The Crown of the Usurper (The Crown of the Blood)

by Gav Thorpe

  "Why does Urikh feel he needs to increase the guard of the palace? And why has he brought in these Brotherhood blackcrests?"

  "Why do you assume I am party to the reasons for all of his decisions?" replied Luia. She shrugged. "The empire has been in a fragile state since Ullsaard killed Lutaar, and this latest disruption has been unsettling for many people, especially the nobles. I am sure my son is doing his best to protect his family, and his position. I am grateful for his diligence."

  Though there was bravado in Luia's words and tone, Allenya knew her sister well, and could tell when she was perturbed. There was a shadow around Luia's eyes that testified to sleepless nights, and not caused by the procession of lovers Luia invited to her bedchambers. Hearing the scuff of feet, Allenya looked over her shoulder and saw a black-robed figure entering, his face covered by a silver mask inscribed with delicate swirls, patterns and sigils. She felt Luia stiffen beside her, then unconsciously step slightly back to stand behind the eldest sister.

  "Brother Aalek, I was not expecting a visit today," said Luia, regaining her stern demeanour. "I do not recall saying that you could enter my apartments."

  "Apologies, my queens," said the Brother, though he made no bow or gesture to back up his words. Bright blues eyes regarded the two sisters from the rectangular slits in the mask. "It is fortunate that you are both here. I sought Queen Allenya in her chambers and was disturbed to find that she was not present."

  "I am at liberty to go where I wish within my own home," said Allenya, though as the words departed from her lips she could feel the force of the Brother's stare and knew the emptiness of them. She continued defiantly. "I am entitled to visit my sister whenever I wish."

  "No injunction was intended, my queen," said Aalek. "I meant merely that I have disturbing news to deliver and I feared I would not deliver it properly before you heard a dangerous rumour."

  "Rumour? What rumour?" said Luia.

  "An imposter has entered Greater Askhor, claiming to be the previous king," said Aalek. He clasped his hands in front of him and gazed down at the floor. "This man attempts to rally an army against King Urikh, asserting he is your dead husband."

  The thought of someone masquerading as Ullsaard filled Allenya with horror and disgust, and Aalek's warning served as a further reminder that her husband had been killed. Lightheadedness threatened to make Allenya faint. Noticing her sister's distress, Luia took her by the arm and guided her to a chair, pushing gently but insistently until Allenya sat down. Brow furrowed, Luia turned her attention back to Aalek.

  "How could anyone claim to be Ullsaard? It is ridiculous."

  "Any man with a few soldiers can claim to be a king, my queen," replied the Brother. "Who would dare to argue otherwise? The common folk, even many captains in the legions, do not know what your husband looked like. They have only the coins minted during Ullsaard's reign to judge the imposter, and any passing resemblance would satisfy doubt. If a man acts like a king, he is likely to be believed by the ignorant and ill-educated."

  "This imposter cannot be too clever himself, if he thinks he can topple my son with such a laughable ploy," said Luia.

  "Indeed, the threat is minimal, but King Urikh wished that you be made aware of this plot, lest word of it came to your ears by less sympathetic means. I would not wish to raise the hopes of my queens, to see them rudely dashed when the bald truth is revealed."

  "Your consideration for our feelings is noted," murmured Allenya. She looked out at the roofs of Askh, the mix of grey slate and red-grey tiles slicked with moisture. Looking at the dismal scene and thinking on the words of Aalek, she felt a sudden chill and pulled her shawl tighter around her body.

  "Bring hot tea," said Luia, and a moment later two silent handmaids left the room. She laid a hand on Allenya's arm. "Do not worry, my sister. Urikh will not throw away the legacy bequeathed to him by our late husband. This charlatan will find that his support grows thin once word is spread of his treachery."

  Allenya stood up abruptly, pulling away from the grasp of her sister. The queen looked at Brother Aalek and clenched her hands into fists at her sides.

  "Find this man who pretends to be Ullsaard, and punish him for his insolence," Allenya said, her voice and fists trembling. "I want him to know pain for the insult he visits on the memory of my dead husband, and for the hurt he causes to me and my sisters. Kill him, Aalek, and make him pay."

  The silver mask hid the Brother's reaction, except for the sudden widening of his eyes betraying surprise. He collected himself in a heartbeat and bowed his head.

  "It will be a pleasure to do the queen's bidding," said Aalek. "This villain will be apprehended and he will be made to repent the error of his decision, of that you should rest assured, my queens."

  After Aalek had departed and hot honey-sweetened tea brought in, Allenya walked to the windows and stared down at the city. The largest houses clustered around the Royal Mound like piglets suckling at a sow, eager to share in the wealth, power and prestige of those who lived in the palace. The dwellings became less grand the further they were from the mound, gradually giving away to the homes of traders, then shrinking further and mingling with industries such as tanneries, until the least desirable dwelt in the shadow on the walls, wedged in the spaces between the towers and the barracks and the training grounds of the First Legion. The curtain wall of the city was almost lost in the dim light, seen only by the braziers and torches that lit the stones.

  "Ullnaar will return soon," Allenya said eventually, as servants closed the shutters to keep out the raw breeze. "I should return to my rooms, Meliu will be looking for me."

  II

  Watching her sister depart, Luia had a lot to think about. She paced back and forth across the chamber while servants banked up the logs in the fire and brought in an incense-burning brazier to lighten the smell. Luia barely registered their presence as they dodged and sidestepped from her path.

  The arrival of the Lakhyri – the queen paused in her step for a moment as she thought of that etched, withered creature – had coincided with the news of Ullsaard's death. At the time she had thought it fortuitous that Urikh had such an experienced aide on hand to take care of the ascension to kinghood, but now the convenience of the situation was beginning to nag at her credulity. She suspected that perhaps Urikh was being manipulated by the High Brother in some way that she had not discerned. Part of her even wondered if the Brotherhood had somehow been complicit in the death of her husband. It was not the first time such thoughts had occurred to her, but the strength of the Brotherhood was in Greater Askhor, and their reach did not stretch far into Salphoria yet. It would be unlikely they could engineer the attack that had slain Ullsaard, as much as they might have desired it.

  Her worries were mounting. The loss of Ullsaard had been a bitter blow to Luia's hopes of securing the future of her family. Urikh was clever and able, but he was too young to be king; especially with the likes of Lakhyri trying to take advantage. She had tried her best to steer her son towards the correct decisions, but he was determined to be a man alone, disregarding her advice out of hand.

  Urikh had once listened to everything his mother had taught him, but since taking the Crown he had become more and more distant from her. Luia suspected that Lakhyri was inserting himself between mother and son, to bring the king to his own agenda. It certainly appeared that the High Brother's plans were bearing fruit; Urikh was keen to strengthen the power of the Brotherhood. The king claimed that a bold and dynamic Brotherhood was a symbol of a bold and dynamic empire, but Luia was not yet convinced of the wisdom of offending the governors and nobility. Under Ullsaard, the Brotherhood had proven that their support was invaluable to a king, but there had to be balance. Soon the Brotherhood would not need the authority of the king at all.

  With this thought, Luia stopped mid-step, so abruptly that a servant who had been looking to step behind her was forced into a flailing spin by his drastic attempt to avoid her. She glanced down at the youth as he
sprawled on the floor, the corner of her mouth rising in a sneer.

  Dismissing this distraction, Luia sat down in a chair beside the fire. She could not believe that Urikh did not see that he was making himself redundant to the power of the Brotherhood. Luia knew that he had a plan; her son was too canny and too careful to let his power be given away piece by piece without some objective in mind.

  If only Urikh would take her into his confidence as he once did, Luia would be reassured that all was well. At the moment, she was frustrated, able to speak to her son only in the presence of others. That had to change.

  "Naami, please convey my regards to my son, and have my staff attend to me," the queen said to her chief handmaiden. "We have a feast to arrange."

  GERIA, OKHAR

  Winter, 213th year of Askh

  I

  There was a light frost on the ground, covering the terraced hillsides with its pale blanket. The early morning sunlight glittered from the empty vine frames and frozen cisterns. Everything seemed sparkling and fresh, even the clear blue sky above. The air was crisp with the cold, but not unpleasant, and Noran took a moment to watch the cloud of his breath dissipating. He took in another deep breath, enjoying the sensation of clean air in his lungs, and let it out in another burst of vapour.

  The view to hotwards was stunning, showing the Greenwater carving its way through landscaped hills and dark fields. Turning his head just a little, Noran could see the wood and stone buildings of Geria clustered around the dock piers. Even now there were ships coming and going on the great river, the latest cargoes being carried to and from the colony of Cosuan at the end of the Greenwater. Cranes and teamsters were in constant action, loading the final harvests and winter wares, or unloading the strange fruits and spices that had started to come coldwards along the river. Out on the water, pilot boats guided ships to and from their berths, the strokes of their oars leaving faint trails like the footprints of insects on blue earth.

  A little further inland stood the palace of the governor, Urikh. The grey stone building looked more intimidating than ever with its new barracks block built to dawnwards, overlooking the river. Noran had not seen Urikh since paying the governor a courtesy visit on his return in the spring. He had received neither summons to the governor's house nor had Urikh deigned to visit his father's old friend at his villa.

  The arrangement suited Noran well. He had harboured no desire to spend time with Urikh in the past, and Noran's selfimposed exile from Ullsaard benefited greatly from the lack of contact with the king's family. It was possible for Noran, now and then, to forget everything that had happened to him since he had journeyed to near-Mekha to summon Ullsaard back to the capital.

  The time in Geria had been restorative, both physically and mentally. He was even on speaking terms with Anriit, his eldest and only surviving wife. They were not intimate by any means, but they could now spend time in a room with each other without their conversations devolving into insults and accusations. The relationship was helped somewhat by the fact that Anriit was currently in Askh, spending the winter months in the capital with her family.

  "It is a very pleasant day, Artiides," Noran declared to his chief steward, who was standing a little further up the slope with his master's coat folded over his arms. A former second captain in the Seventeenth Legion, Artiides was the same age as Noran, with wiry muscles and a keen mind for organisation.

  "Very pleasant, yes," Artiides replied dutifully. "It is also cold, and you should be careful not to chill your blood."

  "Thank you," said Noran, holding out his arm so that Artiides could slip on the long coat over his master's shirt and jerkin.

  "We'll be getting company soon," Artiides remarked as he straightened Noran's collar. The steward pointed down the hillside to the road, where a detachment of legionnaires was marching towards the villa. Their green and red shields marked them out as men of the Seventeenth – Okhar's garrison legion.

  "I see a second captain with them," said Noran, staring down at the approaching troops. "Some message from Urikh, no doubt."

  "I am not so sure," said Artiides, laying a hand on Noran's arm to guide him back towards the villa. "Why send a captain to do a herald's job?"

  "What are you doing?" Noran demanded, pulling his arm from his servant's grip.

  "There are more soldiers in the fields to coldwards," said Artiides, indicating the direction with a flick of his eyes. "Best not show that we have seen them."

  Noran looked out to the fields and saw several dozen legionnaires, in two groups standing at junctions on the road leading coldwards. They were formed up in ranks, not idly lounging.

  "I see," said Noran, his heart sinking. He nodded to Artiides and the two of them set off back towards the villa at a quick but not untoward pace. "Have you any idea why they might be here?"

  "None at all," said Artiides. "I still have friends in the Seventeenth. If there had been anything brewing I would have heard it."

  "It will still be half an hour before they arrive, let us not waste any time," said Noran.

  "I'll get everything ready, have no fears," said Artiides. "If there's any trouble, leave it to me."

  II

  Noran stood just inside the doorway of the villa, at a vantage point where he could see and hear what was going on at the main gate. He watched Artiides, sword at his belt, gathering a handful of the men, who also carried weapons from the stores. Artiides opened the small postern gate, bowed his head and stepped back to admit a tall, rangy man in the uniform of a second captain.

  "Captain Juutan, Seventeenth," announced the officer.

  "I know who you are, Juutan, why the formality?" replied Artiides. "And why the heavyweights out there?"

  "I bear news for the master of the villa, Noran Astaan," Juutan said stiffly.

  "And I'll make sure he hears it as soon as he is back from his morning walk," said Artiides.

  "Please, friend, don't be awkward about this. Just take me to Astaan now."

  "What news?" Artiides said. "What news is so important that it needs fifty men to escort it?"

  "Ullsaard is dead, Urikh is now king," said Juutan, shaking his head. "Now, take me to Astaan."

  "Urikh is king?" Noran could not tell if Artiides was playing for time or genuinely shocked. "Since when?"

  "I have orders, all right. Let's do it the simple way, eh?" Juutan's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, and Artiides took a step back. There was the sound of unsheathing blades around the courtyard as the other servants bared their weapons.

  "Let's not get hasty," said Juutan, holding up his hands. "I just have a job to do."

  "What job?" demanded Artiides. "You've delivered your news, now piss off."

  "That is not the only reason I am here," said Juutan. "Along with the news of King Urikh's accession, First Captain Harrakil received orders that Noran Astaan be detained and escorted to Askh to attend the new king and renew his oaths as his herald."

  "I see," said Artiides. The steward stepped closer and Noran could not hear what was said next. When he stepped back, Artiides raised his voice again. "Very well, you leave me no choice. I will fetch my master here."

  Noran shrank back from the doorway as Artiides turned and strode back into the shadow of the villa. He grabbed hold of the steward as he crossed the threshold.

  "What is happening, Artiides?" Noran said, his grip tight on the other man's arm. "Why do they want me to go to Askh to renew my oaths?"

  "I don't know, but the orders came from Urikh himself," Artiides replied tersely, pulling free from Noran's grip and leading him further into the entrance hall . "He claims that Ullsaard has been killed, and he has taken up the Crown."

  "Ullsaard dead?" Noran shook his head, disbelieving, but sense prevailed after a moment. Ullsaard had been waging war; it was not beyond the realm of possibility that he had been slain in battle or else killed by his Salphor enemies. "I am surprised that Urikh wants me though."

  "I don't know what it is, but it doesn't
sit right in my head," said Artiides.

  "Why send an armed guard?" said Noran. "What reason does Urikh think I might have for refusing a command to attend him? It sounds to me like the action of a man unsure of himself. If Urikh thought he had a legitimate claim to be king he would just send for me and not worry about escorts."

  "So you think that Urikh is acting like a guilty man? You were a friend of his father, perhaps he thinks you're a loose end. It might not be safe in Askh."

  "It might not be safe getting to Askh," added Noran. "Accidents happen on board ship and on the road. What should I do?"

  "Run like fuck. We'll hold them as long as we can."

  There might have been a time when Noran would have demanded to know if there was cause for such panic, and would have stopped to ask Artiides why the need for alarm. The past years had taught Noran the folly of inquiring too deeply during life-or-death situations, so he simply accepted the veteran captain's assessment and bolted back into the villa.