Brown,_Simon_-_[Keys_Of_Power_03]_-_Sovereign

by Simon Brown

  'Primate?' Areava eventually urged. 'Have you anything to add to this discussion?'

  Powl's eyes slowly focused on the queen. 'No, your Majesty. At this point I have nothing to say.' Then his eyes seemed to glaze over again.

  'Ah, ah,' Rown said, swallowing heavily, 'I believe his Grace fully supports Prince Olio's suggestion of establishing hospices and other places to deal with any wounded the city might… umm… incur during the protraction of a… ah… siege.'

  Areava nodded slowly. 'I see,' she said, and continued with the meeting.

  Areava held two audiences in her private chambers that evening. The first was with Orkid.

  'I find it hard to believe you destroyed the letter from Tomar,' she told him.

  Orkid could not meet her gaze. 'It was unforgivable, I know,' he said, his head bobbing like some peasant supplicant from the country. 'My only defence is that his | intemperate language fired my devotion to you.'

  'So you fired the letter,' she added dryly.

  'Your Majesty.'

  'It is unlike Tomar to be intemperate about anything. He always struck me as a level-headed, reasonable person.'

  'What level-headed and reasonable person could betray his monarch?'

  'I was hoping the letter would tell me.'

  'It was a rant, nothing more. Spiteful. Hateful.'

  'Nevertheless, it was my letter.'

  'I regret there is little I can do about it.'

  'Of course you can. We still have some of Tomar's pigeons?'

  Orkid swallowed. He knew where this was going.

  'Orkid?'

  'I am not sure. I will have to check with the pigeon keeper.'

  Areava stared at the chancellor. 'How could he not have at least one?'

  Orkid shrugged. 'I cannot speak for him, your Majesty—'

  'I am not asking you to speak for him. At any rate, if there is a pigeon, we send a message to Tomar asking him to send us another copy of his letter.'

  'And if there is no pigeon?'

  'We send a messenger under a sign of parley.'

  Orkid was astounded. 'All this for a letter from a traitor?'

  'All this so I can read what he said.'

  'I have already told you what he said.'

  Areava's voice rose. 'I desire to read it for myself!'

  Orkid realised he had gone too far with his argument. He bowed and retreated a step.

  'And when I get the letter I expect the seal to be unbroken,' she added.

  Orkid felt sweat start to bead his forehead. She was suspicious of his action in burning Tomar's letter, that much was certain, but was that all she was suspicious about?

  He bowed again.

  There was a knock on the door, and a guard entered. 'Your Majesty, it is Queen Charion and Galen Amptra to see you, as you requested.'

  'Let them in, thank you. The chancellor was just leaving.'

  Orkid left, closing the door behind her two new guests.

  Areava stood to greet Charion formally. 'We are honoured to receive our sister from Hume.'

  Charion curtsied. It was not easily done, since Areava was the only person in the world she was obliged to curtsy to and she was out of practice, but there was no hesitation in the action. 'Your Majesty,' she said, and bowed her head as well.

  Galen bowed even lower. 'We are sorry to have been the bearer of such bad tidings, your Majesty.'

  'On that score do not fret yourself,' Areava told them. 'We had heard earlier in the morning. A private message had come by carrier pigeon.'

  'Ah, then the letter revealed nothing new.'

  'Alas, the letter never reached me. My chancellor, in his haste to defend my honour, destroyed it.'

  'Your honour?' Charion was puzzled.

  'He tells me King Tomar's letter was scandalous and insulting to my person.'

  Charion and Galen exchanged surprised glances.

  'Did you not find it so?' she asked them.

  'We had not read it, your Majesty. It was still sealed when we handed it over to Orkid.'

  'I did not know.' She waved them both into seats. 'I have heard of the valiant actions your knights have taken part in, Galen. You will be pleased to know that in his last communication to me, Sendarus praised you and your companions most highly.'

  'Thank you. Sendarus had become a friend before he died, and had earned the respect of all who served under him.'

  'Including me,' Charion said, 'although we did not exactly get on at first.'

  Areava almost smiled then, but thought better of it. She was touched more deeply than they could know by their memories of her husband, but this was not the time for her to dwell in the past. 'Thank you. Now tell me everything you can about Lynan and his army. Assume I know nothing.'

  From then until deep into the night, the three of them discussed only the war. Areava was disturbed, but not surprised, by stories of Lynan's changed nature. She was also disturbed by her guests' account of new Chett tactics and formations, such as the lancers and the Red Hands. It was soon apparent that the only real setback Lynan had suffered was the death of Kumul Alarn.

  'Are you suggesting my brother cannot be beaten?' Areava asked with an undercurrent of anger.

  'No, your Majesty,' Charion said firmly. 'His army, at least, can be beaten. We proved that in the first battle. As for defeating Lynan himself, well…' she nodded to the Key of the Sceptre hanging from Areava's neck '… you may be the only one who can deal with him.'

  'You think it will come to that? You think his army will reach Kendra?'

  'I do not say to that,' Charion said. 'But one way or another, I believe he will reach Kendra.'

  Areava slapped the arms of her chair. 'I should have taken command of the Great Army!'

  'To what purpose? Are you a better general than this Dejanus I have been told has command?'

  'We are both untried,' she said.

  'But he has seen combat.'

  'Yes,' she admitted grudgingly.

  'Then forgive me, your Majesty, for I do not doubt your courage, but Dejanus may prove to be the wiser choice after all. Defeating Lynan's army and defeating Lynan are two separate issues.'

  Areava slumped in her chair. The day had not been one of any cheer and a great deal of gloom. She was exhausted, and now was showing it. 'Do you know,' she said, subdued, 'that I have not Jeff the palace since my coronation?'

  Charion and Galen exchanged glances, but it was not a question that invited response.

  'Thank you both for coming tonight,' Areava said, standing up. 'We will talk again before long.'

  Charion and Galen stood up. 'Your Majesty, one request,' Galen asked.

  'If I can grant it.'

  'My knights and I can re-equip ourselves with armour before another day has gone, and then it is only two days hard ride to where the Great Army gathers. If you would—'

  'I read your mind, Galen Amptra, but no. Your number now is so small that no matter how valiant you prove yourselves to be, you will not decide the day of battle one way or the other; yet if Lynan and his army should reach Kendra, your contribution here could be decisive.'

  Galen could not hide his disappointment, but he nodded. 'As you wish.'

  As they were leaving, Areava said: 'Galen, I find it hard to reconcile myself with the Twenty Houses, for long they were enemies of my mother and—I believed—myself, but obviously there are some in that group whom I would have as friends.'

  'You may have more friends in the Twenty Houses than you know, your Majesty,' Galen replied.

  It was dark and cold on the sea. The Gentle Tide was not big enough for Dejanus's liking, heaving low to the water and too easily rolled by any wave. Its crew of ten worked the single lateen sail and sheets with practised ease but had little time for the constable as night voyages were never completely safe, no matter how well the captain might pretend to know the route.

  Left largely to his own devices Dejanus sat behind the wheelhouse which protected him from the worst of the spray for the wh
ole journey, standing up only to relieve himself over the side; the first time he went for a piss he almost slipped over the wale, resulting in him emptying his stomach as well as his bladder into the churning waves.

  By the time the Gentle Tide was easing against the dock of a small fishing village in south Chandra the sun was still an hour from rising and he could see there was no one to greet him. As soon as the pinnace was secured he got off, leaving no thanks for the captain and her crew for the safe and quick journey. They silently cursed him and then set about unloading the rest of their cargo.

  Dejanus walked into the village, heading for the building that most looked like it might be the local equivalent of an inn. The door was locked. He banged on it until some old, sleep-encrusted man opened it a crack and demanded to know who was banging away at this hour. Dejanus used his strength to shove the door wide open, sending the man sprawling on the floor. He stepped in and saw the long drinking bench that showed he had guessed right. In the wall opposite the bench a large fire still burned.

  'My name is General Dejanus,' he said. 'Are any of my officers staying here?'

  'One, your Mightiness,' the man grovelled. 'He arrived late last night—'

  Dejanus picked the man up by the collar of his nightshirt. 'You are going to do three things. First, get me a warm wine. Second, wake the officer and tell him to report to me immediately. Third, make me breakfast. I'm very hungry.'

  'Yes, your Mightiness!' the man said and disappeared, his feet pattering away into the darkness behind the bench.

  Dejanus chose a seat near the fire, put his legs up on one of the tables and waited. Before he was warm the old man returned with a wooden cup brim full with mulled wine and cinnamon. Half a cup later a skinny, nervous ensign appeared, helmet under one arm and a sheaf of papers under the other.

  'Why weren't you at the dock to greet me?' Dejanus demanded.

  'Sir, you weren't due until this morning.'

  Dejanus considered humiliating him, but he was tired after the voyage and there was no audience to learn the lesson. Instead, he harrumphed and pointed to the papers. 'What are those?'

  'The General's papers, sir.'

  'I don't have any papers, Ensign.'

  'Begging your pardon, General, sir, but Chancellor Orkid Gravespear says you do.' With that the ensign held them out. Dejanus, automatically flushing with the mention of Orkid's name, took them with little grace.

  'Is there anything else the general wants, sir?'

  'Hoping to get back to bed, Ensign?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Well, sit down. You can wait until I've gone through each and every one of these papers. Before you do, though, see what's holding up my breakfast and get me a proper lantern.'

  Dejanus turned over the first paper. It had something to do with supplies, but he was not sure if it was supplies that had arrived or supplies still to come or supplies awaiting distribution. Under items were listed shoes, belts, pots. Then there were three other columns, and he had no idea what they represented. The second paper was an invoice from a local farmer, but Dejanus could not tell if it had been paid or not. The third paper was a series of squares linked by lines, and each square had the name of a Lurisian infantry unit in it. What was this supposed to represent? He scrabbled through the papers for something useful, for something he could understand and act on. One of the last papers had his name on the top, and the names of other officers underneath, one or two of which he recognised. These were the commanders of the units in his army. Probably cocky long-servers all of them, thinking they were going to have it all over him because he had been 'head door-opener' in the palace. Well, he would show them, he would show them all.

  The ensign and old man returned, the latter carrying a large tray with bacon and eggs and ham and another cup of mulled wine.

  'I'll just go and get the young officer some,' he said as he scurried away.

  'You'll do no such thing!' Dejanus roared after him, and then to the ensign: 'You can wait until bloody morning when everyone else gets fed.'

  'Sir,' the ensign said dejectedly.

  Dejanus put the papers aside. He would put them all on the spike at the shit hole when he got to the army camp. He wondered if generals got their own shit hole.

  He turned to the food and wolfed it down. The voyage had made him hungry. Must have been all that sea air. And jittery. He could not sit still.

  'So much to do,' he mumbled around a mouthful of lam.

  'Sorry, sir?'

  Dejanus glared at the ensign. 'I was talking over my breakfast. But since you asked… how far to the camp?'

  'About an hour's ride, General. I've got two horses ready for us.'

  'Good. Get packed. Now. We leave as soon as I finish here.'

  The ensign sighed resignedly and left to pack.

  'I'll show you all,' Dejanus said to his back.

  The ensign pretended not to hear.

  CHAPTER 31

  It was an excited scout, riding hard and raising a small cloud of dust, that told Lynan his army was approaching. He could not help tensing. He had dreaded this day since sending a message to Daavis for Korigan to bring the Chetts south to Sparro, and asking her to let Ager and Gudon know that Jenrosa had died fighting Silona. He would soon have to face his friends and prove to them not only that he was free at last from Silona's influence, but also Lynan Rosetheme again in every sense, and ready to lead his army to victory against Queen Areava.

  Duty, he reminded himself. Sometimes it is due to individuals, and not just groups.

  The scout rode up to Lynan and Tomar. 'The Chert army is an hour behind me,' he said, his eyes wide with wonder. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added: 'A small group rides ahead of them.'

  'That will be your friends,' Tomar said.

  'Would you mind if I went ahead and met them by myself?'

  'I understand. I will wait for you here with the… ah… official delegation.'

  Lynan smiled. The official delegation consisted of

  Tomar, Barys Malayka and a nervous mayor of Sparro decked out in his official robes and chains.

  'I won't be long,' Lynan said, and spurred his horse. A short while later he saw three people dressed in Chett ponchos and wearing the wide-brimmed Chett hat coming in his direction. He reined in and waited. Although he no longer had the excellent vision he possessed while Silona was alive, he could tell well enough by the way they rode that it was Korigan, Ager and Gudon. The Chett queen was the best rider he knew—it was like watching some creature that was half-human, half-horse. Gudon rode with the slight sway he learned as a barge pilot on the Barda River, and Ager rode as if he was designed for walking, although with his crookback he was not actually designed for either.

  Lynan tried to calm his beating heart, tried not to shout out in joy at seeing them again. He watched them slow from a trot to a walk, and they approached him slowly, almost cautiously. Ager was the first to reach him, then Gudon, and finally Korigan. He could see the uncertainty in their faces, the vestige of fear. He drew in a deep shuddering breath.

  'It's me,' he said.

  Ager reached out and touched his face. 'Your skin has changed. It's almost normal.'

  Lynan did not hide his surprise. 'I have not seen myself in a mirror. But look.' He held out his right hand, still blistered and raw from grasping the red hot sword from the fire.

  'What happened?' Ager asked.

  'Silona died,' he said simply. He had no other explanation.

  Korigan manoeuvred her horse so she was sitting right beside him. She took Lynan's head in her hands and forced him to meet her gaze. He did not flinch from her. 'Your eyes are brown,' she said in wonder. 'Like a Chett's. I was never able to tell before.'

  Gudon looked on, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. 'Truth, little master, I knew you never really left us.'

  Lynan felt his eyes sting. 'Truth, Gudon, I did for a while.'

  'But you came back,' Ager said, and Lynan could see tears stinging his eyes, too. />
  'Because of Jenrosa,' he said, the words tumbling out.

  Ager and Gudon swallowed hard then.

  'News of her death sent your army into grieving,' Korigan said carefully. The other three knew the two women had not been friends. 'Especially Lasthear and the other magikers. They cannot believe they have lost their Truespeaker so soon and in this way.'

  'I don't think she ever accepted she was a Truespeaker,' Lynan said. 'She just wanted to be Jenrosa Alvear.' He blinked away his own tears. 'Whoever that was to be.'

  'If she lived,' Korigan said, 'I think she would have accepted her fate.' She smiled unexpectedly. 'As you know we did not get on; that is always the way between a monarch and a Truespeaker.'

  'Truth,' Gudon said.

  Korigan gently touched Lynan's hand. 'I am sorry for the pain her death must be causing you, and so soon after the death of Kumul Alarn. At least they will be together now in whatever peace death may bring.'

  Lynan nodded his thanks for her words. 'When the war is finally over, we will have time to grieve properly for both of them, as well as all our friends and supporters who sacrificed their lives for my cause.' He glanced at all three of his companions and felt a surge of great love for them. 'Until then, let us use our grief to drive our anger and fury against the enemy.'

  'Tell me, my lord,' Barys said to Tomar, 'what do you think of having several thousand Chetts on your doorstep?'

  'I think, my champion, that I prefer it to having several thousand Kendrans, Amanites, Lurisians and Storians on my doorstep.'

  They spoke in a low voice so the mayor could not hear them. The mayor was a nice enough fellow, likeable and hard working in his office, but the kind of man who thought everyone should always get on, even in time of war. He was sitting on a placid, bow-backed hack, and looked as uncomfortable as it was possible to be done up in mayoral finery and with nothing witty to say in the company of a king and his champion.