by Simon Brown
'Do you think he will be alright until we get to Daavis?'
'Possibly. But what difference will Daavis make?'
'Our magikers are there,' Gudon said. 'They may be able to help. Indeed, Jenrosa is there. Perhaps if anyone can help it is Jenrosa.'
'So she is the next Truespeaker?'
'I don't know. But those who know about such things say she is very powerful indeed.'
'Jenrosa may not want to help,' Ager said.
'Truth. But I do not think she considers herself absolved from the changes in Lynan's behaviour. She cannot forget that she was the one who gave him the vampire's blood.'
'His changes in behaviour? Maybe he was always like this, deep down, and Silona's blood has only made it worse. He has been through a great deal in his few years, seen and experienced too much.'
'You make excuses for him,' Gudon said.
'I am his friend.'
'I am his friend as well, but he is our king, and that makes his behaviour a concern for more than you and me.'
Ager nodded wearily. 'Truth,' he said.
Gudon could not helping smiling at the use of the expression. 'Every day you become more like a Chett.'
'There are worse things to aspire to,' Ager admitted. He turned to look at Gudon. 'What can we do for Lynan?'
'We can do nothing except stand by him.'
'I will watch over him tonight. You get some sleep.'
'I will stay with you.'
'Someone is going to have to keep an eye on him during the ride tomorrow, and you are a better horseman than me.'
Gudon thought about it. 'As you say.'
'Go.'
Gudon raised a hand in farewell and left. Ager missed the Chett's presence as soon as he was gone from sight. He sat down, made himself as comfortable as possible and reluctantly returned his gaze to Lynan.
The column arrived in Daavis a day and a half after leaving the gorge. As far as Ager could tell, Lynan had not slept for a single moment the whole time; each day he rode at the head of the column, each night he squatted beside a fire and studied the head from his saddlebag. By the morning of the second day the head was beginning to stink, but no one would say anything about it to him. Ager was exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open despite catching snatches of sleep while mounted, but he had not the Chett ability to sleep properly in the saddle. Two long nights, together with all the anxiety and fears that accompanied them, had completely drained him. When he passed under the north gate of the city he felt as if he had returned to some kind of sanctuary and his spirits lifted somewhat, making him sit more erect.
As soon as they entered the palace courtyard they were met by a retinue of stablehands and servants. Their horses were taken away and linen towels soaked in warm sweet-scented water were handed to Lynan and his companions. When Ager looked up from washing his face he saw that Lynan had kept the saddlebag from his horse, its lumpish shape slopped over his shoulder. A servant standing nearby was having difficulty breathing, and none of the servants would look directly at Lynan's face. Ager's spirits quickly sunk again.
Korigan appeared and immediately ran to Lynan, but she stopped short when she saw what he was like. Ager felt the cold flush he saw goosebump her skin.
'You are returned, my lord,' she said hesitantly.
Lynan glanced at her. 'Farben,' he said.
Korigan frowned. 'Farben?'
'Charion's secretary in charge of the city's administration.'
'Yes, of course.'
'Bring him to me in the throne room.'
Korigan nodded. 'Alright. But don't you want to rest first? You look as if you have ridden long and hard—'
'Now,' Lynan said. 'And all the palace servants.' He walked away from her and into the palace.
Ager flinched when he saw the pain on the queen's face. The realisation that she did love Lynan came as something of a shock to him. She glanced at Ager, her expression asking the question she could not voice. He went to her and said: 'Do as he asks, but bring Jenrosa as well, and any other powerful magikers you can find.'
'How long—?'
'This is the third day.'
'Oh gods…'
'Get Jenrosa!' he urged and followed Lynan, catching up with him in the throne room where he had draped himself lengthways across Charion's stone chair, the saddlebag drooping from one hand, his heels kicking in the air. Two Red Hands stood on guard at the entrance, and Ager could tell they were on edge, not sure any more who—or what—it was they were protecting.
'Lynan? What is this?'
Lynan looked at him the way a large cat might look at a puppy. 'I could hear you, you know.'
'There was no reason for you not to hear me,' Ager said, puzzled.
'Two nights ago. You and Gudon. I was talking with my friend here,' he said, hitching the saddlebag, 'but your voices kept on interrupting our conversation.'
'I'm sorry.'
'My hearing is very good, you know. "Do as he asks, but bring Jenrosa as well.'"
Ager could not help blushing.
'There is nothing wrong with me. I am not ill. I have never felt better in my whole life.'
'You have changed.'
Lynan laughed lightly, but it was no sound Ager recognised. His fear returned in an icy rush, twice as strong as before.
'We all change, Ager.' He frowned in thought for a moment. 'Oh, sorry, I forgot. What was it you said to Gudon? "His changes in behaviour? Maybe he was always like this, deep down, and Silona's blood has only made it worse. He has been through a great deal in his few years, seen and experienced too much." That was it, wasn't it?'
'I don't remember the exact words.'
'That was it,' Lynan said tightly. He breathed in heavily and closed his eyes, rubbing them with thumb and finger.
'You are tired.'
'It is a very warm, very bright day,' Lynan replied. Then his eyes snapped open and his gaze settled firmly on Ager's face. 'Nothing I can't handle.'
There were footsteps from the corridor outside. Both men turned to watch Korigan and Gudon enter with Farben, Jenrosa and a retinue of servants and magikers. Ager thought they all looked as if they would rather be anywhere but in this throne room. Jenrosa, particularly, looked like a trapped animal.
'My lord,' Korigan said, approaching him. 'As you requested, I have brought Farben.'
Lynan looked at all of the faces staring up at him. 'Together with a small host, I see.'
She threw a glance at Ager again, looking for guidance, but there was nothing he could do to help. They were all at sea together here, and only Lynan knew in which direction they were sailing.
'You wanted to see me, your Majesty?' Farben said, and went to stand by Korigan. Ager could not help but admire the little man's bravery.
Lynan rolled his eyes. 'I did? What could that have been about, I wonder?'
Farben said nothing. By now he could smell the thing in the saddlebag and his nose crinkled.
'Is something wrong?' Lynan asked solicitously.
'My lord?'
'Is something bothering you, Farben? You are doing something with your face.'
'No, there is nothing wrong.'
Lynan eased himself off the throne and went to
Farben, put his free arm around the small man's shoulders and started walking him around the room, people edging out of their way. Farben seemed to shrink in that embrace, and Lynan held him even closer. 'Good, because it would be terrible for the city of Daavis, and for your liege lady, if anything was to happen to you.'
'I thank my lord for his concern.'
'My concern is for the welfare of all my subjects,' Lynan said breezily. He stopped, his brow creased in sudden thought. 'Speaking of which, that is why I called for you.'
Lynan stepped away from Farben and opened the saddlebag so that only the secretary could see inside it. The room filled quickly with the clinging, choking smell of decay.
'My lord, what is it you have?' Farben managed to force through his constricting
throat.
Ob God, Ager thought to himself. Don't bring it out…
But Lynan did. He put one hand in the bag and dragged out the head, holding it up so Farben could see the face.
Farben's reaction was immediate. He gasped, brought his hands over his mouth and stepped away. There were cries of dismay from the servants. Everyone else seemed caught in a terrible spell, unable to react at all.
'One of our subjects,' Lynan said sadly. 'One of our loyal subjects. Do you recognise him?'
Farben tried to speak but could only gag.
Lynan raised his eyebrows. 'No?' Lynan considered the head. 'Ah, I see what's wrong. He was taller in life.' He held the head up higher. 'How's that?'
'Coud… Coud…' Farben sputtered.
'Could I…?' Lynan teased.
'Coudroun!'
'Coudroun?' Lynan twisted his hand so he could look on the dead man's face. Red hair stuck up between his fingers. 'Hello, Coudroun.'
Farben wiped his mouth and looked away from the dangling head. 'He was one of my secretaries.'
'A secretary with secretaries,' Lynan mused. 'Next you will be telling me you are a secretary with secrets.'
'My lord, how… how did this happen? Where did you find poor Coudroun?'
'Where?' Lynan asked, his voice hardening like steel. It cut through the throne room. 'Can you not tell me?'
'The last I saw of him, your Majesty, he was on his way to the region of Esquidion to order supplies of food and lumber and stone for the city. He was a good and faithful secretary. He was a good man with much promise…'
'On his way to Esquidion on whose orders?'
'Why, mine,' Farben said quickly. 'He would not have left without my explicit instruction. He would never do anything without consulting me.' His voice was rising with distress. 'My lord, I know his sister who lives in Daavis. She will be alone in the world now. Please tell me how you come to find him slain so brutally?'
'I didn't find him slain so brutally, Farben.'
Farben looked up sharply, his face turning as white as Lynan's. 'Your Majesty cannot mean…' His voice trailed off as he realised that was exactly what his Majesty had meant.
Ager stepped forward. 'Lynan—' Lynan whipped around to stare at Ager. The crookback felt his heart skip a beat. He swallowed and said, slowly and deliberately, 'Your Majesty,' and bowed.
'Yes?'
'It seems clear that Farben had no idea of this Coudroun's part in Charion's rebellion.'
'Rebellion!' Farben cried, the word torn out of him.
Lynan wagged his head from side to side as if considering what Ager had said. 'Well, that's one way to look at it,' he conceded. Then his head straightened with a snap and he was again glaring at Farben. 'But I cannot help wondering if one secretary can betray a master, then another might as easily.'
'Your Majesty!' Farben squealed. 'I have done nothing against you! I have taken your instructions to heart and worked only for the good of the city and its people in the expectation—' He stopped himself short.
'In the expectation of Charion's eventual return,' Lynan finished for him.
'These were your conditions, my lord, set down by you,' Farben pleaded. 'You told me that when you won the throne of Grenda Lear you would allow Charion to rule again in Hume.'
'I also told you that I would not tolerate anyone working directly against my interests.'
'I have not done so, I swear!'
'We have no reason to suspect Farben has played you foul, your Majesty,' Korigan said, stepping forward next to Ager. 'The walls are repaired, the streets cleared of all rubble, businesses are back to normal—'
'And traitors butcher my troops!' Lynan roared, swinging around to face her. Coudroun's head bumped into Farben's arm and the secretary involuntarily jumped out of the way. Lynan saw the motion and reacted immediately. His free hand shot out and grabbed Farben around the throat, lifting him off his feet and squeezing the air out of him.
'Your Majesty!' Ager and Korigan cried together. Other servants started to cry out and back out of the throne room.
'No one leaves!' Lynan ordered, and Red Hands moved to bar the door. 'I trusted this man, my enemy! I gave him a chance to prove himself, to work for the common good of the people of Hume, but instead what I find is his own secretary raises a sword against my soldiers!'
As he shouted Lynan turned slowly to face each group in the throne room, Farben swinging in the air, wheezing, kicking, trying to suck in a breath.
'Lynan!' Jenrosa yelled and stepped right before him, 'You are killing him!'
Lynan looked at her as if she was stupid. 'Well, of course I'm killing him!' he hissed at her. His forearm flexed, his fingers came together, and there was a sickening crack. Farben's body went instantly limp, and the smell of hot piss filled the room.
'Oh God,' Jenrosa said hoarsely.
Lynan moved around Jenrosa and started circling the throne room, his arms by his side, Farben's heels dragging on the floor, Coudroun's gory head swinging by its red hair. All but Ager, Gudon, Korigan and Jenrosa huddled against the walls, terrified. His companions gathered together in the centre of the room, turning to keep him in view, not knowing what to do, not even knowing who Lynan was any more.
'Some changes,' Lynan was saying, more to himself than anyone else. 'That's what we need here. No more talk of Charion. No more talk of giving enemies a second chance. Daavis is an occupied enemy city. No more chances. I will hunt down all my enemies. I will have them. No more chances.'
Ager wanted to close his eyes, to pretend none of this was happening, that the thing stalking around them was still, somehow, Prince Lynan Rosetheme, son of Elynd Chisal, his friend and liege lord. But he could not force his eyes shut and he could not keep out the rambling sentences, half-mad, half-incoherent, that spilled from Lynan's mouth. Korigan and Gudon were resolutely staring at the floor, grey-faced. Jenrosa, like Ager, stared at Lynan, her own eyes wide with something more than fear. Certainty, he thought. She was looking at Lynan with certainty.
'I will fill the streets with the heads of my enemies,' Lynan was saying.
It was enough, Ager thought. It was all enough. He left his companions and barred Lynan's way.
'Ager. What are you still doing here?'
Ager put a hand on each of Lynan's. 'Let them go,' he said gently.
Lynan looked down at what he was holding as if he had not been aware he had them. Farben's body slumped to the ground. Coudroun's head rolled until it bumped into one of the servant's legs.
'Korigan?' Ager said, keeping his eyes on Lynan. 'Would you help me get his majesty to his chambers, please?'
Korigan moved quickly. She and the crookback led Lynan out of the throne room. As they left, Ager looked over his shoulder to Jenrosa. He caught her eye, and saw that beside the certainty there was also resolution there, and once more the faint spark of hope flared in his heart.
CHAPTER 22
Tomar sat on his throne trying to stay awake as two landowners argued a case before him. His secretaries had tried unsuccessfully to clarify the separate claims before the claimants entered, and now he was paying the price for it. He already knew what his decision would be, but tradition—not justice—demanded that both claimants could put forward their case fully. He looked around, noticed that others in the court were also fighting off drooping eyelids and cavernous yawns. The law was a ponderous thing, he thought, made fat by centuries of bickering clerks and poor decisions. One day he would get around to codifying properly the statutes of Chandra, organising them into some kind of hierarchy so that others besides himself could determine the outcomes of cases so important that grieves passed them onto the capital. And that's the other thing he would do, update the system of grieves. He had met a few during his reign, and a benighted lot they were too.
No, he corrected himself, not all of them. There had been the brave little fellow in the Arran Valley who put up to Jes Prado. Not a lot of common sense, maybe, but certainly more than his fair share of
pluck. There was, after all, some good among the dross, even if you had to search hard for it. Reforming the system might increase the good and reduce the dross, and that would actually help reduce the problem of too many cases being passed on to the court.
He fidgeted uncomfortably on the throne; even with a cushion under his backside it was an exercise in slow torture to sit through an open session in court, bedecked in his finery, holding the staff of judgement, desperately trying to look interested.
There was a commotion outside the throne room. Tomar held his hand up to stop the landowner who was droning on about ancient rights of way. The court sergeant was standing at the entrance, indicating that there was someone just out of sight waiting to see him. Then he noticed that the sergeant's lance of office was dressed over his right shoulder. The someone waiting was royalty.
Oh God, not Areava, surely!
'My good sirs,' he said to the claimants. 'My apologies, but this case must be delayed to another time.' He turned to one of his secretaries. 'Arrange a special hearing for these two men. Their important matter must not be put off a moment longer than necessary.'
The secretary nodded and gathered together the two landlords, who were indignant but were given no time to object, and moved them aside. Tomar immediately signalled to the sergeant, who marched forward. Two figures—a man and a woman—fell in behind him. He recognised both, and the sight of the woman made him inside. He would rather it was Areava.
'Charion,' he said.
Although everyone in the room was already watching approach of the unexpected guests, most had not seen the sergeant's lance and did not recognise them. When Tomar said the name, a murmur passed through the court like a breeze over a wheat field.
Their condition was pitiful. Their clothes were in tatters, their skin cut and bruised, their hair matted, their faces drawn with exhaustion. He was never sure what made him do it, but filled with a sudden and unexpected pity Tomar descended from the throne to greet them.
'King Tomar, forgive this intrusion,' Charion said. 'But we have ridden far and had nowhere else to go.'
'Then you are welcome in my house,' he said formally, knowing that with their arrival and with his words, events had been set in motion over which he would soon have no control.
