Floreskand_King
Page 11
“Leave him,” he said. “Let’s see if there are any more of these garstigg.”
“Must we?” Dasse said. “This one can count as our kill. There’s enough flesh on the beast for a feast.”
“They’re foraging too close to our beds, Dasse. They must be driven back or exterminated like vermin. And–”
A thudding sound interrupted him. It grew near as his heart-beat quickened. A noxious smell, worse than the fetid stench of death, filled the tunnel, enveloping them.
“No need to hunt them, my friend,” barked Dasse. “They’ve come to us!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
UNREST
“In enacting laws, rigor is indispensible;
in executing them, mercy.”
- The Tanlin, 490.32
First Sufin of Fornious
Old City, Lornwater
A group of ten men, their weapons concealed beneath cloaks, milled around the manderon gate. “What is the signal, again?” asked a thin scarred individual.
“Word will reach us that the king is dead,” said a tall bald man.
“But Lander, how will we know?”
“You’ll hear the rejoicing, that’s how!” Lander snapped.
“But there’s more than just us, right?”
“Aye, Fanur, of course. We’ve got men at each gate. When the call comes, we’ll rebel rouse the populace.”
“And we’ll be compensated adequately, eh?”
“Oh, yes. Baron Laan was definite about that. A new regime will see we all get fair treatment.”
“It’s not fair treatment I’m after, man, but a piece of palace skirt!”
“There’ll be no rape, the baron insisted on that. We fight the king’s supporters and soldiers, but only until they yield.”
“What, I thought there’d be no quarter. Let’s be honest, the king wouldn’t spare us if he knew–”
“We aren’t the king, Fanur. That’s the whole point of this uprising.”
“What uprising?” asked a passing woman.
“Nothing, woman,” Lander snarled. “Go about your business!”
“We women should rise up against you arrogant men. You’re all as bad as each other!”
***
New City, Lornwater
Despite the edict, the carnival was over halfway through, yet many stall holders seemed lukewarm about it now. Strange, how attitudes could alter in a couple of days. Perhaps the arguments and dissention were having an effect. A pity, thought Welde Dep.
He didn’t like old traditions swept away. And he detected unrest beneath the surface, bubbling away.
As he strolled through the gaudy and gay streets, he wondered what the king wanted with the Prime Watchman.
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Prime Watchman Zen-il entered and bowed briefly to the king. “Your majesty, you sent for me.” His voice grated. He was tall, thick-set with piercing slate-grey eyes and wrinkled features. His uniform was the usual plaid, tight-fitting; he wore knee-high black leather boots.
“Yes, I want to know the mind of my people.”
“They are displeased with your decision to ban the carnival, sire.”
Queen Jikkos leaned forward. “You’re forthright today, Prime.”
“I mean no disrespect, your highness.” Zen-il genuflected to her. “Yet that decision has unsettled many.”
She scoffed. “You know as well as I that the ban has only taken effect in the Old City. The further away from the palace, then less notice is taken, is that not so?”
Zen-il lowered his eyes. “Our numbers are small, your highness…”
“What, you mean my edict is ignored by the people?”
“Well, sire, we police where we can…”
Saurosen scowled. “I don’t understand. Has this unrest been going on all along, my queen?”
“That is what my lady-in-waiting tells me. And Sergant Bayuan Aco has confirmed it after his return from the Oxor mines.”
Saurosen stood, arms akimbo. “Now, Prime, if I issue an edict, it must be obeyed! Throw a handful of them in prison, that’ll dissuade the others! Works every time!”
Jikkos’s hand gripped his arm. “I would suggest you leave them to their festivities. At least until after you’ve addressed the legation of the cities later today.”
“Why?”
“We don’t want the ambassadors thinking we are weakened by internal strife, do we?”
“Ah, no, quite right, dear.”
“Well, Prime, ensure that the carnival is not celebrated in the Old City.”
“A sensible compromise,” said Queen Jikkos.
Zen-il saluted. “Very well, sire.”
***
New City, Lornwater
Fel-adnat Pin, the wizened grey-haired royal treasurer, bounced awkwardly in the stuffy tatrivan, the two servants carrying him not mindful of his comfort. He peered past the dusty curtain, out the small window. People milled in the streets, jostling; unkempt, unwashed.
Sergeant Bayuan Aco appeared at the window. “We have arrived, Treasurer.” He saluted and stepped back.
“Very well.” He knocked the tip of his stick on the ceiling of the cubicle.
The two servants stopped abruptly and lowered the tatrivan to the ground.
Fel-adnat Pin opened the door and got out, glad to be on firm ground.
He was flanked by twenty palace guards, who used their shields to keep onlookers at bay.
Immediately in front of him was a stall of great length, draped with silks, brocade, linen, serge, satin and suede; a riot of colour. The stall-holder bowed obsequiously: “You want finest silk, my lord? I have the very best.”
“I want you to pay a fine for defying the king’s edict!” Fel-adnat Pin snapped.
The stall-holder’s face crumpled and his mouth gaped open.
Onlookers murmured, voices rose rapidly.
Fel-adnat Pin turned to face them all. “The king has despatched me and these men to obtain the standard fines for disobedience of a royal edict! You will pay up – or face the consequences!” He signed to Bayuan Aco, who then barked an order.
Instantly, the palace guards raised their spears and bashed their metal points against their shields. “Face the consequences!” they barked in unison.
His chest filling with pride at this display, Fel-adnat Pin twisted round to face the stall-holder. “Pay up – now!”
“But– but,” the man stammered, “what– what about due legal process?”
“I am all the legal process you require!” the treasurer snarled, quite enjoying this wielding of power. “I and these palace guards do the king’s bidding.” He stood with arms akimbo, chest inflated. “Now, pay up, or else!”
“Then we choose ‘or else’!” snarled a man on the stall-holder’s right.
“Aye,” said another to the left, “and you ‘face the consequences’ of angry put-upon people!”
“No, you can’t mean that!” Fel-adnat Pin bleated.
The faces surrounding the royal group transformed, became ugly, eyes starting, teeth bared. Fruit was thrown, some hitting Fel-adnat Pin in the face. Then stones followed, pinging off metal shields; one of them bashed into the treasurer’s forehead; it was painful and drew blood.
“Sergeant, deal with them!” Fel-adnat Pin pleaded, wiping at the cut. His words were almost drowned by the shouts of the mob.
Sergeant Bayuan Aco rushed to his side, grabbed his arm. “Come with me, sir, we cannot stay.”
Fel-adnat Pin made to head for his tatrivan, but the sergeant steered him away. “Guard, to me!” Sergeant Bayuan Aco barked and immediately the palace guard moved into formation around the sergeant and the treasurer. He heard the tatrivan being splintered into matchwood.
Using their shields as a battering ram, and piercing their spear points into the press of townspeople, the guards kept him in their midst and slowly trudged back towards the gates to the Second City.
***
Zen-il returned to his headquarters beside the Royal Council in sector one. He barely had time to cross the thread-bare exotic floor covering and sit at his desk when his protégé, special investigator Welde Dep entered. “Sir, I regret to report that two watchmen have been wounded, and another knocked unconscious.”
Zen-il had a sinking feeling. “What happened?”
“I’ve come from the New City and there’s a great deal of street-fighting, sir. “
“Is it contained within that city?”
“Yes, sir. Isolated pockets of unrest only. Ugly, but I don’t see it spreading to the Second City, let alone here.”
“That’s something, I suppose. We had better re-direct watchmen from the Old City, then. Who are the trouble-makers? Can we single them out?”
“The supporters of the king have been toppling carnival stalls. It’s already turning nasty. Priests of the fane of Brilansor tell me they’ve treated twenty for minor wounds already.”
“Well, the fools know the king decreed there would be no carnival! We need to crack a few heads and throw the trouble-makers in prison. Che-man Car will soon make them regret their insolence!”
“Sir, they’re hard-working townsfolk, just wanting their festival. They shouldn’t be put into the hands of a torturer.”
“Do not argue with me on this, Welde. The king made it quite plain: we must exert authority – or suffer the consequences.”
“I do not wish to create a rift between us, Prime.”
Zen-il glared. “Nor will there be, Welde. I value you too much. You know, this whole situation reminds me of events some eleven years past…”
“Oh, that – too long ago, surely, to be repeated?”
“I’m not so sure, Welde. Maybe the unrest is being engineered by outsiders, or perhaps the king has made overtures to another city…”
“I have a bad feeling about this, sir. It could be Tarakandans, I suppose.”
“Doubtful, the Tarakandans have cast their greedy eye over us for more than a thousand years. Why should now be different?”
“Because Saurosen can’t be trusted?”
***
First Durin of Fornious
In sector two, next to the Old City barracks, the audience hall for the legation of the cities rose high up against the dunsaron wall. From its roof-tops flew the pennons of cities near and far, signifying the presence of ambassadors.
Saurosen walked through the echoing passage, escorted by the palace guard led by Sergeant Bayuan Aco. By his side, on his arm, glided Queen Jikkos.
They entered the grand chamber and moved to the dais at the end of the room. On either side, resplendent in varicoloured silks and furs stood ten or so ambassadors.
No sooner had the king and queen been seated than Umen Datrek, the ambassador for Tarakanda shuffled forward, his colourful robes billowing as he bowed and offered platitudes.
Umen wore a green silk turban, a symbol of his office, with an obsidian jewel in its centre, and pointed shoes that did not suit a man in his mid-fifties. His skin was dark red. Saurosen idly wondered what colour he turned when angry. Ambassador Umen persisted with an annoying habit of twitching his broad nose when he talked, those narrow moist lips emitting flecks of spittle.
Saurosen wiped his hand where some spray landed. “What do you here today, Ambassador Umen?”
The ambassador’s green eyes flashed; the left one was half-closed due to a growth of scaly flesh; Saurosen’s informants advised him it was colubrinitis, a rare ailment, not contagious.
“Your highness,” Ambassador Umen said with a note of concern in his tone, “we value our trade with Lornwater.”
“As do I, Ambassador.”
“The Lornwater smalt is crucial to our pottery industry.”
“I know, Ambassador. Your artifacts are distinctive, deservedly renowned.”
“However, sire, we fear that the unrest will hamper or even curtail our trade, to our great financial detriment.”
It always comes down to money! Saurosen felt his cheeks flush warmly. “Whatever unrest you fear is a passing phase, of no importance.”
Ambassador Umen nodded agitatedly, his double chin wobbling. “I am very pleased to hear that, sire.” Saurosen noticed a number of ambassadors seeming to urge Umen to say more.
“But?” prompted Saurosen.
Clearing his throat, Ambassador Umen said, “There is an understandable concern that our presence will be at risk if we linger within Lornwater’s walls.” His expansive gesture tended to include several of the other ambassadors assembled, who all murmured but refrained from adding words to voice their unease. “Many of the traders from Tarakanda have informed me that the mood of the populace is ugly and is bound to turn violent.”
Saurosen waved a hand airily. “Your merchants are mistaken, Ambassador. My watchmen have everything under control. There have been a few minor scuffles, but they have been dealt with summarily.” He scanned those gathered. “Have any of you first-hand knowledge of open rebellion here?”
A lengthy silence followed.
“I thought not. This is how things can get out of hand – caused by false rumours. I advise you all to return to your embassies forthwith.”
As the ambassadors scuffled away, Saurosen turned to Jikkos. “Where is Haltese? He should be dealing with these foreigners, not me!”
“I don’t know, Sauri,” she whispered. “Perhaps he is at the estate–”
“Well, my dear, summon him at once!”
***
On arriving at his stately rooms, the Tarakandan ambassador gestured at his aide. “Saurosen’s blatant denial tells me all I need to know.”
“Sir?”
“This is looking good for us. If the rebellion arises, as now seems likely, we can take advantage.” Emperor Terein Jhuren must make a concession to Grand-Marshall Fenstarn Nodill: now might be the time to recall “The Warlord” from his exile in Reresmond. “May the Hidden God watch over us!” The emperor was presently in the main palace in Doreas, so he added, “I will write to our liege. Arrange for a Doreas saptor to be sent.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Daen hunting pavilion, near Lornwater
Draped in a silk sheet, Haltese closed the door on a messenger, spun round and read a parchment scroll.
Jaora sat up in the fur-covered bed, and held her breath, wondering if it was news from her husband. “What is it?” she asked.
He looked up, his face clouded, the birthmark darker than normal. “A summons from my mother and father. They want me by their side!”
She hid her disappointment, offered a weak, placatory smile. “It stands to reason. Filial duty. I can understand that.”
“Damn family!” He crumpled the parchment into a ball and flung it to the tiled floor. “I need to hear about the revolt in Lornwater. How it’s progressing.”
Steeling herself, she patted the bed beside her. “Let me console you.” She peeled back the bedcovers, offering herself.
He discarded the silk sheet as he walked towards her, rampant, his brow furrowed.
Ye gods, he will ride me now! she thought. Jhuren, this better be worth it! She wondered if Haltese mistreated his hunting horses.
As they embraced, she whispered in his ear, “Go gently, my prince, I am still sore from your last onslaught.”
“Do not make demands of me, Baronness Laan!” he snapped and impaled her.
Instinctively, she wrapped her thighs round the young prince’s waist and found this position quite pleasurable, despite the man’s lack of subtlety.
All being well, she thought, fighting the pain and loathing, Jhuren will approach the king today with grim news that should lay the foundations of Saurosen’s defeat. All part of Jhuren’s plan. Haltese was a puppet, yet didn’t even know it.
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
It had grown dark when the royal party returned to the palace. Torches in s
conces along the walls illuminated the throne room. Jikkos decided to voice her fears. “Your words won’t have mollified the ambassadors, Sauri. You know that the people are restless. Perhaps you could let them have their carnival, after all?”
“I will not lose face. If a king’s decree can be manipulated so easily, we will have anarchy.”
She wrung her hands together. “I’m fearful for your safety, dearest.”
“Dear Jikkos, I have the palace guard, led by the stalwart spider-killer Bayuan Aco.” He gestured at the two sentries on the door.
“But the populace…”
“Watchmen are the first defence. They will crack a few skulls. Then, if necessary, we can call upon the troops from the walls, if rebellion needs quelling. No point in defending the wall if the fighting is behind you!” He chortled, dismissing her concerns; he was insufferable when he adopted this superior manner; it infuriated her.
Sergeant Bayuan Aco entered, signed briefly to the guards, then said with a bow, “My apologies for disturbing you, your highnesses, but Lord Tanellor is here to report.”
Saurosen winked at Jikkos. “Let’s have a little sport with him, eh?” he whispered.
She nodded, a wisp of a smile on her lips, though her heart gave a little fearful jolt. On a handful of occasions she had caught Tanellor secretly watching her and was flattered by his attention. Truly, she was faithful to Sauri, but it still warmed the soul to know she had admirers of Lord Tanellor’s stature.
“Sergeant, show him in,” Saurosen commanded.
Carrying his helmet under his arm, Lord Tanellor entered the chamber. He saluted, his face without emotion, but she noticed his eyes glinted as they flicked at her. Those eyes sent her heart aflutter. A treacherous thought occurred to her: did she desire him? Her insides skipped pleasurably at the concept and her flesh warmed. That was absurd; she loved Sauri, heart and soul.
Tanellor bowed briefly while Sergeant Bayuan Aco hovered by the door.
Sauri made a mock bow. “Lord Tanellor, good of you to finally show your face and report to me. Can you fit me in to your busy schedule?”