Word looked at Scripture who scowled irritably. He also acknowledged his colleagues around the table before he said, ‘We have reason to believe that what you were promised at the meeting with our new king will not be carried out according to your wishes. Inheritor is a treacherous man, like his father, and while he appears to be cordial and willing to consider your offers for open trade markets and political alliances, in fact he is already moving an army from the north to—how can I put this?—to bring pressure to bear on your nation.’
Habar raised an eyebrow and spoke quickly to his ambassadorial partners in Ranu. He returned his attention to Word and said, ‘Interesting news. We know of the army of which you speak. We have long had people in your kingdom who have kept us informed of certain important matters. Our understanding was that the army’s purpose was to quell an insurrection.’
Word nodded. ‘That was its original purpose, yes, but now that you are here the army is returning. All we can say is that you would be unwise to trust Inheritor. He is not a man of Jarudha and he is his father’s son.’
‘And what would you propose instead?’
Scripture interrupted. ‘The second son, Prince Shadow, is the man with whom you should deal.’
Habar turned to Scripture, noting the subtle differences in the man’s blue robes that suggested authority and rank. ‘And why is that?’
‘Shadow is Jarudha’s chosen disciple. He is a man of strict moral virtue and he will keep his promises,’ Scripture replied.
Habar noted the strength in the older man’s voice and in his unfaltering gaze, and gave an approving smile. He turned to his companions and again they conversed briskly in their native language. To Scripture, Habar said, ‘Thank you for your counsel. In my nation, the Ithosen are our wise men, descendants of the holy ones of old, and it is said that “The counsel of an Ithosen is worth the advice of ten thousand men”. We will consider your counsel and discuss this matter further, and we will return with our answer.’ The ambassadors rose together and bowed their heads politely. ‘Please excuse our haste. Our president is keen to hear what has transpired in our visit to your lovely city,’ Habar explained. ‘May your day be always in sunlight.’
Word gestured to Seer Creator, who immediately ushered the ambassadors from the meeting chamber in the temple into a hallway where the ambassadors’ bodyguards were patiently waiting to escort their charges to the palace parade ground. When the ambassadors were gone and Creator returned, Word waited for discussion to settle. ‘So,’ he said, inviting comment.
‘Was it wise to speak so indiscreetly to strangers?’ asked Seer Prayer. ‘What if they take what has been said to the king?’
‘This is why I did not like the idea,’ said Scripture sourly. ‘These are shrewd political men with no fear of Jarudha. They will assess what has been offered and then they will give up to their enemies the men they do not choose. Why would they choose us?’
‘We have three things they desire,’ said Word.
‘And what are they?’ Scripture asked.
Word paused for effect and said, ‘We have control of the euphoria, we have a potential king who will embrace them, and we have inventions that will interest them.’ He looked at Creator.
‘The ambassadors are keen to learn about the airbirds we have been developing, the ones that are heavier than air,’ said Creator. ‘And I’ve told them of our plans for manufacturing enlightenment.’
‘You should have asked my permission first,’ Scripture interrupted. ‘This is bordering on heresy.’
‘We had very little time,’ said Word. ‘The Ranu met with Inheritor and he told his brothers what they were seeking. They intend to establish trade here, but, according to Shadow, Inheritor is worried that they have longer term intentions.’
‘We have done these things before,’ said Law. ‘Kings and queens have come and gone. This was Shessian land once. Now, it is Kerwyn. Next, it might be Ranu.’
‘Next, it is Jarudha’s land,’ said Word.
‘It has always been Jarudha’s land!’ Scripture reminded them.
The Seers murmured agreement. ‘Then we must take whatever risk is needed to ensure our plans are not sidetracked by the worldly issues of would-be rulers,’ Word argued. ‘The Ranu will give us a vehicle for Shadow’s succession.’
She was grateful that King Inheritor had graced her with an audience, but she travelled to the palace by a circuitous route in the company of her bodyguards because she instinctively knew her life was at risk. She knew that Shadow knew she had the canvas bag and that she suspected him of plotting to dethrone Inheritor, and that she was meeting with Inheritor. Shadow had already sent word to her for another meeting in a note that promised her more favourable news than what had been discussed at their last meeting, but she chose to meet with Inheritor first. Whatever it was that the bag contained, her grandfather had charged her with the responsibility to get it into safe hands. She was still sceptical regarding the tale of the Demon Horsemen, even after her visit to the old woman in the bookshop who had known her grandfather as a young man, but she did not trust Shadow or the Seers and she was beginning to suspect that they were behind the troubles plaguing her euphoria business since her last meeting with Shadow.
Waiting outside the king’s audience chamber, she paced the tiles nervously, watching for Shadow or the Seers. Shadow probably already knows I’m here, she decided, and rued her misfortune to have become entangled in royal politics. She flinched when the pageboy invited her to enter the chamber, her mind full of the threats and possibilities her situation had created.
‘Mrs Merchant,’ Inheritor said, smiling, as Crystal entered. ‘I’m sorry that I couldn’t see you last time, but I was caught up in recent matters.’
‘I understand, Your Highness,’ Crystal replied. She glanced over the room, noting the small windows for privacy, the tapestries adorning the walls and three guards on the three entrances to the room.
‘Take a seat,’ Inheritor invited, indicating two red chairs situated around a low table near the hearth. A wire-lightning lamp dominated the table, its shade Kerwyn red and the base marble grey.
Seated, Crystal assessed the new king. Where his father, Hawkeye, had been square-jawed, bearded, rugged in the Kerwyn manner of a warrior, Inheritor was refined, effeminately featured, as if he’d acquired his mother’s looks. He still had broad shoulders, suggesting that a potentially powerful warrior could be created from the man, but he conveyed the impression of an educated and cultured being, and the sense that he would be a compassionate king. With his dark hair trimmed and clean-shaven, he was neither handsome nor unattractive, and in the street she doubted anyone would give him a second glance, but she liked what she saw. ‘I will have to be brief,’ he began as he sat. ‘Matters of state are urgent, as you might guess. What is it that you want to say?’
Crystal blinked. She’d rehearsed her words going to sleep and walking to the palace, but suddenly they were lost. She swallowed to give her time to compose her thoughts and said, ‘Your Highness, I have something to give to you—from my grandfather.’
Inheritor smiled. ‘Your grandfather?’
‘He was a Seer, Your Highness, Seer Sunlight. Your father put him in the Bog Pit on charges of conspiracy and heresy. He died there this year.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘It wasn’t your doing,’ said Crystal, ‘but he asked me to give you something that only you must have, not your brother Shadow.’
Inheritor’s smile faded and Crystal paused. Had she misjudged the man? ‘Go on,’ the king said.
‘It concerns the Seers and the Demon Horsemen,’ Crystal said slowly, gauging Inheritor’s reaction, but apart from the faded smile his expression remained set. ‘My grandfather said—he said that there was a plot involving the Seers and your brother seeking to usurp your right to the throne. It all has to do with the Seers being able to release the Demon Horsemen. I don’t fully understand it,’ she concluded. I’ve probably just condemned
myself to the Bog Pit, she ruefully decided. Am I that much of an idiot? She watched Inheritor’s face for a flicker of emotion, but the king simply stared at her—no, she realised, he was staring through her.
Inheritor blinked and drew a breath as if he was coming out of a trance. His blue eyes focussed on Crystal and she felt a cold shiver at the back of her neck. ‘So where is the thing your grandfather asked you to give to me?’
‘I have it safely stored,’ Crystal replied.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. It’s inside a strange canvas bag.’
‘And what makes it strange?’
Crystal was impressed by Inheritor’s skills in masking his emotions. Her knowledge was that the generally held popular opinion was that Inheritor was the softest prince, the most trustworthy and good-natured prince, but the man sitting before her was a refined master at controlling what he wanted other people to see. ‘It can’t be opened and nothing seems able to cut through the canvas.’
‘Interesting,’ Inheritor remarked. ‘So why is it so important that my brother doesn’t get it?’
Crystal was regretting her decision to visit Inheritor. His line of questioning seemed aimed at drawing every detail from her so that he could more effectively administer his judgment of condemnation. For an instant, she considered lying, or withholding details, but her instinct overrode her logic and her heart told her that her grandfather was not mad. If he believed Inheritor could be trusted then she would take the risk. ‘The bag contains the only object that can destroy the Demon Horsemen if the Seers ever release them. That’s why they are desperate to get it back and that’s why your brother mustn’t get it.’
‘But you would give this thing to me.’
‘I loved my grandfather. I never believed that he could have done what he was accused of doing, and now that I know about the bag I understand why the Seers conspired to have him locked away to die.’
Inheritor nodded slowly, and said, ‘How do I know this isn’t some complicated plot by you to avenge your grandfather’s death?’
Crystal faltered. The consideration that Inheritor proposed hadn’t entered her thoughts at any point in the entire episode from the time the thief arrived at her house. ‘I—’ she stammered, and forced herself to regain her composure. ‘I don’t work like that,’ she said. ‘Besides, as I said before, you had nothing to do with my grandfather’s death. Even your father probably didn’t know the truth—only what the Seers told him. I have no cause against you.’
‘But your grandfather had one against my brother,’ Inheritor interposed.
‘Because of his involvement with the Seers,’ Crystal emphasised. ‘They are the ones who threaten you, Your Highness. Your brother is a pawn in their endgame.’
Inheritor rose from his chair and walked slowly across the room, meditating on what he’d heard, while Crystal observed him, waiting for him to decide her fate—and his own. He turned and ran his hand across his chin and then his forehead, and then looked directly at Crystal. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said with a strange calm quality in his voice. ‘There’s no news in telling me that my brother covets the throne. Even my father believed that he would be a better king.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘As for the Seers, they are always plotting.’ He walked back to take his seat. ‘You have been candid with me. I will be with you. I know the stories about the Demon Horsemen. We were all taught them because our grandfather insisted we all embrace the Jarudhan faith as part of our assimilation into the Shessian culture. Father was less enamoured of them, but he acknowledged their support of the throne and gave them licence to do as they pleased. My brothers, well, they have varying degrees of faith, depending on how it serves their needs. Shadow, though, he’s a fanatic. If he was king, he would turn the kingdom into a model Jarudhan society and we would all suffer. So, you see, you haven’t brought me news that I could call subversive or treasonous. What you’ve brought to me is something much worse and I have to decide where I will make my stand.’ He stopped and lowered his head, running a hand through his manicured, dark hair. When he lifted his head again, he said, ‘Bring me the item.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Hordemaster Fist stood at attention in the presence of Prince Shadow and Seer Word, awaiting their response to his report. A breeze toying with the lavender curtain in the palace War Room distracted him and he was suddenly conscious of Prince Shadow at his shoulder. ‘The task was simple enough. How can you explain why your quarry escaped?’
‘Natives, Your Highness. They interfered,’ he replied.
‘Shesskar natives with spears and bows, Fist,’ Shadow reminded him. ‘Your men had thundermakers.’
‘Numbers and unfamiliar territory, Your Highness,’ Fist explained politely, but he was struggling to restrain his anger at being subjected to a humiliating interrogation in the Seer’s presence.
‘And what’s this talk of a witch?’ Shadow asked.
‘Excuses, I suspect, Your Highness,’ Fist replied.
Shadow moved from Fist’s side to the table at the centre of the War Room and studied the map. ‘So, our assassin and thief have both escaped into the eastern lands.’ He looked at Word. ‘That’s almost as convenient as killing them.’
‘Almost,’ Word replied.
‘Is that all, Your Highness?’ Fist asked, keen to leave the room.
Shadow paused, nodding to Word, before saying, ‘No. I have another task for you.’ He went to the window and stared over the palace grounds. ‘Any word from our Ranu friends?’
‘The shipment of arms and mercenary soldiers will arrive in three days,’ Word informed him. ‘The Ranu are happy to support our cause so long as they are not implicated.’
‘The mercenaries?’
‘Men from various parts. No Ranu.’
Shadow turned towards Fist and said, ‘Are you listening to this, Warlord?’
Fist blinked, comprehending the title suddenly bestowed upon him. He bowed his head. ‘Thank you, Your Highness.’
‘Aren’t you going to ask what is happening?’ Shadow asked. Fist looked up. ‘You will command an army charged with meeting and defeating my brother’s returning forces. Thirdson is bringing half of the force home by sea. Unfortunately, they will be lost, circumstances unknown.’ Shadow looked to Word.
‘The Ranu have made the appropriate arrangements,’ Word confirmed.
‘River is marching with the rest of the army across the North Coast plains. You will take your mercenaries there and destroy them. No one must be left alive. No prisoners. I want to see River’s head.’
Fist felt excitement rising at the prospect of leading an army into battle for the first time. His devotion to the prince was finally paying the dividends for which he’d worked.
‘When that is done, you will return to Port of Joy and oversee the changes under your new king,’ Shadow concluded. The prince approached Fist and reached up to place his hands on the new Warlord’s shoulders. ‘I have put my faith in you to serve Jarudha as dutifully as you have served me,’ he said, locking eyes with Fist. ‘We are about to begin a new world, a better world, free of sin and corruption, a world more suited to Jarudha’s disciples, and you have been chosen to help make it so. When you return, I will personally bring you before His Eminence for consideration to enter the promised eternal Paradise.’ He clapped Fist’s shoulders once and ordered, ‘Go. An army awaits you a day’s journey to the north on the coast. Be Jarudha’s Warlord.’
Fist bowed and withdrew, barely able to contain his joy. Outside the War Room, in the wide corridor, he clenched his fist and punched the air, grinning ecstatically, but he restrained his voice in case he might be heard. When he realised he was being observed by three palace guards and a pageboy, he scowled at them and strode towards the stairs. I am the new Kerwyn Warlord, he lauded silently. Who will dare mock me now?
Seer Word lowered his glass of water and eased back into the red leather chair in Shadow’s private chamber. ‘When will you atten
d to your brother?’ he asked.
‘As we speak now,’ Shadow replied, smiling. ‘I’m confident that you will soon hear lamentations from the palace.’
‘There can be no connections made to us.’
‘None. There are those with long-standing grudges against my brother for acts of cruelty they imagine him to have committed who have gained access to the palace in a bid for revenge. They will get their revenge, of course, but then they’ll also be punished.’
‘Are these men reliable?’
Shadow chuckled quietly. ‘Circumstance breeds reliability.’
‘What about the palace guards?’
‘Somebody very foolishly gave them all leave today by mistake,’ said Shadow, shaking his head. ‘Except for my brother’s bodyguards, and they just received word to attend to an incident at the northern gate.’
‘And the item we seek?’ Word inquired, leaning forward.
‘Mrs Merchant arranged for it to reach my brother this morning. Shortly, you will have it returned as promised.’
Word smiled and made the holy circle before Shadow’s face. ‘You will make a truly great king,’ he said.
‘I will,’ said Shadow confidently, ‘with Jarudha’s blessing.’ Both men looked to the door as shouting started deep inside the palace.
Inheritor stood in his chamber, studying the beige canvas bag that Mrs Merchant’s bodyguard had delivered to him earlier in the day. It was heavy for its size, and when he pressed and prodded it he discerned what could be either a cross or a sword hilt stowed within. The old and heavy padlock was pitted and chipped, testimony to many attempts to break it open, but it was sound in structure. The canvas was unmarked and he considered that the bodyguard told him how he’d tried to cut it open but that blades failed to affect the fabric. The enigma aroused his curiosity. He laid it on a table and crossed the chamber to a tall cupboard, from which he retrieved the king’s sword.
Prisoner of Fate Page 38
