“Come in,” said Loren.
The door opened to reveal Prince Senlin. Just behind him were Keridwen and the large bodyguard with the scar, who pushed into the room first, looking all around. When he was done, he ushered Senlin inside. Gem shot to his feet at once, bowing to the prince, and Annis and Loren did the same a moment later.
“Your Excellency,” said Annis.
“Lady Yerrin,” said Senlin. “I wonder, Nightblade—might I have a private word with you and your companions?”
Loren’s brows rose. “Of course, Your Excellency. Although there are more people than I think would fit comfortably—Uzo and Shiun, would you remain here?”
Shiun nodded at once. “Of course, Nightblade,” she said.
Loren motioned towards her room. Senlin made for the door, and Loren followed, with Annis, Chet, and Gem behind her. But at the threshold, Senlin stopped and looked up at the bodyguard behind him.
“I wish to speak with them alone, Jo.”
The bodyguard frowned down at him. “My duty is to see to your safety, Your Excellency.”
Senlin gave the man a frigid look—an odd expression on his soft, youthful face. “There is only one way into the room. They are no threat, and no one else can harm me if you guard the door. You will remain here.”
Jo’s face darkened, but he bowed his head and took a step back. Keridwen, however, remained by Senlin’s side, and he did not order her away. They stepped into Loren’s room—Gem scampering in even though Loren had not asked him to—and closed the door behind them. Inside were two fine armchairs. Senlin took one. But when Keridwen went to stand at his side, Loren shook her head and waved towards the other.
“I will sit on the bed. You may have the chair.”
Keridwen blinked in surprise. “I thank you, Nightblade.” Quickly she went and sat next to the prince, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
Loren and Annis sat beside each other on the bed while Gem sat on the floor by their feet. For a moment Loren merely looked at the prince, and Senlin studied her in turn. The prince was little more than a boy—Gem’s age, or mayhap a year or two older. He had a thin build. Everything about him looked scholarly and thoughtful, rather than noble and dashing. But Loren could see a keen wit and a deep mind behind his eyes. She suspected they rarely missed a detail. Indeed, Senlin seemed somewhat akin to Annis, though he carried himself with greater confidence—likely the result of a lifetime where every need was attended to without question, to a degree that even Annis had never experienced.
Senlin spoke first. “I have heard tales of the Nightblade for some months now. I thought you would be a bit older.”
Loren tilted her head. “I mean you no offense, Your Excellency, but you yourself are hardly a grown man.”
Senlin smiled. “Pardon me—that must have sounded like an insult. Indeed, I am heartened to find you so close to my age. And that goes double for your worthy companions.” He gave Annis and Gem each a nod in turn, and they returned it—Gem somewhat more eagerly. “I often feel that my age limits the influence I can have. It is heartening to meet people like you, who have managed to do so much good in so short a time.”
It might have been only flattery, but Loren blushed all the same. “Thank you, Your Excellency,” she said. “You are not lacking in kindness or grace.”
Senlin sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Yet mayhap I lack in effectiveness. I came here to tell you that I do not disagree with what you said to my father.”
That piqued Loren’s interest. “Oh? I fear my words may have been overly frank. Even harsh.”
“They were, yet they were not unearned,” said Senlin. “I am no fan of warfare, nor of fighting in general. And I do not think Dorsea’s wars serve the greater good.”
Loren gave Annis a look, recalling their conversation in the basement. Senlin must have been brought up learning the same laws of power as his father—yet he rose above them, or tried to. That, at least, was heartening.
“I thank you for your agreement,” said Loren. “Yet I do not entirely understand how it helps. Will your father listen to your counsel, if that counsel is to cease his wars?”
Senlin sighed. “He will not. Though I disagree with him, he does as he believes he must—and as the senate pressures him to do. Victory in battle pleases them, and for the most part it pleases the people they serve. Without the senate’s support, my father’s rule would be toothless. Because it is not, he is able to do great things for our people.”
“So he does great good, but pays for it by doing great harm?” said Loren. “That is a weak justification in my mind. I will take a benevolent king, like King Anwar of Selvan, who can help his people without having to kill strangers.”
“I have heard that Anwar is a good king,” said Senlin. “But what of his daughter? She will take the throne from him one day. What if she is mad? Or cruel? There will be no senate to stay her hand from evil.”
Loren folded her arms. “Your senate has done nothing to stay Wojin’s hand.”
“Give them time,” said Senlin. “We will depose Wojin with their help, or not at all.”
“And then your father will resume his border wars, in order to please his people and his senate,” said Loren, growing ever more irritated. “And even Dorseans who are brave enough to object will have to shrug their shoulders at the same time, because that is how Dorsea works.”
“It is,” said Senlin. For the first time he ducked his gaze as though ashamed. “When I myself hold the throne, I hope to do things better—though I also hope it will be a long time before that happens, for I wish a long life for my father.”
Rather than soothe her, Senlin’s words only made Loren more angry. “I am not you, Your Excellency, and I cannot know what your life is like. But I like to imagine, at least, that I would not be content to sit and watch as my father waged endless war.”
“I am not content with it,” he said. “And I advise when I can. But I cannot stop him. I mean that in the strictest sense of the word—I cannot stop him. Therefore I do not choose to spend my time complaining about how things ought to be. I do what I can from my station.” He must have seen Loren tense, for he went on quickly. “Please do not misunderstand me—I know it is not enough. That is why I find your story so heartening. No doubt you were raised in other circumstances, ones where you could act more directly.”
Loren felt her wrath deflate at once. Senlin’s words were far from accurate. She had been raised by cruel parents, and until her sixteenth year she had taken no action to change things. True, her parents’ evil was directed only at her, not at any others. But she remembered the way they had treated her, the way they had quashed even the slightest sign of rebellion. What if they had harmed others? Could she really have stood up to them? It would have been hard, though she hated them and knew they hated her in turn. What if they had raised her with kindness and love, as Jun clearly had done for Senlin?
Chet spoke, his words clipped. “Forgive me, Your Excellency. But I think you underestimate just how sky-blessed your life has been. You say you cannot change things in your kingdom. But mayhap you would not feel the same way if you yourself were threatened with the consequences of your father’s wars.”
“That is enough, Chet,” said Loren quietly.
The room fell silent for an overlong moment. Senlin bowed his head and folded his hands over each other. “I fear I have cast a shadow over our meeting. I apologize, for that was not my intent. I look forward to seeing you again upon the morrow, and I hope that we may all find a way to achieve our ends together. That is all I wished to say.”
He stood, and the others did the same. But before he could go, Loren stepped forth and put out a hand. “I thank you, Your Excellency. And forgive us if we spoke too harshly—now, or before. I often forget that the world is nowhere near so simple as I would like it to be.”
Senlin’s thin brows rose. Then he reached forth and took her wrist. They shook once, firmly. “Thank you, Nightblade. I think we both h
ave a great deal to learn from each other, you and I.”
He turned to go. But Keridwen stepped forwards quickly and spoke. “Your Excellency. Might I remain for a moment?”
The prince looked at her in surprise. “Of course,” he said. “You are no servant, Keridwen, though my father and I greatly appreciate your aid in these dark days.”
Keridwen nodded, and Senlin finally left them. Loren caught one glimpse of Jo, the bodyguard, outside the door. He appeared to have been engaged in a staring contest with Uzo and Shiun in the common room. When Senlin emerged, he quickly moved to escort the prince out of the room. The door shut behind them, and Keridwen turned back to Loren.
“I have heard many stories about you. Are they true?”
Gem’s eyes lit up like the moons. Loren tried to ignore him. “I do not know what stories you have heard. Likely some are truer than others.”
“Is it true that you saved the High King and the Lord Prince?”
Loren’s cheeks flamed. “I found a way out of the palace when it was attacked. But many others helped in the escape. Some gave their lives. Before that, Chet took a dagger in the chest as he defended the Lord Prince.”
“It was nothing,” said Chet at once. But he lifted a hand, tracing his fingers over the place where the dagger had nearly pierced his heart.
Keridwen slumped. She moved to the armchair that Senlin had been in and sank into it. “I wish I could have done something like that. When Wojin attacked the palace, I mean, and we were forced to flee.”
That gave Loren pause. She had spoken to few enough people about her actions upon the Seat. Mostly it had been Kal, who seemed to think she might have done a better job of her rescue. “Yet King Jun and Prince Senlin survived, in the end.”
“No thanks to me,” said Keridwen. “It was Jo—the king’s right-hand man, and the one who came here with Senlin and me—who rescued all of us. I only followed along, protected by others but protecting no one.”
Loren gave Annis a pointed look. Annis had often spoken similar words—bemoaning her own role by Loren’s side and her uselessness in a fight. Annis’ mouth twisted, and she shook her head. Loren smiled and went to sit in the armchair beside Keridwen.
“And who are you, exactly?” said Loren. “Are you some kin of the royal family?”
Keridwen shook her head and held up her arms. “In these clothes?”
“I have often worn disguises when I did not wish to be recognized, and you have been walking the city’s streets.”
“That is true enough,” said Keridwen. “But no. I am only an apothecary, and from my parents I have learned some skill in healing.”
“But there you have it,” said Loren. “You have no reason for shame. If you have been practicing for any time at all, you have probably rescued more people than I have. I can only save lives by fighting. The world would be a worse place if everyone were like me, but a better one if all were like you.”
Keridwen laughed. “I agree with you there. Yet still I wish I could do more—or that I could have done more than I did.” She paused for a moment, fixing Loren with an appraising look. Loren met her gaze, feeling a twisting in her stomach. “I agree with you, you know. I know that His Grace’s actions are wrong.”
Loren frowned. “So does Prince Senlin. Yet that does nothing to stop King Jun.”
“I do not agree with His Excellency either,” said Keridwen, shaking her head. “War has never come to Danfon in my lifetime, yet we feel its effects even this far north. Often our warriors return from battle gravely wounded or even without limbs. Sometimes they have a sickness of the mind instead, a memory of death and pain that they can never banish. Dorseans honor our soldiers above all others. They risk their lives for the good of the kingdom—or at least that is how they see it, no matter how misguided our wars. Yet those wars often leave them a wreck, in mind as well as in body. I am put face to face with such maladies. The prince is not. I think it makes him more complacent than he might be. He contents himself with his principles, though they accomplish no tangible change.”
“And what do you do?” said Annis quietly. “When you see these soldiers, I mean. What is your answer to King Jun’s wars?”
“In one respect, Prince Senlin is right,” said Keridwen. “I can do nothing to stop His Grace from waging battle. And I know he faces pressure from the senate. Yet neither am I content to wait, as His Excellency is. Instead I tell myself that I will grow. I will learn more, I will gain more influence. And I will do better next time. I hope that one day it comes true, if we survive all of this.”
Loren nodded slowly. “I think I prefer your way of thinking to the prince’s.”
Keridwen smiled and cast her eyes down. Then she stood abruptly from the chair. “I had better leave and let you get your rest. But I thank you for the opportunity to speak.”
“Of course,” said Loren, rising to see her out. “I am glad you found us, Keridwen. And I hope you will come speak with us again, any time you wish.”
“I would enjoy that. Only please, you must call me Kerri. Only His Grace and His Excellency call me Keridwen, and as a consequence it seems frightfully formal.”
Loren smiled. “Very well, Kerri.”
She held the door as Kerri left and then closed it softly. Turning to Annis and Gem, she raised her brows.
“Today has been a day,” she said.
“It has been that,” said Annis. “These people are somewhat strange to me. Yet I think I like Keridwen—Kerri, I suppose—the best.”
“And I,” said Loren. Then she noticed that Gem wore a grin that split his face from ear to ear. “What are you giggling about?”
“She had heard of you,” said Gem triumphantly. “She had heard tales of the Nightblade.”
Loren shook her head, trying to ignore the flush that crept up her neck. “Be silent, Gem.”
IN THE COMMON ROOM, THEY ate a small meal before retiring to their beds. Loren had put Chet and Gem in one room, with Annis and herself in another. Almost at once, Annis went to bed and fell asleep. Loren soon joined her.
They rose before dawn—all but Gem—and broke their fast on eggs and rice. Soon a messenger arrived, requesting their presence in the king’s chambers.
Loren turned to the party. “It is cramped down below. I will take Annis, Wyle, and Chet with me, but the rest of you should remain here.”
Wyle pulled at his collar. “Must I come?” he said. “The king has never seen my face, and I see little benefit in changing that now.”
“You are here to help secure his rescue,” said Loren. “If he never meets you, how will he know who to pardon when this is all over?”
Wyle held up a finger. “You promised me a pardon from the High King, not Jun. I will not forget it. And besides, I expect an open pardon—one that absolves the crimes of anyone who holds it.” Wyle paused and pulled at his thin beard. “Sky above. I wonder what such a document would be worth to the right buyer.”
Annis rolled her eyes.
“But you must bring me as well!” said Gem. “There is no more cunning mind in our little party.”
Before Loren could argue, Chet smiled and shook his head. “Take him,” he said. “I will remain behind. It is as it was in Bertram—I shall prove no more useful than a third shoe.”
“The same might be said for Gem,” said Loren, scowling at the boy with mock severity. But he only grinned as he accompanied her to the manor’s basement.
Jun sat in the same place he had yesterday; it seemed he had adopted the chair as his temporary throne. A guard stood to either side, and the larger bodyguard, Jo, sat just in front and to the side of his king. Prince Senlin was there as well, partially hidden behind one of the bodyguards.
“A good morn, Nightblade,” said Jun. “Let us now take counsel and determine our best course of action.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” said Loren. “I have brought Annis with me. She has a brilliant mind for strategy and politics both. I think you will find her advice far
more useful than mine.”
“Then I welcome her,” said Jun. He gave Annis a grave nod, which she returned.
Loren motioned for Wyle to step forwards, and he hesitated only a moment before complying. “This man is called Wyle. He is a business associate, hailing from Bertram. It was he who helped us enter the city without being seen. He knows many secret ways and has friends in the capital.”
From the way Jun looked at Wyle, Loren thought he must know exactly what sort of “associate” the smuggler was. But he said only, “Welcome. If you can indeed be of help, you will have my gratitude.”
“I am counting on it,” said Wyle, giving the king an easy grin.
A table had been put before Jun’s chair, and a map was laid upon it. Chairs were brought for Loren and Annis, and they sat opposite the king. The map depicted the city—not all of its streets and alleys, of course, but its layout around the river, as well as the locations of some important buildings. Wyle bent over the map, his hands folded before his chin. But it was Annis who spoke first.
“As has been mentioned, Wyle escorted us into the city on a route that few know about. He should be able to lead us out the same way.”
“Yes, of course,” said Wyle. “We will be a larger party now, but we can still avoid detection if we dress you up as beggars.”
Jun tilted his head. “Lead us out? Why would I leave the city?”
The room went still. Loren and Annis looked at each other. Wyle studied King Jun for a moment, and then he sighed quietly.
Annis cleared her throat. “Your Grace, you are in grave danger while you remain here.”
“That will not change if I depart—not unless I leave my kingdom entirely. Wojin will not stop hunting me just because I pass beyond Danfon’s walls.”
“But he will have a harder time of it,” said Loren. “I said I would help you take back your throne, but I cannot also keep you safe if you remain here.”
Yerrin: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 6) Page 13
