The Trouble With Kings

by Sherwood Smith

  “Garian does lie, easily and with great enjoyment.” I frowned at Jaim. “So what you are delicately implying is that when we first met in Garian’s fortress at Surtan-Abrig, Jason thought I was what Garian described me as—a worthless fool who had managed to inherit tremendous wealth that she knew not how to use?”

  He turned his palm up. “That’s about the sum of it. After all, Garian had spent time at your court, so he presumably knew you. He certainly brought you back, which argued at least some friendship.”

  I sighed. A lot was now clearer. “Why are you telling me these things?”

  “Don’t you like to know the why of matters that concern you, or have concerned you? I know I do. Which is why I listened when Jason showed up alone, arm bandaged, one rainy day, not very far from our hideout. Not far at all. And I’d thought myself so clever.” Jaim rolled his eyes.

  “Yes.” I nodded, inwardly sorting through my reactions. “You’re right. I do.”

  “Well, then. He said it turned him damn queasy when you hopped out with some cheerful assertions about trust, during the time your head and your memory had lost their acquaintance. In fact, about the moment Garian was offering the wedding toast and my merry band was preparing to swing down and smash in the windows of Garian’s hall, Jason had been concocting a post-wedding plot for decoying Garian’s nosers by sending his entire entourage east to Lathandra, escorting an empty coach with as much fuss and bother as possible, while you and he and Markham Glenereth rode secretly west to Carnison and your brother. The idea being to annul the vows on the grounds of your lapsed memory. And then plan from there.”

  I rested my arm on the table to ease the ache in my shoulder. “So, what Garian intended was, either Jason contrived my death—in which case he’d be in trouble with Papa and Maxl—or he’d discover he was stuck with a wife with no intention of flouncing into a river and, what, Garian meantime could gallop to Dantherei and tell Eleandra that Jason had betrayed her and married someone else?”

  Jaim grinned. “You figured it out faster than we did.”

  “With help from hindsight,” I retorted, grinning back. Questions boiled around me, a thunderstorm of emotion-charged questions. “But that day Spaquel set Jewel and I up, when Jason grabbed us?” I drew a deep breath. “Spaquel is Garian’s creature. So Jason sprung a trap of Garian’s? He did drop a hint to that effect, which I didn’t really pay attention to, at the time.”

  “That’s about it. Garian wanted you as a bargaining piece—and as an excuse to create his war with Lygiera. Spaquel put together a plot to get you to Drath. Jason got ahead of him, but only just. He didn’t know that Garian had gambled on that. As a test of Jason’s real intentions, shall we say. Those hired knives of his were watching every single road from the west. We are fortunate he only sent them out in parties of twelve.”

  “Jason sent a threat—a bluff, he called it later, but still—to my brother.”

  Jaim twiddled his fingers. “Through a courier he suspected leaked news to Garian. Sure enough, Garian found out right away. And when Maxl saw through the carefully worded letter, Jason realized it was time to choose his allies and tell your brother everything.”

  I bit my lip. “But he didn’t see fit to tell me any of these things.”

  It was Jaim’s turn to study his wineglass. “Yes. Well. True. But you could ask him now.” He waved a hand in the general direction of Jason’s tower lair.

  I thought angrily, If he wants to talk to me, why isn’t he here?

  Out loud I went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “But that does not explain why Jason said, not long after the fire, that I would live to regret not using that knife on him.”

  While I had spoken, my words coming quicker and quicker, Jaim walked around the table, looking out the window, at the cabinet in the corner, down at the wine glasses, then at last at me.

  Was he waiting for something more? I shut my mouth so hard my teeth clicked.

  He said, finally, “I don’t know. We talked little about that. I can only point out what I did before. He wasn’t in any shape to make much sense. Perhaps you would do better to discuss that directly with him.” Again the hand toward the tower.

  I remembered Berry’s voice from the day before. The king requested me to name the time you would like to depart—

  I might have misunderstood—that what I assumed was dismissal of me and my disastrous mistakes was actually the opposite, an oblique invitation to continue the conversation, or not. As I chose.

  If it was indeed true, what did I choose?

  The door opened then, and servants came in bearing trays. The moment of decision was gone.

  Jaim sat down. We served ourselves. His next question was about Dantherei, and my impressions thereof. The subject of Jason was never again introduced by either of us.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  At dawn the next day, I wandered out onto the rain-washed balcony. A clean, cold wind swept out of the west, bringing the scent of wet loam. I faced into the wind and lifted my gaze beyond the castle walls to the distant mountains, stretching in a dark line on the horizon.

  A flicker of movement resolved into a galloping rider splashing through great puddles. He vanished through the military gate. A courier? It was none of my concern.

  I returned to the harp. Laboriously—trying not to jar my left arm—I tested and tuned the strings. Finally every one rang sweet and true, but by then my left arm ached.

  Berry appeared, her expression anxious. Alarm kindled in me.

  “The king requests an interview, Princess,” she said. “If it’s not too early—”

  “Of course.”

  Terrible images chased through my mind like frightened birds. Maxl hurt—killed. Carnison under attack—

  I forced myself to stop speculating and walked out onto the balcony, as if I could separate myself from imagined horrors and leave them behind.

  I stood with my right hand gripping my aching left arm as I stared out at the mountains again. A long, low caravan of ragged gray clouds moved steadily across the jagged horizon, faint stars glimmering above.

  A knock on the door.

  “Out here,” I called, my heart thumping as if I had run a very long way.

  Jason came out and I looked anxiously into his face.

  “The news is not from Lygiera,” he said.

  I groped behind me and sank into a chair. “Ah.” I exhaled with relief. And then made a face. “Then it has to be Garian.”

  “He is holed up in his fortress at Surtan-Abrig. He sent a message. He wants to change Jewel for you.”

  I remembered the look on Garian’s face before he brought that knife down, and shivered. Jason said nothing as he watched me. Wishing that I’d kept my reaction to myself, I mustered up my bravado. “Amazing. No ransom, for once?”

  Jason’s gaze flicked down to my bandaged shoulder and away to the west toward Drath.

  “So what are you going to do? Make me go to Drath?”

  “I leave that to you. I promised to send you to Lygiera, and I will honor that, if it takes half an army to see you safely to the Lygieran border.” He turned back to me, waiting for a response.

  This time it was me who looked away. “Do you have some sort of plan for freeing Jewel?” I asked the balcony rail.

  “Nothing that I can promise is free of risk. Jaim is on his way there now, to evaluate the situation himself.”

  I frowned up at Jason. “Wait a moment. If Garian knows I’m here, he must know I told you what happened in his tent. What exactly did he say about Jewel? He must have—”

  “Promised that if you do not appear he will kill her.”

  I shut my eyes. “Then I have no choice.” I hugged my elbows against myself, but opened my eyes again. Being unable to see was not going to make the situation any easier. “It’s my fault she’s there. It’s my responsibility to help get her out.”

  Jason made a sharp gesture outward with the flat of his hand. “I do not see that responsibility lies
with you at all.”

  I said, trying for a semblance of humor, “Well, you could say it’s your fault for sending us to find Eleandra, but you thought it would be a safe, easy trip. Yet you knew Garian too had a passion for that princess. Did you really not think he might go there?”

  Jason looked away at the thin line of departing clouds. Then back. “I thought, should the worst happen and Garian did appear in Dantherei, that first it would be in the capital city, with you and Jewel surrounded by my guards as well as Queen Tamara’s, and second you and Jewel would be so busy maligning me, Garian would see you two as useless as tools against me.”

  “Oh, no.” I understood at last what had occurred outside my narrow perception of events. “So by overhearing his plans—and by trying to kill him—I really did make everything worse. For everyone. But especially for poor Jewel.”

  “You are in more danger than she,” Jason said.

  “But I have to go. There is no choice! I can’t go home and leave her there to be killed, especially when I see myself at fault. It was I who chose violence over diplomacy—” He shook his head. “No, don’t waste the time arguing with me about who is or is not at fault. Make your plans. I’ll abide by them.” I spoke as forcefully as I could, though my insides had cramped with fear.

  “In that case, the easiest plan would require your presence. We would trick Garian into releasing Jewel. You could then continue on to Lygiera from there.”

  “Trick. You mean double-cross him? Not that I am criticizing. It’s what he deserves, I believe with no shadow of doubt.”

  “Yes. Jaim and I discussed the possibility. He will set things up. Get as much rest as you can, for we will travel fast. Also remember Garian is brandishing Jewel as a lure to get you, but through you he wants to get at me.”

  He left.

  At the time, I did not delve for more than superficial meaning. I was too preoccupied with worries about Jewel—what I ought to have done differently—Papa—Maxl, far away in Carnison, no doubt wondering what was happening, but unable to act because he was tied down by all his new responsibilities.

  After breakfast the next morning, Berry brought me a very fine travel gown, deceptively simple in design, elegant in fit. More important for my present purposes, it was quite comfortable, a soft, sturdy cotton-wool of gray and maroon that harked back to the old style of overdresses that hung in panels to show the undergown beneath. This was one piece, the elegant skirt divided for riding, high-necked, which hid my bandages—and it fit me, which meant some unknown hands had been working on it so it would be ready.

  “This is very fine, but I did not order a new gown. More to the point, I did not pay for one.” I felt a twinge of regret for all those fine gowns I’d worn in Dantherei, paid for by Ralanor Veleth’s treasury—which was not all that capacious—and then abandoned.

  Berry smiled happily. “It’s a gift. From the others down in linens. Do you like it?”

  “It’s wonderful,” I replied, surprised at a gift from people I had never met. “Please convey my thanks.”

  “They wanted to thank you for what you did. Saving the king’s life.”

  Thoroughly embarrassed, I made a fuss of smoothing out the gown and admiring the flow of the skirt. “I just hope that this lovely gown will not soon be covered in mud!”

  “You will not be riding, I was told, Princess,” Berry said as she braided my hair up into a coronet. “But in case, I did pack a second riding outfit in the valise in the carriage, the more practical tunic and trousers.”

  “Thank you,” I said again.

  She gave me a nod, then her smile vanished. “We wish you a safe journey.” She whisked herself out the door.

  When I got to the stable yard, I found waiting a high-structured racing carriage, built for speed and comfort, of the sort that hot-blooded young lords and ladies drove in races, only it was not open, but had a roof and sides and two windows. In front there were traces for four horses. As I walked round to the door, I saw fine gilding enhancing the smooth lines. The thing was evidence of wealth and I wondered who Jason had strong-armed into relinquishing it.

  A footman about my age appeared, bowed to me and opened the door. “May I offer my wishes for your highness’s successful journey?”

  “Thanks.” I tried to sound light. “I hope your wish comes true.”

  He shut me in, then said through the open window, “I hope we put in everything you might need.”

  I looked about me. The carriage seat was filled with several down pillows, hot bricks, another of those yeath-fur robes, and a basket of things that turned out to be bread fresh from the oven—so fresh it was still hot—and a flask of steeped leaf. Some fruit and cheese wrapped neatly in linen completed the contents.

  “Thank you. I think I’m ready for a journey to Sartor!”

  He gave me a serious look. “You saved our king’s life. And now you go to save his sister.”

  Then he was gone.

  The little window darkened, and there was Jason. I busied myself with rearranging all the good things in order to hide my red face.

  He said to my bandaged shoulder, “Is there anything you require before we set out?”

  “No.” I lifted my hand. “I didn’t expect such luxury! I thought we needed to make speed, and I am perfectly willing to ride.”

  “This rig is fast enough,” Jason said.

  “I suppose it’s inappropriate to ask, but did the owner get a choice in loaning it out?”

  “It was offered for your use.”

  “Oh.”

  “If you have reason to stop, all you need do is wave. Markham and I will ride at either side.”

  The courtyard behind him was full of activity. The coach jounced and moved as the driver mounted, and the horses were hitched up and the traces checked. Beyond them what seemed an enormous number of mail-coated and armed warriors were busy checking saddles, girths, weapons and bags. Some mounted up, others ran back and forth. Above the noise were occasional calls and laughs, the tones full of suppressed excitement.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said to Jason, who seemed to be waiting for an answer.

  He rejoined the others. He too was dressed for battle in the plain green long tunic over mail, and beneath that the quilted black-wool garments of his warriors. There was nothing in his outfit to mark him from the rest of them—he wore at his side the same long knife of plain black hilt, and his sword was stashed in a saddle sheath. His head was bare, his long hair tied back with a ribbon; that was the only difference, for most of his warriors had shorn hair.

  He lifted a hand, and the stones rang with the thunder of hooves.

  The carriage rolled out, picking up speed. Well sprung, it made me feel that I was floating over the roads. Long autumn grasses sped by, and the rocky terrain, marked occasionally by walled towns and distant hilltop mounted castles, became an ever-changing scene. Westward of the capital began the hills that would eventually rise into the mountains of the borderland in which Drath lay. Three times we stopped to change horses, and I did not get out of the carriage. By afternoon we rode in and out of deep needleleaf forest, and alongside rivers overgrown with cottonwood and willow.

  At nightfall we stopped in a crossroads town below a great castle. Markham, windblown and dusty, opened the carriage door and helped me out.

  A stout woman innkeeper awaited me, respectable from her clean white apron to her pleasant smile. She took me upstairs to a room that had a fine fire crackling merrily and a clean bed all turned down.

  “I’ll have food and hot drink along directly, mistress,” she said. “Will the cleaning frame serve, or do you desire a hot bath?”

  “Cleaning frame will suit me fine, thank you,” said I.

  Mistress? I thought after she had left. Jason must be doing one of his decoy tricks, sending all those warriors off in one direction, and we were riding anonymously. I thought about our appearance—two dark-haired men in plain warrior garb, escorting a young woman. We could be anyone, for wa
rriors in Ralanor Veleth’s colors were certainly common enough.

  The innkeeper came back bearing the tray herself.

  I stepped through the frame and sat down to my lonely meal. I had napped off and on during the long drive, and I did not really feel like sleeping. There was nothing keeping me in that room, but when I thought about going downstairs I was reluctant—and my shoulder ached enough for me to excuse myself from examining the reasons for that reluctance.

  So I sat on the hearth staring into the fire, but my thoughts were not good company. Finally I slept.

  Early to bed means early to rise. When the soft knock came in the morning, I was already up and ready, my hair braided, and I’d stepped through the cleaning frame again. After a hasty meal, I trod downstairs to the carriage, which waited at the door.

  And so went another day, ending with a night at another inn, only this time the curious innkeeper was an old man.

  But the next morning the routine changed. When I went downstairs at dawn, slinging on the yeath-fur cloak against the cold, it was to find Jason and Markham in the stable adjacent to the inn yard. Three saddled warhorses waited, one of them pawing the hay-strewn ground. The two dark heads turned at my approach, and Jason said, “Here she is. We’ll ask her.”

  Markham turned to me. “I am afraid, Princess, that you are not yet recovered enough to ride.” He glanced at Jason. “We will not be making great speed, for our route now is steep and treacherous.”

  I pointed at Jason. “He made this same journey in the very same place not so long after he got stabbed, and his cut was much, much worse than mine.”

  Jason turned away, then back to me. “We can call a halt any time you say the word. But from here on, it will be safer if there is no carriage.”

  “I’ll go back and change into sturdier riding clothes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four