Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2)
Page 26
“Dirmell is dead,” Paedris remarked with sadness at the passing of the dwarf wizard. “Cecil, I trust you, and only you, to do this. These arcane arts are your specialty, I have neither the knowledge, the skill nor the power in this area of wizardry.”
Mwazo let out a long breath. “Our new Regent wishes to start with no small plans, eh? She is jumping right into this with both feet.” Or, perhaps a better analogy would be the young future queen diving headfirst off a cliff, and taking Tarador with her.
“Her Highness reminded me that Tarador has been cautious and idle for far too long, and only boldness can save us at this late hour.”
Cecil pushed the bowl of soup away, his appetite gone. “It can be a fine line between boldness and recklessness, Paedris.”
“True, and Ariana does have a touch of her father within her character, in that regard. If you think this is too difficult a-”
“No! I am willing to try it. I am eager to try this, Paedris. You know I have longed to expand our knowledge or the arcane arts. This is, I must admit, the perfect time to attempt that which has not been done before.” He shook his head slowly. “It serves me right for discussing my ideas with you, Paedris.”
“Who else can you tell your wild flights of fancy to?” Paedris patted his friend’s shoulder with affection. “When can we start? And what do we need?”
“As to when, there is no time like the present. What we need,” Mwazo pulled the soup bowl back toward him. “Is sustenance, for this will consume all of our energies.”
“In that case,” Paedris went to ring the bell for Olivia, before he remembered that she was with Lord Feany. “I shall send for a hearty lunch.”
Grand General Magrane observed the enemy’s advance through his spyglass, from atop a hill between the River Fasse and the Tormel river. In compliance with orders from Regent Carlana Trehayme, he was pulling back the Royal Army east of the Tormel, to establish a new defensive line there. In defiance of orders from Regent Carlana Trehayme, he was retreating as slowly as he possibly could. His fear had been the enemy, seeing the Royal Army of Tarador retreating on all three fronts, would strike quickly to the east, overrunning his thin screen of troops there, and crossing the Tormel ahead of him. To his great relief, when the enemy guessed what Magrane was doing, they slowed their advance to match his. No doubt the enemy judged they would have little trouble crossing the shallow Tormel river, so there was no great haste to go east, and rushing only exposed their flanks. Part of Magrane wished the enemy had made a headlong bid for the banks of the Tormel, because then their ranks would be in one long, thin column stretching between the two rivers. As it was, the enemy was now concentrating on bringing soldiers across the River Fasse as quickly as possible, so that their force could not be dislodged from Tarador by Magrane’s overburdened army. As the enemy spread out north and south along the east bank of the Fasse, Magrane’s ability to counterattack there was closing rapidly.
Only until recently, he had hopes that Ariana might become Regent. Now that those hopes were dashed, Magrane had left secret instructions for Captain Earwood in Linden. Regardless of his orders, he intended to counterattack within three days, and even delaying that long might doom all of his plans. And doom Tarador. After the counterattack was launched, Magrane expected to be arrested, possibly hanged for disobeying orders. But after the counterattack was in progress, it would be impossible to stop, until either victory or defeat had resulted.
“General!” Wing Chu called out, as she raced her horse up the hill. Pulling her horse up beside his, she said breathlessly “We must speak, in private.”
Magrane nodded silently, with a look to his personal guard force. From long experience, they knew to ride their horses a short distance away; far enough not to overhear a conversation yet close enough to protect the leader of Tarador’s Royal Army. “What is it, Madame Chu?” He bowed slightly in the saddle.
“I bear good news, for once. Hmm,” she laughed. “This feels good. I must try delivering good news more often.”
“And I wish you every opportunity to do so,” Magrane tried to smile, but found he could not.
Reading his mood, Wing got straight to the point. “Ariana Trehayme has been elected Regent of Tarador.”
“She has?” He exulted. “When?” Magrane automatically looked at the portable telegraph tower that had been built on a hill just to the east. He had not seen the distinctive flags indicating a top priority message.
“Just within the hour. I received notice from Lord Salva; he judged such important news could not wait for the telegraph.” Paedris had also explained there was a severe thunderstorm between Linden and Anschulz, so that the telegraphs in the area were temporarily unable to see one another in order to pass messages.
Magrane was stunned. “How did this happen? The last word we received was that she was not eligible to become Regent, because her Uncle Yarron could not vote for her.”
“Apparently, she became eligible. The message did not provide details.”
Magrane ran a hand through his hair, and let out a long sigh. “I’ll not argue with it! Oh, to not have to take another order from her mother, that is a blessing. I can only imagine the politics involved behind the scenes. Madame Chu, if I ever am tempted to dabble in politics, you have my permission to turn me into a frog.”
Chu laughed, wondering why people always thought wizards chose frogs as punishment. Why not worms, or slugs? “I will consider it, General.”
“Please do, whether I ask you or not. Politics is- Hmm.” An unpleasant thought came unbidden to him. “How did she accomplish it? My understanding of the law is that she needed five out of six votes, and Duke Falco and Duchess Rochambeau would never vote in favor of Ariana as our Regent.”
Chu looked around, to verify none of the general’s guards could hear. She lowered her voice anyway. “What will not be in the official message, and is to remain secret for now, is that your crown princess cut a deal with Duke Falco to secure his support. She has pledged to marry the Duke’s eldest son, before she becomes queen.”
Magrane’s eyebrows rose in shock. “No! She is to marry a Falco? They cannot be trusted! Is she-”
“I am sure Her Highness is aware of the danger to herself. General, she judged the danger to us all from Acedor, to be greater than a future risk to her own safety.”
“She is a remarkable young woman.”
“Remarkable, and decisive. You have permission from the Regent to counterattack, at the time and in the manner of your own choosing. A confirmation will be sent by telegraph, if you need something more than the word of a foreign wizard?” She asked with a tilt of her head.
“Madame Chu, I trust you completely. In this case, our need is so desperate, I would accept such orders if a bird landed on my shoulder and whispered them in my ear.” He raised his hand to signal for his guards.
“General, you have not heard the full message,” Chu warned.
Magrane lowered his hand. “Is this more good news, I hope?”
Wing shrugged and smiled. “It could be, though it does not seem to me. Or it does not make sense to me.”
Magrane’s composure slipped just a little, a sign of the great strain he had been under. “That means it is bad news.”
“Duchess Rochambeau was the only one of your Regency Council to vote against princess Ariana,” Chu explained. “You will soon be receiving orders that your new Regent was ordering the Royal Army to pull out of western Demarche province, behind the Turmalane mountains.”
“What?!” Magrane exploded.
Chu waved her hands to calm the general. “Paedris instructed me to tell you not to worry, that this is a part of a plan the two of you discussed?”
Magrane stared at her, open-mouthed in confusion. “I am quite certain I never discussed a plan to leave western Demarche defenseless,” he said with sarcasm.
“Paedris also instructed me, to ask you to trust him.”
“Hmmph. If this is some wizard trick-”
Magrane knew he had overstepped his bounds. “If Paedris asks me to trust him, I will do so. With reluctance, until he can explain further.”
“He is on his way to meet you,” Chu said with a wry smile. “You can ask him then.”
Magrane bowed in the saddle to the powerful wizard from Ching-Do. “Will I be receiving confirmation of the reason for my new Regent’s,” he searched for the proper word, “unusual orders regarding Demarche?”
“No. This information is too important to be trusted to a telegraph. No matter what codes you use, there is the possibility an enemy wizard could read the message. You will need to trust me.”
Magrane was aware that, as powerful wizard, Madame Chu could right then be manipulating his emotions to make him trust her. Against such a potential threat, he had no defense. What he did have was his memory of recent events. Chu Wing had traveled a great distance to help Magrane fight the enemy, and she had done so with a success Magrane could scarcely have hoped for. Like Paedris, she had pledged her life to fight Tarador’s ancient enemy. Magrane had no reason not to trust her. Except for his instincts as a soldier. “What does Lord Salva need me to do?” He asked warily.
“When your army captains in Demarche send messages to you, questioning their orders to withdraw behind the mountains, you need to confirm the orders.”
“That will not be easy,” Magrane warned.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Chu smiled. “You chose to be a soldier. Is any part of your life easy?”
“No,” he grimaced. “Especially when Regents, princesses and wizards are involved.”
A shaken Regin Falco strode into Niles Forne’s study and went straight to the wine cabinet, pouring almost a full goblet of red wine. Tilting his head back, he downed half the wine in one gulp. Then he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his expensive shirt, something the duke of Burwyck never did. His duke was extremely upset about something, and Niles Forne was fairly certain he knew why.
“A difficult conversation with your son and heir, Sire?” Forne asked, after closing the heavy door to his study.
“Does anything escape your notice, Forne?” Regin was irritated that his advisor seemed to know everything that went on around the Falco estate. “Did you spies tell you?”
“No, sire. I did know that Kyre came to speak with you, and I now see that you are drinking wine before midday.” Forne had also seen the ducal heir stomping angrily across the estate’s courtyard after meeting with his father; from that Forne could easily deduce the meeting had not gone well.
Regin looked at the wine goblet and set it down. “Am I that transparent?”
“Not at all, sire. You only reveal your feelings to select members of your household. And, you do pay me to be observant.”
Regin decided not to mention that Forne had been completely blindsided by Gustov Kallron’s plan to make Ariana her own Regent. Where had the man’s observation skills been then? “Very well, if you are so observant, tell me what happened between me and my son.”
Forne suppressed a smile. “You told your eldest son that he is now engaged to our future queen. Kyre is unhappy that you arranged his marriage to the crown princess without his involvement.”
Regin gave Nile Forne a sharp look. Damn the man! Regin’s private office in the Falco’s Linden estate was supposed to be soundproof; Regin had tested it himself. Yet, too many times, Forne knew too much of what went on behind closed doors. “That was either a very good guess, Forne, or you have a way to hear my thoughts.”
“It was a good guess, sire. If harsh words were exchanged, I beg you to remember that Kyre is at the age when he wishes his independence from his parents; to become his own man. You have arranged a wonderful opportunity for him, but for now, he may see it as you restricting his path in life. He may resent that, though he will be prince consort and father of the heir of Tarador, that will always be your accomplishment, not his. He knows everyone will see it that way; that he will ever only be merely a means to an end for you. Putting a Falco on the throne of Tarador will be your triumph, not his. And his position in Linden will be as a figurehead. That might be a bitter pill for him to swallow, sire.”
Regin sat down in a comfortable chair, swirled the wine in the goblet, and took a sip. “I had not considered how Kyre might look at this.” He waved a hand dismissively in disgust. “It should not matter! My eldest son has a role to play in this great game we play. I am offering him the queen of Tarador! He should be happy. More than happy! Yes, I have had this dream all my life; all Falcos have longed for this opportunity for centuries. Now Kyre has the chance to fulfill all out dreams, and he spits on it!”
“Sire, perhaps the boy needs time,” Forne said softly. He referred to Kyre as ‘boy’ to remind the duke how young his eldest son still was. “This marriage arrangement must be a shock to him.”
“If only Kyre needed time to adjust to the idea. Forne,” Regin swirled the wine in the goblet, watching the dark red liquid spinning. “My son told me that if he married Ariana, he will protect the queen, and that if anything were to happen to her after a baby is born, he will raise their child as a,” he choked on the words. “As a Trehayme. My son betrays me!” He slammed the goblet on a desk, and droplets of red wine flew up to splash on the duke’s fine shirt. It was a measure of his anger that the duke did not move to blot away the stains. “Harsh words were exchanged. Some were words that cannot be taken back, I fear. Words by each of us. Forne, this may become a,” Regin looked out the window, “problem.”
It did not escape the attention of Niles Forne that his duke did not look at him as he spoke. Nor had he failed to notice the duke’s red eyes, or the single tear that rolled down the duke’s cheek. Regin angrily wiped it away, glancing guiltily toward Forne, who wisely pretended to be adjusting a shoe and therefore not witnessing a moment of weakness. “Ah, I must get these shoes fixed, they pinch me. Sire, if Kyre were to, become a problem, there is a solution. Your Grace, when I wrote the contract for marriage, I deliberately specified the marriage was to be between the crown princess of Tarador and the ‘Falco family heir of Burwyck’. Kyre is currently your heir, but his brother Talen is, according to the marriage contract, also eligible to marry Ariana. If, for any reason, Kyre is unable to fulfill his duties as heir,” Forne coughed. This was a conversation about which even he was uncomfortable. “Then Talen would marry Ariana.”
Regin froze for a moment. Changing the heir to a province was not so simple as a duke or duchess naming one child over another. Regin could not merely disinherit Kyre. The laws of inheritance for royal privileges were strict. A new Falco heir such as Talen would need the approval of the Regency Council; four out of six votes; for Regin himself could not vote. Talen becoming the heir in place of Kyre could be easily blocked by the Council.
Unless Kyre was no longer eligible to be heir. That would require Kyre to be imprisoned for treason. Or for Kyre to be dead. Forne had likely written that into the betrothal contract to prevent the Trehaymes from killing Kyre before the wedding. Now Kyre might face a threat from his own family.
Regin sat up abruptly. “We will not speak of this again,” he said in a numb, emotionless voice. He had come to his advisor’s study to vent his feelings, not for the man to offer solutions. Regin had feared there was no solution, short of Kyre coming to his senses, which seemed unlikely. Then the damned Forne had offered a solution that Regin hated to contemplate. And even more, he hated himself for contemplating it. “You will particularly never mention this to Kyre’s mother.”
Forne bowed as the duke stood up. “Yes, Your Grace.” Forne noted that Regin had referred to Britta Falco not as ‘my wife’ but as ‘Kyre’s mother’. Regin was already mentally distancing himself from both is wife and his eldest son.
Regin paused before opening the door. “While we are here in Linden, Forne, you should take the o
pportunity to instruct Talen.”
“Certainly, Your Grace. Might I make a suggestion, Sire? You will be sending part of your ducal army to support the Royal Army in Anschulz. It might be good for Kyre to join your troops there. He will gain experience leading an army in battle, and more importantly, he will not be here, close to our new Regent.”
Regin thought for a moment. “That is an excellent idea, Forne. In order for him to meet up with the force I sent, he should leave today, I think.”
“Oh, certainly, Sire. It is a long journey.”
After his duke departed, Forne walked over to his wine cabinet and poured a quarter glass for himself, savoring it while looking out the window. He had chosen that particular apartment in the Falco estate because it looked out over the rooftops of Linden, up to the royal castle and the palace within. The view of the rooftops was not scenic, the turret of an adjoining mansion partly blocked his view of the castle, and the south-facing nature of the windows could make the study hot during summers. It was seeing the royal palace that mattered; the upper story of the bright white walls were visible above the grey stone of the castle fortress that surrounded it. Seeing the castle reminded Niles Forne of why he was in Linden, why Duke Falco relied on him so greatly. Forne held his powerful position in the Falco household for one purpose: to help Regin Falco regain the throne of Tarador for the Falco family.
Toward that end, Forne had considered a plan even more bold than a deal for Ariana to marry Kyre. Forne had thought, in his dark and twisted mind, that if the Duchess Britta Falco were to suffer an unfortunate accident, Regin Falco himself would be available to marry the crown princess. As the royal prince consort, Regin Falco could not become king himself, but he could legally be guardian to any child he had with Ariana. And if Queen Ariana were to tragically die before her child and heir reached the age of sixteen, Regin Falco could become their child’s Regent, and the true power within Tarador.
Niles Forne had discarded the idea of removing Britta Falco, not because he found the idea morally repugnant. Not because the Duke would never consider arranging for his own wife’s death. Forne had discarded the idea simply because he judged that the Regency Council would never allow Regin Falco to become prince consort. And so, Britta Falco lived.