Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2)

by Craig Alanson

  “Pity? Did you and your friend here,” Koren kicked Neelan in the leg and the thief grunted, “have pity on the others you robbed? I’m not the first, of that I’m sure.”

  Koren pulled hard on the oars, struggling to keep both oars working together so he didn’t go in circles. As a sailor, he had rowed boats, but always as part of a crew where he was responsible for only one oar. And back then, he had not had to steer the boat, only to pull. This was more complicated. He headed slightly upstream at first, intending to get toward the middle of the river before turning downstream; from the shore that afternoon he had seen that the current flowed more swiftly in the middle of the river.

  There were also a series of small islands in the middle of the river, and he intended to use their dark shapes as cover while running downstream unseen. His only concerns were the torchlights on the far side of the river, and on the bridge he would need to pass under. For that, he would steer the boat along the near shore, where the torchlight was less bright, and many small boats were moored. Being seen while he went under the bridge was his greatest concern; one small boat on the river at night was unlikely to be noticed.

  A shout arose from the riverbank where he had launched the boat, and Koren ducked down in the boat. The two men he had tied up and gagged must have gotten themselves loose; Koren had left them a knife for that purpose. They had worked rather more quickly than he expected. He could not hear what they were shouting, but the fact that he had thrown Sneed’s two knives into the river, and takes money purses from both men, likely was a topic of conversation. Also that he had stolen Sneed’s boat, and intended to let it go floating down the river by itself after he landed. Sneed and his friend would need to find another way to make living; they would need to buy another boat before they could rob any more travelers.

  As Koren drifted downstream with the current, the shouting faded behind him; he did not see any reaction from the Taradoran side of the river. Five minutes later, he floated under the bridge, and even waved to a man who was fishing from the bridge. Koren was sitting upright in the boat, casually working the oars, with Sneed’s fishing gear arrayed in the bottom of the boat, and he was wearing Sneed’s rather fishy-smelling cap. He was merely an innocent fisherman, out late to set up traps in the river. After a few heart-stopping moments, he was past the bridge and the torchlight faded behind him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he allowed himself to shudder for the first time that night. Although he knew that he was younger and faster than the two men who had attempted to rob him, there had still been an element of danger that he had pushed to the back of his mind. Until now, when he had to put his head between his legs and breathe deeply.

  He drifted for another quarter hour, when the clouds overhead began to break up, and patchy moonlight shone through to glitter sliver on the river. The far side of the river had scattered houses and fishing docks, Koran steered the boat for a patch of dark trees, and brought the boat in silently as possible. When the boat reached the shore, he hung onto a low-lying branch and stilled his breathing to listen. All he could hear was the river lapping against the tree roots, and distant laughter from a house upriver. Stepping out of the boat, he removed his gear, stowed the oars, and waded out to his waist to push the boat out into the river. Too later, he realized that he could have chosen a better spot to land; the shoreline bent outward just downstream, and he had an anxious moment as the drifting boat almost became hung up on a tree that had fallen into the river. Then the boat spun, bounced along the submerged tree, and floated out into the river. Koren vaguely remembered rapids on this river from his study of maps, but he thought they were quite further south. Most likely, in the morning, someone would see a boat floating by itself and row out to get it. Sneed was never getting that boat back, and that made Koren smile.

  Back on shore, he poured water out of his boots and began walking westward. He hoped to be hired as a caravan guard, or to take passage on yet another carriage, but he first needed to put some distance between himself and the border. There would be questions asked about a stranger in a border town; hopefully there would be less questions the further he was from the river. He walked most of the night, and found a dry spot in a thicket of bushes to sleep. When he awoke, he would start the next phase of his journey.

  As he fell into dreamless sleep, he thought to himself that he was back inside Tarador. Home. It did not feel like home to him.

  Ariana was nearly in tears when she and her chief advisor returned to her private apartment in the royal palace. Gustov Kallron was exhausted, not having time to sleep at all the previous night. Despite his best efforts going back and forth between the Linden estates of various dukes and duchesses, he had not been able to further delay the Council meeting. The magistrates had issued two declarations that morning. First, that Ariana was legally eligible to be a candidate for the regency, although the three magistrates were of the strongly-held opinion that was a glaring gap in the law that should someday be fixed. Second, at the request of Regin Falco, they ruled that Duke Yarron was not eligible to vote for Ariana, as he was related her by blood. After the sleep-deprived and grumpy magistrates left, Duke Falco called for a vote. To no one’s surprise, Ariana only had four of the five votes she needed.

  “How could anyone vote for that man?” Ariana angrily swept books and papers off a table, onto the floor. She sat down heavily in a chair, crossing her arms and sulking.

  “The vote has not yet been held, Your Highness,” Kallron reminded her.

  “You told me that Leese likely has four votes already,” Ariana said with her lower lip stuck out.

  “That is my guess, yes. Duke Falco and Duchess Rochambeau will almost certainly vote together in favor of your father’s brother,” he avoided reminding Ariana that Leese Trehayme was her blood uncle. “Based on the brief discussions I was able to conduct, it is my belief that Duchess Portiss and Duke Romero might be persuaded to vote in favor of Leese. That means Regin Falco is likely also offering inducements to Duke Bargann, despite the recent bad blood between them.”

  Ariana said a very bad word, and she did not apologize for it. “Could we sweeten our offer to Bargann?”

  “Certainly, Your Highness; it depends on how much of the royal treasury you wish to give away.” Considering the precarious state of Tarador’s finances, whatever promises Ariana made to Bargann would remain only that: promises. Actual financial support would need to wait until the royal treasury was healthy. And Bargann likely suspected that was the case, which limited Ariana’s bargaining power. “You must understand that at this point, no one believes you will be able to get five votes. So the Council members are making other plans. You should not be offended if Portiss and Romero vote for Leese.”

  “But how? How could anyone vote for him?”

  “Highness, the Council is desperate. Because of us, Tarador effectively has no leader, in a time of war. The enemy sees our weakness, and will not hesitate to strike soon. If you cannot be our Regent, someone must be. Leese is a Trehayme, and this morning, he was sober and serious.” Kallron suspected Leese had been extensively coached on what to say; that had not mattered during the Council meeting. His presence in Linden was no secret; the man had been seen at dinner with the Falcos the previous night. Leese had been serious, sober, a bit sad and, Kallron hated to admit, rather charming. After Regin Falco nominated Leese for Regent, Leese had stood before the Council and made a brief speech. He had spoken of the urgent need to select a Regent quickly, of the need for national unity in the face of imminent threat of invasion, of his desire to end the centuries-old enmity between the Trehaymes and the Falcos. He had pledged to protect Ariana, until she became queen. And he had closed his speech with an appeal to the Council members. “Most importantly, he told the Council that he would need their support and guidance to get our nation through the war. There is nothing our Council members desire more than influence; the idea that Leese wishes guidance from the Council makes him very tempting as a candidate.”

  Ariana fo
rced herself to take a deep breath. She also uncrossed her arms, stopped pouting, and sat up straight. She was trying to become leader of her nation; she needed to act like someone who could be trusted to lead Tarador. “What can we do, uncle?” Regin Falco had called for a formal vote on Leese Trehayme the next morning. That gave Duke Falco time to line up two more votes; Kallron anticipated another sleepless night attempting to block Leese from taking the regency. “Should I speak directly with Duchess Portiss and Duke Romero?”

  “Highness, no. You should not approach them unless you have a deal to propose, and you do not. I will be speaking with them today.”

  “There is nothing to be done, then?” Ariana kept her posture upright, refusing to admit defeat.

  “I did not say that. Leese gave a fairly good speech this morning, but the most important thing he did was show up, sober.” Kallron suspected that had involved more than strong coffee and willpower. Reports Kallron had received about Leese only a week ago stated the man was unsteady on his feet, and his hands shook. Such a rapid transformation might involve magic. “I wonder if he can manage to do that two days in a row?” Before he met with any of the Council members, Gustov Kallron needed to speak with the court wizard. “Leave this to me.”

  “Kallron, this is going a bit far,” Paedris turned in his chair uncomfortably. “We wizards are supposed to remain entirely out of political intrigue. I am not even a citizen of Tarador.”

  “Lord Salva, I would not ask if the situation were not extremely desperate,” Kallron insisted. “Unless something is done, Leese Trehayme will become Regent of Tarador tomorrow morning.”

  “That cannot happen,” Paedris declared. “Still, there is only so much I can do, without openly interfering.”

  “I suspect Leese is sober only with, shall we say, supernatural help.”

  “Ah.” Paedris stroked his beard. “There are potions that can temporarily suppress the effects of alcohol and other substances.”

  “Is there any means of counteracting such potions?”

  “I will not drug the man, Kallron,” Paedris said emphatically.

  “Nor would I ask you too, Lord Salva. It is my belief that Leese will find a way to acquire certain substances; addicts always do. What I ask is that, if the Falcos seek to deceive the Regency Council about whether Leese is fit to hold the Regency, you prevent them from using magic to conceal his true condition.”

  “That,” Paedris said with a smile, “I can do.”

  “What does he want?” Ariana asked her chief advisor. When Kallron handed her the note from Regin Falco, she read it twice. Duke Falco requested an urgent private meeting with the crown princess, that very afternoon.

  “I truly do not know,” Kallron was bothered by Falco’s move. Could the Falcos be coming to announce that they had sewn up enough votes to block Ariana from the Regency? That sort of gloating would be an emotional outburst that was unlike the Regin Falco he knew.

  “I hope he doesn’t expect me to support my Un-” She couldn’t bring herself to call Leese Trehayme her uncle. “To support Leese as Regent.”

  That made Kallron smile. “I do not think so, Your Highness. He may attempt to appeal to your sense of patriotism, knowing that you understand the country cannot remain without a leader in this time of war.”

  “Does he know that?” Ariana asked in disgust.

  “I am sure he does, Highness,” Kallron replied soothingly. “Please consider that it does no harm to listen to what Duke Falco has to say.”

  “It wastes my time,” Ariana huffed. “And tries my patience.”

  Duke Falco was ushered in by palace guards, and the first minutes were taken in exchanging the required pleasantries. Ariana found herself unable to contain her impatience. “As we are both busy, Duke Falco, could you get to the point of this meeting?”

  Falco shot a glance at Kallron, a glance which meant Regin Falco disdained the young woman’s lack of restraint. “Highness, I have been speaking with my peers; the dukes and duchesses of the provinces of Tarador. Tomorrow morning, I will ask for a vote in favor of making your uncle Leese Trehayme the next Regent.”

  “You would give a drunken weakling in the power of the Regency?” Ariana fumed.

  “Your uncle was sober at today’s meeting. The Council was favorably impressed. Highness, you must appreciate that the Council is very eager to fill the vacuum of power while we face defeat in battle. Leese Trehayme may not be a good Regent, but the Council deems he may be good enough. I am very confident that tomorrow’s vote will see Leese confirmed as Regent. As your Regent,” he reminded the crown princess. Leese would hold power in her name. He would hold power over Ariana. And behind Leese would be Regin Falco.

  “Do not be so confident,” Kallron cautioned. “We are still working to secure votes for the princess.”

  Duke Falco lip curled in a dismissive smile. “You have four votes, of the five needed. I have the other two; I have confirmed with Duchess Rochambeau that she will not vote for you under any circumstance.”

  “You come here to boast, then?” Kallron demanded.

  “No,” Regin shook his head in a fair semblance of regret. “I will not boast; it is sad that our nation has come to this point. Your Highness, I propose an arrangement. I will provide your fifth vote.”

  Ariana looked to her chief advisor for guidance. “In exchange for?” Kallron broke the silence.

  Regin took a deep breath. “On the morning of her sixteenth birthday, before her coronation as queen, Ariana marries my son Kyre.”

  “How could he ever think I would marry his son? Marry that, that, oooooh,” Ariana shook her fists in the air. “I can’t even think of a word bad enough to describe Kyre,” she spat the name out. “I would sooner marry a frog! Or a, a,” she tried to think of a creature even more slimy and disgusting than a frog. “A slug.” She tilted her head, curious. “Why would Duke Falco even ask me? He had to know I would never marry a Falco.” Why would the duke seek rejection?

  “Because, Your Highness, the duke believes he is in a very strong position to negotiate. He has blocked you from getting the fifth vote you need, and he has a strong candidate for the Regency. I suspect this is Niles Forne’s work.” Forne likely thought himself a genius for developing a plan that could put a Falco on the throne of Tarador. “Duke Falco is correct that, for the moment, he has prevented you from assuming the Regency. Forne probably thought there is no harm in proposing a marriage between you and Kyre. If you say no, Falco will proceed with his plan to make deals to get five votes for Leese.”

  “Is he right that he can make Leese the Regent?” She asked anxiously.

  Kallron allowed himself a brief smile. “Duke Falco has two votes for certain; his own and that of Duchess Rochambeau. Of the other five provinces, he needs only three, and he knows the Council is anxious to avoid our nation being leaderless in time of war. However, tomorrow morning, Regin Falco may find that things are not as certain as they seem.”

  Koren’s first choice, for going west through Tarador, was to hire on as a guard for a merchant caravan that was going northwest. When he reached a good-sized town in the early evening following his crossing of the river, he purchased clothes that were not so obviously the garb of a sailor, and cut his hair shorter, rather than wearing it long and tied back as most sailors did. Unfortunately, he found only two caravans that were going west within the week. One caravan was owned by a merchant from Indus, who used only his countrymen as guards. Koren approached the other caravan, a train of four heavily-laden wagons owned by two men from Tarador. He had heard, along the journey north, that with the war taking many men as soldiers or mercenaries, guards for merchant caravans were in high demand. Slinging his bow and arrow over one shoulder and attaching his now-sharpened sword prominently to his belt, he approached one of the merchants, but two guards quickly stepped in between Koren and the man.

  “You? A guard?” The merchant looked him up and down. “If you have something to sell, we already have all we can
carry. If you’re buying,” the man wrinkled his nose, “you’ll need more coins than I judge you can afford.”

  “Please sir,” Koren made a short bow, “I seek employment as a guard. If you wish, I can demonstrate my skills.” He planned to hold back and not show anyone his true speed and skill; only enough to impress the merchant.

  “That will not be necessary,” the merchant did not smile, although the guards chuckled. “I am not such a fool as my brother believes,” he looked toward the other well-dressed merchant. “But I would never hire a beardless boy to safeguard my life.”

  “But I am not-” Koren began to protest.

  “Nor would I hire anyone who comes to me, unknown to me or my men, and without references. Tell me, boy, would you hire a guard you did not know?”

  “No,” Koren had to admit. To allow an armed man into the caravan, a man who may very well be working with bandits, would be idiocy. “Your point in well-founded, good sir,” he bowed again. “As you are going west, might I purchase passage on one of your wagons?” He lifted the leather pouch of coins that hung around his neck and shook it. “I can pay.”

  “Ha!” That drew a laugh from the merchant, and the guards. “Since you seek to be a guard, you may do me a service and advise me on my security. If a stranger sought to be a guard and was denied, would you allow that stranger into our midst?”

  “No,” Koren had to agree again. Defeated, and knowing he had been foolish, he backed away from the merchant under the watchful eyes of the guards. “Very sorry to have troubled you today, good sir.” Mentally, he kicked himself. What he should have done, he now knew, was to have gone into a tavern and befriended some of the guards. While that likely would not have gotten him hired either, it had a better chance than him walking up to a wealthy merchant and begging to be hired.