by Martin Ash
But Fectur was a master. He had taught Leth in many forms of combat as a youth, as he had taught Issul. What he had taught had been a fraction of what he knew. With deepening anger Leth acknowledged that in this respect also he was powerless against Fectur. He acknowledged too that any assault by him upon the Lord High Invigilate would be further evidence against him
"Well, you have it all now, Fectur. As you have presumably always wanted. What of me, though? I presume I will simply disappear now? How will you manage it?"
Fectur shook his head, tutting his tongue in mild admonishment. "Tsk, tsk, Sire. It is not like that at all. I am concerned for you, that is all. Your refusal to see it is yet another symptom of your illness, I fear. But with rest and proper care I, and Doctor Melropius, believe you will recover in full and be ready to take up your right and appropriate station again within a very short time."
Leth scoffed. In the Hall of Wise Counsel Fectur had spoken of Leth's 'temporary' removal from office, but from Fectur's point of view there could never be anything temporary about it. He would not willingly take second place again. His days would be numbered if he ever allowed Leth to resume sovereignty. He saw that as surely as he saw the stricken king before him.
But to simply kill Leth was out of the question. Fectur would have to bide his time. Close house arrest - or close medical supervision - would have to suffice until a suitable accident could be arranged. He would engineer Leth's end, somehow, just as with all the deviousness and resources at his command he had engineered his fall.
And the children, too!
That only came to Leth now. Fectur could permit no heirs to threaten his future.
Leth marvelled at him for a moment, even as he despised him. His moment had been perfectly honed and taken. Had Issul been here he could never have accomplished the coup. Even had he succeeded in bringing Leth down, she would automatically have assumed the throne in Leth's stead. But then Fectur would never have tried if he had believed that Issul could intervene.
Only now did the dark notion strike Leth. Was Fectur behind Issul's disappearance? Had he had her murdered? Was Fectur in league with the Karai?
Leth felt the blood of fury scald his cheeks and almost burst at his temples. Fectur was observing him closely, and presumably guessed his thoughts, for he said, "Before you ask, Sire, I know nothing of the Queen."
Leth stayed silent, not knowing what to believe. Fectur crossed to a table and took a pomegranate from a silver fruit platter. He picked up a knife and split the skin, laid half the fruit upon the tabletop, the knife beside it. He strolled away, picking at the hemi-shell of fruit with a little silver scoop, his back to Leth.
Leth glanced at the knife. Two steps and it was his. Two more and it could be deep in the flesh of Fectur's loathesome back.
Except. . . .
It was what Fectur wanted. This was his challenge to Leth, and he relied on the King's state of mind to drive him to it. The fruit-moistened blade would never touch Fectur's skin; he was too adept, far too skilled. But the attempt would be the excuse. . . enough to have Leth restrained, placed in a cell, under restraint, where he could harm no one.
"You have come to gloat," Leth said.
"Sire, it is not like that." Fectur turned, his face betraying no disappointment but his eyes like stones.
"Then tell me what it is like."
Fectur spooned out the last few pomegranate seeds and tossed the empty shell onto the table, ignoring the other half. He looked at Leth but said nothing.
"What have you done with Venger?" Leth demanded.
"He is where a condemned criminal should be."
"Do not harm him, Fectur! I need him."
"You need him?"
"We need him. Enchantment's Reach. He still has vital information to impart."
"I have yet to be convinced of that."
"Fectur, I gave him my word that he would come to no harm."
"This man tried to murder you."
"No. The assassination attempt was staged to bring about - as he and the True Sept believe it - the coming of the Legendary Child."
"Or perhaps he is spinning you a tale to win his freedom."
"No. He speaks the truth."
Fectur pressed a last fragment of pomegranate between his incisors. "It makes little difference."
"It makes all the difference, Fectur! We do need the True Sept now. Venger must not die."
"Sire, you are not well."
"Don't patronize me!"
Fectur stood with infuriating blandness, waiting. Leth said, "He will not be executed, Fectur. Do you understand?"
"I understand that you are perhaps overtired, Sire. It is better if I leave you now to rest."
He took from his robe a scrolled parchment and put it on the table. "For your reference, this is the list of offences and omissions of which you are accused, to which I referred in the Hall of Wise Counsel."
He turned towards the door.
"Your triumph will be short-lived," said Leth.
Fectur paused. "How so?"
"Can you defeat the Karai and their god? Or are you perhaps in league with them?"
"I am not, be assured of that. But a change of policy may be called for. Now, Sire, you must rest."
"I want to see my children," said Leth suddenly.
Fectur hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "I will have the Prince and Princess brought."
When he had gone Leth paced the room in distraction. How could Fectur dispose of both him and his two children without losing the vital support of his allies? Somehow, he was convinced, Fectur would contrive the means. And it would be soon. As soon as he reasonably could.
Most probably it would be Leth first. As Regent Fectur could then take his time over dealing with the children. A year, perhaps two or even more, and then another tragic accident. Something in their food, most likely. The simultaneous deaths by the same cause of one or two of their attendants would add gravity and authenticity.
But did Fectur have a year or two to spare? What of the Karai? What had he meant by 'a change of policy'?
Leth went to his study, bolted the door and took out the blue casket. He flipped open the lid. The dazzle of blue flooded him and he found himself in Orbelon's world.
"Orbelon! Orbelon!"
There was a delay, then the familiar sounds as the bent figure hauled itself out of the mist. "Ah, Leth. I did not expect you so soon. A few moments later and you would not have found me."
"Why? Where do you go? Where can you go?"
Orbelon chuckled to himself. "It is just something I have been experimenting on."
"You speak as though you are leaving."
"How can I leave myself?"
Leth closed his eyes, striving to think clearly. "Orbelon, I need your help. I’m desperate."
Quickly he recounted all recent events to the bundled god-creature. "I’ve been rendered powerless, Orbelon. I can do nothing. Whatever Fectur tells the people they will believe. He may even parade me before them to reassure those who are loyal to me that I still live. But he has taken everything and will certainly dispose of me at the earliest opportunity."
"What will it take to regain your power?" enquired Orbelon.
"A massive vote of confidence, a revolt. . . . I don’t know precisely."
"Fectur's death?"
"In itself that would not be sufficient, not as things currently stand. It would throw the kingdom into anarchy, or open it wide to the Karai."
"But you have supporters? Powerful supporters?"
"Of course. But the war takes their attention and they can’t divert themselves to my cause - not to a direct confrontation with Fectur. He holds immense power, Orbelon. I have badly underestimated him."
"So it seems. This is grave. Most grave."
"Can you do anything?"
"Me? I am a prisoner in my world as you are now in yours. I don’t see how I can act to help you." He fell silent.
"Then I’m contemplating the end of all I stand fo
r and all I and my forbears have worked to achieve."
"What else have you learned since we last spoke, Leth? You were to meet with a man and discuss the Legendary Child."
Leth told him of his discussion with Grey Venger, of the True Sept's claim of duplicity in arranging Venger's assassination attempt upon him. He told him of his sudden conviction in regard to Ressa and the creature upon Sentinel's Peak and the outcome of that violent and tragic meeting. Orbelon seemed interested in this, even a little agitated, and paid particular attention to Leth's description of the creature. Presently he said, "It is true. Your fears may be confirmed, for if the poor girl was inseminated by one of my kind, the normal human gestation would not be a factor."
"But you said earlier that it had not been possible for a god to impregnate a human woman."
"I said it was not possible in my time. Eons have passed, the world will have changed incalculably."
"What of the One True God who will rule supreme alongside the Child?"
"I can’t say at present. But it seems you may have an unlikely ally now."
"What do you mean?"
"The True Sept consider you to have no soul. They’ve said they cannot allow you to die by ordinary means, at least until they have achieved their aims. If that is so, then they are surely bound to aid you now."
"Grey Venger is imprisoned. Fectur could well have him executed, may already have done so."
"But the Sept. . . if its members know what is afoot, will they not intervene?"
Leth put the heels of his palms to his eyes, striving to think clearly. "I don't know. I simply don't know. Orbelon, this prophecy of the King Without A Soul. . . does this not refer to you?"
"It would appear it may. But the True Sept doesn’t know I exist. Hence they must continue to direct their attentions to you."
"But from where has the notion of the Soulless King come?"
Orbelon slowly shook his great head. His reply, when it came, was not what Leth wished. "You should return now, Leth. I will give myself immediately to investigation of this."
"Orbelon, wait!"
But the ragged figure had lifted his staff. Leth was cast from his world, back to his own study. There was a knocking sound and the muffled sound of someone calling. "My lord! My lord! Are you there?"
It came from beyond the door of his study. Someone, a woman, was at the door. Half in a daze he rose and crossed the chamber, drew back the bolts. His children's governess, Cascane, stood there; a guard, Fectur's, was behind her. She quickly curtsied, a strained look upon her face. "My lord, I was told you wished to see the children."
"Yes." Leth peered around the door. Galry and Jace were in the chamber beyond, lounging at a window. Jace glanced around, saw her father and ran towards him, arms outstretched. "Daddy!"
He stepped forward and took her in his arms. "Thank you, Cascane. That will be all."
The governess curtsied again. Her cheeks were pale, her nose red, eyes moist. "I'm so sorry, sir," she said quickly, then turned, sobbing, and hurried away. The guard followed her.
"Daddy, what is in here?" asked Galry, pushing past his father into the study, the door of which Leth had left open.
"It’s not for you," said Leth.
"I want to see. I have never been here before."
Jace pointed. "Let me see! Let me see!"
She wriggled against Leth and he put her down and she shot through the door. Leth followed them in.
"What is this?" asked Jace, rushing around in wonder, gazing at everything. "And what is this? And what is this?"
"What is all this blue?" Galry asked.
For the first time Leth became aware of the colour in the chamber. Something of the blue mistiness of Orbelon's world seemed to have escaped into his study, noticeably toning the air.
"And you, Father, you are surrounded by it," said Galry. "Is it magic?"
Leth looked at his hands. Sure enough a blue aura clung to them, enhanced, it seemed, by the vague blueness that hung in the air. He felt vaguely discomforted.
"Daddy what is this?" asked Jace. "It is lovely. What is inside?"
"Jace, no!"
She was at his desk and had the blue casket in her hands. In his distraction he had neglected to put it away.
"Put it down!"
"I want to see inside."
"No!"
It was too late. His little daughter freed the catch and opened the lid. Leth was lurching forward, hand outstretched to stop her. The world flashed sudden blue. He staggered forward a few more paces. Galry was crying out in sudden alarm. "I can't see! I can't see!"
Leth grabbed Jace, who was also rubbing at her eyes. Her hands were empty now. He turned. Galry had his hands over his eyes, shrieking. "I can't see!"
Leth sprang to his side and hugged him close. "It’s all right, Galry. Don't be afraid. It will pass in a moment."
He stared around him, into the endless blue, at the high, high walls that were never close nor far away. The children, their vision gradually clearing, gazed also.
"Where are we?"
Galry, trembling with fear, began to cry. Jace, perhaps too young to grasp so much, just stared wide-eyed.
Leth stood, holding them both. "Orbelon!"
There was no reply. He waited a short time, infinitely fearful, then called again. "Orbelon!"
The silence moved around them. Leth felt inklings of the soul-chilling fear he had felt when first entering this lonely place.
"Orbelon!"
"Daddy, can we go back now?" said Jace.
Leth took a few paces forward. "Orbelon, where are you? Answer me!"
But Orbelon did not answer. Leth recalled his words of a short time ago: 'a few moments later and you would not have found me'.
What had he meant?
"Orbelon!"
Had he left? But Orbelon himself had said, 'How can I leave myself?'
Yet there was no response. No matter how Leth called. Nothing except the silence of the endless blue. As if the god had indeed forsaken its world.
And if the god was not there to raise the staff of freedom, there was no way to leave.
EIGHT
I
Duke Hugo of Giswel waited edgily in the pre-dawn dark. His mind was alert, he was convinced he was doing the right thing, but his gut had knotted with tension. It was the waiting. Waiting for sufficient light. Straining through the silence, never knowing. That was what was so unbearable.
Over the previous days he had observed Karai movements minutely. The cordon of enemy troops surrounding Giswel Holt had diminished significantly. Elements had made off northwards; there had been no further attacks by the deadly slooths. The force that remained was powerful, but the cordon was not so tight as to prevent Hugo's spies from stealing from the castle and bringing back up-to-date intelligence on Karai numbers and movements. Hence Hugo was informed about the massive encampment beside the Whispering Lakes a league or so to the north. It was here that Prince Anzejarl's main army rested, and the troops that were leaving the force outside Giswel Holt were marching to join it.
Hugo had become convinced that Anzejarl's army was making ready for a major push north to assault Enchantment's Reach. The numbers left outside Giswel Holt were sufficient to contain Hugo's men and a deterrent against any large-scale offensive action on his part, but Hugo now believed he had identified an area of weakness. His agents had reported that to the east of the castle the Karai were stretched thinly a short distance forward of an area where it appeared a tunnel was being mined. From the rear that area was virtually undefended. A determined charge by sufficient mounted soldiers, launched from close quarters, could smash through the Karai forward defences. Hugo's men could then continue the assault onwards to the tunnel area. With success they could cause great damage while incurring minimal losses and, with infantry protecting their rear, withdraw safely back to the castle.
Hugo was acutely conscious of the need to buoy the spirits of the people and troops of Giswel Holt. They had been
cooped up in the castle for days now, with the Karai siege troops sitting patiently and quietly outside, doing nothing but watch and wait, as though never doubting that Giswel Holt was soon to fall. There had been two slooth attacks initially. Casualties were relatively light, damage minimal, and there had been nothing more for some days now. But the fear those attacks had engendered was insidious, corroding the will of the folk of Giswel. Something was needed, a drama that would boost morale and show the audacious Karai to be not invulnerable.
Hugo had thought about it long and hard. His plan ran counter to his cousin, King Leth's orders, but Leth was not here, nor could he know the precise circumstances. Communications between Giswel Holt and Enchantment's Reach had recently ceased: the risk of carrier pigeons being shot down or caught, their messages read by the enemy, was too great. But Hugo had persuaded himself that, were Leth at Giswel Holt, he too would not let this opportunity pass.
Hugo's remaining dilemma had been one of timing. Should he wait for the main Karai army to depart, or strike now? On the face of it the latter seemed unwise, likely to bring the retributive wrath of the entire Karai force on his head. But there was no way of knowing how quickly Anzejarl intended to march north, and in the meantime the Karai might spot the flaw in their defence and plug the gap. Hugo reasoned that, in effect, were Anzejarl to throw his full weight against Giswel Holt, he would ultimately be no more nor less effective than with the siege force now in place. He could not smash the castle by force, at least not quickly. He was more likely to starve it into submission, whilst battering and undermining it over many weeks. So Hugo opted to strike without delay.
He knew he lacked the manpower for a decisive blow, but believed that this way he might make the Karai stumble a little in their course. He had to do something. Let Anzejarl know that he was not facing a passive enemy, and also reassure his own people that he, their Duke, did not fear the Karai.
The methodical approach of his enemy unsettled him; their silence was unnatural. No jeers and taunts were thrown from the host outside Giswel Holt's walls; at night no campsong drifted from around their fires. Just silence, sentinel and grating. A massed, ordered silence that preyed upon the nerves.
