by CJ Brightley
He nodded slowly and eyed the white bandage on my shoulder. “How bad is it? What happened?”
“It was an arrow. It’s not bad, just a cut.” I felt strangely awkward, but now was as good a time as any. I unbuckled my scabbard and handed it to him. “Here. You’ll need a sword.”
His mouth dropped open in shock as he looked up at me. “I can’t take this.” He held it uncomfortably.
“You can’t ride in to Stonehaven with a wooden practice sword. I hope you won’t need it, but you’d best have a sword. Zhurbinar lent me his. It’s more kingly looking. You can choose between them if you like.” I walked quickly back to my room and presented him with the commander’s sword.
He glanced between them.
“His is more royal, without a doubt. But I haven’t used it, and cannot vouch for its soundness. My own blade is humble, but it has served me well, and will do the same for you if you take it.”
He licked his lips and glanced up at me. “I’m honored, Kemen. Are you sure?”
I smiled. “Every soldier needs a sword, Hakan. A king most of all.”
He bowed to me, as I had taught him to bow, but more deeply than he should have. He took my sword and began to belt it on.
“If you’d prefer, we can switch scabbards. This one is more handsome.”
He shook his head and smiled. “I’m not ashamed to wear your sword, Kemen. It’s an honor, and I won’t hide it.”
“Take the grip of it, feel it. The weight is different from the wooden ones we’ve been practicing with. I should have given it to you earlier, so you’d be more familiar with it.”
He drew it carefully and moved it about experimentally.
“Taisto sent word two days ago to Itxaro on the eastern border to march on Enkotan.”
He scowled as he sheathed the sword. “Why? We were doing so well. Relations were improving. I’ll send word to him immediately to turn around, and an official apology to Tafari.”
“I took the liberty of doing so in your name last night, as soon as I found out. Speed was crucial.”
He nodded and looked at me oddly, as if he were evaluating me.
“I hope you will forgive my presumption.” He was the prince after all, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been angry with me, though I could have done no differently. The lives of too many men depended it, soldiers, men I had trained with and taught.
He hesitated, biting his lip as if he didn’t want to look at me. “How did you send the order?”
“Letters. One to Itxaro to turn around immediately and one to Tafari, apologizing and begging his forbearance until Itxaro turned back to the border.” I wondered what he was aiming at. “Also one to Yoshiro Kepa, who was sent to reinforce Itxaro, requesting that he turn toward Stonehaven instead.”
“You wrote them letters?”
I swallowed. “I sent them letters.” I wondered if he would notice the subtle difference.
He nodded. “I see. Thank you.” He hesitated again as if he would speak, but then turned to go. He abruptly turned around again. “You know, you’ve seen enough of my weaknesses, and yet somehow you still trust me. You’ve honored me with your sword, of which I’m unworthy. We both know it. You might do me the honor of trusting that I would do the same for you.”
I swallowed hard again. “What do you mean?”
He stared at me a moment before I dropped my eyes. “I can teach you to read, Kemen. It’s not hard.”
I shook my head, feeling very stupid and wholly inadequate. Shamed. I pushed down the anger I felt, for he did not mean to shame me. “You cannot. Others have tried, Hakan. It’s not for lack of teaching that I cannot read.” I turned away, thankful that my dark skin mostly hid the heat I could feel in my face.
He stood in silence a moment before speaking quietly. “I’ll try to teach you if you like. But I think no less of you, and I will think no less of you if you can’t learn it. Not everyone has every gift. Clearly, it is no lack of intelligence that prevents it. I count you a friend, the best I’ve ever had, and friends take each other as they are, not as they would want to be.”
He nodded abruptly and left me staring at the floor, my throat tight.
20
We set off that morning with most of the men of the garrison behind us, some five hundred armed suvari. The men sang rousing marching songs, and farmers along the road cheered us and waved encouragingly. As we rode, I thought about Taisto’s invasion. I wondered what he thought it would accomplish. Did he truly think to rule both nations from one throne? He scarcely had a grasp on the throne of Erdem, much less that of Rikuto. Erdem’s army is much stronger than that of Rikuto, and perhaps, if we threw our entire might into it, we could indeed conquer it.
But there would be no purpose. The Rikutan people would not consent to Erdemen rule. The arm of the Erdemen king is not long enough to enforce obedience in Enkotan, much less the Rikutan countryside. We don’t even share a language with the common people, only Kumar with the warriors. On a map, if one were to look at Erdem and Rikuto as two halves of the same country, the Sefu Mountains would divide it almost impassably, a vertical line through the center of the kingdom. How could one king hope to rule both sides? Erdem is richer and more powerful, but the mountains would make such a kingdom impractical, completely aside from the difficulty of the invasion itself.
Hakan was silent until we were nearly at the open gates of Stonehaven.
“Kemen.” He didn’t look at me. “I imagine at least some of Taisto’s men will be willing to fight for him. We’ll be outnumbered in the palace, and I don’t want a siege outside it. I want to change their minds. I want to confront him in front of everyone.”
My shoulders tightened. “We will fight for you. The army is yours. Use it.”
“I don’t want a fight. They’re good men, at least most of them are. Many of them probably don’t even know I’m alive. They might support me if they knew.” He took a deep breath and kept his eyes forward. “Truth. I will tell them the truth about Taisto and what he has done. Then they can decide.”
The silence between us drew out, broken only by the sound of hooves on the road. He was pale, nervous, and my ribs ached with tension. Fear for him.
“I left a letter with Bakar at Relakato. It says that if something happens to me, I have formally named you as my successor and that the letter stands as my personal singing of the Hero Song for you. I’ve recommended a few changes in the ministerial staff if you take the throne.”
It took me a moment to be sure my voice would be steady when I replied. “If there is a duel, I will fight for you, Hakan. You should not cross swords with a traitor.” He wasn’t ready and we both knew it.
“You told me once I needed to earn the trust of the people. I don’t deserve their trust if I’m afraid to fight for them.”
“He’s a murderer. You don’t have to do it.” My voice sounded flat and hard in my own ears, but in my heart it was a plea.
He swallowed and nodded once. “I know.”
I don’t know when he grew from a boy to a man in my eyes. But that ride was when I realized it.
A boy must be protected, even from himself. A man has the right to risk death for his beliefs, and a king has the right to fight for his people. I did not have the right to deny him that, regardless of how I might fear for him.
All the way to Stonehaven I wrestled with my fear and the questions it raised. He had the right to face Taisto, the right to risk his own life. But for Erdem’s sake, I would sacrifice much. My own life. My honor, perhaps, depending on how you define honor. I had sacrificed men under my command before, and would do it again. I felt torn, shredded, because by then I respected Hakan too much to needlessly tread on his rights as a man and a king, but I could not bear the thought of watching him fight a duel, watching him die, and with him watching Erdem’s hope die. I could not be the king Erdem needed, and no one was more aware of it than I was.
Outside Stonehaven we gathered a small train of cheering c
ommoners drawn by the songs and the distinctive bugle call of the musical corps announcing the royal presence. The gates of the city were already open for the day by the time we arrived, and we entered the city at the head of an impromptu parade. Women and girls threw flowers on us from upper windows and people followed us singing and even dancing to the spirited songs. What they would do when we reached the palace, I had no idea, but the feeling was more than pleasant. The song rang from the stone walls and preceded us into the grand empty space around the palace itself.
The palace was surrounded by a high stone wall which itself was separated from the nearest buildings by some distance, the better to give defenders space to breathe. Guards were stationed along the top of the wall as well as at each gate, and I wondered whether they would let us in. The army could have besieged the palace, but it would take time to get more men and longer for the palace to concede.
Again we were fortunate. The men at the gate saluted respectfully and stood aside. I was glad to find that they had not betrayed their vow of loyalty to the king. Surely only a very few of them could have recognized Hakan personally, but those few were the highest officers. That, and we were accompanied by five hundred suvari in uniform. They bowed low before Hakan, who returned their courtesies with a nod and trotted briskly into the palace grounds.
Hakan strode up the grand front staircase as though he owned the palace already. Hayato and I followed, the suvari following closely behind us. They were suvari swordsmen, and I thought suddenly we would have been better served to have some archers with us. I hoped it would not come to that, and for a while I almost thought we might be so fortunate. We were unopposed at first.
The men at the grand door at the front of the castle also bowed respectfully and backed away. Aside from those few, the halls were deserted, and Hakan hesitated a moment before turning to his left and walking through the great entry hall to a smaller room. It was darkly luxurious, deep green tapestries lining the walls with scenes of the great battles of the past. I recognized one of the most famous scenes of the battle of Liriankano, when the king Piakarto himself defended Fort Kuzeyler with some few picked men from the raging Tarvil barbarians. The white horse was quite distinctive, though who knows what color the horse really was, or whether the king was truly there at all. That was the legend, and it was an inspirational one, for it embodied the idea of great Erdemen kings, the sacrificial love for their people, the great courage that gave them the right to rule, the loyalty that they demanded and received of their brave soldiers.
The suvari followed us in uneven formation through the halls. They were distracted by the luxury, and I hoped that they would not become inattentive and careless. I half expected Taisto to have archers along the raised walkways in the great hall, but there was no one. The halls were empty and our steps echoed on the marble floors. I could see the slightly worn paths that feet had made through the centuries. Hayato set groups of twenty men in several key points to prevent Taisto from fleeing if he were inclined to do so.
Hakan stood in the middle of the smaller hall and thought a moment before continuing to the end and turning down another hall. I wondered at the lack of servants. Surely a palace of this size would have servants to handle the horses and cook the food, clean the floors and light the many candles and lamps at night. Taisto must have eliminated many of them as well; they would not be eager to serve him after seeing his treachery.
There was no one in any of the rooms, and Hakan led the way to the king’s suite of planning rooms, where the real work of ruling is done. The throne is for ceremonies and royal events, but for administration and planning, the king works at a desk like any common administrator.
We found Taisto sitting behind a desk in one of the king’s planning rooms. He looked up and smiled when we entered, a cold and confident smile with no little scorn.
21
Ryuu Taisto was some eight or ten years my senior, an age past the prime of speed in one’s reflexes but not yet weakening in strength, a trifling slowness counteracted by greater experience and cunning. He was tall, Hakan’s own height, though still shorter than I, and fairskinned with curling blond hair beginning to grey and eyes of a clear icy blue. He was lithe and muscular yet, though there was some slight thickening about his middle as most men acquire as they age.
He stood as he spoke to Hakan. “Ah, so you decided to come back after all.” His voice was very even, almost pleasant.
“You are under arrest. Place your sword on the desk and step away from it at once. Take him to the throne room for trial.” Hakan’s voice sounded terribly young, but he held his chin high, his face taut and very white. Of course, it would not be so easy, but he would try to remove Taisto peacefully. It was not in his nature to deny Taisto that chance.
I stepped toward Taisto with several of the other suvari, and his men stepped forward as well, providing a human shield. I wondered if they knew of his treachery, what they thought of him. Whether they were willing to die for him. The tension was like a humming in my ears.
Taisto smiled again. “I think not. You are not worthy of your father’s throne. Nor was he worthy of it. You know this just as well as I do.”
I almost struck him then. I could have done it. But I waited for Hakan’s command. He’d said he wanted the truth to be known, and I would honor his wish.
Hakan paled and his lip trembled almost imperceptibly before he steadied himself.
“It will be better for everyone if you leave now. Take your Dari and your few pathetic soldiers and leave ruling to someone who knows what he’s doing.” Taisto’s voice was smooth and cool. Confident.
I gauged the faces of the men ranged about him. Most were very young, raw recruits with no experience to guide them, no ability as yet to see through Taisto’s treachery. With luck, for one can never discount the danger of bad luck, I could handle somewhere between three and ten. The fight would probably go in our favor, even without the suvari outside, except for the one most vital factor. If Hakan were killed, all was lost, and it would matter less than nothing if everything else went perfectly.
Yet I had no desire to fight them. They were boys that I might have trained myself in any other circumstances, young men that I might have led into battle in other times. I would have guided them, trained them, driven and encouraged them. I felt slightly nauseated at the idea of drawing my blade on them. Hakan could easily have stepped out of the room, commanded us to fight for him. Outside, there were nearly five hundred more suvari ready to fight for him as well, and the city for him beyond the palace walls.
My fingers curled around the hilt of my sword. My mouth tasted sour, but I readied myself. For Hakan. For Erdem.
Hakan spoke very clearly, his voice slightly raised so that everyone might hear him. “I suppose you mean to you? You, who killed my tutor Tibon Rusta and his wife and other innocents for a plot to assassinate me? When you sent the assassins yourself? Killed an innocent boy to provide a body?”
“Come now. Can you deny I would be a better king? Better for your people?” Taisto’s lips lifted in a smile, white teeth glinting in the light coming from the window. He was handsome, but for the light of cruelty in his eyes. Born for leadership, with a cunning, beckoning voice, seductively touching on Hakan’s insecurity.
“I would have given you that. Until I found that you were selling grain to the Rikutans and then stealing it back from them to line your own pockets. Paying barbarians to destroy their crops to drive up the prices. Little children starved because of you! Men died for your greed! I wouldn’t have to be a very good king to be better for Erdem than you.” Hakan’s voice rose in anger.
Some of Taisto’s men glanced back and forth between Hakan and Taisto. Good. Let them question their loyalty to him.
Taisto smiled coldly. “What do you care for Rikutans?”
“I care for my own country! You betrayed our soldiers to Tarvil barbarians. You can’t pretend that you serve the interests of Erdem. You serve only yourself.”
&n
bsp; Several of Taisto’s soldiers narrowed their eyes at Hakan’s words.
Taisto’s arrogance may have cost him, because he did not try to deny this. “They were problematic. Wouldn’t you sacrifice those who kept you from a greater goal? I would be a far better king than a foolish, untried boy. Better for your country, better for the glory of your kingdom. I won’t pretend that I wouldn’t enjoy it. Just like Rusta and the others, they stood in my way. Just like you now stand in my way. In the way of my rule, in the way of greater glory for Erdem than has been seen in a thousand years.”
He smiled again, handsome and cruel. “You don’t understand, do you? Of course not. Rikuto is weak now, I have assured that. Tafari has no money and no food, and his army has been employed hunting rather than training for over a year. The time is ripe to invade, and indeed the invasion has already begun. Soon there will no longer be Rikuto and Erdem on opposite sides of the Sefu Mountains, but one great kingdom, united under one king. Me. Ryuu Taisto.”
Hakan was wise enough not to admit that we hoped we’d forestalled the invasion, though I saw his mouth open in quick anger. Finally he spoke. “I should have expected such a base plan from a base and dishonorable man.”
Taisto’s eyes narrowed in anger, but Hakan continued. “I didn’t expect much from you. Even as a child, I could see your greed and contemptible nature. I had expected a little more loyalty to my father despite his many faults, but your treachery should not have surprised me.”
Hakan was very pale, standing rigidly straight with his chin held high. I wondered whether he was deliberately baiting Taisto, and finally decided that he was, for such discourtesy doesn’t come naturally to him.
He lifted his chin. “One of my father’s greatest mistakes was trusting you after you were caught stealing from the king’s treasury like a common thief. It was foolishly optimistic of him, but it was a mistake that showed his character as much more noble than yours, despite his failures.”