The Godspeaker Trilogy

by Karen Miller

  When he was finished, Ursa stared at him, a rolled-up linen bandage dangling unheeded from her fingers. “If I didn't know you for an honest, sober man, I'd call you a drunk liar, Jones.”

  He shuddered again. “Oh, Ursa, it was dreadful. How is it possible? Stone creatures can't come to life!”

  “And neither can men walk invisible through the streets, but you said that witch-man hid you in the wind ,” she retorted. “And then there's you, isn't there? Willy-nilly bursting into flames. Convincing that priest Vortka to side with us. I wouldn't call that usual .” Swiftly she bandaged his hand, and pinned it secure. “There now. Keep it wrapped and don't get it wet. I'll look at it again the day after tomorrow.”

  “All right. Ursa—”

  “Jones, I don't know what to make of it. We'll just have to have faith, won't we, that whatever Zandakar is, whatever he can do, it's with God's blessing.”

  “If that's the case, why do you still call him a heathen?”

  She grimaced. “Because he is a heathen, Jones. But that's not to say he can't have his uses.”

  Though he was so unsettled, and his hand pained him again, he laughed. “Oh, Ursa .”

  Her lips twitched, but she repressed the smile and stood. “I've a colicky baby to visit. Tell Her Majesty you and Zandakar are fine, and I'll see her myself this afternoon. In the meantime, if that hand pains you out of the ordinary come find me at once.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I will, Ursa. Thank you.”

  They left his chamber together but then parted company, and he made his way down to the privy garden, and Rhian. She was standing in her favourite place at the edge of the castle grounds. From there it was possible to see all of Kingseat township and harbour, out across the restless ocean to the distant horizon. Hearing his approach, she turned. The scratched and salt-stained leathers she wore creaked, complaining.

  “Morning, Your Majesty,” he greeted her. “Ursa's regrets, but she's seeing a sick baby that couldn't wait. I'm to tell you Zandakar's fine, and so am I.”

  “Your burned hand?”

  “Oh, it's more singed than burned,” he said, sounding far more cheerful than he felt. “Don't fret. I'll mend.”

  Rhian's strained expression eased. “I'm pleased to hear it. How can I help you?”

  “Majesty, I serve at your pleasure.”

  She swung round to stare at the harbour and ocean again. “I fear there's precious little pleasure in it, Dexterity.”

  She sounded brittle, and who could blame her? If they were still on the road he might have risked a comforting touch, but this was Kingseat, and she was the queen.

  “How is His Majesty, this morning?”

  She shrugged. “Well enough. He's arranging a council meeting at the moment. My husband's a prodigious organiser, Dexterity. His eye for detail surpasses that of my father, and I'd not thought ever to say such a thing.”

  “Then it's a blessing we have him.”

  “Indeed,” she agreed. “It seems I'm surrounded by useful men.”

  Behind her back, Dexterity pulled a face. Useful men who plague you, and chafe at your authority . But he didn't say it. The observation might be counted impertinent.

  “For example, that Zandakar,” she continued. “Does he not daily prove to be a man of surprises?”

  “Yes, indeed,” he said carefully. “God knew what he was doing when he sent Zandakar to us.”

  “Did he? I wonder.”

  Dexterity hesitated, then joined Rhian in staring at the sun-dappled harbour, where the official skiffs darted about their business.

  “When you've a moment to think of it, you should ask Zandakar about protecting our port from Mijak,” he said. “When he and I were at the markets, he had some things to say.”

  In profile, Rhian's face was pale, her expression remote. “Frightening things, I've no doubt.”

  “Very. Although…perhaps there'll be no need.”

  She glanced at him. “The armada?”

  “As you say. It's likely our best hope.”

  “If I can make it happen.”

  “You sounded confident enough last night.”

  “Did I?” she said, with another sideways glance. “You don't think I sounded…frightened?”

  “Not at all,” he said, startled. “I was amazed by your courage and self-possession.”

  “Really?” Her lips quirked in a very small, brief smile. “I was terrified.”

  Dexterity realised then she didn't need a formal courtier wrapped up in protocol, she needed a shoulder to lean on. She needed her toymaker. “If that's true, Rhian, I'm amazed all over again. And I doubt I was the only one. I think the emperor was most impressed.”

  “Han,” she said, and now her voice was much darker. “Like Sun-dao, a witch-man.”

  He considered that. “A friend also, I think. His methods might be high-handed and his attitude arrogant beyond bearing, but he has helped us. And we need him.”

  “More's the pity.” With a shallow sigh, she folded her arms. “So, Dexterity. Last night's tale of your Icthian adventures made for an exciting bed-time story…but I think now you should tell me the rest of what happened in Jatharuj.”

  Oh dear. “Majesty? I don't—”

  “Oh yes you do,” she retorted. “Don't play games, Mister Jones. Don't treat me like a fool.”

  She was far from a fool. Not only was she her father's daughter, but the past long weeks had honed her instincts to a lethal edge.

  He sighed. “It's true, I did leave out one detail of our adventure.”

  “And why would you do that?” she said, rounding on him. “After all we've been through, why would you lie?”

  “I didn't lie!” he protested. “I just didn't tell you everything. It's not my place to tell you.”

  “Let me guess,” she said wryly. “It's Zandakar's?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at the harbour again. “Then I suppose I should ask him.”

  “That would be best,” he said, swallowing his relief.

  Her sidelong glance this time was part irritation, part amusement. “I'd not attempt joining an acting troupe if I were you, Dexterity. Whatever you're feeling flies like a flag in your voice.”

  He had to smile. “Hettie used to say the same thing. She used to say, ‘What a blessing you're an honest craftsman, my love. You couldn't hoodwink a customer if your life depended on it.’”

  “Hettie…” Rhian sighed. “She said nothing beyond that you should go with Zandakar to Icthia?”

  “Not a word.”

  “That's a pity.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, heartfelt. Then, after a moment added, “Rhian, did you think we'd betrayed you? Me and Zandakar?”

  Hot colour flooded her cheeks. “If I say yes, will you despise me? Will you feel betrayed, that I could doubt your loyalty a second time?”

  He felt a pain, deep in his chest. “Not despise , but I'll admit to disappointment.”

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't want to doubt you. Most of me didn't doubt you. But since the boys died I'm finding trust is something that's easily misplaced. If it's any consolation, I didn't doubt you for long.”

  Because they were alone, he put his hand on her shoulder. “I will never betray you, Rhian.”

  Smiling, she pressed her palm to his bearded cheek. “You know, Dexterity, I am so very sorry you lost your toy shop. When this is over we must arrange a new one for you.”

  When this is over I'll be lucky if I'm not dead . But he didn't say it. Melancholy was too close to Rhian's surface, these days, for that kind of teasing.

  He put a proper distance between them. “Zandakar won't betray you either, you know.”

  “Does that mean you think he'll tell me what happened in Jatharuj?”

  “Yes.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Oh, Rhian,” he said sadly. “He'd die for you without a second thought. Don't be a coy miss, and pretend not to know it.”

  Her
face went blank. “I don't—” She released a sharp breath. “I have never encouraged him. I'm the queen. I'm married.”

  “It's not that simple. You danced into his heart long before we reached Linfoi.”

  “I didn't! I was friendly, nothing more!”

  “Sometimes it doesn't take more,” he said, still sad. “Hettie smiled at me once and I was lost to her forever.”

  “I love Alasdair! Mister Jones, you're talking nonsense !”

  He sighed. “Majesty, you're an uncommon young woman. You've a sharp intellect, amazing courage, you're strong and proud and generous and quite beautiful. Not yet at your majority, and look what you've achieved. I've no doubt Ethrea's history will name an age after you. Speaking for myself, I am humbled to know you. But that's not to say you don't need guiding now and then. In this matter, be guided .”

  Now her cheeks were flushed with temper. “And if you're right, what of it? What do you suggest I do? It might make things easier for everyone if I were to banish Zandakar from court, but I can't do that, can I? We need him. I need him.”

  “You can need him, and use him for the good of Ethrea, and still have a care.”

  She flinched. “That would make me cruel.”

  “All monarchs are cruel, Rhian. Ruling is a cruel business, even in a kingdom as kindly as Ethrea.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “And you think me capable of cruelty?”

  “You'd have stood by and let Sun-dao destroy Jatharuj,” he said. “If that's not cruel, Rhian, I don't know what is.”

  “Well,” she said at last, after a long silence, and turned her attention back to the harbour. “I think I've detained you long enough, Mister Jones. I'll see you in the council meeting – but first, go to His Majesty. We must be…careful…in what we say about your journey to Icthia. He'll advise you on the most politic version.”

  He'd angered her. Hurt her. It couldn't be helped. Before he accepted his dismissal he said, “Ask Zandakar about Vortka, when next you see him. Make him tell you, Majesty. I think it's important.”

  “I dance my hotas with him in the hour before sunset,” she said, sounding indifferent. “I'll ask him then. And if what he tells me has some purpose, I'll use it. I'll use him. Mijak must be stopped, no matter the cost.”

  And by the time this is over, we'll all have paid a heavy price . Dexterity nodded. “Majesty,” he said, and left her to be solitary.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The privy council listened with growing dismay to Dexterity's carefully worded account of what had befallen him and Zandakar in Jatharuj. The dukes were even more alarmed to learn that Rhian intended deepening Ethrea's ties with Tzhung-tzhungchai. Dexterity's recounting of Sun-dao's witch-man powers had them staring and gasping and exchanging alarmed glances.

  “How can you be certain this Tzhung emperor is to be trusted?” said Edward, drumming his fingers on the table. “I tell you plainly, Majesty, I'm not easy about this.”

  “Nor am I,” added Rudi. “The witch-men of Tzhung-tzhungchai are not natural. Do we peril our souls in letting their heathen magics assist us?”

  “No, we do not,” Rhian said sharply. “Given what we're facing, Rudi, Han's witch-men are a godsend.”

  Helfred looked up from his prayer beads. “That's not for you to say, Majesty.”

  The scratching of Ven'Cedwin's quill over a fresh sheet of parchment sounded loud as Rhian stared at him. As everyone stared at him.

  “I beg your pardon, Helfred?” she said, with great care.

  “Ethrea's spiritual well being is my province, Majesty, not yours,” he replied. “And I am troubled by the sorceries of Tzhung's witch-men.”

  “Why?” said Dexterity. “If their odd powers are used for good that must be good, surely.”

  “Perhaps,” said Helfred, reserved. “But the Tzhung are not my only concern.”

  Around the council table, the dukes exchanged more eloquent looks. Rhian, temper simmering, let herself glance at Alasdair, beside her. He raised one eyebrow, cautioning restraint, then leaned forward.

  “What else concerns you, Prolate?” he said, so polite. “Share your thoughts with us, please. You know your counsel is valued.”

  Rattle, rattle, rattle went Helfred's wooden prayer beads, sliding through his fingers. “Majesty, I cannot like this strange power shared by Zandakar and his murderous brother. What is its source? How is it created?”

  “Does it matter?” said Ludo as the other dukes frowned. “If Zandakar's power can serve our cause?”

  “Of course it matters!” said Helfred. “If the source of that power is shared…and if it's fed by the shedding of human blood in Mijak…how can we think to countenance its use? Would you wear clothes bought by coin from a murdered man's purse?”

  “Not if I knew that's how they were purchased,” Ludo retorted, offended. “And I hope you're not suggesting I'd murder for the coin!”

  “No,” said Helfred. “I'm not suggesting that, Your Grace. And nor would I have Ethrea gain from evil.”

  “There's no hint that the source of Zandakar's power is evil,” Rhian protested. “His brother's, perhaps, but not Zandakar's. And neither is there proof that Han's witch-men are tainted. Mister Jones, did you see anything to suggest it?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Dexterity said, after a moment. “What I witnessed was strange, but the only evil I saw belonged to Mijak.”

  “In your opinion,” said Helfred, repressive. “The truth is, Mister Jones, we can't answer either question with certitude. So I will pray for God's guidance in the matter.”

  Rhian felt her jaw clench. Helfred …“Prolate, have you been listening? Or have the burdens of office scattered your wits? Mijak is coming with thousands of warriors. We have to stop them before they reach us, with any weapon we can find.”

  Helfred's stare was cool and uncompromising. “So you think now. But is it not possible the world contains greater evils than Mijak?”

  “At the moment? No, I don't believe it does!”

  He stood. “And I pray you are right. But given what we have learned of witch-men and their doings and what we know already of Zandakar's kin, I cannot say with a clear conscience that the Church will support the alliance you're suggesting with Tzhung-tzhungchai, or the use of Zandakar's unnatural knife. What manner of prolate would I be, if I counselled the saving of our bodies while condemning our souls to destruction?”

  He was the most inconvenient man. “Helfred, Dexterity says—”

  “Is Mister Jones your prolate?” said Helfred severely, not even glancing at her toymaker. His wooden prayer beads were wrapped tight around Helfred's hand. “I don't believe he is. God appointed me your prolate, Rhian. And I will serve him with a true heart. Rail and bully all you like, but I'll not be forced into supporting a decision my conscience tells me could be a grave mistake.”

  Rhian choked. Rail? Bully? What was he talking about, she wasn't a tyrant . She just didn't have time for this nonsense. None of them did.

  “Where are you going?” she said as Helfred walked towards the chamber doors. “You don't have my permission to—”

  “I have God's permission,” said Helfred. “I return to my privy chapel, where I will ask for his guidance. Be sure I shall tell you when I have answers to the questions that vex me.”

  The doors closed behind him with a thud.

  “The prolate is right,” said Adric, breaking the stunned silence. “We tempt ruin, I think, to be so quick to embrace the powers of foreigners. Not when we can't say for sure those powers won't be used against us.”

  “Don't be ridiculous, Adric,” she snapped. “Helfred's opposition is calamitous. If Helfred tells his venerables to preach against me in this, then—”

  “He wouldn't do that,” said Ludo quickly. “Would he? After everything that's happened, would he dare undermine you in such a public fashion?”

  She looked at Alasdair, who shrugged. “He was your chaplain,” he said. “Of us all you know him best.”

 
I know he drove me to distraction from the moment we first met, which means nothing's changed . “I can't be sure of what he'll do. The Church for him has always been a vocation, not a path to secular power. He's not a Marlan. He's not trying to undermine me. He really believes what he says.” It was an effort not to press her palms to her face, but a gesture like that would be a sign of weakness. She kept her hands strong on the table. “If Helfred needs some time to reflect on this decision, I must grant it. But he can't have long. Events begin to outrun us.”

  “And if, after reflection, he says God is against a close alliance with the Tzhung?” asked Rudi.

  She spared him a grim smile. “It might reward us to pray God says nothing of the sort, Rudi.”

  “There'll be no armada without the Tzhung,” said Edward. “But either way, there's still the army.”

  With an effort, Rhian thrust the irritation of Helfred aside. “Yes. I've reviewed your various reports and suggestions, gentlemen, and there is much of merit contained therein. But what you have given me is a paper army. And a paper army can't defeat the warriors of Mijak.”

  “Then do we move forward?” said Edward. “Even though our spineless friends, the ambassadors, are yet to agree to us breaking the charter?”

  Another silence fell, uncomfortable with the consequences of such a bold action.

  “We can't wait for their permission,” said Alasdair, at last. “We'll be slaughtered in our beds while they're still arguing amongst themselves.”

  Nods and exchanged glances as her dukes recognised the truth of Alasdair's contention. Dexterity sat quietly, his hands folded in his lap. No hint of his thoughts could be read in his face.

  Rhian took a deep breath, her pulse racing. “We move forward, gentlemen. Ethrea will have its flesh-and-blood army.”

  And may God protect us from Gutten, and the rest.

  Soberly, Rudi turned to her. “Then you've a decision to make, Majesty. You must appoint the army's leader.”

  She nodded. “I know. And I've been giving the question careful thought.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw Alasdair sit a little straighter, his expression sharpening. He knows what I'll say next. Oh, God, of course he knows. Alasdair's not stupid .