. Gustov Kallron would most assuredly become Carlana’s enemy, the moment the motion to replace Carlana was filed in the Council. “A motion to remove your mother throws the Regency into open competition. Regin Falco will do his utmost to seize the Regency for himself or one of his lackeys; and the Falcos are masters of intrigue.”

  “We hold four votes to his three, or two,” Ariana said thoughtfully. Duke Bargann of Farlane Province had been chafing at his forced alliance with the Falcos recently; Regin Falco might not automatically be able to count on support from Bargann. Not without Bargann extracting a substantial price for his support; a price the Falco family might not be willing or able to pay. “Is there anything the Falcos could do, within the law? Could he,” she gasped, “get the Council to change the law of the Regency?”

  “No,” Kallron said with a curt shake of his head. “The Regency law, like the law of majority, requires approval of a sovereign to change. There are legal technicalities Falco could put up as roadblocks, if he knows of such technicalities. They are very obscure,” Kallron said with confidence, “I do not think Regin Falco has a deep enough knowledge of the law to interfere with us. With you, Your Highness.”

  “With us, Uncle Kallron,” Ariana stood, took the man’s hands on her own, and kissed his cheek affectionately. “I can’t do this without you. And I can’t serve as Regent without you as my chancellor.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. I most sincerely hope that your faith in me is justified. Before we can begin to draw up documents to submit to the Council, we need to consider how we could split away from the Falcos the vote of either Duke Bargann of Farlane, or Duchess Rochambeau of Demarche. Neither will be easy. Highness, I do have sources of information, I can begin to search for a way to, encourage, either one to vote with you. This will take time, and it will be expensive to acquire-”

  “No need, Uncle Kallron,” Ariana said with a mischievous smile. “I know of a way.”

  “You do?” Kallron asked, truly surprised again that extraordinary morning.

  “It is best that you do not know, Chief Advisor.”

  “But how can I-”

  “Uncle Kallron, if things do not go as planned, the Regency Council can call you to testify; they could even have you questioned by a wizard so you would be compelled to tell the truth. You cannot reveal secrets that you do not know. The Council has no power to summon me,” Ariana said with a haughty toss of her hair. “What I need is a man, or actually,” she thought for a moment. “No, a dwarf. A dwarf who can do certain things; things that need to be done discretely.”

  “Ah.” Kallron felt a chill of fear at what dangerous game the crown princess might plan to play. To play without his knowledge, or experienced guidance. Could he trust her to- He stopped his own thoughts. He was working toward Ariana becoming Regent, and then queen. Once she held the reins of power, he would have to trust her with the survival of the nation. This was not time to question her. She would prove herself, or she would fail. The test was for her. “A dwarf, willing to do certain things discretely. Highness, I do know of such a person; he is willing to work for gold. He sells his services to the highest bidder, but once he has been bought, he gets the task done, and he tells no one.”

  “Good,” Ariana sat back slightly in her chair, daring to relax for the first time since Koren fled. She spun one of the gold rings she wore, wondering if it would be enough to buy the service of the dwarf. “Arrange for him to contact me, directly and discretely. Can you do it soon? Mother is making me leave in eight days.” Despite Kallron’s best delaying tactics, the Royal Army had reported that the summer palace was in good order, and that the roads between Linden and the mountain fortress were sufficiently safe. As soon as a Royal Army patrol was available to escort Ariana, she would be departing Linden.

  “Highness. Ariana,” Kallron said, speaking as an uncle who cared for her. “I feel that I should warn you; this dwarf is not a pleasant person to deal with.”

  “Uncle, when I sit on the throne, I will very likely be forced to deal with all manner of unpleasant people. I shall consider this a lesson,” she winked.

  “There is something else we must consider,” Kallron cautioned. “Assuming that you are successful in, whatever it is you plan to do- You will not give me a hint?”

  “No, Uncle Kallron,” she shook her head, “it would be too dangerous.”

  “Very well,” his voice expressed disappointment. “If you are successful, and either Duke Bargann or Duchess Rochambeau could be persuaded to vote in favor or you becoming Regent, the matter of timing will be delicate. The Regency Council must be present, yet only the Regent, or three members of the Council, may call for the Council to assemble. Your mother certainly would not wish that pack of scheming wolves to come to Linden; it would be too dangerous for her. The law states that she must assemble the Council once per year; she accomplished that when all the dukes and duchesses were here for the Cornerstone celebration. In order to approach three members of the Council and ask them to request the Council to assemble, we would have to reveal our plans far in advance. That would be much too dangerous; such a secret could not be kept for long.”

  “But you have a suggestion, Uncle Kallron?” Ariana asked with a smile. She knew the man all too well; of course he would have a plan.

  “According to the law, a Council of War may be called by a single member, in times of national crisis. Your mother formally declared a national crisis when she mobilized the army reserves, so the legal step is out of the way.”

  “Oh,” Ariana slumped in her chair. There was so much she did not know of the law; the law that would constrain her every move, her entire life once she became queen. “Could we ask Uncle Yarron to call a War Council? He can keep a secret,” she said hopefully.

  “It is easier to keep secrets you do not know. My suggestion is that you ask Lord Salva to send a message to Yarron, requesting a Council of War.”

  “Paedris?” Ariana feigned innocence.

  “Young lady,” Kallron tilted his head. “Perhaps you and the wizard think you have kept your alliance secret. And it may be that most people are not aware of, whatever support you have from Lord Salva. But I am not so easily fooled.”

  “Oh,” Ariana was alarmed. She had told her servants that during her meetings with the court wizard, he was explaining to her how magic worked; what wizards could and could not do. Until that moment, she thought their secret was safe. “Does mother know?”

  “I would say that she suspects something is going on. She may not suspect that Lord Salva is willing to actively intervene on your behalf; the custom of wizards remaining above politics is so ingrained in our culture that your mother likely does not think you would go that far.” He held up a hand to forestall the protests of the princess. “No, whatever you and the wizard have arranged, it is better that I not know. Going back to my original point, my advice is that you ask Lord Salva to send a message to Duke Yarron, requesting that he call a Council of War. Your mother will not be happy; she
also will not be able to prevent the Council from assembling. If she does learn that Lord Salva was behind calling a War Council, she may not imagine your involvement. The wizard is widely known to be unhappy with the Regent’s actions in defense of Tarador.”

  “Or lack of action,” Ariana complained bitterly.

  “Precisely. You should speak with Lord Salva as soon as possible, certainly before I tell your mother that I have been dismissed as her chancellor.”

  Ariana looked down at her informal dress, with ink stains because she had been writing letters. “Oh,” she breathed in exasperation. “I need to change my clothes. Again.”

  “Regent?” The court wizard nearly choked on a raspberry tart. “How can you become Regent? That makes no sense whatsoever.”

  “It does not make any sense,” Ariana laughed. “Uncle Kallron tells me that doesn’t matter; the law is the law, as written. Nothing in the law prevents me from becoming Regent. All I need is five votes on the Regency Council.”

  “Five?” Paedris asked with raised eyebrows. “How will you ever get five votes? The Falcos have three votes on their side.”

  “In most cases, the Falcos can count on five votes, yes. In this case, I have an idea. But I will need your help, Lord Salva. It may be somewhat,” she sought the best word, “unsavory.”

  It was the wizard’s turn to smile. “Our enemy is purely evil. Anything that is merely unsavory I can most likely accept. What do you need?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Duston was used to the crown princess doing things that a proper crown princess should not be doing; things that would scandalize the royal court. He had been with her as she splashed around dank tunnels under the castle with the wizard’s servant, as the two young people searched for the legendary Cornerstone. Although the princess was not supposed to be alone with a boy, Duston had thought it harmless fun for the future queen to get away from her formal role for a time, and simply enjoy being a young person. And her searching for the Cornerstone had certainly been worth the effort, for she had found it! Or so was the official story, Duston privately thought someone else had allowed Ariana to take credit for finding the Cornerstone, for the good of the realm.

  Duston had accompanied the crown princess as she knelt in muddy grass to tend her garden, he had helped her plant bushes to create a maze in the garden; bushes that had torn her dresses. He had frantically followed her as she raced across the landscape on horseback. None of that had bothered him.

  But this night, this was not right. “Highness, this is extremely dangerous. You should-”

  “Duston,” she put a finger to his lips, “hush, please. I know what I am doing. I am not a silly girl having an adventure. This is serious business, and if you feel you can’t accompany me, I will go on alone. We are safe here.”

  “I-”

  “Please, trust me. This is important,” she whispered.

  Important enough that she had risen in the middle of the night, used a secret passage from her study to sneak out of her private chambers, then left the castle in disguise, accompanied only by her trusted but elderly guard. It was raining and chilly; fog already collected in low areas of the countryside and alleyways of the sleeping city. They had ridden horses through the night on dark, lonely back roads, around the outskirts of the city of Linden, until they arrived at a very rough area of the town. An area that Duston occasionally visited when he was a young man, and did thing that young and stupid men did. Now, he feared for the safety of the crown princess, and gripped his sword all the more tightly. “If you say so, Highness,” Duston responded, unconvinced.

  “I do. This is it,” she pointed through the drizzle and nighttime fog to a dark building with a tattered flag hanging from an upper window, and three barrels stacked next to the door. Hugging the wall to remain out the flickering light of a fire down the street, she reached alley beside the building, and waited. “Hello?” She called out softly, hopefully.

  “Good evening,” came a voice out of the alley, and a figure stepped out of the utter blackness.

  “Master of weapons?” Ariana asked quietly.

  The figure, shorter than Ariana but wide and powerful, strode forward. “Young miss,” the dwarf replied, knowing that speaking the name of the princess at that time was unwise.

  “Hedurmur?” Duston asked, as the figure stepped forward and the firelight down the street illuminated the man’s face.

  “Yes,” the dwarf acknowledged, and pulled aside his rain cloak to show the battleaxe looped to his belt. Even in the dim light, the sharp edge of the axe shone. “Young miss, this is a poor night to be out in the streets.”

  Ariana looked up at the rain, which had lessened from a steady drizzle to a mist. It only made the fog more thick, and her skin under the cloak more chilled. “A poor night for anything, I think.” Leading the way, she crossed the alley to the side door of the building and knocked twice, then three times, then twice again.

  The thick wooden door was dirty and battered but it opened silently; the hinges were apparently well-oiled. Inside was a dwarf standing in a narrow, dark hallway; a place Duston recognized as having been designed to provide excellent defense for those inside, and peril for any who tried to force entry. Knots in the thick walls were likely not natural; the false knots could be opened to shoot arrows, crossbow bolt and poisoned darts at those people trapped in the hallway. Duston rapped a fist on the door; the sound told him that the inner surface of the door was clad with iron. Once inside, he and the princess would be well and truly trapped. He could be responsible for the death of his nation’s queen, and if Ariana died, Tarador would be torn apart by factions fighting for the throne. The enemy could walk into Linden unopposed.

  “Highness, no. I will not let you-”

  “Duston,” Ariana said more harshly than she wished to speak to her the man who had been her personal guard for as long as she could remember. She spoke only as harshly as she felt needed, for she had great need to enter the building. “I told you that I am not a silly girl chasing adventure. This is a matter of state, and I have urgent business here. I am the crown princess of Tarador and your future queen. Obey me in this, or leave my service, now. I will not return to the palace until my business here is concluded.”

  The man still hesitated from long training and hard-won experience. Lightly, she grasped his forearm which held his sword half drawn from it scabbard. Standing on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear. “We are safe here.”

  “Aye,” Hedurmur grunted, and swung his cloak aside so that the battleaxe was ready for use.

  Though Duston did not relax the grip on his sword, he did nod slowly. Ariana peered into the dark hallway. “I am here to see Grimla,” she said quietly. Her confidence did not extend so far as to allow her to pull aside the hood of her rain cloak; she did not wish anyone to see her face clearly until she met with the dwarf she sought.

  The dwarf in the hallway, who was dressed in rough clothing and a wool cap, gestured them inside. “Grimla is waiting. No one followed you?”

  “On this night?” Duston snorted. “No. I’m not doing this for the first time. Lead the way, and keep your hands in sight.”

  The dwarf was not surprised at the command. “Yes, sir,” he said mockingly, and held his hands at his side. Once Ariana was inside the hallway, the dwarf pulled open the shutter on the lantern he held, and the gloomy darkness was lessened somewhat. “Close the door behind you,” the dwarf said. He turned and smiled with crooked teeth, the whites of his eyes shining without humor. “Please.”

  Despite his common sense telling him not to, Duston closed the door behind him, trying to see if there was a way to keep it unlatched. There was not, but only a simple bar held it shut. Easy enough to remove if they needed to escape, Duston thought. If they did need to escape, they would never make it as far as the door.

  The dwarf led the way down a series of hallways into a large back room with a high ceiling. The ceiling itself was dark, soot-stained beams that were almost lost in th
e gloom; the whole room smelled of old wood smoke and dust. In the center of the far wall was a fireplace in which the logs had burned down to red embers, casting an eerie glow around the room. There was furniture scattered about, some of it stacked against the walls, and much of it covered with dusty sheets. Arranged in a rough semicircle around the fireplace were chairs. Only one of the chairs was occupied; a dwarf sat looking away from the fire, smoking a pipe. “Telen,” the seated dwarf said to the fellow who had opened the door, “guard the door. Young miss,” he addressed Ariana, “your guard should join Telen.”

  “I will not-” Duston began to protest.

  “Duston,” Ariana explained, “there will be things said here tonight, that you should not hear. You cannot be later compelled to tell, what you do not hear.”

  “Oh,” Duston understood suddenly. The princess had told him this night was a matter of state. “Very well, Your Highness, Master Hedurmur, I will be at the door if you need me.”

  Grimla waited until the two guards had gone around the corner. Then he stood and bowed graciously to the crown princess. “Please, sit down. Forgive my earlier rudeness, Your Highness. I am Grimla of the Ironstone clan, as my name is rendered in the common tongue.”

  Ariana was taken aback. Without changing his appearance in any way, the dwarf’s appearance had completely changed. His clothes were still rough and well-worn; threadbare in places. His hair still fell in lank curls around his face, and copper rings still were woven into his beard. But now his eyes twinkled, and his smile was genuine.

  “Master Ironstone,” Hedurmur explained with a glance toward the hallway to assure no one was listening, “is one of our agents here in Tarador.”

  “Agent?” Ariana asked, confused.

  “Grimla is here as, an unofficial representative of our leadership,” Hedurmur.

  “Unofficial?” Ariana asked, surprised. “You mean you are a spy?”

  “Your chancellor, your advisor Kallron, how did he describe me?” Grimla had an amused smile.