King's Folly

by Jill Williamson

  “What is your third demand, my son?” Father asked.

  “That we evacuate Armania before the Five Woes destroy us all.”

  “Evacuate?” Canbek exclaimed. “And go where?”

  “To sea,” Wilek said.

  This set the men to talking. Even those outside the doors began discussing the impossibility of Wilek’s demand.

  “Barthos was never responsible for the earthquakes and destruction of our land,” he told the crowd. “Mantics are to blame, along with those who have profited from the sale of evenroot. Greed and selfish ambition have brought the Five Woes upon us. We must evacuate our cities before it is too late.”

  “Not to sea,” Jervaid said. “There is nothing beyond the bowl.”

  “We don’t know that,” Danek said.

  “We do!” Jervaid shot back. “Explorers have searched for centuries and have found nothing. Sailing into the unknown will be the death of us all!”

  “So will staying here,” Hinckdan said.

  “We can go south,” Jervaid said, “to the Polar Desert. Or at least to Faynor or Verdun.”

  “Verdun is too close to the ice canyons,” Canbek said. “The canyons collapse first when the earthquakes come. Why not live on ships to see what happens? My houseboat is very comfortable. We can anchor in the harbor.”

  “Ships and boats are not safe from the Woes,” Danek said. “Ask the admiral how many boats have been lost in the swells.”

  “Besides,” Wilek said to Canbek. “There are close to forty thousand people living in Everton. Do you plan to take them all on your houseboat?”

  “Surely you don’t mean to evacuate commoners,” Canbek said.

  “We must do something!” Wilek shouted. “A plan is being devised. Mother Rosârah and Rosârah Brelenah have formed a council to prepare for the coming Woes. They know how many can be saved. They will have charted a course. Let us return to Everton right away to aid them in their cause.”

  Father nodded, eager, penitent. “As you say, my Heir. We will leave for Everton at dawn.”

  “Good,” Wilek said. “And you will investigate Lady Lebetta and Father Tomek’s murders. I believe the Pontiff is responsible.”

  Charlon

  The first night Charlon spent back in Everton, she had a nightmare. Prince Wilek was being attacked. By a great beast. When she awoke the next morning, she could no longer feel their soul-binding.

  He was gone.

  She climbed from bed. Barred the door to Lady Zeroah’s bedchamber. Drank root juice. Dropped to her knees on her altar mat. Called to Magon.

  The goddess did not make her wait long. The room grew frigid and foggy, and Magon stepped out of the veil, fiery eyes locked on Charlon.

  What is it? Magon asked.

  “The prince,” Charlon said, voice shaky. “I can no longer feel him. Our bond is severed.”

  That cannot be.

  Charlon swallowed her fear and dared to contradict. “Unless he is dead.”

  Did you feel his death?

  “No. I felt fear. But now I don’t feel our connection at all.”

  Magon’s smoldering eyes narrowed. If someone has meddled with my spell, I will find out. She faded away.

  The room warmed. Charlon remained on her knees, terrified. If Prince Wilek were dead, how would she birth the Deliverer? She would have to marry Prince Trevn instead, which meant she would have to get rid of Mielle.

  Such a mess.

  Someone knocked at her door.

  “Who is there?” she asked.

  “Flara, miss. A message has just arrived for you. From Prince Wilek.”

  The prince!

  Charlon hurried to the door and unlocked it. The Chieftess swept inside, holding a scroll. She looked identical to the housemaid Flara. She pushed the door closed and thrust the scroll at Charlon.

  “Hurry,” the Chieftess said. “That doorman will inform the mother any moment.”

  Since King Jorger did not reside at Fairsight Manor, Mreegan’s mask of him was useless there. So she had taken captive the maid Flara as well, wearing whichever persona she found most useful. The real King Jorger, Flara, and Lady Zeroah were hidden in trunks in the undercroft—all three close enough to maintain the spells.

  Charlon broke the seal and read the letter. He was alive. Tears overcame all emotion. Filled her eyes. Fool, her heart said. “He is coming back!”

  “King Echad returns as well?” the Chieftess asked.

  “Yes, yes, everyone is coming. They mean to evacuate the city. Onto ships, just as Prince Trevn said.”

  “When will he arrive?” Mreegan asked.

  “He does not say. Just that he has set out. How many days does it take to travel from Canden to Everton?”

  “Perhaps three or four?” Mreegan guessed. “More with a large group.”

  Fear settled within. This letter must have been sent before the bond had been severed. Prince Wilek could very well have died.

  “He had better come quickly,” Mreegan said. “I only have enough root juice for another week or so. We need this wedding to happen soon.”

  “Why not go to the Vespara and get more?” Charlon asked. The entire Magonian encampment was now living on the ship, which they had stolen from King Jorger and anchored down the coast.

  “It is too far away at present,” the Chieftess said.

  A knock on the door and it opened. Mielle entered. “You have word of Prince Wilek?”

  “He is on his way back,” Charlon said, hoping it was true.

  “Oh!” Mielle clapped her hands and laughed. “What glorious news. Trevn will be so relieved.”

  Awkward silence descended.

  “Is there anything else?” Charlon asked.

  Mielle pursed her lips. “I wanted to talk with you about something.”

  So annoying, this girl. “About what?”

  “We are best friends,” Mielle said, nearly crying. “You said so.”

  Such a weakling. “And . . . ?”

  “You are not yourself. Everyone has noticed. Even Flara.”

  This again. Charlon caught Chieftess Mreegan’s smug expression. “Perhaps I am tired. Of being myself. Tired of acting like a child. I want to be a woman. Is that so wrong?”

  Mielle sniffled. “Of course not. I just . . . I want to know what changed you.”

  “No one thing,” Charlon said, scrambling for a lie. “A woman has only one life. She must make the most of it. She cannot wait around for men or mothers to tell her what to do.”

  “I know your mother vexes you, but you have always respected and admired Sâr Wilek. He is a cautious, reserved man. Your new boldness might shock him. What if he decides not to marry you? I do not wish to see you hurt, my lady.”

  Panic burned within. “You think he might reject me?” This was terrible! The Chieftess was practically smiling. She had always criticized Charlon’s portrayal of Lady Zeroah.

  “I know not,” Mielle said. “He will notice how much you have changed. I only wanted to . . . I felt like I should . . . I am worried, that’s all.”

  Charlon smiled, tried to look like she meant it. “I will think about what you said, Miss Mielle. You could be right.”

  “Oh, thank you for listening!” Mielle smothered her in a hug that lasted far too long.

  When Mielle left, Charlon knew the Chieftess was about to lecture her once again, but Magon appeared between them.

  Your prince lives, Magon said. A male mantic broke the soul-binding. His shadir was a slight. I punished it. It will never serve that careless human again. Magon faded away.

  Prince Wilek lived! What a relief. And a blessing. Before, the prince would have felt the soul-binding through the mask. It would have given Charlon away. Not so now. But if the Mielle girl was right and Charlon could not behave like the real Lady Zeroah, she might fail still.

  Later that evening, Mreegan returned as Flara, a lidded wicker basket tucked in the crook of her elbow. “I was right, wasn’t I?” she asked. “You ha
ve been careless. You cannot behave like Lady Zeroah.”

  It was too difficult! “What can I do?”

  “Go see her. Talk with her. Study her.”

  “I have. She is only ever angry.” Which reminded Charlon of the brothel. Seeing the girl bound and gagged brought back nightmares. Charlon wanted to kill Zeroah and be done with her. The Chieftess said it was too dangerous to wear the mask of a dead person for so long. Said they needed the spiteful child alive for now.

  Chieftess Mreegan was watching her, grinning.

  “Why do you smile?” Charlon asked.

  “Because I have done you a favor. I made myself invisible and searched Prince Wilek’s chambers. Found a collection of journal scrolls. There were dozens. Several have passages where the prince writes about Lady Zeroah.”

  A spark of hope. “Give them to me!”

  The Chieftess opened the lid to the basket and withdrew a roll of scrolls.

  Charlon snatched it away. Sat in the longchair and searched through the scrolls. Spied Zeroah’s name. Her heart quickened. So honest, these words. She scanned the rest of the page. Found Zeroah’s name again. Then again, farther down.

  She flipped through two more scrolls. So many clues. The girl was timid. Smelled of rosemary. Served the poor. Cried easily. Trembled in his presence. Seemed almost afraid of him, though had attempted boldness in conversation. A gift of a dagger. A single kiss.

  “Will it help you?” Flara’s nasal voice pulled Charlon away from the scroll.

  So much. “Yes, Chieftess. This is exactly what I needed. I must find a bottle of rosemary water right away.”

  Trevn

  Trevn set out for his mother’s apartment to check on the Book of Arman. He was pleased to see that no more damage had come to the castle, though repairs had not yet started. The cross section was still damaged, so he and Cadoc took the servants’ stairs.

  Queen Brelenah had invited Trevn to a meeting of the Nahtan tomorrow, and he looked forward to discovering who in Everton counted themselves Armanite and helping in any way he could.

  When he and Cadoc arrived at his mother’s apartment, they stepped into a shambles. Furniture had been overturned, cushions ripped open, and his mother’s clothing was strewn over every section of the floor.

  “Someone is still looking for the book,” Trevn said. “I would have expected the villains to have followed us to Canden.”

  “Unless they knew you did not actually go,” Cadoc said.

  Who besides Hinck, Cadoc, and Mother could know that?

  Cadoc searched the apartment and found it empty. Trevn trod over the carpet of clothing and checked the secret room, pleased to see it had not been disturbed. He touched the Book of Arman and wondered if he should move it. To Barek’s houseboat, perhaps?

  Not yet. It was safest here.

  “We must discover who is doing this,” he said. “Can we lure him out somehow?”

  “Perhaps you could visit the Temple Arman each morning,” Cadoc suggested.

  It took Trevn a moment to understand what Cadoc meant. “With a manuscript pouch over my shoulder, you mean?”

  Cadoc grinned.

  “I will make a scene as I come and go each day,” Trevn said, “quoting the Book of Arman and inviting others to join me. Could you muster a contingent of guards you trust?”

  “Certainly.”

  Trevn nodded, eager to do something proactive. “Post your men near the Temple Arman just before morning bells. Instruct them to watch everyone but me. I want a full report of who is present.”

  “It will be done,” Cadoc said.

  Trevn made a grand scene in the Temple Arman the next morning. It was located on the ground floor of the castle, near the great hall, and was by far the most dazzling temple in the building. Trevn recalled his father wanting to change it to a Temple Barthos, but something always distracted him from following through.

  Despite the noise Trevn made, no one paid him any mind. Perhaps he had come too early. He would have to try again tomorrow.

  Trevn and Cadoc arrived in Queen Brelenah’s apartment for the Nahtan meeting moments before the midday bells rang. He counted twenty-three people present, a mixture of royalty, nobility, military, servants, and commoners, who were already discussing the population. Trevn recognized over half, including Gran, Princess Nabelle, Dendrick, Hawley, the guardsman Novan Heln, Sârah Hrettah, Barek Hadar and his manservant, Crossett from the stables, and the former admiral Captain Aldair Livina.

  “Impossible,” the captain was saying. “Even if we combined all five fleets, we would only have some twelve hundred vessels. There are over nine million people in the Five Realms. We would need fifteen thousand boats to save everyone.”

  “Many have houseboats,” Queen Valena said. “Some have several.”

  “Houseboats might be the fashion,” Barek said, “but they won’t hold many people.”

  “Nor will the nobility want to share their precious houseboats with commoners,” Dendrick said.

  “They would if the people agreed to work,” Queen Valena said.

  “Indentured slaves, you mean?” a soldier asked.

  “I included houseboats in my numbers,” the captain said. “Even if we commandeered every vessel in the Five Realms, we could save no more than a quarter of a million people. Yet there is no point in discussing Rurekau, Tenma, or Magonia. Between Armania and Sarikar, we have enough boats for a hundred thousand. But that leaves no room for livestock.”

  “Can we build more ships?” Trevn asked.

  “Not if these Woes are coming as quickly as this Prophetess let on,” the captain said.

  “We need to speak with her,” Queen Brelenah said. “Perhaps I will send a squadron of guards to find Sir Kalenek.”

  “How would they even know where to look?” Gran asked. “Trust the Prophetess to Arman. We must do our part, and that is to prepare for the Woes.”

  Trevn listened raptly as the discussion continued. Queen Brelenah gave a report on how the food was being divided among the galleys and merchant cogs at the Port of Everton. The same was being done at the other Armanian port cities. She assigned Novan Heln to assist Crossett in preparing horses for the boats but cautioned them to be careful about how many animals to take, as the beasts ate and drank a vast amount.

  Princess Nabelle gave a report on supplies, and when she finished, a soldier presented in Captain Veralla’s absence, sharing about the number of weapons his team had gathered.

  Barek gave the best news of all. “Captain Livina has discovered land.”

  A hush gripped every soul in the chamber.

  “Where?” Trevn asked.

  “It is an island,” the captain said, “some four hundred fifty leagues north-northwest from here. No bigger than Odarka. I lost my ship and crew when Cape Waldemar collapsed. I also lost all my charts, but I am confident I can find the island again.”

  “This brings up a concern of mine,” Barek said. “I feel as though Captain Livina should be reinstated as Admiral of the Fleet.”

  This statement brought a stunned silence over the assembly.

  Barek went on. “Only he knows the way to this new island. We dare not sail into the bowl with no plan.” He cast his gaze from face to face as if looking to find someone to agree with him.

  “I can only speak for myself,” Queen Brelenah said, “but I agree with you. The problem is the rosâr and his preference for Admiral Vendal.”

  “We must commit our plans to Arman,” Gran said. “If he agrees with our need, he will deliver success.”

  Most everyone responded to Gran’s comment with nods or hums of agreement. Trevn didn’t know what to think of such faith, and the existence of this new island was too much to brush aside. “Do you think there are more islands?” he asked the captain.

  “Perhaps,” Livina said. “I thought we might set up temporary homes on the island I found, then set out north from that point in search of more.”

  They discussed the new island at len
gth, and Queen Brelenah closed the meeting. Trevn left, his mind lost in a reverie as to what they might find outside the bowl.

  Everywhere Trevn went, he carried a fake manuscript with him. He met with Captain Livina to compare charts of the Eversea. The newly discovered island thrilled him and gave him immense hope during this dark time. Queen Brelenah called on Trevn often, giving him tasks in his new role on the Nahtan. Frequently Trevn asked servants to assist him on an errand, only to find them preoccupied with some task from Lady Zeroah for her upcoming wedding.

  Trevn continued his temple visits for the next three days, but there had been no reports of anyone suspicious watching. He ate while working or in meetings, constantly busy with some part of the evacuation plan. At night he poured over his maps and explorer diaries, replaying his meetings with Captain Livina in his mind.

  Days passed without Trevn once seeing Mielle. He longed to spend time with her, so he sent a letter, apologizing for his neglect. She replied, assuring him that she understood. No word came from Wilek, so Trevn could only forge ahead and pray his brother would return soon.

  Wilek

  Wilek arrived in Everton as the sun was setting. He had taken a small group of men and ridden in advance of his father’s procession of ships, which were making their way down the Echo Crack. They had gone to Canden on horseback, but now that they needed every possible ship, the king had decided to sail back to Everton. Janek and the other prisoners were being kept in one of the ship’s brigs.

  Wilek had made sure Harton understood that while he had forgiven his use of magic in The Gray, Harton must never be tempted again if he wanted to remain in his service. Harton had promised to give it up for good.

  Harton rode ahead to give word of their arrival, so when Wilek stepped inside the castle, he was unsurprised to find a reception waiting. Harton stood with Trevn, Lady Zeroah with Princess Nabelle. Also present were Wilek’s mother and Gran, a gaggle of little dogs, and a large group of staff.

  His mother kissed him. “It went well?”

  “It did not. Pontiff Rogedoth used his magic on the rosâr, who sentenced me to be sacrificed to Barthos.”