“What do you mean?”
“Relam, even if the royal family all died of seemingly natural causes, people would be suspicious. Whoever took over would need a significant number of unquestioningly loyal troops to enforce his will.”
“You think the entire Citadel could be compromised?” Relam asked, leaning forward.
“Likely not everyone,” Cevet said, frowning. “But more than we thought. Most of the chain of command, at least two members of every squad. There’s another aspect of this I don’t think we have considered enough. The easiest way to stop an investigation, is to get rid of the investigator before he goes to anyone else with his suspicions or finds any remotely solid evidence. You remember what happened to the last commander of the palace guard, Bannen?”
“Knifed in an alley,” Relam murmured.
“Exactly,” Cevet said. “The military might is one side of this mess. The other side, the one I think we missed entirely, is the information gathering aspect. If I were planning to take over, I would want spies everywhere, so at the very first mention of suspicions or accusations I could take action.”
Relam sighed heavily. “Another problem to add to the list,” he muttered.
“There’s nothing solid yet,” Cevet said. “Just suspicions. I’ve been talking to Hadere, learning as much as I can about my father’s rise to power, finding out what contacts he made along the way. I’m doing the same with D’Arnlo, discreetly of course.”
Relam’s weary mind finally connected the dots. “You’ve been hiding because you’re playing spy,” he realized. “Cevet, are you insane? You aren’t trained for this sort of work, dealing with the underworld, exposing people who don’t want to be found. You might end up like Bannen, or worse!”
Cevet shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t really care though. All I want is to see everything my father and D’Arnlo tried to build rooted out and destroyed. If that means taking some risks on my part, so be it.”
“You don’t have to fix this, it wasn’t your – ”
“If you say it wasn’t my fault one more time, I’ll throw you out your own window,” Cevet snapped. “I am fully aware the actions of my father were not my fault. I’m just trying to do some good in the wake of this disaster. I can’t help much on the political stage right now, and there are no wars to be fought, so I figure this is the next highest priority.”
Relam sat back in his chair, surprised at his friend’s vehement outburst. “All right,” he said finally, sighing. “Continue with your personal project. What resources can I offer you to give you a better chance of surviving all of this?”
Cevet gave him a lopsided grin. “And now you’ve divined what I was really after. I need some help dealing with the underworld types, and learning more about D’Arnlo. Any suggestions?”
“Narin had an informant network at one point,” Relam remembered, scratching his head. “But I don’t know if he’s maintained it, or if they would have the information you need. As far as D’Arnlo’s past, I would ask Oreius. He’s the oldest of the sword masters, and I think he would at least have some more ideas on people for you to interview.”
“It’s a start,” Cevet said quietly, gazing into the fire. “What disturbs me most is that the supremacist faction is still strong in the Assembly, even after the battle at the Citadel.”
“They weren’t directly tied to those events,” Relam observed, “But D’Arnlo was one of their leaders. Have you heard anything regarding his death? Have they tried to make a martyr of him?”
“I don’t know,” Cevet replied. “I’m not in the Assembly. Some of the others might have heard something. Sebast especially, seems like his father is involved in anything the Assembly does.”
“And he’s the new Head of the High Council,” Relam muttered, scowling. “As though he needed to have more influence over the larger Assembly.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Cevet promised. “We can get Sebast to help us. And we can safely pull in Delan and Knet, I think. Jatt might let something slip by accident, so we should probably avoid telling him anything too important for now.”
“What do you need outside of sources and information?” Relam asked. “Money? A safe house?”
Cevet laughed. “I’ve got a few hides around the city, and some people I can stay with in a pinch. I haven’t had to use any of them yet. Hopefully, I never will.”
“Be careful, Cevet,” Relam warned. “Informants tend to work for both sides. And what you are digging into, it might be bigger than you can handle, even with help.”
“I know,” Cevet said, standing and retrieving his cloak. “But someone has to do it. Might as well be me.”
The lordling crossed to the door, stopping with his hand on the latch. “I’ll try and report in more frequently, keep you posted on how things are going.”
“Thanks,” Relam replied. “If there is anything you need, all you have to do is ask.”
“I’ll remember that,” Cevet said. “But now it’s time I was gone. I’ll let you get some rest. See you around, Relam.”
The lordling slipped through the door, an anonymous figure in a gray cloak. Somehow, Relam was more worried about him now than he had been before Cevet’s visit. With a shudder, the young king extinguished the lanterns in the office and retreated down the hall to his rooms. He lay there in the dark for a long time, unable to find sleep.
When he woke the next morning, less than an hour after dawn, Relam found that the world’s problems had very inconsiderately not waited for him. By the time he rolled out of bed and dressed, breakfast had arrived in the dining room, and before he had even picked up a slice of fresh bread Clemon was bursting through the front door with an armful of papers and a list of things needing Relam’s attention.
“Good morning, your majesty,” Clemon said breathlessly as he set his papers on the table with a muffled thump.
“Is it?” Relam muttered, looking at the stack of reports Clemon had brought with him.
“Did you have a chance to look through the basic terms of the marsh treaty?” Clemon continued, not even looking at Relam but instead digging through his papers.
“A little,” Relam replied, finishing a slice of toast and adding a pair of sausages and some eggs to his plate.
“Excellent. We’ll need to draft a reply to that later on – they would love to have royal input on the matter – and then send it off as soon as possible. In the meantime, there are certain – ”
“Marc,” Relam interrupted. “Can it wait a few minutes? I’m trying to eat.”
“Of course,” the chatelain replied, straightening his robes and sitting back in his chair. He sat there quietly, an unwanted guest at a lonely table. It was moments like these that Relam missed his parents the most. When they were alive, he’d always had someone to talk to, about anything he wanted. It hadn’t been all business all the time, not the way things were with Clemon.
After only a few minutes of awkward silence, Relam sighed. “Fine, Marc. Let’s get to it then.”
“Are you sure, your majesty?”
Relam nodded resignedly, pushing his half-finished breakfast to the side. “There’s work which needs doing,” he said quietly.
“Yes, there is,” the chatelain agreed with some feeling. “Now, I have a few updates on major projects in the city. The river project is moving along well, and the condition of the water is improving all the time. It was wise to take care of the dwellings immediately along the river on the west side first. And now that part of the west side is looking better, there has been a dramatic reduction in criminal activity on the main roads. People almost feel safe walking those streets. Now, there are a few details on both of these projects I need you to take care of . . . ”
And so the morning went. On and on, with no sign of ending. They migrated from the breakfast table to Relam’s office, then back down the hall to the dining room for a hasty and improvised lunch, which hardly interrupted the never-ending stream of problems and questions Clemon had for Relam
to answer. The young king was starting to get used to this routine: he had lived it every day since the end of the war. And he hated every agonizingly long minute of it.
Finally, midway through the afternoon, Relam’s patience ran out. He pushed back from his desk forcefully, stalked across his office to the window and stood there looking out over the city, fists planted on his hips, breathing heavily.
“Your majesty?” Clemon called tentatively from behind him. “Is something the matter?”
Relam spun on his heel and marched back to the desk, gesturing at the mounds of paper with an all-encompassing sweep of his hand. “This,” he said bitterly, “This is the problem. I can’t take any more of it, Marc. I just can’t, there’s too much.”
“You are the king,” the chatelain replied patiently, “And as such there are responsibilities you must manage every day.”
“There has to be a better way,” Relam muttered. “I can’t go on like this. Meetings all day long, always another issue to provide my input on. There’s no time left for what matters, and no time left for me to take care of myself either.”
“Your majesty, reworking the way things are done to grant yourself more free time is not a wise strategy.”
Relam gave the chatelain a withering stare. “I’m not talking about free time, Marc. I’m talking about getting a decent night’s sleep more than once a week or so. I’m talking about stepping away from all of this,” again, he gestured at the mounds of reports, “And making a difference for my people instead of being confined to this office all day long. And all night,” he added bitterly, remembering the many late evenings he had spent trying to catch up.
Clemon looked around the room, then cleared his throat hesitantly. “What are you suggesting, your majesty?”
“We need a new system,” Relam said, “One that involves more people. People who can share in the burden of ruling this kingdom and managing every little event that happens in this world. For instance, now that the west side project is under way, I don’t need to be involved with every little detail. I don’t have the expertise or knowledge for that sort of thing either. I should pass the responsibility to someone I trust to get the job done and do it well.”
“What you are proposing would upset the entire governing structure of the kingdom!” Clemon protested.
“I wasn’t the first to propose this,” Relam said, warming to his theme. “Remember the meeting my father had with the High Council a couple years back? One of the issues was formation of a ‘task force to adjudicate minor disputes’, or something of that nature.” He frowned trying to remember. “I don’t think I got that quite right. Didn’t sound nearly pretentious enough.”
Clemon was too flabbergasted to even register that Relam had been joking. “Your majesty, I can understand you are finding the burden of the crown difficult to bear, but – ”
“Nobody could bear it better than I have these past months,” Relam argued. “Am I not right? What more could I do for this kingdom? Is there something I’ve missed?”
“You do work diligently, your majesty,” Clemon admitted grudgingly. “And you get a great deal done, even if there is always just as much left to do. It’s not really your fault though.”
He glanced at Relam’s desk, eying the mounds of paper. “Perhaps . . . perhaps experimenting with some delegation would not be such a bad thing,” he conceded at last.
Relam nodded. “I think it is worth the time and energy. The question is, where to start?”
“If I may,” Clemon said, clearing his throat. “There’s an obvious solution to the problem. You’re young friends, Sebast, Delan, Knet, Jatt.”
“Yes,” Relam murmured. “They could help. But what tasks do I give them, what projects are they best suited for?”
“Talk to them,” Clemon suggested, “Find out about their interests, what motivates them. You may have to temper those desires with fact and reason though. For instance, I would not make young Garenes a major overseer of the military or anything of that nature.”
“Or Jatt,” Relam said grimly. “I can only imagine what a disaster such an experiment would be. What is wrong with Sebast though? He is loyal, despite his father.”
“Despite his father,” Clemon repeated. “Not everyone is as strong as young Lord Thius. I do not know if Sebast has the strength in him to do what Cevet did if need be.”
“I’ll find out,” Relam said grimly. “I trust Sebast, Clemon. No matter who his father is. He fought with me at the Citadel.”
“Yes, well, he likes to fight from what you have told me in the past,” Clemon said.
“You weren’t there,” Relam insisted. “He was the first to turn. D’Arnlo gave him a chance to attack me, duel me to the death in front of everyone and prove his loyalty. Sebast refused, and turned his blade against D’Arnlo instead. The others only joined after he had made the first move.”
“Nevertheless,” Clemon said stubbornly, “Go carefully with him. His past cannot be discounted out of hand.”
Relam sighed, knowing he would never get the last word in an argument like this. “Fine,” he growled. “Now, while I’m trying to figure out when I’ll find time to interview my friends, why don’t we look at what things I could pass off to them?”
“An excellent strategy, your majesty,” Clemon said. “Before we begin though, I should point out something you may have overlooked. Even if many of these tasks are delegated, you will still spend hours in meetings and reading reports, they’ll just be written by different people. Your workload will be reduced, certainly – ”
“But maybe not enough to make a significant difference,” Relam agreed. “Which is why I’m going to need someone to summarize things for me, boil it all down to the important points. Can you do that, Marc?”
“Me? Your majesty, I’m in meetings all day, advising you, gathering reports from all corners of the kingdom – ”
“There you have it,” Relam said, interrupting. “You’re in meetings all day with me. If we can eliminate the minor issues or at least reduce things to a manageable level, that won’t have to happen. You and I will both be free to pursue other projects and also do our own jobs better.”
Clemon did not appear convinced. “We shall see, your majesty,” he said dubiously. “I would caution against too much change too quickly though. People don’t react well to violent upheavals in their world.”
“Who said anything about upheaval?” Relam said. “I’m talking about change, Marc. Change is critical. It enables growth. And besides, you don’t have to warn me about how people are affected by upheaval. I know this all too well after the uprising and the war in the South.”
“Very well,” Clemon replied. “Shall we return to the task at hand then? There are some disputes regarding trade routes on the northern rivers, too many ships and not enough river, apparently.”
Relam sighed and returned to his desk, listening patiently to Clemon’s prattling. It was easier to bear than before though. Now at least, there was a hope that things could get better. Keeping this hope squarely in the front of his mind, Relam shouldered the burden of the crown again, determined to keep moving forward.
Chapter 7:
The Hunters
The morning after the desperate flight through the Najni Range, Khollo awoke stiff and sore. His limbs felt like they had been encased in metal, and his entire body was cold, despite spending the night curled up against Kanin for warmth. Sven didn’t appear to be faring much better, even though he was better prepared for the cold.
Kanin was affected the worst though. His movements were sluggish to Khollo’s concerned eyes, his scales dull, his tail drooping slightly. Even the iridescent eyes didn’t seem quite so bright.
I will be fine, Kanin assured him, his mental tone nearly dead with fatigue. I need to hunt. And then to rest.
I know, Khollo said. I’m sorry you have to go through this.
It is nothing. I will do what I must. It is our duty as Keepers. The Order must grow, and for t
he Order to grow we need candidates.
Khollo nodded. Two down, two to go. It’s a strange group so far.
Oh? Did you think a group of young people snatched from all over the world would be normal?
Khollo laughed despite his weariness, earning a confused glance from Sven.
“Well, at least someone is in a good mood,” the northman observed, joining them. “Although, I suppose we have much to be grateful for. Not many would have survived such a storm.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “Thank you, master dragon.” The words came out in a rush, as though Sven were still getting used to the idea of a positive relationship with a dragon.
You are welcome, Kanin replied through Khollo, taking no offense at the brief slip. Now, let us be off. We must get you on a ship, and then find me a place to hunt.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Sven said, a trifle wistfully.
Khollo shrugged. “You’ll see quite a bit of dragons hunting over the next few months and the coming years. Besides, we have to drop you off first. If I’m not mistaken, Kanin’s planning to stuff himself until he can’t walk, let alone fly.”
That is most certainly the plan, Kanin agreed wholeheartedly. A few nice, juicy bucks –
A few?
I worked hard yesterday. The dragon rose to his feet and gazed skyward, rustling his wings in anticipation. Can we get moving now? He asked pointedly.
Khollo sighed and scrambled onto Kanin’s back, extending a hand to Sven and hauling him up onto the saddle as well. The moment they had tightened the flying straps Kanin was off, climbing rapidly through a thin layer of fog and mist.
When they were well above the swamp, Kanin leveled out and set a course for Welmire. Below, the shifting, crawling mass of insubstantial gray clouds and strangely-shaped trees skimmed past. Occasionally there would be a break in the mists, revealing a stretch of marshy ground or a series of small lakes. Khollo kept an eye out for isolated settlements, but did not see any.
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