Before the weight of many duties caught up to Shala she oversaw her father's removal from the infirmary, the body to be taken to his chambers for the time being. If he were to be delivered to Nem Nemuris she would hastily have to assemble an entourage to carry out such a mission. Waiting for the orderlies to prepare to move her father out she had a swift look through the infirmary, as she did most days.
The reigning disease was still rampant and the only patient that seemed to show a fighting chance was the large man near her father's room. Even then Shala saw he was so in the throes of the disease that he could just as easily die as recover. She would return later to do for him what she possibly could, she promised silently.
Waiting outside the infirmary, members of the guard boxed around their procession as they moved the King to the upper levels, the rest of the castle standing solemnly aside at realizing what was happening. The King was laid on his bed and if Shala could exercise the influence she would hope to, he would be away within the week.
For that she was sure to speak with Scholar Naceus. Attoras was often considered isolated and its people largely ignorant of the world outside its borders. The good old Scholar on the other hand knew more about the outside world than anyone, if there was a good argument to be made about how and why King Anka should journey then Naceus could do it. As her father was now he would not decay or wither, the body would remain intact, but only for a set amount of time, his soul confined to his remains. With the orderlies shuffling out Shala did not wish to be alone here, and so did not linger, but two steps outside she wished she had stayed a while after all.
It was inevitable Shala knew, and she had hoped against hope to avoid this encounter, but her own portrayal of Swarztial the vulture was never more apt as he approached, as though getting whiff of the dead being moved. She had been keen on keeping him out of this.
And he brought company; next to his cut of stark black was a man drabbed in the finest crimson robe, long and embossed with golden thread along the sleeves and collar. Following in their wake was the hardly noticeable young Squire, Rolf of House Orette. Shala spared him no thought, because the supposed vassal to Shala spent much of his time in Swarztial's company.
The man in red however inspired some reverence if not for the man he arrived with and it brought a sinking feeling to her stomach. She had forgotten an envoy of the Crimson City would arrive, and now that he did the timing could not be worse.
Swarztial started off in a soft tone, ‘Princess, I introduce you to Father Jaegosh, Bishop of Allandiel, and formal ambassador to Attoras.’
The red robed man walked forward. ‘Your Highness, I had heard on the road that your father was ill, but not for a moment did I think he would succumb. We grieve with you Princess, I assure you his loss resonates much farther than just Attoras,’ said Jaegosh.
‘I thank you Father, and I welcome you to our houses and homes. Consider the city yours as well. Your presence is greatly appreciated, particularly now, we will need guidance in due time.’
The Bishop nodded sagely, ‘It shows us, I guess, that we are all here but for the Grace of His Benevolence. Yet with the passing of one comes the rise of another, and I’ve already prayed that your rule be blessed, and a light shine upon your path.’
‘Thank you Father, and know that if I appear curt or at unease, it is only the product of my grief,’ she apologized in advance, knowing that in Swarztial's company she was inclined to be short-tempered.
‘To be understood child, to be understood. I hope to stay long enough for your father's burial and if at all possible oversee the coronation as a representative of Allandiel.’
Shala was hesitant to say it, but she thought it better that the Bishop hear from her, before it could be put in a bad light. ‘Father, you must know that for my own father there will be no burial, only a funeral ceremony. I have sealed him with magic, to comply with his final wishes.’
Jaegosh lifted an eyebrow.
‘It is for the Dream of Embers you must understand. Nem Nemuris stands empty of a pilgrim from Evrelyn and had my father not been laid low by the disease he would have set out to fulfil what he considered to be duty.’
‘Noble considerations of course, but I must warn Your Highness, foul things follow in the wake of souls that fail to depart.’
‘I assure you Father that I would undo my work if I felt it posed any threat.’
‘I am certain that your Grace would, we know your House to be one of conscious and act according to your reputation,’ said Jaegosh.
Swarztial saw it fit to interject. ‘Dear Father, I’ll have my aid tour you through the castle, it is humbly small to what you are accustomed to, but the sights are grand and rich with history. I myself have one or two matters to discuss with the Princess, and I’m doubly sure the subjects would bore you…’ said Swarztial.
‘Of course, I’ll let you at it and meet with you later. With your leave Your Highness,’ said Bishop Jaegosh bowing, and Shala acknowledged the man's departure with a slight nod. She did not relish being alone with Swarztial.
‘Should we take a walk Highness?’ asked Swarztial, gesturing toward the stairwell that ran down toward the colonnade.
‘That would be best,’ said Shala, taking the lead.
‘As your Highness might know I often receive word from the Sannils. In light of your father's passing they of course forward their condolences. They however also expressed concern, for they have high expectations of young Lord Patrick, and suddenly they fear that you might ascend to the throne alone. This morning in writing my reply I could not assuage their fears, knowing your Highness plans to act exactly so. I have not sent out a letter yet in hopes that we can avoid letting this come to a ballot. I fear for you Highness, Evrelyn might find itself far removed from the throne if you do not consider Lord Patrick's proposal.’
‘But my dear Swarztial, Patrick is a puppet, vulnerable to manipulation, and surely you do not want a spineless man on the throne?’ she asked sarcastically, knowing that was exactly what he wanted.
He was taken aback. ‘Your Highness, it is ill-advised to speak in that manner of one who might be King – and possibly your husband!’
‘I am in mourning Swarztial, I do not even have the courage to speak of marriage, especially the arranged kind, what chance is there that I might even think of participating in such an ordeal?’
‘Hardly an ordeal, my Lady, Patrick is a fine and noble –’
‘Oh but it is an ordeal. You say you fear for me, but I fear for myself! I have heard of Patrick and his ways with women. I will not be the first one he takes to bed. Apparently he silences anyone with a tongue sharper than his! And will he force me like he forces others? Hold me down and strangle my throat!?
‘And then in the morning with a wrung neck and swollen eyes my household guard must stand and watch me breakfast, not batting an eye because they know my injuries come from the Lord of the Realm? What honour will be left in this castle then? When the hearts of soldiers want only to defend their Queen, but cannot do so against their very own King? For the crimes he has committed, were he not at the head of House Sannil, he would have hung already, or to my liking, drawn and quartered, torn apart by horses and ropes!’
Swarztial narrowed his eyes by the sudden outburst and said quietly, ‘Far be it from me to question the effects of grief, I must insist that Your Highness reflect on herself; you already appear clouded and volatile to others of the Council. Do not give them cause to doubt you more than they already do.’
‘You are a scheming miscreant Swarztial. Do not pretend to pity me. I know you vouch only for Sannil. If I have any will left then I will resist marriage till I am chained before an altar.’
‘It would not go that far Highness, if you do not obey the wishes of the Council then you will be dispatched from the royalty here and another House will take to the throne. Already men line behind my vote and those who favour Evrelyn’s waning power are few and doubtful. Do let this come to a ballot your Grace, you will g
o the same way as Evrelyn's precious Wolves, you will lose everything.’
‘Surely you do not wish to threaten me Swarztial, it might put you in the sights of an angry queen should your plan fail,’ said Shala fiercely.
‘I bear no plan Highness, my role is only justice, and I fear justice will give you a cold hand for the good of Attoras. When I bring matters of the realm before you in the throne room, do not expect me to speak kindly. You wish to stand alone so be it, hope that I expose your unworthiness to yourself then, before you embattle the realm with pointless rivalries. I will be sending my reply to the Sannils. Should you change your mind you need consult with them before the ballot, I wash my hands of this matter. By your leave, Highness,’ he said, turned and left, without ever waiting for her to reply.
Shala could not help but feel she had made some dreadful mistake. No, sowing seeds of doubt is what Swarztial does best. But even knowing this the encounter clung to her throughout the day.
IV
For Shala, dealing with her father's passing and avoiding Swarztial's hounding efforts became missions she accomplished by the same means. She prepared the basket herself, going to the kitchens, which she rarely did, and snatched Kaell away for a moment, steeped in his work and sweating over the cooking pots, the thick white powder on his arms up to his elbows telling Shala he was busy with baking endeavours as well.
‘The food will burn and ruin your Highness!’ said Kaell in dismay.
‘You are only preparing a meal for council members already fat, and they can afford to miss the best of your efforts.’
‘But I am more worried about the wrath of Master Jalson than the bellies and appetites of said council members.’
‘I will only steal you briefly. Besides, Jalson is in my service as much as you are in his.’
Not for the first time Shala intruded into the kitchen storages with Kaell's help, not that she was in any way disallowed here, but her presence was unorthodox. Unlike Dieral the ceremonies Master, her exploits here had nothing to do with servicing her own appetites. Kaell showed her to the fresh supply of fruits, and she had her pick of what she could put in the basket, the variety she chose probed by her to be fresh and firm.
‘Highness, do you need to take the newest fruits?’ asked Kaell uncertainly.
‘Since you've already admitted to preparing a meal for the council members I've decided to leave them the bruised ones, a courtesy they can think on.’
Kaell glanced sidelong toward the kitchen nervously and twiddled his fingers.
Shala sighed. ‘Be gone with you, I can show myself out from here,’ said Shala.
Kaell departed with gestures of relief and apology. After helping herself to more fruit than she truly needed she left the same way through the kitchen, soon regretting her fervour as the basket proved itself uncomfortably heavy. She would have asked a member of the guard to carry it for her, but today she wanted to be alone with no threat of anyone tattling on her whereabouts. Shala groaned as she realized the trip to the tower would have her at odds with stairs. Many, many stairs.
Dream of Embers Book 1 Page 7
