The Way of Light

by Storm Constantine

  ‘Why?’ Valraven demanded. ‘What in Madragore’s name is going on? Explain now or, Mewtish governor or not, I’ll have you thrown into The Skiterings. Let the torturers convince you to speak.’

  Maycarpe sighed long and deep through his nose. ‘I understand your anger, Val. This is most difficult for us. It concerns your heritage.’

  ‘What has that to do with you?’

  ‘Quite a lot. The Dragon Heir will be of great significance in the near future. Know only that you have my loyal support, and that of Merlan. Last year, we worked with Khaster Leckery, who now calls himself Taropat, to try and help you. Both of us underestimated Taropat’s antagonism towards you and your family.’

  ‘I can’t believe Khaster would do anything for my benefit. What exactly do you mean?’

  ‘We kept Taropat in ignorance of our true aims,’ Maycarpe said. ‘When he discovered them, he fled in fury.’

  ‘Aims? What are they?’

  ‘To restore your power in Caradore,’ Merlan said. ‘To restore the power of the Sea Dragon Heir. When the Malagash princes begin to fight, we believe Caradore can break free of the empire.’

  Valraven stared at both men in disbelief. ‘I’m flattered you are so concerned for my future,’ he said, ‘but still mystified as to why you decided to act in this way without telling me. It makes no sense. None of this makes sense. It sounds like a fantasy.’

  Merlan and Maycarpe stared at one another for a moment, then Maycarpe said, ‘Last year, we recovered an ancient artefact with unusual properties. Taropat’s skills helped us locate it.’

  ‘An artefact,’ Valraven said flatly. ‘What is it, a magical sword, a flying carpet, a speaking mirror?’

  ‘Nothing like that,’ said Merlan.

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it. In fact, I don’t care what it is.’

  ‘Well, you should,’ Maycarpe said. ‘It is the Crown of Silence and can be worn only by the True King.

  Valraven turned on Maycarpe. ‘Darris, enough of this rubbish. You are Magravandian, a high-ranking figure in the political arena. Why should you care about my country’s emancipation? There must more to this than you are telling me.’

  ‘There is,’ Maycarpe agreed. He took a breath. ‘It is our belief that you are the True King.’

  Valraven uttered a short shocked laugh without humour. ‘I am what?’

  ‘You heard,’ Merlan said.

  ‘Now I know you are both completely deluded!’ Valraven said. ‘Why, in Madragore’s name, have you picked me to hang your dreams on?’

  ‘Make your judgements once you’re aware of all the facts,’ Maycarpe said. ‘I care about the world, Val. If you like, I’m a traitor to my emperor. And I am not alone. Others share my beliefs, throughout the empire. Over the years, as Leonid failed and his sons grew to power, all eyes turned inexorably towards you as the only fit person to succeed him. Does this explanation satisfy you?’

  ‘Completely,’ Valraven said sarcastically. ‘You have a kingdom in your minds without a king and seek desperately to make one. You would have been wise to inform me of your ambitions earlier. I will not risk my family’s safety by becoming a traitor myself. It is a futile venture and would end only with the execution of all conspirators. What is wrong with you? Are you blind to reality?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Maycarpe responded coolly. ‘If anyone is blind, it is not us.’

  Valraven ignored the implication in his words. ‘Your delusions are interesting,’ he said, ‘as manifestations of the fear and uncertainty that grips every Magravandian citizen. Unfortunately, I have no time to discuss it.’ He turned to Merlan. ‘I want you to help retrieve Ren and Elly. Now. I’m sending a company of Splendifers to Caradore tomorrow and trust that Lord Maycarpe, seeing as he’s such a champion of Caradore, will give you leave to go with them. If you have any idea where your insane brother might go, follow him. Cos, presumably. Do not make contact with my family or your own. I don’t want to see your face again until you stand before me with Ren. If you fail, I will kill you. Do you understand this?’

  Merlan replied stonily. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are both fools,’ Valraven said. ‘I do not need your help, nor will I become part of some mystical fairy tale you’re obsessed with. You people should come out of your smoke-filled wizards’ towers and face reality occasionally.’

  ‘You raised Foy, the Sea Dragon Queen!’ Merlan cried. ‘How can you call that a fairy tale?’

  ‘I did not raise Foy,’ Valraven replied. ‘I laid her to rest. The time of dragons is done. This is the time of humanity, and we must solve our own dilemmas.’ He bowed curtly. ‘Good day to you, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy the coronation.’

  Gastern’s high-ceilinged rooms were filled with courtiers, all talking at once and dithering around. Pieces of extravagant costumes were draped over nearly every surface, along with ceremonial weapons. A group of musicians played a merry tune in a corner of the room, the sound virtually drowned out by the babble of excited voices. Valraven attempted to compose himself at the threshold, feeling dazed. Rufus Lorca was already present and came over directly when he saw his commanding officer. His face showed concern. ‘Is everything all right, sir?’

  Valraven nodded shortly, forcefully dispelling the frown he could feel pulling at his brow. ‘It will be dealt with.’ He smiled, hoping it would not appear a rictus. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmingly tired. This day was presaged to be stressful enough, without the news of Ren and Elly’s kidnap and the revelations about Maycarpe and Merlan’s clandestine schemes. None of it had really sunk in. He could not think about it.

  ‘Valraven,’ called Prince Gastern, arms outstretched as a bevy of tailors sewed him into his ceremonial robes, ‘is everything prepared to your satisfaction?’

  ‘Yes, your mightiness,’ Valraven replied. ‘You may feel safe in the arms of the Splendifers.’

  Gastern jerked his neck, as if his collar was too tight. ‘I hope you’re right.’ He gestured imperiously to his valet, who came forward with a goblet. It would not contain wine, but an herbal aperitif. Gastern did not consume liquor.

  Shortly before eleven o’clock, Tatrini made a grand entrance into her son’s chambers, accompanied by Princess Rinata and Prince Linnard. This was a departure from tradition, as women and children generally kept to their own apartments. Tatrini had made many changes in the palace. Grudgingly, Valraven had to admit this was an improvement, but he was never convinced Tatrini acted through altruism or the desire to improve the lot of all females. Still, on this occasion, Valraven was relieved to see her. After she’d greeted her son and upbraided his dressers on minor matters, Valraven signalled he wished to speak to her. They would have only a few moments to themselves before the entourage began its ceremonial trek to the cathedral.

  Tatrini came to the refreshments table, where the remains of a sumptuous breakfast lay scattered over the cloth. Valraven concentrated on pouring her a hot beverage spiced with merlac. He smiled at her in a manner that would suggest they were merely exchanging small talk. ‘There has been a development,’ he said through his smile. ‘It seems you and Ren were correct in your fears. Today, I received news from home that Ren and Elly have been kidnapped.’

  Tatrini blinked, blank-faced, and then expelled a trilling laugh, touching Valraven’s arm as if he’d just made a witty remark. ‘This is terrible,’ she said, although grinning convincingly. ‘Do you know by whom?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes. A countryman of mine, Khaster Leckery. Merlan’s brother.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We must assume he was after Rav. Khaster is disaffected with both your dynasty and mine. I’m sure it’s a personal matter and nothing to do with national security.’

  ‘Perhaps so, but Rav’s personal security must be increased to ensure his safety.’

  ‘I have seen to it, although Khaster must be on his way to Cos by now.’

  ‘Cos?’

  ‘There are indications Ashalan�
��s sister is involved.’

  Tatrini rolled her eyes. ‘That woman is a menace. She lacks the poise of true breeding. Sometimes, I suspect King Gorlache was not her father. What action have you taken?’

  ‘Tomorrow, I will send Splendifers to Caradore, and trust they can track Khaster to Cos.’

  ‘Ashalan will help. You must speak to him.’

  Valraven hesitated. ‘I prefer to keep this matter as private as possible.’

  ‘I’m sure you can rely on his discretion.’ Tatrini took a sip of her drink. ‘Allow me to inform him.’

  Tatrini believed Ashalan was utterly her creature. Valraven wasn’t convinced of this, but was sure the man feared the empress enough not to risk upsetting her. She had helped him regain his throne, albeit under the banner of Magravandias, but he would be aware that privilege could easily be withdrawn.

  ‘Mother!’ Gastern called. ‘I am ready.’

  Tatrini turned languidly from the table. ‘Good. I see we are running a little late.’ She glanced back at Valraven. ‘We will speak later.’

  ‘Madamc’

  ‘What is it, Val?’

  ‘Tayven Hirantel. He may be able to assist us.’

  Tatrini gave Valraven a hard stare. ‘A dubious assistance, I feel, but do what you must.’

  ‘I would like to take him with me to Caradore.’

  ‘Impossible,’ said Tatrini. ‘You must interview him at his residence.’ She put down her cup. ‘Hirantel is a terrorist himself. He cannot be allowed his freedom. I have the welfare of the new emperor at heart.’

  Lies, thought Valraven, falsehood and half truths. Did anyone in this city ever speak the truth?

  The short trip to the cathedral was naturally a far more joyous occasion than the last journey of Leonid a few weeks before. Also, it was less encumbered by grim ceremonials. The royal company assembled on the Parade Ground, but this was no regimented affair with dolorous prayers and slow, silent movements. In fact, it was virtually chaos. When Gastern emerged from the palace onto the balcony and descended the stairs, the gathered courtiers and foreigners surged forward, cheering and throwing flower petals. The air was full of swirling blooms. Today, the skies were clear and the sun shone benignly upon the trees, which were gowned in the green mist of new growth and the pink and white confections of blossom. Bells were ringing madly all over Magrast. Valraven felt the hairs on his skin rise. It was impossible not to be affected by the giddy tide of excitement, which was perhaps the city’s reaction to the fear, anxiety and uncertainty of the previous weeks. Spring had come. Gastern was not greatly loved in Magrast, but what he represented was welcomed. Later, people might regret their well-wishes, but for today everyone was in an exhilarated and vivacious mood.

  There were no fire mages to bring a dour note to the proceedings, as they had already proceeded to the cathedral, and the Splendifers, as well as the regular army, wore their finest, most glittering livery. The Splendifers were truly the most excellent of Magravandias’ young bravos, smiles flashing whitely in their handsome faces. Their horses, which were prancing on nervous hooves, were caparisoned with garlands of flowers and bells. The gilded imperial carriage was festooned with ribbons and everyone present was dressed in bright, vibrant colours, rather than the usual dark reds and crimsons of formal occasions. Gastern, for a change, looked splendid, and the smile on the face of his wife made her appear more comely than usual. Despite the gravity of the impending ceremony, both Gastern and Rinata were relaxed and happy. Valraven reflected that if they were only different people, if smiles and free movement were an intrinsic part of their personalities, the future might be very different and there would be no need for doubt and fear.

  At Tatrini’s suggestion, the Church had incorporated some new material into the coronation ceremony, so that Rinata would be crowned as empress after her husband. Tatrini herself had never been officially crowned, but as she was so popular with the people, Mordryn had clearly seen the sense of elevating the emperor’s wife’s position. It had not been lost on the Church that Tatrini had swayed public opinion in moments of crisis, such as when Leonid’s campaigns abroad had brought financial hardship to the populace. Perhaps Rinata, groomed by experts from Jessapur in etiquette and couture, could become a first lady to inspire a similar devotion. It was unlikely, however, that she would be allowed to eclipse Tatrini, who would no longer possess the title empress, but be known as the Grand Queen Mother. Valraven knew Tatrini would never really hand over her reins of power.

  Gastern and Rinata rode through the city streets in their golden, open carriage, like a prince and princess from a fairy-tale. All the guests had gone before them to take their seats in the cathedral. The streets were congested with citizens, throwing flowers and singing patriotic songs. The gilded couple smiled and waved, Rinata weighed down beneath a festoon of bouquets that spilled over her lap and covered the floor of the carriage. Prince Linnard rode with his grandmother in a carriage behind and Valraven, riding just after, noticed how many of the women in the crowd put their hands together in a gesture of prayer as they gazed upon the erstwhile empress. She looked beautiful, stately and regal, the perfect lines of her neck and upper breast displayed by a discreetly low-necked dark gold gown. Her abundant hair shone like gold itself, and was wound with strings of pearls and white buds. She must be in her mid-fifties by now, but appeared far younger. Beside her, Linnard, who was unable to emulate the happy, carefree mien of his parents, looked aged in comparison.

  Gastern’s brothers, along with their wives and children, rode in four carriages behind Tatrini and the Splendifers. They all appeared to be in good spirits, even though two of them might be gritting their teeth throughout the coronation itself. Again at Tatrini’s suggestion, Rav had been allowed to travel with Prince Leo. Garante rode on a magnificent chestnut gelding just behind their carriage.

  The bells of the cathedral were a cacophony, so loud Valraven had to shout to make himself heard to his men. People laughed and wept at the roadside. They waved flags and blew kisses with both hands to the emperor-to-be. Gastern alighted from the carriage and held out his arm to his wife. A great cheer went up. Gastern turned to the crowd and waved, clearly affected deeply by their adulation. Valraven thought Gastern might go up to some of the people and address them personally, and was prepared to intervene, but perhaps Rinata tweaked Gastern’s elbow, for he turned his face to the cathedral, adopted a more serious expression, and began to walk slowly towards the towering entrance.

  A new emperor had come, a new sun king. But his radiance might set too soon, by others’ designs or his own mistakes.

  By the time Valraven could excuse himself from the post coronation festivities, it was past mid-night. He felt as if he were running on pure tension, but still ordered his groom to saddle his horse to make ready for a journey. He wanted to ride to Cawmonel that night; his instinct told him that Tayven Hirantel might well disappear fairly soon. He should not have mentioned his interest in Tayven to Tatrini, for it was clear she had plans for him of her own.

  The Grand Queen Mother had lost no time in speaking to King Ashalan. That very afternoon, she had summoned Valraven to her side at the feast and told him that Ashalan would send agents of his own into The Rhyye the moment he reached Tarnax. ‘He is most embarrassed,’ Tatrini said. ‘I made sure of that.’ She touched Valraven’s hands lightly. ‘You must not worry, Dragon Lord. I’m sure you won’t need to go to Cos yourself. Ren and Elly will be returned to us very soon. Ashalan will make sure of it, for he fears my displeasure.’

  Valraven thought that Helayna was quite capable of outwitting her brother or any of his agents, but merely inclined his head. ‘Thank you, your grace.’

  ‘By all means, go home and console your sisters,’ Tatrini said. ‘You’ve worked hard these last weeks and deserve a rest.’

  Properly, it was Gastern’s place to give him leave, and no doubt the new emperor would want to have his General in Chief close to him over the next few
weeks, but Valraven also knew Gastern would not go against his mother’s wishes.

  ‘I will order Rufus Lorca, who is a fine Splendifer, to remain at the emperor’s side,’ Valraven said. ‘I will not leave him unprotected.’

  ‘I know you won’t,’ Tatrini said. ‘I had no need to enquire.’

  Now, as Valraven’s horse galloped through the night, the Dragon Lord wondered what he would do at Cawmonel. If he took Hirantel away with him, Tatrini would know he was responsible, but who else knew the hideouts of the Cossic resistance like Tayven? He could go against the Queen Mother’s wishes, of course, then return Hirantel safely to Magrast, thereby proving he was capable of keeping a prisoner. However, he knew Tayven was quite capable of slipping away from him in Cos. Valraven did not underestimate him. But he owed it to Varencienne, who had stood by him loyally, despite the fact there was no passion between them, and Elly, who was as innocent as her namesake had been, to do everything in his power to rescue them. How dare Khaster do this? What did he seek to prove or achieve? Was his hatred of the Malagashes and the Palindrakes so strong he would kill or torture to vent his anger? Valraven knew, in his heart, that Khaster would be far from impressed by Ellony’s name. The rest of the Leckerys had been flattered by Varencienne’s choice, but Khaster would see it as an insult to his sister’s memory. It would infuriate him further. There might be little time to save Ren and Elly, if indeed it was not too late.

  Tayven was asleep when Valraven was let into his chambers. At once, he awoke, crying, ‘What has happened?’ Perhaps he feared Gastern was dead and that his own demise was imminent.

  ‘The coronation went as planned,’ Valraven said. ‘Order is ostensibly restored to Magravandias, but the matter I am here to discuss is something else entirely.’

  Tayven got out of bed and shrugged himself into a soft dressing gown of white lamb’s wool. His eyes looked puffy from sleep. ‘Then tell me of it.’

  Valraven did so, as briefly as possible. At the end of the story, he said, ‘Do you know where he’d go, Tayven? Can you give me precise directions?’