The Trophy Chase Saga

by George Bryan Polivka

  Her eyes narrowed.

  He shrugged. It was their belief, not his. “The Second Law is that one who is not Worthy may martyr himself for one who is, and then the Unworthy becomes Worthy in death, and his family and his line are then elevated by this act. Let me quote. ‘By freely giving his life and dominion to save and protect the Worthy, the Unworthy earns the status of a Worthy one.’ Simplicity itself. And thus hordes of ignorant peasants are sent by their leaders to die. You will see this in action, if the Vast ever land on our soil, when wave upon wave of human shields die unarmed, simply to protect their Zealot masters.”

  “Again, very handy for the Zealots. But I see no help here. What is the Third Law?”

  Sool Kron seemed disappointed. “Hmm. Well, the last is that any Unworthy who takes the life of a Worthy One is to be hanged, dismembered, and cursed. In practice, the Zealots have been known to execute it in the reverse order. But it is in fact the Second Law that may come to our aid. If you were to become a Zealot.”

  She watched his eyes, his expression. He seemed to be serious. “You are suggesting that I go the Quarto, put myself under their authority, and claim that the Hezzan was Unworthy? You would have me argue that he knew I was more Worthy, and therefore granted me his dominion through martyrdom?”

  He nodded, pleased that she was keeping up. “The Quarto does not demand that he be wicked, mind you. Simply less Worthy than you. He did die in your place. That, I believe, we can prove. And he was no Zealot. If you are a Zealot, or can convincingly present yourself as one, they will see their opportunity.”

  She said nothing, but studied him and his proposition.

  “He did die in your place?” Kron asked, needing confirmation. “He knew the danger?”

  “He took arrows meant for me. He heard the assassins, and took my place at the window.”

  He saw the emotion in her again, and was pleased. “Perfect.” His voice was compassionate. “They will hear your story, and your claim, and their greed for power will blind them to all else. You will need only to signal them prior to making the request that you have room for them in your new Court of Twelve. They will recognize themselves to be one small ruling away from achieving their great ambition. And not incidentally, all will know of the Hezzan’s dedication to you.” He smiled as warmly as he knew how.

  Her expression did not change. “Why will they confer on me the title of Hezzan, when they might claim it for one of their own?”

  Sool Kron smiled, held up his hands. “It is the way of the world. You already have his power. You already command his armies. Unseating you would be a long and bloody affair. You grant them a seat of power, and they make your power legitimate. A stroke of the pen, and their power is increased a hundredfold. And you, the Hezzan, are beholden to them for it.”

  “That sword has two edges.”

  “Most swords do.”

  Panna was awakened in the middle of the night by two very insistent dragoons, ones she had never seen before. They told her she was required to come with them, but would not say where. “Mather,” she breathed out angrily, but secretly she was quite worried about what this might mean.

  They waited while she dressed; she was not going to walk through the palace again in her robe. But they did not take her to the prince. Instead they escorted her down several long flights of stairs, through a great door they unlocked with a huge iron key, into a basement, then through a cold, wet tunnel carved through what seemed to be bedrock, which opened directly into the main passageway of a prison. Now she was frightened. Was she being placed behind bars? Had he decided to punish her for striking him, after all?

  The place reeked of human waste. The prison cells were illuminated only by greasy lanterns hanging over the wide corridor, which was lined with emaciated faces, men who pled through bars with their eyes, most of them too tired or weak or hopeless to speak. A few begged for help; one called her “Princess.” Behind them in the matted, filthy straw, were bodies, whether living or dead she couldn’t tell.

  The dragoons took her to the last cell on the right. Here the floor was covered with fresh straw. Lying face down in it was a big man in a gray priest’s robe.

  Panna felt dizzy. “Daddy?”

  He rolled over, and when he saw her he beamed with joy. “Panna!”

  “Oh, Daddy! What have you done?”

  He came to the bars laughing, straw clinging to his beard, his great girth shaking merrily. He reached through and held her, pulling her against his belly and the bars all at once. Fortunately for Panna, a good bit of his flesh was soft enough to protrude through and provide some padding. “Are you all right, little one?”

  “I’m fine. But what about you? You’ve been arrested!”

  “Yes. I have in fact been arrested. For trying to see you.”

  “But, why didn’t you just ask? Didn’t you get my letter? I’m sure the prince…” but she trailed off as he shook his head. “You never got it, did you?”

  “I haven’t been home in a while. But I have sent you a message every day, through the dragoons at the gate.” He gestured at the two who had escorted Panna here, and now chatted with the two regular prison guards.

  Panna glanced at the four men. “I never got any notes. Why did they arrest you?”

  “I heard you were being held in the upper rooms, in the Tower, and so I was trying to get a look. The proprietor of a fine used-merchandise emporium reported me as a spy.”

  Now Panna laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You, a spy. You would be horrible at it.”

  “Hey!” he protested, but he was smiling. Then he grew serious. “I’ve been very worried about you. I was afraid something awful was happening.”

  “It’s not good. But it’s not the worst. I can handle the prince.”

  Will spoke softly, so as not to be overheard. “What has he done to you? Has he hurt you?”

  “No. Well, he tried once to…He tried, but I hit him. He hasn’t tried since.” She smiled ruefully.

  He shook his head, but there was admiration in his eyes. “Has he said why he won’t let you leave? Does he give a reason?”

  “At first he thought I’d tell everyone what I know about the war, and the Fleet.”

  He looked quizzical. “And what do you know?”

  She gave him a look that said he had just asked about the dumbest question she could imagine.

  “Sorry. Right. You can’t tell me.”

  “I don’t know anything, really, just guesses. But now he’s more worried I’ll tell people who he really is, and what he did to me. Frankly, I’m not sure why he cares. He has a horrible reputation in the palace anyway.”

  Will Seline sneezed.

  “Daddy, are you all right? Are you getting sick?”

  “No. Something in this straw isn’t doing me well, that’s all.”

  “This is a terrible place. I’ll talk to the prince. I can appeal to his better instincts. But you have to promise me you’ll go home and quit worrying. Pray, Daddy. That’s what you do best.” She smiled.

  He beamed. “I’m just so glad you’re all right.”

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He sneezed again as Panna turned toward the dragoons. Now she was all business. “Take me to the prince.”

  The dragoons did indeed take Panna to the prince. Or at least, most of the way. They walked her up to the large double doors that led into his private chambers, and then stepped aside. They did not announce her, nor did they make any move that made her believe they would.

  Feeling this was odd, Panna knocked. But the doors were huge, and her knuckles were small, and the rapping was barely audible. She looked at the dragoons. Still they offered no help. Panna took one of the large iron door handles in both hands, and pulled it open. She stepped inside.

  The prince’s private sitting room was large, paneled in dark oak and pine, and trimmed with walnut. The floors were dark, polished mahogany, shiny a
s glass. Directly in front of her, across the huge room, a large fire burned in an enormous fireplace. The reflection of its flames were long tongues of fire reaching out toward her. Candles glowed from elegant stands all along the walls, illuminating paintings and mirrors and a few old documents framed behind glass. An ornate piano near her and a large sofa facing the fire filled the room to her left, while a fully provisioned bar, made of polished mahogany, gleamed to her right. The room gave her the sense of being set just so, as though someone were expected. But it was the middle of the night.

  “Come in,” said the prince, in what would have been his oiliest, most congenial tone, were it not for the nasal stoppage. Even so, it made her shiver.

  “Where are you?” she asked tentatively.

  He stood, turned to her, already smiling. He had been sitting on the couch, which was angled away from her toward the fireplace. Its high back had concealed his head. He was holding a glass of wine, or port, and he was wearing a silk bathrobe. “Panna! To what do I owe this honor?” She was quite sure he knew exactly why she was here. He had sent the dragoons to take her to her father. When she did not answer, he said, “I apologize for not being dressed. But I’m sure you understand that I mean absolutely nothing by it.”

  Anger rose in her. But when she walked over to him, she was careful to keep the back of the sofa between them. “My father is in your prison.”

  “Really. What has he done?” He sipped his port.

  “He’s done nothing. He’s only tried to speak to me. He’s been sending notes to me daily, through the guards, notes that never reached me.”

  “Really. I will have to speak to the Captain of the Guard about that.”

  Panna didn’t like this version of the prince. His eyes were colder than the last time she’d seen him; he was clearly enjoying himself, but his smile was insincere. He was perhaps slightly drunk. She began to fear what might have gone on in his head since she’d last spoken with him. She expressed herself carefully. “I would like you to release my father. He is no threat to anyone.”

  “Interesting request. Please, sit down. Let’s chat about it.”

  “I’d rather not sit.”

  “Again with the sitting! Well, this time, I’d really rather you did.” He smiled, but it was a cold and insistent smile.

  “This is about my father. It is not about…” She trailed off.

  “About what? About you? About me? Heaven forbid anything should be about me. Or were you going to say, about us?”

  A chill ran down her spine. “Mather.”

  “ ‘Mather’? Now that Daddy is in trouble, I’m finally Mather?”

  Fear rose. “Don’t do this.”

  His face grew colder. “Sit down.”

  “And if I don’t?” She couldn’t keep her voice from quavering.

  His jaw went taut. “Always getting to the point. Would you like to see your father out of jail?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then…sit…down.”

  She did, quickly skirting the sofa and sitting on the very corner of it. The prince sat at the other end, angled toward her. He crossed his ankles out in front of him, striking a relaxed pose.

  “There. That wasn’t so painful, was it?”

  She waited.

  “Port?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  He looked at her, swirling his port. She was much more willing to listen to him now. He smiled again. “I don’t know why I have taken such a liking to you, but I have, and there’s nothing to be done about it. I erred at dinner, but that does not mean I will act on my feelings again. They are more pure than you know.”

  Her eyes widened just slightly, and he saw it.

  “Fine, mock me. But you don’t know what you mock.”

  “I was not mocking you.”

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  She cringed.

  He took a deep breath, controlling himself. “You think you know me, but you do not. Nothing will ever happen between us. I know that, and I’m sorry I ever gave you reason to believe otherwise. My intentions are good.”

  “So why is my father in prison?”

  “Because I cannot, I can not have you wandering about casting aspersions on my character. I don’t want you locked away any more than you want to be locked away. I just need your word. I need your promise. I need you to tell me that whatever transpired between us is a secret, and will stay that way forever. Your father’s imprisonment is just a small incentive to help you see reason. That’s all. That’s it. Promise me you will be silent, treat me as your prince, not some child who needs to be taught a Scripture lesson, and you go free. Your father goes free. It’s over.”

  Panna’s eyes were black ice. “And if I refuse?”

  He smiled, shaking his head. “Why on earth would you refuse? This is easy. Make a promise, and I’ll believe it. You are an upright young woman. I know you won’t lie; I know you’ll keep your word. Just promise me silence, and it’s over.”

  “Then I can go home?”

  He stared hard at her for a moment, then turned away. “Yes,” he said at last.

  She was not sure she believed him. He was saying he wanted to be treated like a prince, but he was saying it as he threatened to keep her father in prison. Was that how a prince behaved? Of what was he capable, really? “And if I refuse, what happens?”

  He closed his eyes. He opened them again and leaned forward, pleading with her. “Panna. You do understand the nature of power, do you not? I have it. You don’t. I do not want to use it in this way. You simply leave me no choice.”

  “No choice? You have no other choice but to keep my father and me locked up until I swear I will never tell anyone about your attempt to assault me?”

  He shook his head. “That is your description, not mine.”

  “And if I don’t play along, how long will you keep us captive? Months? Years? Forever?”

  “Panna, you struck me in the face. He is accused of spying. I’ve had people jailed for years for far less. No one will question it.”

  She searched his eyes. He would do it. She looked at the fireplace, and a large log fell into the flames, glowing red, burned right through the middle. A shower of sparks fled upward. When she spoke again, her voice was flat. “You want me to swear that I will tell no one. Not even my husband.”

  “Especially not your husband. This is the bargain. He cannot know who his benefactor has been, nor can he know anything else that transpired between us at dinner. No one can know about any of it, including this little arrangement and the reason for your silence. Everything shall be expunged from the record. It’s a very simple request. It never happened.”

  Panna’s heart felt as heavy as an anchor. Who was this man? She was sorely tempted to give in, to take the bargain. But it felt so very, very wrong. She would be proving to him that this was, in fact, how to use power. That this was an effective way to run a nation. “Mather,” she now pled, “you were going to read Scripture. You were going to learn what repentance really means.”

  Mather stood and strolled calmly away from her. She was weakening, and that felt good. It felt good to turn his back on her, to be in control. “I thought about what you said. I thought long and hard. And I decided you were right. I am selfish. But then I realized, that’s exactly what drives me to do the things I do. It drives me to get what I want. My selfishness drives me to rule this nation, to win this war, to be a great king one day. And I realized that reading Matthew or Mark, or whichever one it was, could only change me. And that would mean I might not get what I want.” He turned on her. “And I want what I want.”

  “And so to get what you want, to your other crimes you now add blackmail.”

  His lips tightened, went pale. “You have a very nasty habit of putting horrific labels on my conduct.”

  She shook her head sadly. “You make me ashamed of my country.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But you are naïve. All kingdoms on earth are run by people
like myself. It is the nature of politics. It is the nature of power.”

  She closed her eyes, praying that was not true. And yet it might be true. It could be true, if everyone allowed men like Mather to get away with “bargains” like this one. She opened her eyes. “If that’s all, you can ask your dragoons to return me to the Tower.”

  “What?”

  She stood. “Is that all? Your Highness?”

  “You are refusing my offer?”

  “Yes. Now and forever. I am refusing to be begged, bought, or blackmailed into hiding your crimes.”

  “Why, you little hypocrite.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You have committed crimes yourself for which you did not pay. I have delivered you from the consequences of your own indiscretions. Now you refuse to do the same for me?”

  She laughed once, shaking her head. “Everyone in the kingdom knows what I did to Riley Odoms. I am not proud of it. But it is known, and public, and I have apologized and done all I can to make it right to that poor, sweet man. It was your choice to protect me from justice, justice I would have accepted because I deserved it. But you are trying to hide your shameful behavior, to avoid what you deserve.”

  He ground his teeth. “What happened to forgiveness?”

  “Forgiveness comes after repentance.”

  “Again with repentance. I am trying to save us both a lot of trouble.”

  “It is still my choice to make. And I choose not to accept your bargain. May I go?”

  “You will regret this.”

  “No, you will regret it. Packer will return. And then what will you do? What will you tell him? How will you keep him quiet?”

  He fought back rage. “Do not threaten me, Panna.” He hesitated, then decided to play his final card. He would show her what power could do. “Your father will be denied food and water until you accept my bargain. My physicians say he can last four or five days. I suggest you change your mind before that time goes by.”