“Their job is not to contest it, Count Sabas, merely delay it,” Count Kindine said, with surprising insight. “They replace the native forces there and keep order. If attacked, they can defend for long enough for additional forces to be sent from Darkfaller or the Gilmoran counties.”
“Exactly,” Hartarian nodded. “Your Majesty, I suggest we send a company of Royal Guard to lead the effort. This was the sort of mission for which they were created,” he reminded him.
“Agreed,” Rard said. “Count Sabas, compose orders for a company of Guards to take charge of defenses in the Westlands,” he ordered the minister. “I believe Captain Masdine is from the Westlands – make him a Royal Marshal, and give him orders to hold and observe the region, and to summon aide if needed. And do instruct him to recruit a magical corps – you’ll assist with that, won’t you, Hartarian?”
“I’ll secure some competent recruits,” I offered. “There are still many in Vorone recuperating from the raid who could be enlisted. A half-dozen High Magi in the area might discourage any mischief. And give them a fighting chance against dragons,” I added.
“Yes, the godsdamned dragons,” Count Kindine said, shaking his head. “That is what concerns me the most, my lords. We can put many a lance in the field, but against dragons the strongest castle has no defense.”
“We’re working on it, my lord,” I assured the Prime Minister. “Our raid gave us many new tools and insights into the enemy’s power,” I said, confidently, being intentionally vague. “Let us hope we need not test them any time soon.”
“That is all, gentlemen,” Rard said, dismissing the council. “Spellmonger, will you walk with me, alone? I need words with you,” the king commanded.
Chapter Sixty-Four
A Contest Of Princesses
After the crisis of Korbal’s message, one might assume that I looked forward to a quiet moment of reflection with my monarch.
One would be mistaken. Korbal was easy to deal with, compared to family issues. And that was just what Rard wanted to speak with me about.
As the other ministers filed out to execute their orders, Rard motioned me forward to a small door against the exterior wall, and led me out to a private garden. It was masculine, for a garden, with more shrubs and flowering trees than flowers, proper. In fact, there wasn’t a yellow rose in sight. There were, however, a brace of palace guards and a discrete servant within the garden walls, to cater to the king’s needs while he took a moment for contemplation or conversation.
“Wine,” he said to the servant, without glancing at him, as he took a seat on one bench, and motioned me to take the opposite one. “I had a visit from my nephew, Anguin, yesterday,” he began quietly. “One of your lads brought him through the Ways – Rondal, I believe. He had . . . he wanted . . .” he began, stumbling.
The servant appeared with two silver goblets and a decanter of Cormeeran red to save him. A healthy sip later, he took a deep breath and began again.
“The Duke of Alshar has formally proposed to wed my daughter, Princess Rardine,” he said, quickly, as if saying the words was painful. He took a moment to gauge my reaction. “You do not seem surprised,” he added.
“I have heard rumors, Your Majesty,” I admitted. “I have many friends in Vorone.”
“And spend a fair amount of time there, yourself,” he grunted. “Mother has been watching you pop up here or there, unexpectedly. It’s quite maddening for her agents to keep track of you.”
“Perhaps that is by design, your Majesty. I have my own enemies,” I said, raising my goblet. “To your health . . . and your new son-in-law,” I said, watching his reaction. It was about as I expected. He sighed heavily.
“You do realize the problems with the match,” he said, wearily. “For one thing, my wife killed his parents.”
“Which ensures your daughter need not contend with a clingy mother-in-law,” I pointed out, lightly. He snorted, no doubt remembering his own famous mother-in-law, Greshera, Duchess of Alshar herself. The relationship was not pleasant, from what I gathered.
“For another, it would worsen the suspicion my daughter-in-law already feels for Rardine,” he sighed. “She fears for the life of my grandson. Because of my daughter,” he said, miserably. “Luin’s staff, I understand why, I suppose, but she’s insistent that Rardine be nowhere near the palace in Castabriel.”
“Vorone is far from Castabriel,” I observed. “And marriage has been known to mellow a maid.”
“Yet it would protect her . . . from . . .” he said, struggling once again.
“Have another drink, Your Majesty,” I said, soothingly. “Your problem is that your daughter-in-law fears for her child’s life, while your daughter resents her loss of position. One could argue that a political marriage to Anguin satisfies both your daughter-in-law’s concerns and your daughter’s resentments. She gets to be Duchess of Alshar, something not even her mother managed. And away from a fearful rival at another court.”
“Well . . . yes, but . . . damn it, Minalan, you seem to be in favor of this match!”
“I am neither in favor or against it, Your Majesty,” I said, after a moment’s consideration. “The situation has its merits . . . and its disadvantages. I think we’re aware of both. The question is whether or not you favor the match. I am guessing by your tone that you do not.”
“Well, is it not . . . unseemly?” he asked, an eyebrow cocked.
“Need I remind you that such matches have been made repeatedly, since the Conquest? The high nobility is a small community, and the ducal houses are smaller still. I’m sure I could dredge up five or six instances of first-cousins marrying among your kin.”
He looked troubled. “In most cases those unions were examined and blessed by senior clergy,” he explained.
“And in some cases, they went ahead and did it anyway, if it was politically expedient . . . I assume Your Majesty is familiar with the history of Vore?”
He snorted. “That is hardly an argument in favor of the match.”
“I think what is more important, Your Majesty – Rard – is what you feel in your heart. Not as king, but as father. Do you want Rardine to be happy?”
“I’m not certain that would be possible,” he sighed. “But yes, I would. If she doesn’t require the bones of all her kin to stand upon to get there, it would be helpful. When she’s unhappy, she’s even worse.
“But . . . this? Minalan, do you think she would actually wed that boy?” he asked, skeptically. “Or is this merely a tactic to gain leverage over me and her mother?”
“I know it for a fact that the proposal is in earnest,” I admitted. “She broached the idea with me a few weeks ago. I was cautious. Hells, I was skeptical. But she made some compelling arguments. Such as a lack of a viable alternative.”
“Lack of an alternative? She could be high priestess of any temple she chose, in a few years, or even an abbess. Or I could contract a marriage with—”
“I believe that is Rardine’s point, my lord,” I said, gently. “After her imprisonment, and the surprise at the court’s lack of response, she no longer feels you and her mother have her best interests at heart. She does not trust you to make the best arrangement – for her sake.”
“I would look to her happiness, of course, but the future of the kingdom demands—”
“My liege, Rardine stopped placing the future of the kingdom over her own interests when she learned the kingdom regarded her interests in such low esteem. She feels betrayed by your family. She wishes to make her own way, now that she has been abandoned by her kin. Her sentiments, Majesty,” I added.
“I cannot help but think that much of her motivation is spite and resentment,” Rard said, shaking his head as he held out his glass for more wine.
“You are an astute observer, Your Majesty,” I nodded. “But I would counsel that Rardine’s passions are – for now – confined to restoring her lost dignity and maintaining her position. Nominally, at least,” I added. “She cannot aspi
re to a higher title. Nor can she see to maintaining the one she was born to. Marrying Anguin is her way of doing both, and gaining some small measure of control over her life.”
“She would not consider the security of a temple?”
“You know her better than I, my lord,” I said, tactfully. He sighed and shook his head.
“No, she would hate that. It would so frustrate her to be removed from the corridors of power that she would conspire to make herself a nuisance,” he predicted. “Nor would she consent to an arranged marriage with Count Lito. He would be a dozen years her senior and . . . fleshy, by all accounts,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
“She’d rather return to Olum Seheri, I think,” I quipped. “You raised a daughter with high expectations, my liege, and the wit to demand them if denied them. Tell me, is it Anguin, personally, you object to making your kin?”
“He’s already my kin,” he said, dryly. “I do not dislike the lad. Quite the contrary. He’s supported my reign under . . . trying circumstances. He’s lost most of his patrimony, and must live on a barren fraction of his inheritance. He’s even lost that fucking palace,” he snickered. “I always hated that place.
“In fact,” he sighed, reluctantly, “he’s been a better steward of his small realm than my son has been of his vast one. Speaking of which, Count Moran assures me you are assisting with provision for Tavard’s expedition?”
“As well as I can, Your Majesty,” I conceded. “It is not an easy thing. But we’ve kept those brave men eating, ensured their wounds are treated, and denied the hill bandits the opportunity to use hunger as leverage against them.”
“Could you . . . retrieve him, if needed?” he asked, a little anxiety coming through his voice.
I nodded. “I would try everything in my power, Majesty, if he required rescue. Why? What news have you learned?”
“None yet,” Rard shrugged. “But I expect it any day. His camp overrun by the foe. Bandits holding him hostage and sending him back, a finger at a time. Or some damnable pox he picked up from one of the dusky maidens of Enultramar,” he added.
“He is in a difficult position,” I agreed. “But not desperate. But we were speaking of Rardine and Anguin . . .”
“Yes, we were,” he grumbled. “You are close to the lad – closer than I,” he conceded. “Don’t think I’m blind to what you did to get him re-established in that draughty old hole. I know everything – the gold, the Temple of Ifnia, the Third Commando . . . when I heard Salgo was involved, I suspected your touch. When I heard Pentandra was, I knew it.”
“I felt it best for the health of the kingdom to ensure you controlled three working duchies, my liege.”
“I understand,” he nodded, “even if I cannot officially support it. I feel bad for what happened to the boy, and personally I am gratified someone took an interest.”
“Usually that would be the sort of thing for an uncle to do,” I mused.
“Exactly. Yet I must be a monarch, first. But with your influence he has become a decent leader. A stalwart lad, with good character. Which is among the only reasons I am even considering this match,” he admitted. “If it were anyone else, I might suspect that she’s preparing to strike like a scorpion. But because her intended is Anguin, it makes me think that – perhaps – he can quench her heat.”
“That might be expecting too much of the lad,” I said, after considering the image. “But she might find restraint in marriage that she lacked in maidenhood. Especially if she’s busy bearing heirs to Alshar,” I reminded him.
That made Rard wince (no man wants to imagine his daughter conceiving) but it also made him thoughtful. “You think she would . . . would find her temperament sweetened by matrimony?”
“Perhaps more seasoned than sweetened,” I countered, “But she seems to bear a genuine affection for Anguin. I do not think that she would do anything to disturb his good relationship with his liege. Like arrange for anything unfortunate to happen to her sister-in-law,” I suggested.
“It’s her brother I fear for more, though not as her target. He has fallen under his new wife’s sway, and suspects Rardine far in excess of her likely ambition. He has no trouble believing the worst of her, knowing what she has done in the service of the kingdom. Nor does he trust her to leave his reign unmolested. And my daughter-in-law and her retinue are filled with rumor concerning her past.”
“It is her father, not her brother, who finds it his duty to give or withhold his blessing,” I reminded him, as my cup was refilled. “He might not like it, but giving his sister a future with his cousin might be the wisest political move he could make.”
“Tavard is not beset with wisdom, in case it escaped your attention,” Rard mumbled into his cup. “He isn’t stupid. But wit without wisdom leads to folly, it is said.”
“And big brothers can’t tell their little sisters who to marry, it is said. If she desires it, and it is of her own will, she can petition for the wedding to go ahead without your blessing.”
“She wouldn’t dare!” huffed Rard, rising in his chair. Then he sat down. “Yes, yes, she would,” he reconsidered. “Just to spite her mother. You should have heard them go at it, Minalan, it was like a bloody dogfight in a butcher’s stall. And of course, I couldn’t say anything to either of them without alienating the other,” he revealed, miserably. “I had my little girl home for the first time in months, when I thought she was lost forever. And then she says the wrong thing, Rardine stomps back to Vorone . . . and now I have this damn proposal to contend with,” he complained.
“I take it Her Majesty is unlikely to find favor with this match?”
“Are you kidding? She’s livid! She’s entirely against it. Rardine is supposed to be a support of the kingdom, not a potential rebel. She doesn’t know why Rardine can’t just go quietly retire to an abbey for a few years, then come back to court as a minister.”
“Has she not considered that – perhaps – Rardine’s hopes for the future are no less than any maiden’s? A good husband, a secure home, and a chance to have children? If she was against those things, she would have shown a preference for holy orders long ago.”
“No, she has always wanted to do her duty as a noblewoman,” he agreed. “Even if it meant contending with her damn Remeran kin and their Game of Whispers. She’s wanted to wed since she was a girl.”
“And she’s found a lad who you don’t want to kill and stuff in a hole,” I reasoned. “More, one who might take the edge off her sharp tongue. And, best yet, one who lives far, far from Castabriel.”
“All compelling points, my friend,” he agreed, reluctantly. “I see there is no easy way forward. I shall go ahead and speak to the senior clergy of the kingdom about the issue of consanguinity – discreetly – but I have a favor to ask of you, Spellmonger.
“You are close to the lad. And Rardine trusts you. I bid you speak to both of them and return with me with your assessment of their seriousness in this course of action. Some have ventured that Rardine merely seeks her dowry, and will put a dagger in Anguin’s kidney as soon as the ink is dry on their marriage contract. Others feel the Orphan Duke is preparing to see to his revenge in a similar manner to the Black Duke. See if that is the case . . . or if this is more innocent than I suspect.”
“As you command, Your Majesty,” I said, rising as he did. “You might also want to consider summoning the Coronet Council. Such matches are usually done under their advice, if I am informed properly.”
“Oh, Ishi’s twat, that’s right!” he groaned. “I still recall the six hells they put Grendine and I through, when we wed. Well, at least it won’t have to be all five Dukes. For this I think the three will suffice. It is a matter for Castalshar.”
“As one of them is the proposed bridegroom, that does inspire some intriguing conflicts-of-interest.”
“And one of them will likely be against the union. Which puts Clofalin in an interesting position,” he chuckled.
“And gives you some cover, my liege,
” I pointed out. “If Duke Clofalin gives his sanction to the union, then you have someone to blame, if it goes awry. If he denies his sanction, then it wasn’t your voice which spoke against it.”
“That is a point, Spellmonger,” he considered. “In fact, you’re full of wisdom. I should drink with you more often,” he said. “One more cup before you leave? We can discuss this man of yours, Dranus. The one Clofalin shows every sign of investing with the county of Moros. Which has caused some muttering amongst the court, particularly with the Curia approaching in a few months.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, sitting back down. The establishment of the first Magelord Count and the implications that held across society and politics was not something I was particularly prepared to debate, on a day with dragons and spiteful marriage proposals. “More wine would be welcome.”
I decided to take a walk around the palace before I headed back to Sevendor, partly to clear my head, partly to check on its progress, and partly to consider how this game was playing out. Things were moving fast, now, faster than I’d anticipated. Whatever game Rardine and Anguin were playing, they were pushing hard. Tavard was hopelessly entangled in Enultramar. Grendine and Princess Armandra had formed a tight alliance in Rardine’s absence. And Rard was having to contend with it all.
As I walked and noted the advances in construction around the palace grounds, I turned a corner and found myself nearly running into a group of ladies of the court on their way to chapel – including Princess Armandra. I gave her a deep bow, noting that at least two of her ladies-in-waiting were Daughters I recognized from the Family.
“My Princess,” I said, as I rose. “I had not expected to be fortunate enough to encounter you here.”
“Baron Minalan,” she said, formally, a wary look in her pretty eye. “So nice to see you again.” She didn’t sound like it was nice.
“How fares the little Prince Heir?” I asked, politely.
“With Trygg’s blessing he is a strong and vital little man,” she assured me, proudly. “We go now to pray for his continued strength and resilience.” She paused a moment. “I hear you are to thank for supplying my lord husband and his noble troops in Enultramar,” she continued, cautiously.
Necromancer: Book Ten Of The Spellmonger Series Page 97
