Eirman glanced at his colleagues. He was standing far behind them, so that they couldn't see the panic on his face. "I — ah, would have to check the literature," he said.
"Even if we determine that eight Elders can choose a new Rocaan, this goes against the Words Written and Unwritten. Before he died, the Roca chose his successor, and the Rocaans have seen that as an order by example to do the same. I am too young to choose my successor. In fact, I believe it would be a detriment to my position as Rocaan to do so." Matthias gathered the skirts of his robe together. "Besides, I don't believe any of you are qualified. There are a few Danites that I have my sights set on. It will take a few years before I know if they are Officiate material, let alone Elder material. I hope I have a few years to make those determinations."
"If we choose the new Rocaan, it is your duty to follow us," Porciluna said.
"That's where you forget yourself," Matthias said. "My duty is to lead the faithful in the best way I can. I am doing so."
"We don't agree."
Matthias shrugged. "Elder Andre did not believe in using holy water as a weapon, yet he did not try a split from the Rocaan."
"Elder Andre disappeared on the day of the Rocaan's death," Linus said.
"I think he died," Reece said softly. Reece had been there. His description of the confusion on that day still made Matthias shudder.
"My point is," Matthias said, unwilling to get distracted, "that I am Rocaan, no matter what Porciluna calls me. I am Keeper of the Secrets, and I am the Roca's Spiritual Heir, designated by his previous Spiritual Heir. You can designate one of your own to be Rocaan, but he will never be a real son of the Roca. I will tell my successor the Secrets of the Office, but I will only tell the successor I choose."
He stared at them all. "I will not choose someone because you force me to. Throw me out if you like. Kill me if you like. But remember: Until I choose a successor, the Secrets of the Office will leave with me."
He did not wait for an answer. He whirled and walked out of the Audience room. Let them think on that. They needed him more than ever now. For one of the secrets he held was the secret behind holy water. Without it, the entire population of Blue Isle would be defenseless against the Fey.
TWENTY-SEVEN
His entire body ached. Lord Stowe felt as if he were attached to the saddle. He had been upright for three days, stopping only to allow his horse a rest. He felt that getting back to Jahn was more important than anything else he could do.
But the unease he had felt since the King died stayed with him. Jahn was not the same city it had been two weeks before. As he rode in, he noted that homes were shuttered and children did not play on the streets. He hadn't expected so much change. He remembered when Alexander's father had died, and while the death had shaken up the city, it had not changed it.
Nor had Nicholas ordered the change. Stowe had listened to three separate criers on his journey, and the boys said nothing about national days of mourning. They had instead explained the haste of the coronation in a way that had not alarmed the populace. But Stowe was alarmed. His unsettled feeling increased the farther he got into Jahn.
The sunshine and spring warmth usually invited citizens to spend their afternoons outside. The air smelled of mud and the Cardidas, but the breeze was fresh, carrying with it a bit of summer. But no one seemed to be enjoying it. Not even the old men who ran the shops were sitting outside. The doors were shut, the signs inside. It was as if everyone had gone away.
Even the gates to the Tabernacle were closed. They had not been closed since the night of the Invasion, years before.
That had distressed him, but not as much as what he saw now.
He had taken the back route to the palace, unwilling to face his friends and neighbors on the streets of Jahn. He had planned to go to his own home first to clean up and get a fresh horse, although this view changed his mind.
The road to his home took him past the Fey Settlement. He often rode past it and reported on its progress --or lack thereof --to Nicholas. The Settlement took up a large area of river bottom land. Stowe had seen that land flood year after year, and had argued against giving it to the Fey, but Alexander had been adamant. If they are committed to living in Jahn, he had said, they have the abilities to turn poor land into good land. Let them use those abilities.
It appeared, in that at least, Alexander had overestimated the abilities of the Fey. The land flooded on cue every year, and the Fey had rebuilt their homes just as Islanders would have. Only one house in the middle of the Settlement had seemed unaffected, and Stowe didn't know if that was because of the land it was on, or because the Fey had done something to it.
Still, each time he had ridden by, he had seen Fey. In fact, as the years progressed, and the wall was built as a protection around the Settlement, he had seen more and more Fey.
This afternoon, however, he saw none.
He reined his horse near the gate and peered inside. The gate's door was open, as were the doors to several of the cottages. The mud from the last rain was still thick here, and the stink of the river even stronger.
The place looked abandoned.
His heart pounded hard. He clucked at his horse, and together they went inside the gate. It took a moment for the horse to find the path that the Fey used. It was a raised bit of dirt, mud covered as well, but the horse's hooves did not sink into it.
The cabins were poorly constructed, as if they were made by boys who had no sense of form. Wood had been pounded on top of wood, mismatched pieces held together by thick wooden nails. Some of the wood near the foundation of the cabins had already rotted away.
Stowe stopped his horse near the first open door, and dismounted. He supposed that this could be a trap, but he doubted it. The Fey were smarter than this. Most Islanders would never come into this place, abandoned or not. If the Fey wanted to get to the Islanders, they would have to do it in subtler ways --ways that they were capable of.
The mud was slick, but the ground was firm beneath his feet. He followed the path to the steps leading into the cabin, calling hello in Fey as he did so. His voice echoed. The horse whinnied behind him, and shook its head as if the silence made it uncomfortable.
It made him uncomfortable too. Not even birds sang here.
He peered inside. The cabin was dark. It had no windows. The light through the door provided the only illumination.
A table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by makeshift benches. On the table's surface were woodworking tools and the remains of a meal. Whomever had lived here had planned to come back.
Stowe moved away from the door. He walked through the deep mud, not caring that his boots got soaked, and went to the next cabin. This door was closed. He knocked on it, then opened it.
Everything was put away here, except for a robe lying over one of the chairs. Again, it appeared as if the owners were going to come back.
Something had happened. Something that made the Fey leave this place quickly. Had they known about Alexander's murder? Had something else happened in Jahn to cause this quick exodus?
Ice settled in the pit of his stomach. His throat was dry. He hadn't felt this way since Alexander was killed beside him.
Stowe ran out of the cabin, and quickly mounted his horse. He snapped the reins, and let the horse pick his way out of the Settlement. When they reached the road, Stowe turned away from his home. He had to get to the palace first. He had to know what was going on.
The main road leading from the bridge to the palace was empty. No one was outside, and most of the small shops — those that were still in business — were closed. His horse's hooves made small clomping noises on the road. The sound echoed. Had everyone disappeared and left him as the only inhabitant of Jahn, bearer of bad news that everyone already knew?
He reached the palace walls quickly. The gates were closed here as well. Two guards stood in the tower. They had bows up and strung before he reached the gate.
He held up his hands. "I'm L
ord Stowe. I'm here to see the King."
He hoped.
One of the guards called down to the ground below. A grating sound started almost immediately, then the gate came up. Stowe nodded his head in thanks as he cantered inside.
The courtyard looked more or less normal. The kitchen door to the palace was open, and smoke rose from the fireplaces. The grooms were tending the palace horses, and servants went from their quarters to the main buildings.
The difference, though, chilled Stowe farther.
Guards stood beside each doorway. They were armed with swords, daggers, and bows. Many had their quivers at their feet. They all watched him approach warily.
He led the horse the stable and dismounted. The groom who came out had a thin, drawn face. He looked as if he hadn't slept for days.
"What happened here?" Stowe asked.
The man ran his hand along the horse's flank. The stallion was filthy. He had been groomed as well as possible, but Stowe had run him to his limits. "Ye best talk ta nother lord, sir," the man said. He started to lead the stallion away.
"Wait!" Stowe said.
The man stopped, keeping his back to Stowe. The man was stocky, younger than he expected, and immaculately groomed. "That horse has been traveling at top speed for three days. Give him your best care."
"Aye, sir." The groom took the horse inside.
As he did, one of the guards came over. The man was beefy, his arms solid muscle. His blue eyes were small in his large face, and his lips were thick. Tiny white scars marred the skin on both cheeks, as if he had been in dozens of fights, and wounded in most of them.
"State yer business," the man said.
"I'm here to see the King," Stowe said. He had never been quizzed quite like this before. He held out his hand for what had become an obligatory holy water testing.
The guard looked down at it. "That don't matter," the guard said. "I need yer weapons, instead."
Stowe brought his hand to his side, unwilling to let go of his weapons until he knew what was going on. "What happened here?"
"Ye came from the Rocaan, did ye not?"
"No," Stowe said. "I was one of the lords traveling with King Alexander. I've been investigating his death. I'm here to report to his son. I would have gone home to clean up, but it seems something strange has happened here."
"Ye dinna know?"
"Know what?" Stowe asked.
"About the Rocaan killin' the Queen."
The breath left Stowe's body. He felt as if he had been hit in the stomach. "What?" The question came out in a rush of air.
"Twas at the service. Melted her, he did."
Stowe blinked, trying to grasp the change this implied. Jewel was dead? A Fey had murdered King Alexander and a few days later, Jewel was dead at the hands of the Rocaan?
"He put holy water on her?" Stowe asked.
"I dinna see it. Twas told ta me. But I seen her body n all, n she look like a Fey what met with holy water."
"My god," Stowe said. He made himself breathe. He needed to go in now, just to see what kind of shape Nicholas was in. "When did this happen?"
"Yestade. Them Fey twas in n outta the kitchen until the wee hours. Taint seen em since."
So that was why the guard forwent the holy water, and had asked if Stowe was from the Tabernacle. At the moment, Nicholas was not treating the Fey as the enemy; he was treating the Rocaan as one.
Stowe ran a hand over his face. His skin was oily and dirt-covered from his long ride. His news would change things again. He sighed against his palm, then brought his hand down and slowly removed his sword and dagger. He handed them to the guard.
"I need to see the King," he said.
"Taint no one seen the King since he come out to say the Queen was dead."
"After the Fey left?" Stowe asked. He didn't want to get inside and learn that Nicholas was dead too.
"Aye, Sir."
"Well, then. He may not like my intrusion, but he's going to need it. Do you know where he is?"
"Tis sorry I am, Sir, but I got orders. Taint no one ta go in."
"He'll want to see me."
The guard glanced over his shoulder. There were no other guards of higher rank.
"I'll go to Monte if I have to," Stowe said.
"I dinna know where he is, Sir."
Stowe waited. The guard shifted back and forth. Finally he indicated to another guard to come closer. When the guard approached, the first guard handed him Stowe's weapons.
"He asked ta see the King. I'm takin him," the first guard said.
"Tis glad I am taint me," said the second.
Stowe swallowed. His mouth was still dry. He probably looked terrible, all dirt-spattered and sweat covered. He knew he smelled like his horse, and probably the foul mud of the Kenniland Marshes. Still it was beginning to sound as if things would not wait. More changes had occurred in Jahn in the last week than in any other time since the Invasion.
The guard nodded at Stowe. "Come with me, Sir," he said.
He clasped his hands behind his back and led Stowe into the kitchen. The chef was kneading dough on one of the tables. A housekeeper had his head inside one of the brick-lined ovens, scrubbed a black substance off the walls. The kitchen wasn't as warm as usual. The hearth fire was burning, but apparently the ovens weren't in use.
More housekeepers scrubbed at the floor before the hearth fire. Dark stains covered the flagstones. Stowe remembered the last time he had seen this; two days after the Invasion, when it became clear that the Fey had been routed. The Islanders had finally started cleaning up the blood.
Stowe said nothing as he was led through. The guard paused just as they entered the pantry and held up a finger, indicating that Stowe was to wait. He peered back into the kitchen. No one smiled. No one even met his gaze. Seeing these people unnerved him more than the silent city had. They were working hard, but it seemed as if the work were merely a way of keeping busy, not a way to do their jobs.
The Rocaan and Jewel.
Stowe had not expected that at all.
The guard was talking to the Master of the Hall. They were at the far end of the pantry, and Stowe couldn't understand them. The Master was gesturing with his right hand. His face had fatigue lines, and a long smudge of dirt marred his brown shirt. Finally the guard nodded and returned to Stowe, but said nothing.
They continued to walk through the corridor. They went past the audience hall and stepped into the Great Hall. Stowe grabbed the guard's arm, holding him back.
There, in the center of the Great Hall, was Jewel's body. She lay on her back, her hands clasped over her breasts. She wore a blood-stained white gown. Stowe went ahead of the guard, and circled Jewel. The top half of her head had been destroyed. In the remains of her face, her beauty still showed.
Candles burned around her, and someone had placed a single rose bud at her side. It must have been the first flower of the season, beside a woman who would never see it.
"What's she doing here?" Stowe asked.
"They dinna know what ta do with her," the guard said. "The Fey left without her, n tis the Rocaan what killed her."
The Rocaan. And the Tabernacle, who were in charge of the graveyards and the burials. Stowe shook his head. What a mess he had walked into.
Someone had tried to arrange a small cloth around Jewel's forehead, but Stowe could still see the disfigurement caused by the holy water. Poor woman. He had never liked her. He hadn't disliked her either. He had just not trusted her, always wondering what she was about, what she really wanted from Nicholas.
Perhaps she had been honest all along.
Then he realized what was missing. "What happened to the child?"
"The Fey, sir. They dinna leave until twas born. Tis said twas ugly thing. A monster, not even human."
Stowe closed his eyes. Another one. Ah, Nicholas. He was half afraid to find the new king. With all these tragedies, the boy might well be mad. If that were the case, then, the lords would have to appoint a re
gent. They would have to know how Nicholas was.
They might as well know now.
Stowe walked around Jewel's body. It seemed appropriate to lay her out in the Great Hall, where she and Nicholas had their wedding feast, surrounded by real weapons, swords from the Peasant Uprising and before. She looked like a warrior queen which, in fact, she was.
The guard gave her one final look, then moved in front of Stowe and led him up the stairs to the family quarters. They walked through the gallery and turned to the queen's side of the hall. Stowe shot the guard an uneasy glance which the other man missed. Nicholas was hiding in Jewel's apartments? Already the signs were not good ones.
Fey 02 - Changeling Page 28
