The Godspeaker Trilogy

by Karen Miller

  Dancing the hotas was her only respite from thought.

  Not every village and township in Arbat welcomed them, even though Duke Rudi, now riding with Rhian, told his people to ignore the prolate’s interdict and cleave to Eberg’s daughter, their lawful queen. In those places, faced with hostility that not even Dexterity and his miracles could overcome, for the chaplains called him “sorcerer ” and the people heeded them, the company rode on and did not dwell on what might have been.

  Elsewhere riots broke out between those who sided with Rhian and those whose obedience to Marlan and the clergy was greater than any loyalty to a duke or a girl who’d married the wrong man. The first time that happened, in the wool town of Nyngdon, Rhian wanted to intervene. Alasdair prevailed.

  “A single drop of blood spilled in your name will end this,” he said, voice low and urgent, his hand on her stallion’s reins. “The best we can do is ride on, swiftly, and let this turbulence die down. Things will be settled when we reach Kingseat.”

  It broke her heart to see the people fighting because of her. With a last plea for calm and a promise to serve them faithfully she led the company out of the town and did not weep until that night, in the dark and alone.

  But not everyone rejected them. Other towns and villages in Arbat welcomed her. So did many people in the duchy of Morvell, encouraged by the sight of their Duke Edward riding by her side and the miracles they witnessed with their own eyes.

  Rhian found comfort in that, and her progress continued.

  “Prolate, when will you put a stop to this madness?” demanded Duke Damwin. “The air is thick with tales of miracles, they’ve reached my people in Meercheq and now me. Listen to this !” He fumbled within his sleeve for a piece of folded paper, unfolded it, and read aloud.

  “‘… and the burning man said “Queen Rhian is God’s chosen monarch of Ethrea”’ … and this—this—‘… put his hands upon the stricken babe, and the babe recovered, and the man said, “I have done this in Queen Rhian’s name, that she might be known as the true queen of Ethrea” …’ And this, also! ‘I prayed God would throw down this wicked girl but instead a man I do not know burst into flames which did not consume him, and he said “Here is Rhian, your lawful queen”’.”

  As Damwin crumpled the paper, Kyrin added, “I’ve received word too. Marlan, I thought miracles were your business! By God, it seems to me we’re in need of one now!”

  Marlan stood with his back to them, staring out of the window in his palace library. In the desk drawer behind him sat the latest missive from Ven’Martin, who continued to follow Rhian through the countryside, documenting her every move and sending the reports by the swiftest messengers he could find. A ruinously expensive undertaking, but worth it. These carping dukes told him nothing new.

  “Prolate!” said Kyrin, perilously close to a shout. “Are you listening? The girl builds herself a following and many of your chaplains and venerables seem powerless to stop her. Indeed from what I can gather, chaplains and venerables are flocking to her cause! You must crush this rebellion against our authority! We don’t want this upheaval in either of our duchies! The garrisons of Hartshorn and Meercheq stand ready, as do Commander Idson and his men, and yet you do nothing . You owe us an explanation!”

  His shoulders tightened. I am your prolate, I owe you nothing. Have a care, Your Graces. The ice you tread is thin . He turned, his face schooled.

  “If you believe we can settle this with violence you are as beef-witted as you look, Your Grace.”

  “Beef-witted!” Kyrin surged forward. “I don’t take that kind of insult from anyone, not even a prolate. You—”

  “Step back.”

  Breathing heavily, Kyrin retreated one pace. “I’m warning you, Marlan, I’ll not stand idle while that bitch sets my duchy upon its ear! You may lack the courage to act but I don’t . I will—”

  “Hold your tongue before God shrivels it!”

  As Kyrin spluttered, Damwin cleared his throat. “Marlan, you must see our position. Rhian and her rabble lie a stone’s throw from our borders and interdict has not tamed the traitors hanging from her skirts. Your chaplains—your venerables …” He shook his head. “She has somehow suborned them.”

  I am betrayed by the very people I placed into power, by the venerables and chaplains who owe their pastoral authority to me, who owe me the silk vestments on their backs.

  “They will be dealt with,” he said coldly. “As I see fit.”

  “I suppose the reports of miracles could be exaggerated,” said Damwin, pathetically hopeful. “Country folk are notoriously simple. They see signs and omens in a bird’s nest. In a spill of grain.”

  Marlan nodded. “That is true.”

  Except he’d received word from horrified venerables in some townships also claiming to have witnessed miracles. They confirmed what Ven’Martin had already told him.

  But miracles are not real, they are fables and allegories. They are tales told to frighten children and keep weak fools in their place. A man on fire must burn to ash. The dead do not rise because God says they must. God is nothing but a superstitious need for safety in an unsafe world. These miracles are clever trickery on Rhian’s part, nothing more.

  He could not say so to these credulous dukes.

  “Your Graces, you have allowed emotion to cloud your wits. Indeed you stand in danger of being suborned yourselves. These things are not miracles, they are manifestations of evil.”

  “What are you saying?” demanded Kyrin.

  “Rhian has made an unholy alliance. She has bargained with men who are unknown by God. Not all countries of the world are pure in spirit, gentlemen. You must know, as I do, of lands with … unsavoury practices.”

  Kyrin’s cheeks paled. “Sorcery?”

  He shrugged. “It exists. God forbids it here, but God can be thwarted. In Tzhung-tzhungchai, for example …”

  “Rumours,” said Damwin, shuddering. “Sailors’ gossip. Nothing more.”

  He smiled. “You think so? I do not. The Tzhung emperor is an acquisitive man. It runs in his family. Since I was a boy the empire has doubled in size. And now I must tell you, Rhian has written to him …”

  The news struck them like an axe-blow. “She did what ?” said Kyrin. “When? And how long have you known?”

  Damwin’s colour was dangerously high. “Who else has she written to?”

  “I can’t answer that,” he told Damwin. “But the emperor’s ambassador has been my only visitor. The others seem content to wait and watch.”

  “And Lai told you she’d contacted Emperor Han? What game is she playing?” Kyrin fretted. “Good God, is she mad ?”

  No. She thinks to bring the great trading nations to her side. She thinks their sympathy will somehow make a difference.

  “Marlan, do you suggest Eberg’s brat has allied herself with the heathen Tzhung?” said Damwin. “Do you think she intends to surrender Ethrea to the emperor in return for his assistance in gaining her the throne?”

  Marlan opened the desk drawer, sifted through Ven’Martin’s letters, and withdrew one. “‘Eminence, there is a man in the princess’s party’,” he read aloud. “‘Dark-skinned and pale-eyed with hair inhuman blue. He seems most deeply in Princess Rhian’s trust. There is about him an air of danger.’”

  “The Tzhung have brown eyes,” said Damwin. “And their hair is black. No race of men has blue hair. It’s a mistake, or deliberate mischief.”

  He replaced the report in its drawer. “Neither. Rest assured the report is true. As for this man’s origins, who can say what they are? Have you travelled to Tzhung-tzhungchai? Do you know what mysteries lie in the heart of that land? Sorcery is powerful. Who knows the ravages it might wreak on human flesh.”

  “But the treaties,” Kyrin protested. “Emperor Han won’t risk the treaties. Or war with the other nations. Arbenia—Harbisland—they would never permit—”

  “We talk of conquest, Your Graces,” he pointed out. “There is little
a greedy man won’t risk if he believes the prize rich enough.”

  Damwin thudded his fist on the back of a nearby chair. “We need proof so we can take action, Marlan. What does Henrik Linfoi say? Has he made a full confession yet? What does he know of Alasdair’s dealings with Rhian? Our self-made king might have been a go-between for her and Emperor Han while residing in Kingseat. The bitch could’ve been planning this for months .”

  “That’s true,” said Kyrin. Then his eyes opened wide. “Good God! If sorcery’s involved Eberg and his sons might not have died naturally! She might have arranged it with help from duchy Linfoi and the Tzhung.”

  Marlan swallowed a sigh. These superstitious fools. Duchy Linfoi had plotted nothing, he knew that much from Henrik. No man hid the truth with his limbs pulled apart. Nor were Harley and Volant party to their dukes’ betrayal. As for Rhian, she was too weak to consider such direct action. But it cannot hurt my cause if Damwin and Kyrin continue to see conspiracy and demons in every shadowed corner .

  “God knows, Your Graces, Eberg’s brat seems capable of anything.”

  “We can’t let Rhian rampage about the countryside spreading heretical sorcery unchecked!” asked Damwin. “God will condemn us for it. We should have arrested her when we had the chance, before these blasphemous miracles began. We must ride against her now with our soldiers! Between the three of us we can raise some ten thousand swords. She has no hope of standing against such a force!”

  “And when she is dealt with we must deal with Emperor Han!” added Kyrin.

  Marlan felt his guts twist with frustration. Prating, windblown, short-sighted idiots. They each want the crown so badly they cannot think past its golden lustre .

  “God have mercy, Damwin. Have you forgotten every word I’ve said? Would you turn Rhian into a martyr? Lay hands on her in sight of the common people whose childish wits are so easily addled and who have not blood in their veins, but rivers of sticky sentiment?” He shifted his contemptuous stare. “And you, Kyrin. You would have us break treaty with Tzhung-tzhungchai by offering them violence, or denying them the ship-rights and other concessions they’ve enjoyed for centuries? If so you’d bring down on our heads the wrath of every treatied nation, merely because we suspect their interference!”

  “But we can’t do nothing!” cried Damwin, incensed. “You are Prolate of Ethrea and caretaker of the kingdom. This business touches upon both sacred authorities. Eberg’s brat is not only undermining the Crown, she challenges the very foundations of the Church whose powers her father diminished in his rule! How can you stand there and not wish to see her broken?”

  Marlan bared his teeth in a smile. “Did I say I don’t wish to see her broken? I wish to see her broken into one hundred bleeding pieces. And I will . In the time and place and manner of my choosing.”

  “How?” said Damwin, standing his ground. “If you won’t permit us to send soldiers against her? How do you hope to throw this bitch down?”

  He laid light fingers upon the back of his tall chair. “By letting her believe I cannot stand against her. You must have heard the saying: ‘Give a man sufficient rope and he will helpfully hang himself’? I feel it can be applied equally to a woman.”

  “What does that mean?” said Kyrin. “You’re going to let her ride freely into duchy Kingseat? Her family’s stronghold where even the rocks and stones would sing her praises if God was foolish enough to give them tongues?”

  He nodded. “I am.”

  “Then you’re a fool, Marlan!”

  “Careful, Kyrin,” Marlan said softly. “Or do you think a duke is above reprisal?”

  Kyrin flushed. “I only meant—”

  “I know what you meant. You’re wrong. In duchy Kingseat Rhian will feel herself safe. In your duchies, gentlemen, she will be on her guard, if she elects even to set foot in them. She might yet finish her journey by river. Either way her guard will relax when she comes into Kingseat and finds not a single hand raised against her. It is then I will strike.”

  “Strike?” said Damwin. “Strike when? Strike how? Marlan, we are the only two dukes who’ve stood beside you. You owe us—”

  “Nothing . The debt is yours. Your duchies will be raised high in Ethrea as the true supporters of God’s Living Flame.” Marlan tightened his grip on the chair and fixed the dukes with his coldest stare. “Be satisfied with that. Or God will turn his face from you and darkness will claim you as it claimed those who stood against Rollin in those bleak times we thought were left behind.”

  “Very well,” said Damwin curtly, after a moment.

  Was he truly cowed, Marlan wondered, or only biding his time? It didn’t matter, so long as his stupidity was contained until it could damage only himself.

  “It’s not that we doubt you,” said Kyrin. “You are God’s prolate. But as dukes of Ethrea, men whose families are entrusted with so much, it would ease our concerns if you could share—”

  “No,” said Marlan. “This is my burden, not yours. Do you think I take lightly the thought of disciplining a princess? I loved her father. I have known her since she was born. The thought that she likely now consorts with sorcerers, has perhaps sold Ethrea to a nation like Tzhung-tzhungchai, my heart bleeds within my breast. I have failed her somehow. It can only be that. This matter is between us. The dukes of Ethrea will stand aside.”

  Defeated, neatly whipped to heel, Kyrin nodded. “Very well, Eminence. We will follow your lead.”

  “And in so doing earn God’s love,” said Marlan. “Now I feel the time has come for you both to return to your duchies. I will send word to you once Rhian has crossed into Kingseat. Then you can raise your garrisons against her by cutting off her means of escape.” He smiled. “And we shall have her … and you shall see her thrown down.”

  But his smile faded soon enough after the dukes had withdrawn. Turning again to the window, his gaze fixed unseeing upon the gardens below and the criss-crossing of chaplains and venerables about their divine business, the conversation just past played and replayed in his mind.

  Rhian proves more troublesome than ever I anticipated. This business of miracles … she is ingenious in her deceits. Whether she works alone or with the Tzhung Emperor, could it be possible Damwin and Kyrin are right? Could I be mistaken, letting her journey continue?

  Or should I find a swifter, simpler solution …

  For Zandakar, the journey back to Kingseat woke memories of the time he rode with his mother and Raklion warlord across the wild face of Mijak with the chastened warlords who had dared to defy the god in Mijak’s Heart, and paid a terrible price for their wicked disobedience. The people of Mijak had shouted to see their warlord and their warlord’s son. They did not shout to see Hekat for she was not the empress then. But he remembered the shouting of the people when she was, and rode so proud and bold among them.

  Rhian is an empress. She is Empress of Ethrea.

  In those dead days it was the godspeakers and their sacrifices that showed Mijak’s people they were in the god’s eye. Here in Ethrea that was Dexterity’s doing.

  He said their god is silent but it is shouting now. Their god shouts in the sunshine, it shouts with healing miracles, Dexterity is in his god’s eye even though he sheds no blood.

  It was very strange. Mijak’s god did not speak through healing but through death. Mijak’s god did not speak to him, his heart stayed silent. He had promised Dexterity no more blood.

  If I break my promise he will tell my secret.

  Like the time before Raklion warlord, when Mijak’s seven warlords fought and killed among themselves, so was Ethrea in danger of tearing itself to pieces. If Rhian knew the truth of him, if Alasdair king and her council of dukes knew Mijak was coming, they would kill him without a thought. When Dexterity first found him he had wanted to die. Would he care now if life was taken from him?

  Yes. I would care.

  Even with Lilit dead, even though he was banished, even though the god was stone silent in his heart, he did not wi
sh to lose his life.

  Why this is true the god must tell me. I do not know. I wish I wished to die.

  He worried for Dexterity, the toymaker was not born a godspeaker. His golden god’s power scoured him so he had to sleep in the peddler’s van when he was not making miracles. One of the dukes’ men drove it then, or Ursa if she did not need to sit with Dexterity and pour strengthening elixirs into his mouth.

  He was not able to sit with Dexterity, he was warlord of Rhian’s bodyguards. No. Not warlord, he was their shell-leader. Rhian’s bodyguards were his shell. Every highsun he trained them, they were not warriors, these soldiers chosen by the dukes. The least of his warhost would have killed them in a heartbeat but they were improving. Too slowly ever to save themselves from Mijak’s warhost, but if a man of Ethrea thought to bare a blade near Rhian that man would soon die screaming in his blood.

  For safety they did not sleep in buildings, they camped on open ground or by the side of rough roads. Each newsun and lowsun he danced the hotas with Rhian. She was skilful now, she was sleek and quick. If she had learned them as a child she would be as fierce as Yuma, if she’d had as fierce a heart. Rhian was not fierce, like Lilit she was gentle. He worried she did not have a fierce, killing heart.

  Their training sessions were his favourite part of the day. Dancing hotas with Rhian he felt at peace. Rhian had danced into his hollow heart, where there had been Lilit now there was Rhian.

  But he must never tell her that.

  In between the hotas there was the travelling. He loved his horse he had called Didijik. He felt like himself again, riding a horse. He felt like a warrior, like a warlord, like Zandakar.

  The lowsun before they crossed the border into duchy Hartshorn they camped at the edge of a tangled woodland. He trained his shell even harder than other times. Rhian was nervous crossing into that place. Alasdair king was nervous, the dukes were nervous also. Hartshorn’s duke was an enemy. So was the Duke of Meercheq.