The Eyes of God

by John Marco

  “Jitendra,” whispered Jebel. “The kahana.”

  Kahan Kadar stretched out a hand for his wife, gesturing to the strangers. Jitendra looked at them each in turn, smiling graciously but obviously uncomfortable. She looked tired, and very far along in her pregnancy. Lukien studied her belly, then realized something was horribly amiss. Unlike her husband, she wore no amulet.

  “Figgis, is that really his wife?” he whispered.

  Figgis grimaced. “It can’t be. She’s supposed to have the other—”

  “Shhh, not now.” Lukien stepped forward and bowed to Jitendra, then asked Jebel to tell the lady how honored he was to meet her. Jitendra smiled lightly at the compliment, keeping her hands on her belly. Kadar leaned over and gave her an affectionate kiss. Then he turned to his guests and spoke.

  “Kahan Kadar asks you to come inside,” said Jebel. “He wants you to rest and to take food.”

  “Gladly,” said Figgis. He tried to thank Kadar in Jadori. Kadar merely smiled, then led the way back into his palace, still holding his wife’s hand. As Figgis and Trager followed him, Lukien grabbed hold of Figgis’ sleeve, leaning close to him.

  “Where’s the other bloody amulet?”

  Figgis shrugged. “I’m sorry, Lukien, I don’t know.”

  Lukien looked over his shoulder, making sure Jebel was out of ear shot. “We don’t have time to waste. If we can’t locate it in a day or so, we’ll just have to take the one Kadar’s wearing.”

  Figgis nodded somberly. “All right. But we’ll need a plan. It won’t be easy.”

  “Are you kidding?” Lukien chuckled. “Look at these people. No guards, no weapons. We’re like wolves in the fold here, Figgis.”

  20

  When the first tower of Koth appeared on the horizon, Akeela knew he was finally home. The long trek back from Norvor had wearied his body and spirit, and he yearned for home and the clean sheets of his bed. For too long he had endured the wind and hot sun. His skin cracked with blisters; his backside ached with saddle sores. Beside him, Chancellor Hogon rode at the head of their army. The chancellor looked fit despite the long ride, and when he saw Koth his old face split with a smile. Breck, who always rode alongside Akeela, let out a joyous whoop that was picked up by the rest of the company. But Akeela himself said nothing. He was simply glad to be home.

  Since leaving Hanging Man, he had been haunted by the ghost of King Mor. He saw Mor when it was dark, peeking out from behind trees or waiting for him at the side of the road, staring. No one else ever saw the murdered king, but Akeela knew he was there, taunting him. Worse, Mor’s blood would not leave Akeela’s hands. He had spent an hour at the banks of the Kryss rubbing his hands raw, but all he had gotten for his troubles was Mor’s reflection gazing back at him from the water. As he looked toward Koth, he hoped it would be a haven from the dead king. Cassandra would be there, sick in bed, but she would be a friendly face. He had not forgotten nor forgiven her adultery, but he longed for her comfort. He was tired of Hogon and the others, tired of the way Breck had been watching him.

  “We’re home, my lord,” said Breck. “You can rest now.”

  “Rest.” Akeela sighed. “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry—you’ll be all right. You can take it easy now, get your mind off things.”

  Akeela shifted. Breck was always saying things like that now, and Akeela wasn’t sure why. He glanced down at his hands. He couldn’t see the blood stains anymore, but he could feel them.

  “I’m not a child, Breck,” he said. “I don’t need to nap like a baby.”

  “Yes, well . . .” Breck shrugged. “We all need rest after what we’ve been through, my lord.”

  Akeela continued toward Koth. Admittedly, rest sounded wonderful, but there was business to attend to first. Overlooking the city was the hill where his library was being built. Akeela could see it in the distance. The clear afternoon sky displayed the outlines of the library’s foundation.

  “You go on,” Akeela told Breck. “All of you. I’ll meet you back at Lionkeep soon.”

  Hogon started. “My lord?”

  “Take the men into the city, Chancellor,” said Akeela. “Give them my thanks again and let them rest and eat good food. I want to go and check on my library.”

  Breck and Hogon exchanged troubled glances. Breck said, “My lord, think for a moment, please. You need to get home. Cassandra, remember?”

  “I’m not addlebrained, Breck. Of course I remember her. That’s why I want to check on the library now, while I have the chance. Once I get back to Lionkeep I’ll be attending her. I won’t have time to ride out to the site.”

  “Do it later, then,” said Hogon. “Really, my lord, you need to get back to Lionkeep.”

  “I’ve been gone for weeks, Chancellor. Why the hurry?”

  “Because you’re not . . .” Hogon stopped himself. He tried to smile. “You need rest, my lord, that’s all.”

  “I’ll rest when I’m done,” said Akeela. “Now, do as I say and return to Lionkeep. Tell Warden Graig that I’ve returned and that I’ll be home presently.” He started to turn his mount toward the library hill, but Breck hurried alongside him, blocking his way. Akeela glared at him. “What are you doing?”

  “My lord, listen to me. The queen needs you. Let’s go back to Lionkeep. We can check on the library later.”

  “I’m the king, damn it!” Akeela yanked his horse away from Breck. “Stop treating me like an infant. I gave you an order, Breck. Follow it!”

  “All right,” said Breck easily. “I’ll go with you, then. We’ll check on the library together.” He turned to Hogon. “The rest of you go on. We won’t be long.” He looked back at Akeela, smiling. “All right?”

  Akeela studied Breck, not quite trusting him. He was a good man, but lately he’d been too close.

  “If you must,” said Akeela, then rode off toward the hill. Behind him, Breck and Hogon exchanged some words that he couldn’t make out, and soon Breck was galloping up behind him. They rode in silence, avoiding the main road into the city and keeping instead to a less traveled path that led into the heart of the hillside. Akeela avoided looking at Breck, sure that he would see the familiar, concerned expression.

  Before long they reached the library’s hill, riding up a sloping road. Akeela listened but could hear nothing, not even the voice of a single workman. As the trees thinned and the site came into view, he saw that it was empty. His eyes narrowed, sure that he was missing something. But there was nothing to see. He had a picture perfect memory of the place, and he knew that nothing had changed from the last time he’d seen it. His jaw began to tighten and his head throbbed. Not a single additional tree had been cleared; not one brick had been laid. Beyond the hill, Koth still loomed in the distance, its skyline unobstructed. Akeela gripped the reins of his horse with shaking fists.

  “He’s done nothing,” whispered Akeela.

  “My lord—”

  “Nothing!” Akeela’s voice tore through the hillside. “That motherless liar! He’s betrayed me!”

  “Akeela, stop,” said Breck sharply. The order, overly familiar, shocked Akeela. “Just take it easy. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” seethed Akeela. “I’m sure Baron Glass has his reasons. That bloated toad never wanted my library built. And now he’s defied me! Well, he won’t get away with this . . .” Angrily he spun his horse around, heading back toward the road. “That lying whoreson will pay for disobeying me!”

  Blind with rage, he spurred his mount forward, sending up clods of earth. Behind him, Breck shouted for him to stop. But Akeela’s mind was wrapped like a bear trap around a single goal—destroying Baron Glass.

  When Akeela reached Lionkeep, he found Graig in the courtyard, waiting for him. The warden’s grin disappeared when he saw Akeela’s twisted face. Akeela galloped into the courtyard. He tossed himself from the back of his lathered horse and thundered toward Graig.

  “Where’s Glass?”
he demanded.

  “My lord?” Warden Graig studied Akeela with alarm. “Are you all right?”

  “Damn it, can’t anyone give me a straight answer any more? Where is he, Graig?”

  “My lord, stop,” ordered Breck. He rode into the courtyard after his king. “Just wait, damn it, please!”

  Graig was stupefied. “What’s this all about? Akeela, what’s wrong?”

  Akeela could barely find his breath. He managed, “I want to know where that pustule Glass is hiding.”

  Breck dropped down from his horse. “My lord . . .”

  “Shut up!” roared Akeela. “Graig, answer me. Where is Glass?”

  “In your council chamber, my lord, meeting with Chancellor Hogon. The chancellor just arrived a short while ago.”

  “Then come with me,” snapped Akeela, pushing past the warden. He didn’t ask Breck to come, but the lieutenant did so anyway, following him through the doors of Lionkeep. Soldiers and servants greeted Akeela, smiling and welcoming him home. Akeela gave them each perfunctory waves. Graig and Breck walked briskly behind him, trying to keep up. Breck urged him to calm down. Akeela ignored him completely.

  At the end of the hall lay the council chamber. The doors were closed. Akeela didn’t bother to knock. He quickly grabbed the handle and swung open the door. It crashed against the wall, bringing Glass sputtering to his feet. The baron leapt from his chair, spilling the wine in his one good hand. Hogon turned toward the threshold, aghast.

  “King Akeela,” said Glass. He put down his goblet and brushed at his stained tunic. “By the Fate, you startled me!”

  “How dare you?” hissed Akeela. He stalked into the chamber, staring at Glass. “How dare you!”

  Glass stepped back. “My lord?”

  Akeela’s hand shot out and slapped the baron across the face. The blow stunned Glass, sending him backward. He looked at Akeela in shock, then his face contorted in rage.

  “You little . . . !”

  Hogon grabbed his arm to keep him back.

  “You lied to me,” spat Akeela.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve just been to the library, Baron. There’s been no work done since I left. You’ve done nothing!”

  Glass gasped in astonishment. “Is that all? You struck me over that?”

  “You promised that you’d help construct the library. You betrayed me!”

  “I did nothing of the kind,” said Glass, shaking off Hogon’s grasp. “I halted construction of your library for a reason!”

  “Lies!” cried Akeela.

  “My lord, please,” said Breck. “Let him talk.”

  Akeela whirled on him. “You would listen to this snake charmer? Of course. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Just listen,” pleaded Breck. “Let Glass explain.”

  “All right,” said Akeela. “Fine.” He folded his arms. “Go on, Baron. Explain. This should be good.”

  “King Akeela, I didn’t betray you,” said Glass. He put his hand to his chin and massaged the reddened flesh. “It’s true—I ordered work on the library stopped. But I had to. It’s like I was trying to tell you before you left for Norvor—there are no funds for it.”

  Akeela scoffed. “A lie.”

  “It isn’t a lie! I’ve spoken with Chancellor Sark. The treasury doesn’t have the money. All of it’s gone to pay for the battle with Norvor.”

  Akeela sneered, “Don’t cloud the issue, Baron. You know how much that library means to me, yet you chose to disobey me.”

  “Yes,” admitted Glass, “or risk seeing Liiria ruined by debt. That’s the choice you left me with, Akeela! I did what I had to do.”

  “Indeed. You’ve made your choice, Baron. Now you’ll have to pay for it.” Akeela turned to Warden Graig. “Arrest him.”

  Graig’s mouth dropped open. “My lord?”

  “You heard me, Graig. Baron Glass is a traitor. Let’s see how long he lasts in Borior prison.”

  “My lord, no!” cried Breck.

  “King Akeela, this is madness!” said Hogon. He stepped between Glass and his king. “I won’t allow it!”

  Akeela glared at him. “You won’t . . . ? Listen to me, old man—you serve me. You follow my orders.” He looked at all of them, at all their shocked faces. “Do you hear me? I’m the king!”

  Breck hurried out a hand. “My lord, enough, now . . .”

  Akeela swatted him away. “No! I’m done listening. That’s all I’ve been doing for months, listening to all of you tell me what to do, thinking you can run Liiria better than me and talking behind my back. Norvor threatens and I do nothing. Glass plots against me, and I do nothing. Well not this time.” He put a threatening finger in Glass’ face. “This time you’re going to pay, Baron. You won’t stand against me any more.”

  “My God, he’s mad,” whispered Hogon. He stared at Akeela in disbelief. Akeela realized they were all staring.

  “Graig, get that ridiculous expression off your face. Arrest Baron Glass. That’s an order.”

  “Akeela, don’t make me do this. . . .”

  “Don’t disobey me,” warned Akeela. “I’m warning you, I won’t tolerate this lawlessness any more.”

  “Great Fate, King Akeela, think for a moment,” said Glass. “I’m not your enemy!”

  Akeela ignored him. He kept a steely gaze on Graig. “Do it, Graig.”

  “Akeela . . .”

  “Do it!”

  Graig looked around blankly. Chancellor Hogon grimaced uselessly. Breck had turned the color of milk. Finally, the Head Warden relented.

  “I’m sorry, Baron,” said Graig. “I have no choice.”

  Baron Glass nodded. “Very well.” He looked at Akeela. “Akeela the Good? Is that what they call you?”

  “The people call me that,” said Akeela proudly. “Not fat noblemen like you.”

  “You’re going to ruin us,” said Glass. Graig took his arm and began leading him to the door, but Glass wouldn’t leave until he had his say. “There’s no money for your library, you fool.”

  “Oh, but there is, Baron,” said Akeela. “You’re going to pay for it. You and the rest of your cohorts in the House of Dukes.”

  “What?”

  “Enjoy your stay in Borior, Baron.”

  “Don’t you dare touch my property!”

  Graig hurried Glass out of the chamber. The Baron’s threats rung down the hall. When he was gone, Akeela closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. His head was pounding. If he didn’t rest soon, he knew he would collapse. When he opened his eyes again he saw Breck and Hogon staring at him.

  “I had to do it,” he said. “He was a traitor. He betrayed his word to me.”

  “He’s a good man,” said Hogon. “And you. . . .” The chancellor shook his head. “You’re not well, my lord.”

  “Chancellor, I am as fit today as the day I was born. It is the queen who isn’t well.” Akeela went to the door. “So if you’ll excuse me, I must see my wife now.”

  Alone in her enormous bed, Cassandra listened to the voices outside her chamber. It was like awakening from a dream. The narcotics Physician Oric had prescribed had done a remarkable job of curbing her pain, but they had the terrible effect of leaving her like a drunken fool. For more than a week now she had been unable to leave her bed or take solid food. Her cancerous growth had progressed rapidly in Akeela’s absence. She had dropped weight and was now featherlight, and her hair had lost its sheen, falling around her shoulders in lusterless strands. She expected to be dead soon and didn’t really mind. Without her beauty, she was only half the queen she had been. And now that she was losing her mind, she wasn’t even that. She opened her eyes at the sound of the voices, trying to focus. Oric’s simples were very strong, and often made seeing difficult. Her groggy head tilted upward to listen. The offensive smell of her own body assailed her nose. How long had she been asleep? She couldn’t remember, but she had dreamed of Lukien.

  “Cassandra?”

&nbs
p; Cassandra turned toward the voice and saw Jancis in the doorway. Her friend’s pretty face glowed.

  “Good, you’re awake.” Jancis floated toward the bed and sat down on the mattress. She put a hand to Cassandra’s face and brushed the hair out of her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “I . . .” Cassandra swallowed, finding it hard to speak. “I was sleeping. I heard voices.”

  Jancis reached for a glass of water on the bedside table. She put it to Cassandra’s lips, carefully cradling her head as she sipped.

  “I’ve got good news, Cass. Akeela is back.”

  Cassandra pushed the glass away. “He’s home?”

  “He’s just arrived. He’s coming up to see you.”

  Cassandra shook the fog from her mind. She struggled to sit up. “Is he all right? Did he say what happened?” She had a hundred questions suddenly, and it surprised her how worried she’d been about her husband. Then she remembered her horrible condition. “Look at me,” she groaned. “I’m a crone. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

  “You look fine,” said Jancis, “and I don’t think it will matter to him anyway. He just wants to see you.”

  “I look like a dead cat on the side of the road. Fetch a hairbrush.”

  “Shhh,” urged Jancis. “Don’t tax yourself. Remember what Oric said—you have to rest.”

  Jancis went to the side table and pulled a hairbrush from the drawer, then helped Cassandra sit up. Even that small effort exhausted Cassandra. Her eyes blurred and the pain in her stomach flared anew. Jancis began gently brushing her hair.

  “The whole castle is talking about him,” said Jancis, smiling. “They knew you’d be happy to see him back.”

  “Yes,” said Cassandra sadly. “Happy . . .”

  “Oric is outside waiting for him. I’m sure he’ll tell him how you’ve been doing.”