And now Keritanima was back, and it was clear to him that she was going to fight him. She established that in the throne room, and at first her father's pride and anger had caused him to make the decisions he did. She had counted on that. But now his reason was starting to reassert itself, and he was beginning to show signs of getting back to the shrewd, cunning policital manipulator that he was.
She was also counting on that. That political cunning would cause her father to bring her into court, where he could keep an eye on her. If he reacted out of anger, he would have her thrown in prison. Then again, prison was no longer an option. He would suffer a serious loss of face if he imprisoned her now, something that he wasn't in a position to afford at the moment.
The time let her heal, but it chafed at her. She would often pace angrily, furious at the delay, yet unable to do anything about it. The information Miranda brought in was all she had, and it was usually enough. There were the usual hints and rumors of this or that plot, of who had on what gods-awful dress at the last party, who had been caught ruffling fur with whom in secluded corners, who had said what about whom in the endless war of rumors and innuendos meant to sully reputations and reduce status among the noble social circles. There was a great deal of talk of new maneuvering around the King, about how many felt that Keritanima's appearance was the perfect opportunity to do something about Damon Eram. After all, any plot that failed could simply be blamed on the Princess. It would make those with eyes on the throne very bold, and that would make her father very defensive.
That was what she wanted.
She needed her father to be upset and out of position to counter those plots. It would keep his mind off of what she was really doing.
The next step in her plan dealt with the nobles. They had to both present a challenge to Damon Eram, yet be in no position to threaten her when her plan succeeded and she took his crown. There was a very delicate balance in arranging that, and it hinged on keeping them too busy with each other to worry about the crown. The business of arranging that had already begun. Miranda had delivered a series of instructions to Ulfan about what she wanted done, and she had also begun to plant certain vague rumors about several noble houses.
The noble houses of Wikuna had a very regimented rank system, that was based on the size of the house and the amount of money it had. The house of Eram was considered highest ranked, because it was the Royal House. Without the Royal status, house Eram would rank about tenth among the assorted houses. House Eram had a very lucrative business, but the house was smaller than it had been in many years. And Damon Eram was the reason for that. By killing off anyone who could challenge him for the throne, he reduced house Eram from twenty members to four. Damon Eram, Keritanima, Jenawalani, and Veranika. Rank was important, but it had nothing to do with holding the throne. When it came to holding the throne, that was when raw military power and political jockeying came into play. A house held the throne because it was backed up by other houses, or it had utter control of the military, or both. House Eram had been in power long enough for Damon Eram to have that control of the military, even though he lacked the support of the other noble houses. The army and navy was loyal to the crown, and that made them loyal to Damon Eram, because he was the undisputed ruler of Wikuna. That meant that anyone who wanted the crown had to fight the military to get it. No noble house had the manpower to face Wikuna's military in a coup, and that would plummet Wikuna into a bloody and savage civil war.
Things were already tense. The largest houses, Zalan, Tarn, and Alagon, had called up much of their private armies to Wikuna, reportedly to protect their interests. Other houses, rivals of those houses, called in their own armies to protect themselves from their forces. That placed a very large hostile force at Damon Eram's doorstep, so he had called in the army to counter any ideas of an alliance between the houses to topple him. It was a powder keg waiting to explode, and Keritanima had already given Miranda the matches to light it. As soon as Keritanima was let out of the room, she would set the fuse to go off at a time of her choosing, then stand back and watch the fireworks.
With the noble houses embroiled in inter-house squabbling, it would keep them too busy to really do anything against the crown. The key laid in arranging things so the fighting began just before she made her run at her father's throne. That wasn't all that difficult, because to make the noble houses bite on her bait, she had to have a reasonable amount of time to lay down rumors and innuendo, then plant certain evidence here and there to back those rumors up. She had to make it subtle, so it would look like the house's spies uncovered a secret plot, rather than having everything laying out in the open and obvious. The longer it took them to uncover the "plot," the more believable it would appear to them. It was a game she had played before many times, and it was a game at which she excelled. The easiest way to neutralize an enemy was to give them another, more immediate, enemy to fight. It worked at a personal level, it worked at a group level, and it worked at a noble house level equally well.
It would all start with a simple note.
The note was easy enough to write. Keritanima took care of that on the sixth day of her convalescence, a short note written in a bold, flaring style to the new head of house Zalan, Sheba Zalan. Miranda had told her that Sheba was not taking well to her new role, and that her uncles, aunts, and her great uncle all were considering supplanting her and taking control of the house. That meant that her life was in very serious danger. Without her doting father to protect her, she couldn't go back to piracy, and the large bounty on her head in the East would make taking a commercial ship to trade suicide. That meant that her only way to maintain the money and high life she liked was to be a decent house matriarch. The note, written in a perfect imitation of her father's writing, invited Sheba to the Palace for a personal audience. The term "personal audience" where her father was concerned was a notorious statement. It meant that he either had a sexual attraction for the recipient of the note, or he or she was being invited to his or her own murder. Damon Eram wasn't unknown for dalliances with the more attractive noble ladies, whether they were married or not.
It was a perfect situation for Keritanima. With Sheba's control of her fortunes--her very life--at stake, she'd jump at the chance to talk to the King. House Zalan had been in secret negotiations to form an alliance by marriage to house Eram anyway, so the note would have a sharp ring of truth in it. Since the note specifically said for Sheba to come after court and meet him in his chambers, she would probably take it as an invitation to wrestle in the sheets. And Sheba would find it irresistable. Sheba lived for danger and excitement, and the opportunity for such an unknown, exciting experience would draw her like bees to honey. Even if she found her father repugnant, the idea of a midnight interlude with him would be powerful for her, powerful enough for her to show up, even if to just tell him no.
The result of that would make it look like house Zalan and the King were close to an alliance. The other large houses would take exception to that, and begin plans to drive a wedge between Damon Eram and Sheba. The smaller houses would increase their mercenary forces because of the activity, and that would heighten the tensions. It was an all-around perfect situation.
Keritanima had little else to do but make plans for those seven days. On the morning of the eighth day, the Chamberlain arrived with the morning meal, as had become the custom. But this time, he handed Keritanima a wax-stamped envelope. "His Majesty hopes you are well enough to attend court this day, Highness," he said simply.
"Is this a summons?" she asked, holding up the envelope.
"No, your Highness, that is a letter that was delivered to the Palace this morning by messenger. I'm afraid I don't know who sent it."
"Thank you, my Lord Chamberlain," she said absently, tapping the envelope in her hand as she pondered its contents. "I'm well enough to manage court. Tell my father I'll be there."
He nodded calmly and beckoned the servants to hurry with the setting up of breakfast, then took h
is leave. Keritanima followed Miranda and Azakar as they carried the meal into her bedroom, where Kalina and Binter waited for them, tapping the letter against her muzzle curiously. She sat down with the others and let Kalina take her pick of the morning's plates as she opened the letter and quickly scanned it. "Good news," she said, pausing to touch the Weave and sweep the area for unfriendly ears or unusual concentrations of magic on the Weave. She'd discovered that those magical concentrations were Priest spells, and it had been a simple task to learn how to disrupt them. "It's from Ulfan. He'll be ready."
"You expected him not to be?" Kalina asked.
"It was a big job I asked him to do, Kalina," she replied.
"He must have a code if he sent you a letter," Azakar noted.
Keritanima nodded. "We worked it out a long time ago," she replied. "This letter reads like it's from a young girl. It's full of flowery gushing, but the signals are there and in the proper order."
"That's one thing we don't have to worry about," Miranda mused. "What do you want to wear to court?"
"This," she said, pointing at the rather plain gray dress she was wearing.
Kalina frowned slightly. "Why wear that when you can wear something pretty?"
"Because father took it all, remember?" she said pointedly.
"Oh. I'm still not used to that."
"Keep your mind on what we're doing, Kalina," Keritanima grinned.
There was little fanfare regarding her return to court. She simply walked in as the courtiers stood in pockets and chatted idly. She was a bit late, but they hadn't told her to attend at any specific time, so her being late was of no consequence. Her father sat on his throne, speaking with some of his advisors, obviously not holding a formal audience at the moment. He looked right at her when she entered the Hall, but she didn't deign to meet that gaze. She simply melted from his sight and joined the first pocket of gossiping nobles she could.
The first day back in court was like a slap in her face. It was the same as she remembered, full of insincere simpering little sneaks out to better themselves at everyone else's expense. Damon Eram's court was a viper pit of rumors, insults, accusations, and alliances forged and broken in the same day. To a man or woman, they all congratulated her on her speedy recovery and wished her the best through bright smiles, but their scents told her that they'd wished she'd dropped dead on the Block. She found their insults tiresome and irritating, and when she would before resort to the Brat's vapidness to deflect such inane banter, all she could do now was stare at someone saying something she didn't like until he or she got uncomfortable enough to stop. Keritanima moved from group to group, listening to the current rumors and gossip, and aware that her father almost always kept his eyes on her. She didn't glance at him, didn't stare, barely acknowledged his presence. She wasn't the only Eram on the floor, either. Both Jenawalani and Veranika were attending court, wearing their expensive gowns and their ridiculously large jewels. Jenawalani glared at Keritanima every time their eyes met, but Veranika, Keritanima's youngest raccoon Wikuni sister, shied away from making eye contact with her, and tried to stay as far from the Crown Princess as she could. That was heartening. Veranika was a schemer, but she was much more timid than Jenawalani. Her schemes were more aligned with how well she could pad her future, for she felt that her chances to take the throne were slim. Veranika wouldn't engage in murder unless she was absolutely convinced she could get away with it. She wouldn't take chances, and in the dangerous world of intrigue, that meant that she rarely engaged in serious plots.
The Chamberlain rapped his staff of office on the floor smartly, causing all chatter to ebb off. "His Majesty, King Damon Eram, commands court to fall silent so formal audience can be conducted," he announced in a loud, calm voice.
They all fell silent and joined into groups on either side of the central aisle.
Damon Eram stood and adjusted his Royal robe a bit. "The crown has received word that Baron Elkess of Thistlethorn has passed away. He had no heir, so We hereby decree that his title, lands, and material worth be absorbed by the Crown."
That caused a bit of whispering. Elkess was a recluse, who rarely left his desmense. He also was one of the Houseless, a noble that belonged to no noble house. But he was rumored to be very, very rich, because he was an exceptionally gifted organizer and businessman. He had been old, a widower whose son and daughter had both died in a shipwreck some fifteen years past. Keritanima was quick enough to understand that Damon Eram had probably had Elkess prematurely sent on so that he could exercise his Royal privilege to reclaim the Baron's lands. And since he had no heir, his money and possessions also became property of the Crown.
Keritanima was mildly impressed. To pad his own pockets to fund his intrigue, Damon Eram was killing off his heirless nobles to annex their property. That was a rather clever way to work up some quick funding. And of course, nobody would be able to track it back to him. He was much too good for that.
She pondered that development as the King received some diplomat from the East, tuning out the flowery exchanges as she considered what changes she may need to make to her own plans to take into account the extra resources her father would have available.
"I'm sure that the Crown Princess has so much more worthwhile things to do than acknowledge the greeting of Ambassador Yorin of Tor," Damon Eram called loudly in a waspish voice.
Keritanima looked up and found herself looking at a young human with dark hair, an oily expression, and a very snappy gray waistcoat in the Wikuni style. "Actually I do, but this is where I guess I should be remarking that my world has become brighter for meeting you," she told the human with a whimsical, toothy grin, offering her hand for him to kiss.
"You will afford his Excellency proper respect!" Damon Eram boomed at her.
"I don't know...are you worth respecting, your Excellency?"
Yorin gaped at her a second, then he broke out into delighted laughter. "My mother would disagree with me, but I would have to say I am," he returned.
"I think I'll side with your mother. She's probably a better judge of character," Keritanima winked.
"Cease this insolence, daughter!" Damon Eram said in a strangled tone.
"Posh," Keritanima sniffed. "If you want to see insolence, father, I can certainly oblige you. Now go back to your toys and let me continue my discussion with His Excellency here."
The fur on Damon Eram's face instantly ruffled up, and he gripped his scepter like a mace for a moment. "Perhaps her Highness would like another lesson in manners," Damon Eram warned ominously.
"Perhaps his Majesty has the steel rod stuck too far up his--"
"Keritanima!" Damon Eram blasted, jumping to his feet.
Keritanima crossed her arms under her breasts, assumed an impatient pose, and stared at her father.
"I think you forget that nothing stops me from handling you in any way I please," he warned.
"I think you should get off of yourself and lighten up," she snorted. "I'm sure his Excellency realized I was making light."
"You will conduct yourself as a Crown Princess!" he shouted.
"I am," she said with a mild grin. "As the heir to the throne, it's expected for me to sometimes act outside of the shadow of the king. My style of governing will be different from yours. I'm merely displaying my individuality. It's called preparing for the mantle of leadership."
He gave her a strange look, then sat back down. Her indirect mention of taking his throne had had its intended effect. "I'll forgive your impertinence this time, but watch your mouth, daughter."
"Whatever," she returned, turning her back to him and returning to the crowd of court.
That exchange caused her to become something of a pariah among the other courtiers. Fearing her father's wrath, nobody wanted to talk to her for the rest of the day, so she simply stood by herself and used Sorcery to eavesdrop on the private conversations of others. It was a much more profitable enterprise after she began using Sorcery to listen to everyone else. She became
privy to any number of dirty secrets, plots, schemes, dalliances, and juicy tidbits. So many that she had to stop and think about things for nearly an hour, sitting on a chair far to one side, pondering the significance of many of the things she heard.
And in that pondering, a plan began to form. It was a simple plan, but it would give her father something to chase. He knew she was up to something. It would behoove her to let him think he knew what it was.
Something that would make him drop everything.
A word to a servant had Miranda before her with Binter some ten minutes later. Miranda was curious, it was all over her face. Calling her to court was something that Miranda hadn't expected. "You sent for me, Highness?" she asked curiously.
"I want you to send a message to a woman named Lizelle Sailmender," she said calmly. "She's a commoner who owns a trading business. Tell her that I'd be most pleased to meet her at the Dancing Swan inn tomorrow at noon."
Miranda gave her a very long, very uncertain look, but the calm assurance in Keritanima's eyes made her finally nod. "I think I know that name, Highness," she replied finally. "I'll send the message."
"Good. You're dismissed."
Miranda curtsied gracefully, as she was required to do when dealing with Keritanima in public.
Keritanima sat back down. She'd give her father something very interesting to chase. Something interesting indeed.
The Questing Game Page 63
