by Simon Brown
Orkid thought Dejanus had trouble leading himself to the lavatory let alone leading a Kingdom army into battle against Lynan and his Chetts, but he did not know what to do. The thought of getting one of his people to assassinate the constable crossed his mind constantly, but if the assassin should fail Dejanus would not hesitate to take revenge or—in an act of suicidal rage—tell Areava the truth about her brother's death.
He had never consciously worked against the interests of the Kingdom, believing even Berayma's murder had been for the long-term benefit of Grenda Lear, but Orkid knew supporting Dejanus in his bid for command would be a betrayal of everything he loved and strove for. Yet there was no choice.
He checked the sand clock on the windowsill and saw it was time for the council to convene. He stood up heavily and gathered his papers together. He was about to leave when there was a disturbance in his secretary's office.
'I must see him! It is urgent I see him! They won't let me see the queen!'
He did not recognise the voice, but the distress of the speaker was obvious.
'The chancellor is very busy,' his secretary replied 'And he is late for a meeting—hi! Hold on there!'
A man strode into his office, followed by Orkid's harried-looking secretary. He was middle-aged, short and smelled of something foul. Orkid was about to call for a guard, but the man grabbed Orkid by his coat and shook him.
'Your Eminence! You have to listen to me!'
'I'm not anyone's eminence!' Orkid put down his papers and wrenched at the man's hands. 'And please remove—'
'It's Daavis, your Eminence! It's fallen!'
'—your hands…' Orkid stopped struggling.
'Daavis has fallen!' the man repeated. 'But no one will let me see the queen to tell her! I don't know what to do—'
'Be quiet!' Orkid ordered.
The man could not refuse that voice. He released Orkid's jacket and stepped back, struck dumb.
'Now tell me, who are you, exactly?'
The man could not open his mouth.
Orkid sighed and said more gently: 'You must answer my question. Who are you?'
'Begging your Eminence's favour, your Eminence, I'm Tomlin.'
'My title is Chancellor, nothing else. And who is Tomlin?'
'I'm sorry your… Chancellor. And I is Tomlin. Am Tomlin. Ah, I see what you mean. I am Tomlin the pigeon keeper.'
Orkid rubbed his brow with one hand. 'The pigeon keeper?'
'Yes. And I know that Daavis has fallen.'
Keeping his anger under control, Orkid asked: 'How can you possibly know this?'
'Because all of our pigeons have come home, Chancellor. All of them at the same time.'
'Our pigeons? What do you mean our pigeons?'
'I mean all the palace's pigeons sent away to Daavis have come home at one time, but none with a message. And the only way that would happen is if their house was destroyed or they were let go urgent like.'
Orkid understood then what Tomlin was trying to tell him. 'This has never happened before?'
'Only once that I know of, and that in my father's time, when I was still apprenticed to him. The late queen's father had sent the nobleman Aftel Theso on a ship to explore the Sea Between and the story goes he was never heard of—'
'Yes, yes, I know the story,' Orkid said impatiently.
'Well, sir Chancellor, we did hear from him in a sense, All the pigeons he took with him came back in one go, and my father said to me "Oh, heck, he's gone", and I said "Who would that be, Da?" and he said "Well, Duke Theso, of course, since all his pigeons have come to coop and not a one with a message".'
'But it could have been an accident,' Orkid pointed out, trying to reason the thing through. 'Someone in Daavis could have let all the pigeons out at the same time by accident.'
'Well, no. A pigeon house is a special place, you see. It's not like a chicken run with a single gate. Each pigeon has its own coop. Only way they could all come home is if the house was destroyed or they were let go like that. And seeing that Daavis is at the centre of a war…' Tomlin's voice trailed off and he finished with a shrug, Then some thought activated him again: 'Although Duke Theso, of course, did not have a house because he was just on a ship, so his pigeons could have been let go accidentally, although seeing as how he's never been seen or heard from since, it seems unlikely—'
'Yes, thank you,' Orkid said quickly. He placed a firm hand on Tomlin's shoulder. 'You must go back to your pigeon house. Speak no word of this to anyone, is that understood?'
Tomlin nodded vigorously. Orkid eyed his secretary. 'And that includes you as well.'
The secretary nodded in time with Tomlin.
'Or I will have both your gizzards cut out and fed to the pigs,' Orkid finished. 'Now go.'
Both Tomlin and the secretary disappeared. Orkid slumped on the edge of his desk. All he could think of was that with Daavis gone Hume itself must inevitably fall, which would open the way to the province of Chandra and then to Kendra itself.
He gathered his papers together hurriedly. The council must hear of this and a solution be found, or else everything he stood for, everything he believed in, would crumble away into dust. But first he had to see the queen.
Edaytor stopped when he realised his charge was no longer keeping up with him. He turned and saw Prince Olio watching with utmost concentration a game of castles being played by two young boys using nothing but scratched marks on the pavement and coloured pebbles. The two boys themselves were concentrating so intently on their game that at first they did not notice either the prince or his escort of ten Royal Guards. Then one of the guards changed his stance and cast a shadow across the game.
One of the players looked up irritably and said: 'Move out of the way you karak…' The boy gulped. 'Fuck, sorry,' he added.
The other boy looked up then and yelped in surprise.
'The blue pebbles are knights, I assume,' Olio said interestedly.
'Yeah,' the first boy muttered, his gaze drifting from one huge guard to the next.
'And the red ones?'
'Spearmen,' the second boy said.
'Ah, I should have seen that.' Olio bent over and turned over a grey pebble. 'A sapper! Delightful!'
The first boy grabbed at the pebble, all thoughts of the guards fleeing from his mind. 'Hey! Thanks giving away my surprise!'
The second boy laughed.
'I'm sorry,' Olio said quickly. 'I wasn't thinking.'
'Who do you think you are, anyway, interrupting a quiet game—?'
'He thinks he is Prince Olio Rosetheme,' Edaytor! in his most imperious tone. 'And I am Edaytor Fanhow, Magiker Prelate.'
'Oh,' the boy said weakly, his gaze shifting again to the guards.
'My name's Elynd,' the second boy said to Olio. 'My mumma named me after your father.'
Olio blinked in surprise at the boy. 'I don't think so,' he said, frowning in thought.
'I should know who I'm named after,' the boy said.
'What his Highness means is that his father was not Elynd Chisal,' Edaytor explained. 'It was Duke Amptra—'
'Oh, that's right,' the boy said quickly. 'I was named after Prince Lynan's father.' He closed his hand over his mouth and mumbled through his fingers. 'Sorry.'
Olio looked at him curiously. 'Why?'
Edaytor took Olio by the arm and led him away from the boys.
'What's going on, Edaytor?' the prince asked, hanging back.
'We should let them get on with their game.'
'Where are you taking me?'
'To the harbour. You always look at the ships from the palace, so I'm taking you to see them.'
'Will there be warships?'
'Certainly.'
'Can I go on one?'
'We will have to ask the captain for permission. I do not think you will be refused.'
Olio ended his resistance and they left the two boys behind, the guards closing around them. Edaytor would rather have gone alone into the city with Olio, but in h
is present condition there was no chance Areava would have allowed that.
People stared at the group, not used to seeing royalty on their streets. Most did not know what to do, but some bowed and others smiled and waved. Olio would oblige by smiling and waving back at first, but after a while got bored with that and ignored them.
'How much further do we have to walk?' he asked sullenly. 'My feet are tired.'
'Not far, your Highness. Just to the end of this street.'
All around them was evidence of the great fire during which the old Olio had lost himself trying to heal the injured, and Edaytor slowed down the pace. They passed the skeletons of houses and shops, walked over blackened cobblestones, stepped over mangled pieces of metal that may once have been saucepans or ladles. Children carelessly played in the wreckage while around them workers were pulling down charred beams and posts or putting up new frames. Cats slinked around the ruins looking for rats and birds. The air in this old part of the city still smelled of burnt wood and underneath, the faintest hint, of burnt flesh.
'There was a fire,' Olio said absently, surveying the damage.
'Yes, your Highness. A terrible fire. Do you remember it?'
'I don't think Queen Usharna would have let me see it. Fires are bad things.'
'I think you saw this one,' Edaytor persisted.
Olio said nothing, but the prelate could tell he was trying to remember. 'No,' he said, then cocked his head to one side. 'Maybe. It was very hot.'
He stopped suddenly and his entourage flowed around him. 'What was this place?' he asked, pointing to a burnt-out block that was three or four times larger than those around it.
Edaytor had to think about it for a while. There were no landmarks left standing to help him locate their position, but when he studied the shape of the block he realised where they were.
'It was a chapel, your Highness,' he said roughly. It was where Olio first used the Key of the Heart to heal someone without the aid of a magiker, the prelude to his losing his mind to the same Key.
'Yes, of course it was,' Olio said, his voice distant. He looked at Edaytor and his eyes focused. 'I don't like it here.'
'The harbour is close.' The prelate sniffed the air, 'Can you smell the sea?'
Olio sniffed too. 'No, only the burning. Take me away.'
Edaytor held the prince's hand and led him down the street. A few minutes later they were in a part of the old city that had survived the great fire. All around them people bustled at their work with no spare time to glance at the prince and his party. There were carters pushing loads between warehouses and shops, street hawkers and sellers, children rushing around and between the legs of adults, and priests, soldiers, magikers and sailors crowding the street. And then they were in the open, the narrow streets left behind as they entered the docks, a wide strip of land connecting quays to warehouses. There were dozens of ships tied to the quays, including many of the low-prowed and narrow-beamed warships of the Grenda Lear navy, their kestrel pennants fluttering from every mast. Olio headed for the nearest, Edaytor and the guards half running to keep up. Someone on the ship must have seen the royal entourage on its way, for by the time Olio had reached the foot of the gangplank an officer was standing to attention at the other end.
Olio waited for Edaytor to catch up and glanced at the officer nervously. 'What do I do?' he pleaded in a low voice.
'Ask him for permission to come aboard,' Edaytor whispered in his ear.
Olio cleared his throat. 'Captain, may I come aboard? Please?'
The officer cleared his throat as well. 'Your Highness!' he shouted, making Olio and Edaytor blink. 'Captain Eblo is not aboard! I am watch officer! Ensign Pilburn at your service!'
'Can the watch officer give me permission?' Olio asked Edaytor.
The prelate shrugged. 'Ask him.'
'Can you give me permission to come aboard? Please?'
'Your Highness!' came the shout. 'You have permission to come aboard!'
Olio breathed a sigh of relief. 'Well, that's good,' he said, and started up the gangplank. Before he took the second step one of his guards stopped him and moved in front while another squeezed himself behind. They marched up the gangplank, the rhythm of their feet making it sway. Edaytor watched with curious pleasure as the sandwiched prince, so diminutive between the guards, was escorted on board the ship. The watch officer stepped back and stood to attention. When there was room Edaytor followed with six of the remaining guards, two staying behind at the foot of the gangplank.
'So this is a warship,' Olio said with self-satisfaction, and clicked his heels on the deck as if to prove the case.
'Your Highness!'
'You don't have to say it so loudly,' Olio said. 'Will you show me around? Have you any prisoners?'
'Prisoners?'
'Pirates,' Olio continued, waving his hand in the air. 'That sort of thing.'
'No, your Highness. We have no pirates on board.' Pilburn looked at Edaytor for guidance.
'Killed them all in action, I expect.'
Pilburn's face contorted in confusion.
'Shall we start below?' Edaytor suggested.
'You can show me the brig,' Olio said. 'You do have a brig?'
'Yes, your Highness,' the officer said, leading the way to the aft cabin.
'You don't have to keep on calling me "your Highness". It isn't etiquette. Just "sir".'
'Yes, sir,' Pilburn said obediently.
Over the next ten minutes the royal entourage shuffled and crouched and squeezed through narrow ways and cabins below decks before emerging via a gangway on the foredeck.
'It's not a very big ship, really,' Olio commented.
'It's built to be swift and sure, sir,' the watch officer said. 'That's why we are named the Windsnapper.'
'That's certainly a wonderful name,' Edaytor said.
'Have you seen any action?' Olio asked.
'Why yes, sir,' Pilburn said, obviously offended at the question. 'Three years ago we caught and destroyed a pirate sloop off the shores of Lurisia. Two years ago we were involved in an action against a smuggling port on the border of Hume and Haxus. We had two prisoners in the brig after that fight. And only last year, sir, we chased your outlaw brother out to sea—'
'We've probably taken up enough of your time, Ensign,' Edaytor said quickly, talking over Pilburn. He gently pushed Olio towards the gangplank.
'My outlaw brother?' Olio asked. 'What are you talking about, Ensign?'
'Your Highness?' Pilburn asked in turn, more confused now than ever before.
'We are due back at the palace,' Edaytor said urgently to Olio. He caught the attention of one of the guards and nodded to Pilburn. The guard understood and immediately escorted the ensign back below decks. By now he had manoeuvred the prince to the top of the gangplank, but Olio wedged his feet against it and would not be budged.
'What was that officer talking about, Edaytor?' Olio demanded.
'It was a slip of the tongue, your Highness,' Edaytor answered, still gently trying to shove him down to the dock. 'Nothing important—'
'I'm not a fool,' Olio said, his voice deepening, and for the second time since Olio's accident Edaytor heard something of the old prince in that tone. He stepped back and Olio turned to face him. 'You know something about my brother. Which one? Berayma or Lynan?'
Edaytor licked his lips. He did not know what was best: to continue to feign ignorance or tell the truth. Taking his courage in hand he decided on the latter. 'Ensign Pilburn was talking about Prince Lynan.'
Olio looked over Edaytor's shoulder, out over the harbour and towards the sea. 'Lynan is made outlaw and fled overseas? Is that what all this is about? Is that why no one will talk to me any more? Is that why my mother refuses to see me, or Berayma? Was it my fault?' His voice was rising, and he took hold of Edaytor's cloak. 'Does my family want me outlawed as well?'
The guards were startled by this sudden outburst and did not know which way to look, afraid that if they caught the p
rince's eye he would ask them the same questions.
Edaytor rested his hands on Olio's fists and said as gently as he could: 'You are loved by your family. No one thinks you have done anything wrong.'
'But what happened to Lynan?' Olio demanded. 'He is so young. How could he possibly be an outlaw?'
Edaytor could not meet Olio's questioning gaze. 'There are some things you must know, but I am not the one to tell you.'
'Then who is?'
'Your beloved sister. Areava will tell you.' He took a deep, guilty breath. 'It is time Areava told you everything.'
'I am afraid,' Olio said, his voice becoming small and childish again. 'Edaytor, I don't know what to think.'
Edaytor put an arm around Olio's shoulders. 'Trust me, your Highness. You will be alright. There is no need for you to be afraid.' He hoped the prince did not hear the doubt in his voice.
Dejanus had not taken a drink for nearly a day. He was going to be cold sober for this all-important council meeting. He was finally going to get what he had wanted ever since he first took up soldiering—an army of his own. He got to the council room early and was irritated to find Harnan Beresard there already, setting up his small secretary's desk and carefully placing his various pens and papers upon it. But Harnan did not have a vote on the council, Dejanus reminded himself, and so was unimportant. He nodded to the secretary and then took his position near the entrance, standing as erectly as possible and giving full effect to his size. As each of the councillors arrived he caught their attention, smiled grimly as befitted the times and nodded confidently at them. Some of the councillors—mainly members of the Twenty Houses—ignored him, some seemed surprised—and one or two even a little dismayed—by his attention, but many smiled back and seemed reassured that he was there. He did a quick count. He thought he would have more votes than he needed, as long as Orkid and the two priests backed him up. After their little chat, he was sure Orkid would not vote against him, at any rate, and the primate and his secretary would follow the chancellor's lead. The only obstacle remaining was the queen, who could veto any council decision if she so desired. Areava had exercised that prerogative very rarely, though, and never on major issues.
