Brown,_Simon_-_[Keys_Of_Power_03]_-_Sovereign

by Simon Brown

  Amemun convinced Southern Chetts.

  You love the queen; Aman can still reign.

  Orkid stood up heavily and let the message burn over a candle flame. The meaning behind the words of his brother, King Marin, were plain enough, and they both frightened and exulted him.

  The first part of the message meant his friend Amemun had made contact with the fierce Southern Chetts and somehow persuaded them to side with the Kingdom against their northern cousins on the Oceans of Grass. Orkid had never doubted that Grenda Lear would defeat Lynan and his allies in the long run, but forcing the rebel Chetts to protect their southern border would hasten the inevitable.

  The second part of the message was equally clear. The grand plan—to have Marin's son Sendarus wed Areava and produce heirs to the throne of Grenda Lear with Amanite blood—had collapsed tragically with the death of Sendarus and his daughter. Some other way must be found to ensure the blood of Aman shared the throne of Grenda Lear. Marin was saying that way must now be found through Orkid himself.

  How did he know my feelings towards Areava? he wondered with something like alarm. Were they that obvious?

  Then Orkid remembered those long conversations with Amemun when he had escorted Sendarus to Usharna's court for the first time. Amemun had plied him with questions about Areava, had helped Orkid finalise the last details of the grand plan.

  And then reported everything back to Marin, of course. I did not have to say the words to Amemun; he always knew how to read my mind.

  He sat down again. He could never marry Areava. The council would not allow it, and the Twenty Houses would pull even further away from supporting the throne, and he would not do that to her. And yet…

  His own thoughts flagged his divided loyalty, something else Amemun had probably guessed at. He remembered the old teacher telling him that although Orkid's years in Kendra had not blunted his love for Aman, they had given him time to learn to love its rulers. He had not denied it then, and would not deny it now. He would do almost anything to be able to express his feelings to Areava in the hope—the desperate hope—that she might return them. That was the problem with Marin's suggestion. Areava regarded Orkid as a friend, a trusted advisor, her mother's contemporary and confidant, and not as a potential lover. He was honest to himself about that much, at least.

  Could he turn her around, make her fall in love with him? It was a question he had been secretly asking himself for several years, ever since Areava had first blossomed into womanhood. At the time he wondered if his response to her had been nothing more than a reflection of his love for her mother, the unattainable Usharna, but as Areava continued to grow and develop so had his feelings towards her. He had been ashamed of those feelings when she married his nephew, Sendarus, and now that shame had turned to guilt because Sendarus's death had given him the chance with Areava he so desperately wanted. And now he had Marin's sanction as well.

  He realised that in a terrible way he did not want this chance, did not want to pursue the matter to the point where the queen might spurn him. He had never been afraid of the assassin's knife, but he was afraid of Areava's rejection. But now a combination of desire and duty urged him on, and he knew that even if he could resist desire, he had never in his life been able to resist duty.

  Constable Dejanus finished the evening rounds of the palace. He stood in the great courtyard watching a single window high in the east wing. He could see the silhouette of a dark figure through the glass, fluttering with the candlelight.

  One arrow would do it, he said to himself. Straight through the window and into the bastard's black heart.

  The thought sent a delicious thrill down his spine. To be rid of Chancellor Orkid Gravespear once and for all! It was his greatest wish.

  His hands on his hips, Dejanus circled where he stood. He was a power here, a power in the greatest palace on Theare, maybe even in the world. His chest swelled with the thought of it. I have no need to be afraid of anything. And then, as it always did, the familiar voice in his head said, Except Orkid.

  The puff went out of him, and his gaze returned to that window. As he watched, the light went out and the wavering shadow of the chancellor disappeared. 'If only it was that easy,' Dejanus said aloud, then looked around to make sure no one had heard him. The courtyard was deserted. It was very dark, and he suddenly felt exposed. He hurried to his own quarters. The guard on duty snapped to attention as he passed, and that rejuvenated some of his confidence. He settled in his bed with a flask of good wine, and in his mind played out the many ways he could kill Orkid. Maybe an arrow, he thought. Hire an archer with some grudge against the chancellor.

  And the voice said, Or if you were brave enough you could simply use your own knife. Dejanus could find no answer to that voice. He never had.

  He finished the flask and fell asleep dreaming of the day, the one blessed day, when he would be brave enough.

  Galen led his knights in double file through the newly restored gates of Daavis. A cheering crowd lined the main avenue leading to the palace, and Galen noticed the surprised and gratified looks on the young Kendran knights he led. If nothing else, this campaign had taught them that there was more to the Kingdom of Grenda Lear than the city of Kendra, and more to concern it than the petty goings-on of the nobility.

  At least it finally taught me that, he admitted to himself, and felt proud of the fact he was young and smart enough to adapt. Areava and her mother had been right all along. The provinces needed to be—deserved to be!—brought into the everyday decisions that were made on their behalf in the royal palace far away on Kestrel Bay. Grenda Lear certainly could not afford to ignore people like Charion.

  Galen marvelled at the work the people of Daavis had done in preparing their city for a siege, and at the sacrifices they were prepared to make. He saw some streets where not one house remained standing, their stone cannibalised for the walls. In their place were makeshift shelters of canvas and sheeting, old wood and blankets.

  Acknowledging the crowd with a broad smile, he wished he had earned all this gratitude. Setting up a series of outposts was not exactly the gallant work he and his knights had trained for and dreamed about. His smile waned when he remembered the battle against Lynan. They had earned something that day, he thought. But at what a cost. Half his knights dead on the field. It would be another generation at least before the Twenty Houses could field a full regiment of cavalry again.

  Charion herself was waiting for them before the palace. She was mounted on her show horse, a fine-boned white stallion that was too delicate to actually ride to war, and wearing the crown of Hume. Her clothes looked bedraggled, but Galen thought she still managed to look regal, even imperious. Galen dismounted and bowed slightly before her. The cheering went up a notch.

  'We were not expecting such a warm welcome,' he admitted to Charion.

  'They are encouraging you to stay,' she said. She caught his gaze. 'Are you going to?'

  'Unless Queen Areava orders us elsewhere, we will stay.' He returned her stare. 'Have you received such a communication?'

  Charion smiled thinly. 'Not yet, although I've received one from her chancellor.'

  'Orkid Gravespear?' Galen could not help the distaste in his voice. He immediately felt ashamed: his newfound generosity to the provinces obviously did not extend to Orkid, even though he was Sendarus's uncle. 'What did he have to say?'

  Charion dismounted now and offered her arm to Galen, who took it. Charion nodded to Farben who indicated to the rest of the knights to follow him. Charion and Galen then walked into the palace.

  'The chancellor says Areava lost her baby.'

  Galen gasped in surprise. 'I did not even know she was pregnant.'

  'Does she usually reveal these intimate secrets to her nobles?' Charion asked innocently.

  'What?' He was momentarily confused by the question. 'No, of course not. I meant…' He shut his mouth. He was not sure what he meant. He was filled with sadness for Areava's sake, and for poor lost Se
ndarus.

  Charion read something of his feelings in his expression and patted his hand. 'Orkid says she is recovering, but that her brother Olio has been injured in some way. Apparently there was a great fire in the city the same day our army met Lynan's. That is why we have not heard from Areava.'

  'A black day for the whole Kingdom,' Galen said in a low voice.

  They reached Charion's throne room, and she ordered her servants away. When they were alone she said: 'Orkid made no mention of you or your knights. I do not know what Areava intends for you. Under the circumstances, you might feel it best to go on to Kendra.'

  For the second time Charion was offering him a way out of his royal predicament. He knew that as one of the Kingdom's leading nobles he could help Areava back in Kendra, but he was a member of the Twenty Houses and she did not trust him, and she had others to rely on for advice and assistance. On the other hand, he could make a decisive difference here if Lynan attacked into southern Hume. He glanced at Charion, who was doing her best to seem unconcerned.

  'Her Majesty will send for me if she needs me,' he said.

  Charion smiled mysteriously. 'Which Majesty?' she asked.

  Galen coughed politely in his hand. 'The one furthest from me,' he replied, and saw her eyes widen slightly.

  'You must be tired after your expedition,' she said quickly. 'And dusty.'

  Galen looked down at his clothes, then behind him. He had left dirty footprints all the way into the throne room. 'I have been looking forward to a bath,' he admitted.

  'Then you shall have one.' I will give you and your lieutenants rooms in the palace. We can talk again after you have rested.'

  'Your Majesty is most generous,' he said, bowing to her for the second time, and started to withdraw.

  'You will have rested by tonight,' she added lightly.

  'Fully,' he replied, and matched her smile.

  CHAPTER 6

  The harbour was burning. Thick plumes of greasy smoke pillowed into the air. Ships blazed at their moorings, their masts crumbled and collapsed, their sheets sparkled, torn remnants of their sails whipped like beacons in the wind before going out. Charcoaled bodies bobbed with the currents under the docks, washed up on Kolby's Beach with barrels and other flotsam, smelled like rotten crackling. Seabirds wheeled overhead before diving on carcasses to feast as they never had before. In the middle of the harbour a single warship, flames shooting along its whole length, started to roll, slowly at first, but as the water sluiced over its side and then into its hold it quickly keeled over, its bow pointing slightly in the air. For a moment it looked as if it might hold, but then it slid beneath the water, stern first, and disappeared. An explosion of bubbles broke the surface and then nothing was left of its passing, not even a corpse.

  Lynan could not look away from the destruction around him. In a terrible way it was beautiful. The harbour glowed with colour, the clouds of smoke above seemed to shine with it, the air itself shimmered. He could smell burning wood and tar and canvas, and underneath all that the sweet smell of burning bodies.

  The sound of it was a giant's sigh, like something great coming to rest.

  A Red Hand galloped up to Lynan and bowed. 'Your Majesty, Queen Korigan reports that the city is secure. The fighting in the palace has been quelled. There is no other resistance.'

  Lynan nodded, relieved. The massacre at Fort Typerta had changed Salokan's attitude and he had cooperated ever since, ordering the surrender of every town and hamlet in his Kingdom. Only here at the capital, where there were other noble families, had the first real resistance been met. As it turned out there were two main rivals to Salokan, each led by a cousin; one took the palace and the other the fortified harbour, each hoping their stand would rally resistance against Lynan and at the same time rally support for their claim to the throne. Neither occurred. Indeed, the remnants of the Haxus army had followed Salokan who was still king, after all, and been used to root out the rebels in both locations. When some noble refugees had tried to escape by ship, Lynan ordered fire arrows to destroy it and every other vessel at dock. The ensuing firestorm had turned the harbour into a pyre for the Kingdom of Haxus.

  Ager came beside him. 'There is nothing more to be done here. We can leave a detachment to make sure no one else tries escaping by water.'

  'All the ships are gone,' Lynan said distantly, still staring at the flames. He felt something inside him recoil at the sight of fire, but he forced himself to watch.

  'More ships can come,' Ager pointed out.

  Lynan nodded. 'You take care of it. I will go to the palace.'

  'Your Majesty.'' someone shouted near the water's edge. Lynan saw one of the Haxus soldiers who had helped destroy the harbour's fortifications holding a dripping, bedraggled looking man by the collar of a torn and scorched jerkin. The man's skin was cut and scalded.

  'Who is he?' Lynan asked.

  'I recognise him,' said another Haxus soldier. 'He is the son of Count Vasiliy.'

  'The nobleman who held the harbour against us?' Lynan asked.

  'The same.'

  The prisoner lifted his face and looked around, obviously dazed. Lynan regarded him for a moment, then said to the soldier holding him: 'Kill him.' The soldier nodded, drew a short sword and stabbed the son of Count Vasiliy through the back. The nobleman gasped once and slumped to the ground.

  Lynan turned his horse and left.

  Jenrosa watched him leave. For a long while she had observed him as the harbour was destroyed, saw the flames reflected in his white hard skin, saw the way his expression did not change the whole time his army wreaked ruin at his command. In the background her mind had heard the screams of the dying and wounded, heard the crash of buildings as they collapsed under the fire, smelled the fear and despair rise into the air with the smoke. And Lynan had hardly blinked.

  When he was gone she could not help slumping in the saddle, as if her watching of Lynan had been a casting of some kind and had exhausted her. Lasthear put a hand on her arm. 'Are you alright?'

  Jenrosa did not answer. Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to find it. At first she did not recognise what it was, and then her gaze settled on the harbour waters, gold and glistening. She dismounted and went to the water's edge.

  'Jenrosa?' Lasthear asked.

  'It's nothing,' Jenrosa said. She blinked. No, there is something, but what? A memory stirred deep in her mind. She bent over and swirled a hand in the water, sending ripples out in a circle, each ripple carrying its own reflection of the burning harbour. Again something moved a deep memory and she searched for it. She moved deeper into the water until it reached her waist.

  'Jenrosa!' Lasthear cried out, her voice worried.

  Jenrosa glanced over her shoulder, was surprised at Lasthear's expression. 'There's nothing wrong.'

  'But you are so deep,' Lasthear said.

  Jenrosa could not help smiling. 'This is not…' she started to say, then remembered she was talking to a Chett, someone who lived in the middle of the continent where the shallow lake at the High Sooq was the deepest water she ever saw. 'I'm alright,' she said. 'I was brought up near the sea. I am in no danger.'

  Lasthear seemed uncertain, but said no more.

  Jenrosa waited until the disturbance caused by her moving had calmed and then stared into the water again, letting her eyes lose their focus, clearing her mind for the memory that was proving so elusive. Tentatively she used her hand to cause a new cycle of ripples. Again each ripple carried a reflection of the burning harbour. Even as she watched the wash run out from her like mirrored rings, she saw in her mind's eye the incantation she wanted. She whispered the words. Nothing happened. She whispered the words again, and this time saw the last ripple reflected a harbour that was not burning at all; she caught a glimpse of a perfectly blue sky, of high-prowed Haxus ships, of wooden cranes and bustling docks.

  She gasped in surprise and involuntarily took a step back towards the land.

  'Jen
rosa!' Lasthear cried again.

  'Be quiet!' she ordered sharply. She tried calming down her own heart which seemed ready to burst from her, but even as she did her mind was racing. Where had the incantation come from? It had not been a memory after all: she had never learned those words, either from Lasthear or from her training with the theurgia. She had called up something much deeper within her than mere memory.

  She took a long breath and repeated the words as she set off more ripples, and this time each wave carried a different reflection. The words faded from her lips as she watched a hundred different scenes recede from her.

  'The past is the same,' she said, 'but the present has no boundary.'

  She heard splashing behind her. The water around her became confused and choppy. She turned, her anger changing to surprise when she saw Lasthear standing right behind her, oblivious to the water lapping around her waist. 'What did you say?' Lasthear demanded fiercely.

  'What?'

  'Just then, when you were watching the water. What did you say?'

  Jenrosa blinked. 'I'm not sure. I don't think—'

  Lasthear grabbed Jenrosa's arms. 'The past is the same,' she said, almost shouting the words.

  And Jenrosa said automatically, 'But the present has no boundary.'

  Lasthear's face blushed. 'Who told you those words?'

  'I… I don't know.'

  'What incantation were you using?'

  'I don't know. It came from somewhere inside my head. I've never heard it before.'

  Lasthear let her go. 'I'm sorry if I startled you.'

  Jenrosa suddenly became conscious that she and Lasthear were the centre of some attention. Chetts were looking on as if they had been witness to some important occasion; Haxus soldiers just stared at them strangely. At that moment she heard Lasthear breathe in sharply.

  'What's wrong?' Jenrosa asked.