“Not to mention good manners, a proper sense of protocol and anything remotely resembling morality.”
The king nodded his agreement, his smile fading slightly as his eyes fell on the scroll I was holding out for him. “This will be concerning the disturbances of yester-eve will it not?
I nodded, “You have heard then, sire.”
“Drunkards hurling spears at a child, water that burns, and my own son in chains? How could I not have heard?” The king paused and then, with carefully calculated mischief added, “Besides, Deputy Idril went to great length to ensure I was informed long before now.” The king regarded me stoically for a moment. “So, Ez’n! Water that burns?”
“Would you believe me if I said I threw an oil lamp and it hit the fountain.”
Janir shot me a look which said ‘no of course I would not’, and turned his attention fully on the report. When he had finished reading he set the document aside and leaned back in his chair. Suddenly he looked very tired, thin and stretched. He picked up a slice of toasted rye bread and began eating it. “And Jalin? He said, “How fares he?”
I outlined the boy’s condition quickly. Jalin remained in shock. He was unresponsive and scarcely capable of swallowing even light broth. The King regarded me grimly. My concern was not so much that he was not eating, but that he was not drinking or responding. Without at least some positive reaction I had grave misgivings for the outcome.
“You believe the boy will die?” Janir set his toast aside, taking a sip of tea.
“If he breaks free from the trauma before the end of the third day, then he will probably recover with very little after-shock.” I replied.
“And if he does not?” the king asked.
“Then he will most likely die,” I answered simply.
The king drew his hands down his face, let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. He picked up the scroll again, tapping it up and down in his hand. “I see from your report you have yet to pronounce sentence. Why is that?”
I caught my breath. It had not occurred to me to do anything other than order the group incarcerated while I waited to discuss the issue of the Prince Royal and what should be done with him. On his part, the king could see no issue. Jae’nt had behaved criminally and was therefore a criminal. Thus he should be treated as a criminal and subjected to whatever punishment I saw fit. “After all,” the king concluded, “what monarch would set himself and his offspring above the law and make of his Ez’n nothing more than a name?”
I said nothing, though I might have said “only a fool would do thus” and took the report from Janir’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you for your time, Meriq.” The king said indicating that the interview was at an end. “Sentence Jae’nt’s companions in any way you see fit, Ez’n. Only . . .” the king paused waiting for me to give him my full attention.
“Only . . . ?” I echoed.
“Please do not skin them alive and feed them to the pigs.” The king gave me a knowing wink. “I am quite fond of the pigs and would not want them poisoned by verminous meat.”
“And the Prince?” I asked as I fastened my cloak.
Janir groaned. “Oh him I would dearly love to have skinned—or perhaps gnawed on by the dungeon rats but—no—leave the Prince to me. I will see you in the Council Chambers this afternoon. I will send for you, Meriq, not command you.” The king added with a smile as I took my leave.
Faedron regarded the order I had just handed him seriously. “Begging your pardon, Ez’n, but this is much less than they deserve.”
“You think me too lenient, Corporal?”
“They insult you, Ez’n, and they have all but killed Jalin. That poor sweet boy is knocking on The Soul Reaver’s door and all they get is a month of tending the barrack middens.”
“Your outrage is duly noted, Corporal. But to do more at this sensitive time would be ill-advised.” I told him. What I did not say was that I was providing the gang with rope sufficient for them to hang themselves when the time was right. I was not by nature vengeful, but neither was I by nature inclined to forget the incidents—any of them. What I was prepared to do was wait and let the peccadilloes of the Senators’ sons mount up until they did something of such moment that their fate would be seen as inexorable and then they and their fathers would be forced into whatever action I determined for them in order to save their miserable hides. And much as I trusted Faedron, I was not prepared to risk having my intentions uncovered.
“May I ask what of Prince Jae’nt?”
“The king is dealing with Jae’nt,” I answered, “I suspect he will make his will known at Council this afternoon.”
Faedron regarded me stonily for a moment and then gave me a crafty smile. “You are plotting, Meriq.”
I feigned surprise for I knew there would be no fooling Faedron. He knew me well. “Plotting? And what exactly could I be plotting?”
“I do not know, Ez’n, but I am certain I would not want to be in the shoes of Senators Zayin and Kourbis when you finally pounce.”
“I have cautioned you before about your loose tongue, Corporal,” I warned him just seriously enough for him to take note, “be sure you do not lose it. Now see to the order.”
There was an eerie, unnatural silence in the Council chamber when I arrived and it seemed that the eyes of the entire assembly followed as I walked through the knave, into the main aisle and on to the dais to take my seat to the King’s right. It was not until I was seated that I realised why there was such an oppressive silence.
Just beyond the entrance called The Traitor’s Gate Jae’nt stood enchained between two of the Royal Guard. Dthor-Aid’n stood to the rear, his ceremonial halberd held at the ready. The iron portcullis creaked open on ill-kept runners as the guard at point struggled with a winch that was quite clearly unaccustomed to regular use. So far as I knew The Traitor’s Gate had not been used since the Pentageonate Wars, and its use now to bring the Prince into the presence of his father, chained as a common criminal and filthy as a street-sleeper did not bode well in the outcome.
Janir rose slowly, taking the scroll from his clerk’s outstretched hand as he did so. He took one step away from his throne and slowly opened the scroll. He stood reading for a moment then lowering the scroll he walked down the steps to where Jae’nt stood sullen but unbowed despite his miserable condition.
“You are charged that you wilfully and willingly attacked a member of staff of the Ez’n of Zetaria’s House and that in so doing you recklessly endangered his life. What have you to say in your defence?”
“It was just some harmless fun with a dog-boy, for Zoar’s sake, father.”
Janir’s eyebrows twitched a signal and the haft of Dthor-Aid’n’s spear took Jae’nt across the backs of his legs sending him to his knees. “Your ‘harmless fun’ has sent the boy into a trance of shock that may well kill him you misbegotten whelp.” The king raged, “And if the boy dies, I swear that I will make you regret the moment of your birth for the rest of your irredeemably dissolute existence.”
The King turned to me. “Ez’n, I give into your service this criminal Jae’nt ibid-Janir ibid-Azeem. He will serve you as your page or in whatever capacity you see fit until your dog-boy recovers. After this you may do whatever you will with him.”
“Whatever I will, Sire?” I felt sure the clarification I was seeking would not be at all what I wanted to hear.
“Whatever you will, Ez’n, you may keep him, take Rights of the Master from him or hire him to whoever will buy his favours” the king paused, his head cocked to the side, as if listening to a voice only he could hear, “If you prefer, sell him at the slave market in Lana for all I care.”
“But Sire . . . the Prince Royal . . .”
“Have I not made myself clear, Ez’n? Zetaria has no Prince Royal and will not have a Prince Royal until my third son, Gor, arrives from the south.”
There was a sudden burst of consternation from the assembled nobles. Jae’nt leapt to his feet. “Y
ou cannot mean to disinherit me because of some sport with a scullion.” He shouted over the din. Silence fell like an axe.
Janir spun around with unbelievable speed drawing his sword as he turned. The weapon scribed a deadly glittering arc as the king brought it down. Cries rang out around the chamber dropping into a deathly silence as Jae’nt crashed to the floor. It was several moments before any of us realised that Janir had turned his weapon at the last moment striking his son across the shoulders with the flat of the blade.
The king was ashen as he re-sheathed the sword, his hands shaking. Whether this was from rage or from shock I will never be sure, but by far the most stunned was Jae’nt himself—probably from discovering that he was actually still in possession of his head. Janir stood over his son kicking him face down to the floor and putting his foot on the young man’s neck as he went to rise again.
“Presume to rise unbidden in my presence ever again and I will finish what I have started.” The king’s voice was low and menacing, every word soaked in the venom of his anger. “I am your king before I am anything else. And the boy you call a mere scullion is one of Zetaria’s subjects. He is my subject, my citizen and not a plaything that you may break and discard on a whim. The nobles here gathered answer to me if they fail in their most sacred duty to protect their charges. If I deal with them under the law how much more so will I deal with you? If you cannot grasp this most basic of royal duties you have no right to your title.” The king turned to the prince’s guards, grinding Jae’nt’s face into the floor as he moved. “Take him forth and deliver him to the Ez’n’s apartments. Leave him chained.” The king concluded, “The Ez’n alone shall determine when the fetters may be struck off.”
The king stared scowling at the portcullis for sometime after the prince had been taken away. Turning aside he paced for a while glaring at the floor of the council chamber as if he was trying to smash the stone with the force of his ire. Eventually he turned on his heel returning to his throne and set to the business of the day.
The session was subdued and strained. Scarcely any petitions were filed, mainly I guessed because few of the assembly felt brave enough to submit their requests to a man so incensed and probably humiliated by his son’s conduct. Perhaps it was that they felt their submissions rather pallid in the light of what had transpired earlier. But whatever the reasons, many of the gathered nobles, Senators, Lords and Commanders alike found reason to excuse themselves and left the chamber early, filing their postponements with Karl as they took leave.
In less than two sectas the Council chamber was empty and only Janir and I remained. The king signalled his aide to prepare his withdrawing room and beckoned me to attend him as he made ready to return to his rooms.
In the lounge the king sat in silence staring into the fire with his chin resting on his fist, the pose lending weight to the idea that he was deep in thought. When I could bear the oppressive atmosphere no longer I finally broke it.
“Sire. You cannot seriously be considering replacing Jae’nt with Prince Gor.”
“Oh? And why is that?” The king did not even bother to look at me but continued staring into the flames.
Why is that? Of the entire gamut of fool questions Janir could ask me he was asking me why he could not supplant an intelligent, skilled strategist, an accomplished warrior and generally well-respected soldier with a dullard.
Gor was the youngest of Janir’s sons being some two cycles Jae’nt’s junior. It had been a difficult pregnancy for Queen Eilen and an even more difficult birth. The resulting child had been Prince Gor, a blond god of a child whose looks as he grew older were said to rival those of the god Zoar Himself. Sadly, as the boy grew it was not just his beauty that became increasingly obvious and the centre of attention but the fact that he lacked wits. Some claimed it was the curse of a god jealous of his beauty, others less charitably speculated that the boy had been dropped by his nurse or that the midwives had slapped the wrong end.
The boy had a difficult childhood, Balten and Jae’nt both contributed to his misery by teasing and plaguing him at every turn. And when the extent of his lackwit nature became apparent Janir had the boy sent to the southern city of Kaedra to be tutored there. And when Queen Eilen became altogether too disruptive and indiscreet with her plots, machinations and a series of tawdry affairs with various lesser nobles (and a couple of infantrymen) she was sent to join her son while the nobles, though they could have been forgiven their indiscretions with any other noblewoman could not be forgiven their treason, were sent to join their ancestors.
Few if any of the nobles were sorry to see the end of the shrew’s influence at court, but there still remained a core of individuals with loyalties to the woman despite her exile and the risk that they might join her should Janir take it to mind to deal with the known treacheries.
So Eilen was to return with Gor from Kaedra was she? This was not news I welcomed and, I guessed, it would not be well received by those whose reputations had been sullied by her intrigues. I supposed that Janir had his reasons for bringing her back though I doubted he would share them with me until he was ready. I guessed that at this very sensitive time it was probably as well that he should keep his allies close and his enemies closer for it was no secret, if rumours were to be given any credit at all, that Eilen spent much of her time fomenting plots and intrigues, bent on revenge against the husband who had exiled her for precisely the conduct she continued to persist with. Gor, it was said, was being groomed to be an even greater embarrassment to the king and would be “set loose” on the kingdom when Eilen considered it propitious.
Of course, this was pure speculation, and as Anubis always warned, one should believe a little of what one sees and less of what one hears, and at the same time would always caution me regarding the rule of smoke and fire. All the same, I considered the king’s decision risky in the extreme; Janir’s plan whatever it might be could just as easily backfire on him and turn out to be nothing more than a constitutional disaster.
“To disinherit Jae’nt in favour of a younger sibling ill-equipped for . . . for . . .” I stumbled, searching for the most appropriate and least offensive words, “matters of state,” I managed, “is, frankly, insane.”
“Oh, is that what you think I have done?”
I thumped my hand on the table in exasperation making the cups and plates jump, and startling myself into the bargain. “You just did so in front of most of the Kingdom’s nobles.”
Janir regarded me in seeming amusement giving me a crafty, malevolent smile that chilled me. “Well Ez’n, I agree that this is how it would seem. But, forgive me, for I do not recall actually saying that Jae’nt was disinherited. I said only that he did not deserve his title and that Zetaria would have no Prince Royal until Gor arrived from Kaedra. Any conclusions drawn from my statement are pure conjecture.” The king straightened the disarrayed plates and cups and handed me a goblet of wine. “Close your mouth Meriq, you look like a dead fish.”
My teeth snapped together with a clearly audible click. I stared at the king. “But . . . I thought . . .” my voice trailed away. “King Janir, you are a deceitful, sly, manipulative blackguard!”
“Why thank you, Ez’n.” The king laughed. “I can scarcely believe how annoyed you are! You are so deliciously unsettled!” The king was almost bouncing on his seat from the pleasure of seeing me so disquieted.
“I hardly think it proper that you should take such obvious delight in hoodwinking me, King Janir!”
“Oh don’t be so testy.” Janir said dismissively, “It is Wizard’s First Rule after all. Anubis did warn me you would be cross if I ever used it on you. It was the first thing your mentor and my dearest friend ever taught me. If you can make someone believe that something is so, then it will be so until it is discovered to be otherwise.”
“But it should not work on me!”
“Why ever not?” The king asked lightly, “And,” he added, “if you believe Jae’nt to be disinherited, then doubtles
s he and everyone else believes it. I would say this gives you roughly three moons while Gor and his mother are travelling back to the Capital.”
“Three moons to do what, exactly?”
“To teach Jae’nt, Meriq.”
I suddenly felt again as I had on the day of Anubis’ funeral. It was as if I was standing beneath something about to fall on me. “To teach Jae’nt what, Majesty?”
Even as the words left my mouth I felt sure I should not be asking such a question for the answer would, like as not, scare me to death.
The king rose moving slowly to where I sat. He leaned down cupping my face gently “He must learn, and you must teach him, little dragon.”
“But learn what, King Janir? Teach him what?”
“To be a King. You must teach him to become a king, Meriq, just as Anubis taught me.”
“But Balten is . . .”
“Balten cannot take the throne. He must never take the throne, Meriq. Never!” Janir turned abruptly and returned to his seat by the fire.
The “something” dropped. I sat back heavily and took a hefty swig of wine, setting the goblet aside as my hands began to shake.
“You . . . you are asking that I . . . You want me to . . .”
“I want you to be my Ez’n, Meriq. I trust you because I trust Anubis’ judgement and his final counsel to me.”
I picked up the goblet and drained it. “I will do what I can, my king.”
“We will never talk of this again, Meriq. Do what you must.”
†
CHAPTER 8
IN THE COMPANY OF WOLVES
MY MEETING with the king weighed heavily on my mind as I made my way back to my apartments. “Balten must never take the throne.” The words echoed like a death knell, sounding even to the very depths of my soul. “Balten must never take the throne.” And so what could I do? Have the Crown Prince assassinated? I shrugged the thought aside with a small, humourless laugh. Tempting as the idea was, and as welcomed as the event would be by many, not least of all the boys of the Moon’s Mask brothel in the lower city, it could not be done. At least not yet. The conditional thought seemed to think itself and it troubled me to even consider the possibility that somewhere in the depths of my hidden mind my wizard’s brain was already calculating a strategy to make Janir’s plan a reality.
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