Chapter Seventeen: He Who Wields
It had been a long time since Evessa had been in the King’s royal apartments. It had, in fact, been years, when Queen Eldella still lived in the Palace of Fenngaard. Back then it had been a bright place filled with flowers, puppies, soft cushions and magnificent works of art. In his wife's absence the King had not so much made changes as he had removed any sign of the Queen. The rooms now resembled barracks rather than a royal apartment. They were neat, utilitarian, bereft of any character beyond the necessary hard wooden furnishings with empty grey walls.
Evessa sat stiffly on one of the wooden chairs whilst the King stood away from her looking out of his window at the unparalleled view which he had of the city below. He'd summoned her about an hour ago, for what she knew not because few words had been spoken. She told him that the riots in the city had been subdued and that the spider spears had assumed full control of security for the first pillar. The silver claw legion had left along with the fleet, and now they were alone.
“Have I sent him to his death?” the King asked suddenly.
“Who, My King?” said Evessa rising from her chair.
“My first born son, my heir, have I sent him to his doom do you think?” he asked again.
“No Corul”, she said, using his true name. Alone like this she felt that the formality could be assuaged for now, she'd been there when he was born after all. The formality between them was, well it was naught more than formality. “He could not be safer. There are no foes who could overcome the might of the company he travels with.”
He sighed at her words. She longed to hold him, to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, longed for so much but acted on so little.
“I have been uneasy of late”, he confided.
“That is natural, these are tumultuous times. Such decisions must lie heavily even upon the mind of a king.”
“My ultimate grandsire was not afflicted with doubt”, he said morosely
“That is not true”, Evessa objected.
“No?” queried the King.
“No”, she said, “you forget that I was on his Silent Council as well as yours. Quite rightly is he painted as the father of this kingdom but he was a dream nonetheless, a dream who doubted himself, a dream who worried about his actions just as you do.”
“Yet he triumphed”, said the King
“As you will”, she said. The lie tasted bitter in her mouth. What do you do when you swear too many oaths, when your promises start to contradict each other? Do you swear a final promise to yourself, she thought, discounting all others? The King fell silent again.
“How is the Sentinel?” the King asked finally. He seemed greatly concerned by Mortiune’s absence, missing more than his counsel but also his ability to dream weave she suspected.
“The same”, she replied wishing she could have lied again, but that was a truth he would have known in short order.
“Well, I have a kingdom to run”, said the King turning and walking to the door. Evessa Tremaine followed him, out the door and down a corridor on the walls of which hung the likenesses of the previous three kings, Fenn, Lor and Dray. As soon as they walked into the Hall of Providence she sensed that something was wrong. If the King did as well he did not show it, his step did not falter as he walked the long walk to the Nested Throne. Evessa had to hurry to keep up with his strident march.
The Hall was empty and cold. There should have been hundreds of people here, the elite of the kingdom, palace functionaries, courtiers and messengers. But only the silver claws were there, the two hundred who remained standing in a ring around the throne. All five doors to the hall were closed. The silence was thick and heavy and even the ravens in the rafters above seemed subdued.
The silver claws bowed and parted to allow the King and the Witch-Maker through and the King had no sooner sat down when one of the huge doors opened. But it was no messenger who entered, no diplomat, no servant. In scuttled the Arachnid King, flanked by a column of spider spears.
Beyond the Dream Page 38