Crown of Renewal

by Elizabeth Moon

  “Have they ever?” Dorrin asked.

  “Yes, my lord, but not every year, and not very many. Not very many apply, I think. At any rate, if I were in Vérella already, my family would not worry that I might travel alone from Verrakai Steading.”

  “Daryan?”

  “Yes, my lord. I think much the same as Gwenno about staying here. I am learning so much in all those things you told us to study and master. So I can be useful here, and I feel—I feel more at home with Beclan and Gwenno than with my own brothers and sisters. I like the country more than the city—though I never did spend much time there, except at the quarter-courts. I’m not—I would trust Beclan, my lord, to be fair, if he were in charge.”

  “I’m glad of that,” Dorrin said. “I, too, feel that he is much more mature and reliable now. But the fact is that he’s not a knight or a lord himself yet, and he’s underage to hold your oaths in contract. So—your thoughts about coming with me?”

  “It would please my father,” Daryan said. “He might find me another squire’s place, if that’s necessary, but—my lord, I want to be your squire.”

  Kieri had had squires who needed a firm nudge to go when their time was up, caught in their admiration for their commander. Dorrin glanced at Gwenno, who stirred as if to speak and then said nothing. “I think it best if Gwenno comes with me when I go. Daryan, you will stay here with Beclan. If it is necessary, your family will send an escort for you. I will speak to your father while I’m in Vérella and suggest Duke Arcolin as another place you might find squire experience.”

  The rest of the afternoon Dorrin spent writing letters—to the squires’ parents, to King Kieri, to Arcolin, to her banker. She spoke to Natzlin about security; now that Natzlin was no longer riding out on patrols every few days, she seemed more energetic, though she still limped at the end of the day. At dinner, Gwenno reported herself ready to ride: packed, her horses and Dorrin’s shod and fit for the journey.

  Next morning, they rode out toward the new-made road: Dorrin, Gwenno, and a guard of six. No one, Dorrin thought, would expect her to go to Vérella this way. Clouds obscured sunrise, and it smelled like rain. They made good time to the road builders’ camp; Dorrin stopped to congratulate the foreman and handed him a pouch. “I’ve been called to the king,” she said. “I may be gone on the half-day—” The traditional payday for such workers, every quarter and half-quarter day. “—so I’m giving you this now.”

  “It’s not done yet. Still rough. Won’t get the permanent bridges in this year, most like.”

  “I know. But you’ve made good progress; I’m very pleased.”

  “Found another,” he said in a low voice as his crew went back to work. “Two.” He slipped a hand into a pocket and gave them to her. One blue, one clear. She put them away in her own pocket and nodded.

  “My thanks.”

  “Gird go with you, my lord.”

  “And Gird strengthen your arm,” she replied.

  Beyond that, the road was amply wide enough for two abreast without clashing spurs. Rain began, first a drizzle, then a steady light rain. Soon they could hear water trickling down the slopes, and the horses’ hooves sucked holes in the road that filled quickly. Where possible, they rode off the road’s surface, but this end of the steading was thickly forested, and most of it on a slope.

  They made what speed they could without straining the horses or the pack mules and camped on a terrace above one of the creeks that crossed the road. Here the road builders had used timber they’d cleared for the road to make one of the bridges the foreman insisted were not permanent. It wasn’t very high above the water, but it was strong enough for one horse at a time to cross at a foot pace and saved fording the creek.

  “It would be worse mud on the River Road,” Dorrin said to Gwenno as the escort set up tents. “The courier’s horse came in splashed above the knees and hocks, though it hadn’t rained for days.”

  “Does the Duke—did the Duke set up tents each night on the way to Aarenis?” Gwenno asked.

  “No. We camped in the open or used barns he’d paid to have reserved for our use. As he grew richer, he had some built—leased to the local vill for them to use except when we were heading south. But they were a good day’s march apart, and if the weather was bad and the road hadn’t been maintained, a cohort might not make it all the way. That could be miserable.”

  Gwenno looked at the rain, the soggy ground. Though she said nothing, it was easy to see what she was imagining.

  “Yes. I have slept on wet ground. And so could you if you had to, but I prefer to have a tent. Someday I’ll have way shelters built—or Beclan will.”

  “Do you really think you’ll be gone so long?”

  “I might be. Come, let’s take another look at this bridge. I think it might be stronger than I thought at first.” She led Gwenno to the middle of the bridge, stamped on it, leaned over the railing to look at the supports beneath. Speaking softly, she said, “The king’s worried about the regalia; he wants it out of the palace, and I’m the only one who can move it. It’s a danger wherever it is, because our enemies in Aarenis are not the only ones who want it.”

  “Take it to Fin Panir,” Gwenno said. “They’ll keep it safe.”

  “They didn’t keep the necklace safe. And they won’t want it and the trouble it might bring. They have problems enough already.”

  “Oh.” Gwenno leaned over, elbows on the railing. “So … will you bring it back to Verrakai Steading?”

  “At first. But I may have to leave Tsaia entirely.” Dorrin leaned over, tapped the railing, then stood up again. “The regalia sings to me of a distant land. I think it wants to go there. I don’t know if it’s wise.”

  Gwenno said nothing and at Dorrin’s nod turned and walked back to the camp. Dorrin followed.

  Near the Vérella—Valdaire road, they met another family coming from Duke Elorran’s domain. Dorrin sent them on after reading the letter of introduction from Elorran’s steward. Once they turned onto the road to Vérella, traffic thickened. Gwenno had never seen this road before, and Dorrin explained all she remembered from years of traveling back and forth. They made good speed, though Dorrin was uneasily aware that a spy hiring fast horses could outstrip them.

  In Vérella itself, Dorrin stopped at Verrakai House just as if it were an ordinary visit to the city. Her housewards knew which of the peers were in residence in the city and which had left for their country estates. Everyone, they said, had heard about the terrible attack on Prince Camwyn and seen the dragon fly down and then away, carrying Prince Camwyn to his only hope of recovery. No one would be surprised that she had come to offer advice to the king in such an emergency.

  Dorrin sent a messenger to the king, telling him that she had one urgent errand, for the welfare of her squire Gwenno Marrakai, and would come to the palace as soon as she had been to Marrakai House.

  Dorrin rode to the Marrakai residence with Gwenno beside her. Lady Marrakai welcomed her in, eyeing Gwenno with evident approval. “You want to speak with Selis, I’m sure. He should be back in a few days. He’s gone to fetch a mare for Aris—the lad’s in need of something after Camwyn. Well. What can I do for you and your squire?”

  “I’m here at the king’s command,” Dorrin said. “What little I know of the matter I should not discuss until I have talked to the king, but I may be required to be absent from my domain—possibly from the realm—for a considerable time. Squire Gwenno’s term is not yet up, but she is, in my opinion, advanced enough to qualify for knightly training, which she desires … and that is a matter for her parents to decide.”

  “The Bells?” Lady Marrakai said, looking at Gwenno. “Are you sure, Daughter?”

  “I am,” Gwenno said. “I have learned so much, and it is the life I would lead—”

  “Never to marry or have children?”

  Gwenno grinned. “I would not say ‘never,’ but not any time soon. Besides, knights may marry—most of them do. What if trouble comes to Tsa
ia—even an invasion? I want to defend it—”

  Dorrin stirred; Lady Marrakai looked at her. “The king, during his visit, mentioned the possibility. I’ve told her—all of them—that war is nothing like a simple ride out with a patrol, but I commend her courage and sense of duty.”

  “Well, then. It will be for Selis—for the Duke—to decide finally, Gwenno. You know that.”

  “And I know you will have some weight in that decision,” Gwenno said.

  “Indeed. So you and I will talk. Duke Verrakai,” Lady Marrakai said, her voice now formal, “will you grant your squire a few days’ leave to spend with her family, or do you need her services?”

  “I can spare her while I talk to the king,” Dorrin said. “Indeed, I cannot stay and must to the palace quickly. I brought her with me in the hopes that the Duke and I might amend the contract and allow her to begin knightly training or … whatever you choose.”

  “Very well, then. I hope you will find time to dine with us while you are in Vérella. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

  “I would be glad to,” Dorrin said. “If the king does not command me elsewhere.”

  “I understand. Gwenno, you are travel-stained; let someone take your horse, and I’ll have a bath prepared for you.”

  Dorrin rode away wishing she had time for a bath and a rest before seeing the king—the no doubt distraught king—but she knew he would be waiting impatiently.

  At the palace, she was ushered up to his office immediately. “My lord Duke,” he said. “How is your squire? Has she been injured?”

  “No, she is well and with her mother,” Dorrin said. “I brought her here, hoping her family would sponsor her for knighthood … I did not wish to leave her at my domain without a proper chaperone in case I had to be away long.”

  “Did you tell them what the problem was?”

  “At my domain? No, sir king. There’s been talk enough of possible invasion, as you know, and I used that and my position as Constable to explain your call. Beclan can remain, as my kirgan; I need to appoint guardians for him. I will suggest to Duke Serrostin that Daryan needs another year as squire, perhaps two, before he is ready for the Bells. It might be that Arcolin will want another squire to be with his wife while he is in Aarenis.”

  “That’s sensible.” He stood and paced back and forth. “I won’t try to hide from you that I’m … I’m unsettled. A tyrant in Aarenis possibly planning invasion was bad enough, but the emergence of magery here, the unrest in Fintha, and then the kuaknomi—iynisin—whatever they really are—coming into the palace, laying a glamour on the guards—”

  “Enough to unsettle anyone, sir king,” Dorrin said. He looked to have lost weight; his face had little boyishness about it now, strained as it was, the bones prominent. “I know what I have been told about the attack here at the palace, but—would you tell me more?”

  He nodded and began at once. “I was asleep—or under the kuaknomi spell, I know not which. The Bells woke me—thanks to Aris Marrakai, who had the wit to try the old bell pull we thought connected to nothing. We do not know who woke first, Camwyn or Aris, but apparently Camwyn confronted the kuaknomi in the treasury—fought them, killed one, and wounded at least one other—before being sore wounded and suffering an injury to his head—the skull fairly crushed in. Aris had been in the pages’ dormitory, near the kitchens, and came near the treasury in time to hear the swords clashing and Cam crying out. He pulled the old rope—then the Bells rang out and I woke, along with everyone else. When I reached the treasury, Aris was trying to stanch Camwyn’s wound with cloth torn from his own shirt. The kuaknomi had fled.”

  Dorrin tried to imagine the scene in the treasury … the prince in a welter of blood, the Marrakai boy—

  “There was a legend,” the king went on, frowning. “At great need the Bells could be summoned by that one bell pull. Aris thought the Bells frightened the kuaknomi away, but perhaps they simply realized their spell was broken.”

  “Do you think the kuaknomi could have taken the regalia?” Dorrin asked.

  “They didn’t,” the king said. “I don’t think the chest was moved at all, though it was damaged, as if by fire.”

  “If the iynisin had the entire palace—but for Camwyn and Aris—spelled into immobility, they had more magery than I have or anyone I’ve heard of but elves. You do know I fought one in Lyonya after King Kieri’s wedding—?”

  “I forgot about that.” Mikeli rubbed his forehead.

  “It was but one iynisin and its ephemes—apparent selves split from the first—”

  “They can do that?” Mikeli’s eyes widened.

  “Yes. And those ephemes, as the elves call them, can fight individually. Kieri, two Kings’ Squires, and the Lady and another elf—and then Queen Arian and I—all fought that one and managed to kill only several of the ephemes, not the original. One or two of the ephemes rejoined it before it vanished.”

  “So … what attacked here might have been only one?” The king’s eyes showed white, and his breath quickened.

  “I doubt it. Kieri said the iynisin did not separate into ephemes until hard-pressed, then used blood magery by killing one of Kieri’s Siers to create them. To put the entire palace complex under a spell—surely that must have taken more than one. If they did not move the box the regalia is in or break it open, then—”

  “It looks scorched,” the king said. He shuddered. “You must take it away, out of the kingdom; it is too dangerous here.”

  Though she had considered this, Mikeli’s vehemence surprised her. “Take it where?” Dorrin asked.

  “I don’t care,” the king said. “It tells me it wants you; even Camwyn heard it. Maybe it will tell you what it wants with you. Have you any idea at all?”

  Dorrin said, “Perhaps. I have had strange dreams, which I think may be of Aare.”

  “Aare?”

  “Yes. And Ibbirun’s attack on Aare. Of Ibbirun coming here, even drying up the river—”

  “It has been drier this winter and spring,” Mikeli said. “Another reason to take it away if that’s what it’s saying. Back to Aare will surely be far enough.” He leaned forward. “Duke Verrakai, I am sorry to demand this of you, but I must. I pray you, believe that my distrust of you is all past and what I say comes from present threat to the realm, not only to me.”

  Dorrin started to say that the spring had not been dry on her own lands, but he was already talking. “You are my Constable, but Duke Arcolin can take on that role. You have been a good lord for your domain, but others can do that as well. You are the only one who can move the regalia, and in my judgment that threat must leave the realm forever. If there is a hope of forestalling such ruin as came there by returning it as it asks, I beg you to take it there.”

  Dorrin could not answer for a moment. Lifelong exile from here? From even Aarenis? Was it even possible to live in Aare? She nodded without speaking.

  “You understand that whatever route you take, the journey will be long to Aare,” he said. “If this were a time of peace and tranquility all around us, I might risk releasing you from attendance at court and trust in your timely return. But it is not, and—unfair though it be—I must have my realm in order.”

  Dorrin nodded again. “You want me to vacate my oath and rank and confirm my heir?”

  “Yes. Should you return before his majority, I would be pleased to restore you to your rank and holdings—after that, I would want his consent as well, but you could be dowager duke, though I do not think anyone has ever held that position.”

  She knew return was unlikely. Despite having come and gone to Aarenis and war year after year—perhaps because of that—she was aware of the many hazards facing a lone traveler, and she could not justify risking a companion.

  “Will you call Beclan here to renew his oath?”

  “No; I will take his earlier oath as valid.”

  “Sir king, he gave that oath as Beclan Mahieran, not as Beclan Verrakai—you should ask the Marshal-Judicar if that is s
ufficient.”

  He looked startled. “I had not thought of that. But he is the same person—”

  “In a different name and status. I am no judicar, sir king, but I would recommend having him renew that oath. You should also know I consider him ready for knight’s training now and like to be a good lord for Verrakai holdings. He would prefer to train with the Bells if you permit.”

  The king nodded. “I think I must make that possible. What about your folk there on Verrakai lands?”

  “I am sure they will pledge to Beclan. My steward is reliable, as well.”

  “Excellent. But how will you get to Aare with Vaskronin’s force so powerful in Aarenis? Can you slip past in the west of Aarenis?”

  “I would not dare to try that road,” Dorrin said. “It would be impossible to conceal from him, if indeed he has the necklace and the necklace wants to reunite with the rest. And it may be better if you do not know what route I take. I do not know that the iynisin can snatch thoughts from human minds, but it is not a chance to take if it can be avoided. I have not yet decided on my route—and try not to think of it overmuch.”

  “I wish,” the king began, then stopped and sat silent for a time. “I wish,” he said again, “that I need not send you away. But wishes are not enough.”

  “I understand,” Dorrin said. “I am glad to have served you here and will serve you best by leaving now. I need a few days here in Vérella to settle affairs with my squires’ families.”

  “You may have some little time,” the king said, “but my heart tells me it cannot be long.”

  “By your leave, I will take the regalia to Verrakai House today. That will at least remove the worst immediate danger from the palace and yourself.”

  He waved his hand. “Do so. Find a way to conceal it if you can. We can go into the treasury without an attendant; I persuaded the Seneschal that I needed access to the treasury.”