“I shall lose my grip. I shall lose my grip on it all,” he whispered to the windows.
Suddenly Tabitha understood. The Kingsrim was something like the ring she wore, the Wizard’s Ring. It was magically fortified. It allowed the bearer to rule the realm with clarity. Her ring, however, could be removed if she wished. She had developed her talent sufficiently and did not need the catalyst anymore.
“Can you truly not do without it?” she asked gently.
“No. No!” He hid his face in his hands. “Without it, I lose my strength as king. I begin—”
Just then there was a loud knocking. King Mellar jerked around to glare at the door. “What!” he shouted. “We are in private audience, Kingsman!”
“Sire, I am not Rood. I am your Swordmaster!”
Mellar stiffened. “Do you have news, Vance? Come in if you have news! Come in at once!”
The door swung inward and a lean-faced soldier entered. He seemed surprised at first to see Garyll and Tabitha in the chamber, but that expression was soon replaced with a hungry smile as he approached. Tabitha wondered if moustaches always made men look slightly mean, or if it was just an unfortunate consequence of this man’s weedy growth. Although his light armour was burnished and his boots polished to a shine, he wasn’t completely neat. He saluted the king with his right fist brought hard against his breastplate.
“Your highness, do you wish me to deliver my report now?” He had earned a recent scar upon his cheek, a deep slash which had left a seam of hard pink skin from eye to chin. He was deliberately ignoring them, waiting for the king to decide if they were to be privy to his news.
“Yes, Swordmaster Vance, the Lady Serannon and Fullerman Glavenor are a part of this matter now. Speak freely. Have you found him?”
The King had used the title of fullerman for Garyll—that of a retired soldier—as would be used upon any Sword, even the lowest ranked guard who ended his service. She supposed there wasn’t a special title for a retired Swordmaster. They didn’t retire. Mostly they died, in the Fifth Challenge, upon the sword of their successor.
“The prince was sighted at Penitent’s pass!” Vance declared.
“And so, Swordmaster? Have they been caught? Have you the crown?”
Vance’s moustache twitched nervously. “No, sire, the wretches on that Llury patrol failed their duty. A mere boy, and they let him get away! They say they couldn’t follow, that a great force pressed down upon them in that pass. They admit to terrible weaknesses, your highness, of falling upon their knees and coughing up blood. One claims to have burst his eardrums. I don’t believe a word of it. I think the men were trying to cover their failure. Some old enemies lurk about. Not all the Shadowcasters have been accounted for. The prince travels with a woman we think was known as Gabrielle, and I believe that’s what happened. She threw her magic upon the Swords, and they were overcome. I shall marshal a force of city Swords, strong Swords, and take them over the pass. They can’t have gone far from there, and we have men stationed throughout the upper forests, waiting for them to come back down.”
“It is the Shield, your highness,” Garyll interjected. “I have been up there, above Llury, to the cairn of the fallen. No one can climb beyond the cairn without taking on pain. There is nowhere for Prince Bevn to go. No one can endure the torture for long.”
“Pah!” exclaimed Vance.
“You’ve never been up to the Shield, have you?”
“The Shield is a myth! There is nothing but high peaks and hunger up there. We will drive Prince Bevn out.”
“Was he wearing the crown?” King Mellar demanded suddenly. “Was he wearing the crown!”
Vance looked confused. “I don’t know, I suppose, yes, they said the boy had the crown with him, so they must have seen it …”
The blood drained from King Mellar’s face. “He’s gone beyond the Shield. Oh, ancestors forgive me, he’s gone outside!” he whispered.
“Beyond—beyond Eyri, your highness?” Tabitha asked. Her heartbeat quickened. “Is such a thing possible?”
“Oh fire and chaos and death upon us all! Oh, we are done for.”
“My lord?” Garyll asked.
The King rose and went to the farthest window, where he turned his back to them and stared at the northern horizon. Past his sagging shoulders Tabitha could see the distant twinkling mists of River’s End, and the gentle peaks to its west through which the braided afternoon shadows crept. Where the grey rock thrust through the upper reaches of the forest, somewhere around Llury, Prince Bevn had gone over the mountains.
Tabitha couldn’t contain herself. “Could there be a way through the mountains?” Her ring was burning on her finger. Visions of strange lands flooded her mind, places inhabited by the fierce warriors of the legends of the Forming. “Your highness, what is there beyond the edge of Eyri?”
The king wouldn’t answer her. He clutched at the window frame with shaking hands.
“What does it matter?” asked Vance. “We know where the prince has gone, and I shall see him found. The Sword shall ride in the morning.”
Garyll rose abruptly, to face Vance. “The Shield is real, man! The men shall be taken down.”
“Who are you to question me, fullerman?” Vance made a face like a growling dog. “I am the Swordmaster now.”
Tabitha slipped out of her chair, to get out from between the men. The air between them crackled with tension.
“How were you chosen for your position, Vance?” Garyll asked, his words soft but deliberate.
Vance’s eyes glinted coldly. “I bested my opponents in each of the challenges.”
“You did not face the Fifth,” Garyll stated flatly.
“Fullerman, you were absent, and unfit to challenge my claim! The men agreed that there was no need for the Fifth, for the man who had been the Swordmaster was already dead.”
Felltang, the deadly Swordmaster’s blade, glistened at Vance’s side, strangely unsheathed on its baldric. Garyll’s eyes lingered on the naked steel. “Someone should have held it against you.”
“Who are you to judge! I am the law and the justice now. I will not be bound by every petty tradition. We need to do things differently if we are to avoid the failures of the past.”
Tabitha went quickly to King Mellar and tugged on his shoulder, but he continued to ignore them all.
“You must uphold tradition,” Garyll challenged Vance. “You are not above the law.”
“Oh, and yet you think of yourself differently? You live in sin, don’t you? Living with an unmarried woman, in her house.”
A burst of heat came from Garyll, and Tabitha tensed.
“Follow that course of insults and I shall crack your skull!” Garyll shouted.
Vance seemed to take the threat too easily. There was still a hint of the lingering laughter in his voice. “You know, you really shouldn’t try to threaten me. I am the Swordmaster. I can put you in the dungeons for weeks if I wish. And if you touch me, you shall be in greater trouble than you can wheedle your way out of. I don’t care what happened during your time. Justice will be served under my hand.”
“Vance,” Garyll warned. “Enough. My lord king, can this matter be ended?”
King Mellar was shaking, but he wouldn’t turn to face the room. He seemed to be crying.
“Leave the king alone!” demanded Vance. “He is troubled. He doesn’t hear us now. I have seen his fits before!”
“Then go about your business, Vance, and we shall go about ours,” Garyll said.
“You will address me by my title!” Vance shouted. “You will acknowledge my command, Darksword!”
“It is over!” Garyll quivered. “Don’t you ever call me that again!”
“And you will address me as Swordmaster, or I’ll arrest you, right now!” Vance roared.
Garyll said nothing. The pulse in his temples counted out the seconds.
Vance drew Felltang swiftly, but not so well that Garyll could not have blocked his advance.
“Taste the edge of your old sword!” Vance shouted. “Am I the Swordmaster? Say it!”
Tabitha hesitated before reaching for her power, frightened by what she might have to do. She could not believe what was happening. He brandishes that blade as if it is a toy! Felltang was deadly, as sharp as a razor along its entire length. It should not be drawn unless it was meant to kill.
“You are not going anywhere except the dungeons,” Vance threatened Garyll. He whispered in Garyll’s face, but he underestimated her hearing. “Please, try to fight me, give me the excuse to end you, you forked-tongue traitor!” Then he raised his voice as he pulled his head back. “I would have beaten you in the test, spilled your blood in the Swordhouse, but you slight me by questioning my triumph in the Fifth Challenge, as if I am not worthy! I bled on the Kingsbridge because of your treachery, you bastard! Men half your age died there. You don’t deserve life for your failures. You deserve no pardon at all!”
“Your duty is to exercise the king’s justice, not to seek your own revenge,” Garyll declared. “My lord, this should not be!”
“Don’t you talk to me of duty!” Vance screamed in his face. “You swore to protect Eyri against peril, but you brought it upon us all!”
To protect me. How many times must we repeat this challenge? Oh, why doesn’t anybody see what I see?
“On your knees, traitor,” Vance ordered. “I want to hear your dark heart beg for mercy from me!”
It was horrible to see Garyll so degraded. He seemed determined not to fight, but Vance didn’t care.
“Stop it, stop it. Stop!” she cried. She reached for Vance’s arm, to pull the sword away from Garyll’s throat.
Vance swapped his grip on Felltang and pushed her away, a sudden shove which caught her in the chest. She would have kept her balance had it not been for the chair behind her. Her knees were knocked to one side, and in her weakness from the fever she tumbled onto the floor. The impact made her nauseous. She couldn’t get up for a moment.
A chair splintered. A sword whined through the air. Someone fell to the ground; there was the clang of metal upon metal, then three solid thumps in rapid succession. A sword clattered on the stone. She sat up to find Garyll standing upon Felltang and Vance clutching his arm to his chest, his face blood red with frustration. Garyll could have picked up the deadly blade, but he didn’t, he just stood there, poised, ready. His left sleeve hung in tatters, but she couldn’t see any blood. Yet.
“What is going on?” the king demanded, suddenly at her side.
“He attacked me!” Vance cried out. “He insulted me and attacked me!”
“Don’t ever touch the Lady Serannon,” Garyll said.
“Glavenor, give him back his sword!” the king exclaimed. Tabitha noticed how much his visage had changed. No longer was he staring defeated into the middle distance. That terrible anger of before had returned, his face seemed stretched, his lips curled into something between a snarl and a sneer.
Garyll considered the advancing king for a moment then kicked Felltang across the floor. “As you wish, my lord.”
In his hurry to pick up the blade, Vance dropped it again, cursed then lifted it from the floor. He didn’t look at Glavenor or the king, but his gaze dragged over Tabitha like a ragged comb. His ears looked as if they were burning they were so red. Then he dashed out of the chamber and thundered down the stairs.
“What did you do?” King Mellar demanded.
“He is not fit for his position, your highness.”
“In your opinion! In your opinion! You are in no position to judge him, none at all. You will go and apologise to Vance.”
Garyll was visibly shocked. He raised his hand then dropped it at his side again. “I will let him cool for a while, your highness. He is—”
“You will go now!” the king roared. “I will not have you defying my new Swordmaster!”
“My lord, did you not hear—”
“Go now! Go now! Go now! I do not care the reason. I care that you know I am your king, and that you follow my command! Begone!”
Did the king support Vance’s arguments? Surely not!
Garyll looked at Tabitha. He didn’t want to leave her alone.
“Are you all right? I shall stay if you need me.”
“The wizard’s wishes do not supersede mine! I am the king! This is my chamber! Do you defy me as well, Glavenor? Begone! I do not wish to see your face. I shall have counsel with the wizard in private!”
Garyll walked reluctantly to the door. There was nothing else he could do. The king had given him a direct order and he couldn’t refuse. He didn’t turn to bow as he left, as he should have. He merely strode out.
“And don’t lurk on the stairs, either!” King Mellar shouted after him. “Find Swordmaster Vance and apologise.” Garyll’s heavy tread as he descended the stairs sounded like the slow beating of an ominous drum.
The king crossed the room and closed the door himself.
Tabitha was scared but she didn’t know what to do. She rose shakily and found a chair. She pretended to take an interest in the outline of the Zunskar mountains, but all she could see were jagged teeth. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“Nice up here, isn’t it?” the king said from close behind her. He rested his left hand on her shoulder. His fingers were quite chill.
“Your highness, is something wrong?”
“You pretend to be so innocent, but you know how the world works, don’t you, pretty?”
She kept her eyes upon the horizon. “How so, your highness?” she asked slowly.
“The king has a weakness. The king has needs. The king must be served.”
She went cold. Was he suggesting what she suspected?
He spoke over her head. “With the power you wield, you challenge my authority. I cannot have that. I must see that you are willing, willing to submit to my authority. Because of who you are, you must be made to be more of an example, not less. Yes?”
What was wrong with him?
“Your highness, I am only healing people. I don’t challenge you.”
“Maybe I don’t want healing, any kind of healing!” he declared, bringing his cheek down beside hers, so that the corner of his beard scratched her face.
“I can—” she began then thought better of suggesting that she could help him. She wasn’t sure if she could use the Lifesong. She couldn’t look up to him; she couldn’t look into those angry eyes. How could she distract him? How could she redirect the thrust of the conversation?
“You do want me to find the crown?” she asked.
“No! I don’t care! It will come too late to make any difference.”
“But you said—”
“I don’t care what you thought I said! It is useless to fight the ruin now. The end will come upon us all. It will come! And I shall have my fun. Yes, I shall not die without my pleasures! Why of course!”
Suddenly he left her chair and strode across the room.
Tabitha let out a shaky breath, half turning, to watch him. If he left the room she was going to make a run for it. He seemed terribly unstable. Was this the effect of the missing crown? Was it so bad already?
King Mellar opened the door, where he called out in a strong voice, “Kingsman!”
A distant reply came from within the bowels of the stairways.
“Come up!” ordered the king. When Rood appeared, he was short of breath.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Jurrum! The purple leaf. Get me some jurrum!” Mellar boomed.
“Ahm… jurrum, sire? What is it for?”
“I am the king! If I want jurrum, I shall have jurrum! It calms distress and eases headaches, of which I
have both in too great a measure. Go! Find it! I know there are places in this city where it passes hands.”
Kingsman Rood gave Tabitha a horrified look then looked back to the king. He bowed low, but lingered in the doorway. King Mellar slammed the door in his face. He returned to Tabitha with a resolute gaze. “So, my pretty little singer, do you wish to please your King?”
Tabitha jumped to her feet and began to sidle away. “Your highness, I am weak and tired. Might I come to another audience tomorrow? Maybe after sleeping I could devise a way to find the crown quickly enough to make a difference.” She was grabbing at straws.
His gaze was unmoving, not resolute. He watched her and never stopped watching her. “It is too late. The prophecy foretold this, and the coming doom! There is no escape from our fate!”
Tabitha tried to angle towards the door, but King Mellar blocked her path with widespread hands. The blood had soaked through the linen on his right hand. Slow drops splashed upon the pale carpet.
“What prophecy, m-my lord? What fate?” She had to keep him talking, keep his mind active.
“The fat-arsed historian knows! Ask her, not me!”
“You mean M-may?” She put her hands to her mouth. How could he call her that? Her back met with the corner pillar beside the last window. Mellar approached her with that leeching gaze. “Yes! You shall sing for me, and you shall stay in this chamber, and keep the body I use alive forever. Yes! That shall be our secret, our sweet little secret. You shall sing to me!”
He reached for her.
“King Mellar, no! You are not yourself!” She windmilled her hands to fend him off. “Think of Eyri’s future! Think of the people!”
He laughed. “Eyri does not matter to me any more! Only I matter.”
Behind him, the door burst open. Maybelle Westerbrook entered, followed by Garyll Glavenor, and Rood.
“Borace!” Maybelle cried out. “My love, resist their call, be strong, be strong!”
For a moment King Mellar paused, uncertain. A terrible anguish pulled at his face, as if rage and horror chased each other for control of his features. Tabitha thought he was going to strike Maybelle when she reached for him, but he just quivered where he stood.
Second Sight: Second Tale of the Lifesong Page 12
