“No.”
The silence lengthened between them and Jesselyn waited for Vere to explain. But finally, when he rose to his feet, all he said was, “You’ll be safer in Ahga, Jessie. As safe as anyplace is likely to be.” Troubled, she watched him pace across the beach and stand like a gray ghost at the dark water’s edge.
Chapter Eleven
“And that’s your last word?” Phineas spoke with such clipped precision Roderic looked from his brother Phillip to Phineas with surprise. He had never heard Phineas speak so coldly to anyone. Halfway down the long council table, Phillip glanced around the empty council room and stifled a sigh. At least, thought Roderic, he had the grace to look uncomfortable: shifting restlessly in the rigid confines of his chair, plucking at the wide band of gold embroidery on the sleeve of his flowing blue tunic with fingers heavy with rings of every description. Not only had Phillip something of Abelard’s coloring, and Abelard’s build, he had something of Abelard’s presence as well. In the daily sessions of the Congress, among the more soberly dressed Senadors of the Arkan Plains and the war-ravaged mountain estates, Phillip with his bright blond hair and flamboyant clothes stood our like a swan among sparrows. A pity, thought Roderic, that Phillip apparently lacked Abelard’s commitment to the unity of the realm.
Phillip’s gaze darted from Phineas to Roderic and back. “Lord Phineas, please.” He spoke with the slow, patient tone used with invalids, and Roderic writhed inwardly. How could Phillip so underrate Phineas?
“Try to understand,” continued Phillip, “I know the perception you midlanders have—that Nourk is rich, with men enough to satisfy every demand. But we too have had to strengthen our borders against the Muten threat—Nourk has—“
“Nourk has ever held back,” Phineas interrupted, his voice so dangerously soft that Roderic automatically straightened in his chair. “We only ask you for reserves. The Congress may have acclaimed Roderic Regent, but this country is far from settled. We only ask you for reserves, reserves to be held at Ithan Ford, in the event they are needed for the defense of Arken.”
“But Ithan is much too far away for my needs. What if the Muten tribes in the North rebel? My own lands will be vulnerable. Surely you can’t expect me to send men when my own situation may change at any time?” Phillip met Phineas’s tone with a biting edge of his own. His blue eyes flashed and he looked so much like the King, something twisted in Roderic’s chest. Abruptly Phillip pushed his chair back from the table, and Roderic noticed for the first time the hint of a paunch beneath his ornate robes. Life must be easy in Nourk for a man of fighting age to run to fat.
“The losses in Atland were heavy,” answered Phineas.
“And why was that? I beg your pardon, Lord Prince, but perhaps it had something to do with your inexperience in the field. Or maybe your indifference to slaughter.”
Roderic flinched and lowered his eyes. That day in Atland would haunt him for a long time.
Phillip stood up, placed his fists on the table, and leaned on the glass-topped surface. A bright shaft of light reflected off the glass, cutting across his face. “I renewed my Pledge of Allegiance. I will honor my oath if and when I must. But I will think long and hard before I commit my men.” He looked at Roderic and inclined his head in a brief bow. “And that is my last word.”
Phillip strode out of the room, his runic swirling in rich folds around his ankles. When the door had closed behind him, Roderic stole a glance at Phineas. The old man’s hands were laced across his chest and his lips were pursed. “We’ve never talked about what happened in Atland.”
Phineas’s eyes flickered and he drew a deep breath. “I don’t blame you for the losses in Atland.”
“That’s not what Phillip meant.” Roderic twisted his hands together. “It’s the day Ebram-taw—the day I had—” He broke off and bit his lip so hard he tasted the salty-sweet tang of blood.
“Why did you do it, my son?”
“I don’t know!” The answer burst from his throat, and he clenched his fists. “By Dad’s throne, I don’t know, Phineas. I don’t understand why I did what I did. I guess—I guess I thought there was no other way.”
“And perhaps there wasn’t.”
Roderic stared at the old man, not certain he had heard correctly.
“Perhaps there wasn’t any other way to end it, Roderic. I’m not saying what you did was right—I can hear in your voice how wrong you thought it was. But every one of us—your father, Brand, even Phillip, the sanctimonious fool—have done things we are not proud of. Things we’ve lived tc regret. There are always consequences, Roderic. Always. No matter what the choice.”
Roderic spread the palms of his hands flat against the cool glass surface of the council table. Beneath his hands, preserved under the glass, were maps of ancient Meriga, so old that if they were ever moved they would crumble into dust. Sunlight made rainbow prisms on the walls, and his eyes fell on a grayed banner hanging limp and tattered in the corner. Legend said it was the flag of Old Meriga, and still barely discernible in the frayed fabric were thirteen stripes and fifty stars. What choices had the men of Old Meriga made that their children had lived to regret? “What are we to do?”
“About Phillip? Let him posture all he pleases. If we do need his troops, his oath will require him to send them. And if his conscience requires him to stir himself from behind his mountains and ride to war, so much the better. Phillip is hardly the one to talk to you about inexperience.”
Roderic suppressed a smile. Nourk’s natural defenses made the possibility of invasion remote, and Roderic could not recall a time when the Senadors of Nourk had called upon the throne for aid. Abelard had thought to bring Nourk’s resources into the sphere of his control when Phillip had been married to the old Senador’s daughter. But apparently, Abelard had been wrong.
The moment lengthened, and finally Phineas roused himself with a sigh. “Have all the dispatches we discussed yesterday gone out?”
“This morning.” Roderic was glad to change the subject. “I never realized, Phineas, that so much of my time would be spent signing my name.”
“Now you understand why your father, who loved to hunt, went so seldom to Minnis.”
Roderic narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think I should leave to meet Jesselyn.” It was a statement, not a question, and Phineas was silent for what seemed like a long time.
“Jesselyn’s message troubles me,” he said at last.
Roderic rose and paced to the window, where the late afternoon sun had broken through the low-hanging clouds and the light glinted on the sea. The white sails of the fishing boats bobbed over the whitecaps. Less than a week after he had been acclaimed Regent, he could not deny that he had begun to think of the dark green forests and cool lakes of Minnis Saul with longing. Dispatches from every corner of the realm were pouring into Ahga, an unstoppable flood that carried no regard for youth or inexperience, only requests for supplies and men and justice—the King’s justice to settle the endless disputes of a thousand competing interests.
As Phineas and Brand had anticipated, the Harleyriders who, for the last twenty years, had been more or less confined to the deserts of Loma and Dlas, had taken the opportunity of the Muten Rebellion to try and wrest back control of a greater portion of the Arkan Plains. Now they rode their shaggy ponies with greater and greater impunity, daring to press deeper and deeper into Arkan, into lands which had not seen the ravages of their raids for two decades.
During the three days of the Convening, Senadors, who had grown more or less quiescent under Abelard’s firm grip, raised their voices experimentally, as if to test his heir, and acting under Phineas’s advice, Roderic dismissed tie Congress. With Roderic’s confirmation as Regent, the reason for the emergency Convening had been addressed; there was no need, said Phineas, to continue. Daily more and more petitioners appeared in the outer wards, seeking a hearing at the King’s Court of Appeals.
That very morning, Amanander had left for Dlas with orders to
suppress the Harleyriders by whatever means necessary. Roderic had spent many hours with old Gredahl, the First of the Senadors of the Arkan Plains. The men of Arkan were tough and proud and bent the knee to few, but Roderic knew that among all the Senadors in the Congress, he could number them among his closest allies. But the men of Arkan could not stand alone, and Phineas had hoped to hear a firm promise of help from Phillip.
He hooked his thumbs in his belt. “It troubles me, too, Phineas,” he said, watching the boats skim over the water. At this height, seven stories above the ground, even the largest of the fishing boats looked toy-sized. “And I don’t want to antagonize the Bishop—“
Phineas waved a hand in dismissal. “She’s old, Roderic. The fight went out of her a long time ago. But perhaps—” Phineas paused.
“Yes?” Roderic prompted.
“No matter, boy. Go to Minnis. After everything in these last few months, you deserve a few days respite. Call for my bearers, please?”
“Phineas—” Roderic hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject he wanted to discuss. “Last night, Gartred asked me for permission to leave Ahga in order to visit Elsemone. Do you think I should let her go?” He had already told Phineas of the advances the woman had made and his discovery of how she had treated Peregrine and his child. Her request had come as a relief. Her daughter, his youngest half-sister, Elsemone, was married to the heir of one of the Lords of Mondana. It would be an easy thing for Gartred to ride with Nevin Vantigorn.
Phineas spread his hands. “Why not?”
“Then—“
“Say what you must, boy.”
“I need a First Lady, do I not?”
Phineas nodded. “I suppose.” He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head. “And you have someone in mind?”
“Peregrine Anuriel—you know, the daughter of—“
“I know who she is,” Phineas interrupted sharply, so sharply Roderic was surprised.
“Well, I was thinking, you see. She’s borne my child, and I thought perhaps, with my father’s consort gone, I could make Peregrine the First Lady of my household, and then, perhaps—“
“Are you thinking of marrying this girl?”
Roderic cocked his head. “I—I thought it should be considered. Do you think Dad would object?”
What little color there was in the old man’s leathery cheeks drained away. Phineas laced his fingers together and rubbed the palms of his hands together. “In the first place, you have no heir. And the subject of your marriage—” Phineas paused, obviously groping for words. Roderic narrowed his eyes. He had never seen Phineas so upset. “Make her your First Lady, if you will. The subject of your marriage—” Once more, Phineas seemed to hesitate. “Must wait. Now, please. Call for my bearers. It’s time we went down to the hall. The first of the Courts of Appeal is scheduled, and if you are intent on going to Minnis, we must try to hear as many cases as possible before you leave.”
As he followed Phineas’s litter down the stairs, Roderic pondered the strange reaction to the subject of his marriage. Perhaps, he decided, as he reached the hall, and saw the petitioners lining the walls, it was only a response to all that had happened in the last weeks. Enough had happened, he thought, as he assumed his father’s place on the dais. Phineas was right. He would not broach the subject of marriage again. At least, he thought, as the scribe handed him a scroll pertaining to the first matter, not until he had something tangible to offer Peregrine. Gartred would go, Amanander had gone. The business of the government seemed well in hand.
He glanced up at the bearded faces of the merchants clustered before the dais. One held bolts of cloth, another a broken wagon wheel. Another was speaking in a low voice to one of the court scribes, gesturing with a scroll covered in many-colored seals. He nodded, more to himself than to the men before him, and the herald, gaudily dressed in the blue-andwhite tabard embroidered with the Ridenau crest, stepped forward. With a loud cry, he announced the opening of the court. Roderic leaned back in his father’s chair. The real work of his regency had begun.
Less than two weeks after his affirmation as the Regent of all Meriga, Roderic, with Alexander, Brand, Peregrine, and two companies of the King’s Guard, set out for Minnis to wait for Jesselyn and enjoy a few days respite. As they cleared the outskirts of the city, Roderic spurred his mount on ahead, as he always had as a boy, and burst out of the city gates ahead of the rest. Before him, the road opened up into the wide paved roads of the open countryside, the rolling green fields and well-maintained farms which stood as testimony to the years of peace under Abelard’s rule.
Just outside the city, he saw a crew working to repair the surface of the roads following the harsh winter weather, and Roderic raised his hand in greeting and stopped to speak to the workmen. It was these roads which had enabled his father and his grandfather to move armies and supplies across the great distances of Meriga, these roads which cut through mountains, arched over rivers, reaching across the wide plains straighter than arrows. His tutors had all emphasized the strategic and tactical importance of the highways, and Abelard had never begrudged the high costs of maintenance.
It was of some witch’s brew, thought Roderic, as they continued on their way, that the ancient pavings had been poured, and he wondered if the men who had made the roads had known they were building their greatest legacy.
They had just remounted after stopping for a brief lunch, when Alexander nudged his mount over to Roderic. “A word, if you will, Roderic. When I go back to Spogan, there is a coil waiting for me. I hope you might have some insight.”
“Me?” Roderic pulled at the reins so sharply that the horse whickered a protest. Alexander’s face behind his beard was smooth, impassive; his eyes held an expression impossible to read. He knows about Atland, realized Roderic. He knows, and he wants to see what sort of ruler I am. “I doubt that I’ll have any insight to offer,” he said at last. “You know that region so much better than I.”
Quickly Alexander outlined the current state of affairs in the Northwest, and as Roderic listened, a glimmer of understanding began to dawn. It came down to one thing. When Abelard had set a royal administrator over the affairs of the Senador of Ragonn, as punishment for his participation in Mortmain’s Rebellion, he had upset the delicate balance of power in that region. So devastated by the effects of that rebellion was Ragonn, however, that the unablanced situation wasn’t felt until now, more than twenty-five years later.
“… and I believe a full-scale war is inevitable, if things continue on their present course,” finished Alexander.
“So we must find another way to balance the power than resorting to violence,” Roderic replied.
Alexander looked surprised. “And what do you suggest?”
“Perhaps it is time to recall the royal administrator. Leave the troops in place, but I’ll send out a dispatch to their commanding officer, ordering him to report to you. That will remove one thorn in your side, as well as give you more flexibility, in terms of men and resources.”
Alexander was looking at him with wary respect. “Indeed, Lord Prince. It very well may.” They trotted along in silence. Once more, Alexander cleared his throat. “There is another matter, Roderic. The M’Callaster, old Cormall, has a younger daughter, Brea. I’d like your permission to ask him for her hand.”
“You want to marry her?” Roderic’s mind raced furiously. Old Cormall had no sons, only two daughters by two different women. If Alexander married one, it was possible that he could inherit the title of the Settle Islands—and what would that do to the balance of power in the Northwest?
“Old Cormall’s close to death. I think he’d like to see her provided for. No—” Alexander shook his head at the skepticism Roderic could not hide. “It’s not what you’re thinking. When one of the Chiefs dies without a direct heir, the contenders for his title must fight for it. I don’t promise that I wouldn’t fight for it myself, but it is no certain thing.”
“And what about the older daughter?�
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“Dierdre? A hell-cat if ever there was one. It’ll take a better man than I to tame her.” Alexander hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “I love Brea, Roderic. I’d take her if she had nothing but a shift on her shoulders.”
“I will think on it. You understand that I must consult with Dad’s Council over most decisions?”
Alexander nodded, a smile playing beneath his beard. “As you say, Lord Prince. As you say.”
Chapter Twelve
They took the journey to Minnis in easy stages. Ever since Amanander had left, the whole atmosphere seemed changed. Roderic remembered the looks of relief among the soldiers of the King’s Guard when Amanander and his four bodyguards had ridden out of Ahga.
On the last morning of their journey, before the towers of Minnis were visible, a party of men on foot stepped out from beneath the thick cover of trees and waited by the roadside until Roderic and his companions drew closer.
The leader of the group, a short man dressed in a much-patched tunic and trousers, a longbow slung over his shoulder raised his hand in a cautious salute. “Greetings. We seek the King.”
Roderic exchanged glances with Brand. The Wildings roamed the northern forests between C’Nadia and Meriga, coming over the border especially in the summer. They were a solitary, nomadic people, who kept to themselves and lived off the land. Occasionally there were complaints of theft, but the Wildings so seldom went into populated areas, they were left alone for the most part.
“I’m Roderic Ridenau,” said Roderic, as he guided his horse to the fore. “My father, the King, is away. I am his heir. Can I be of assistance?”
The man glanced over his shoulder at his companions, and cleared his throat. “We hope so, lord. It’s the lycats, j’ou see.
The winter was bad up here, and there’s one that’s taken to killing humans.”
“It’s huge, lord.” Another man spoke up. “And it stalks us in the night—we’ve kept watch, but the thing is clever—it knows when our men are watching.”
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