The Scepter_s Return см-3

by Dan Chernenko

  Hirundo grinned at that. "Well, who doesn't?"

  Some of Ortalis' dealings with maidservants might have started out in a friendly way, but that wasn't how they'd ended. Still, Grus said, "As far as I know, he hasn't done anything like that since he married Limosa. I wanted to clobber him with a rock when he did marry her, but it really looks like he loves her." The idea of Ortalis' loving anyone but himself was even more curious than the idea of his making friends.

  "She…" Hirundo's voice trailed away. Grus had no trouble figuring out what the general would have said. She lets him do what he wants to her. She even likes it when he does. Every word of that was true, too. All the same…

  "I think there's something more to it," the king said. "He's been different since she had a girl, and he's been quite a bit different since she had a boy."

  "Ha!" Hirundo stabbed out a triumphant forefinger at him. "There! You said it yourself, Your Majesty. He has been different, and he has different friends, and you ought to look at him in a different way."

  That made good logical sense. Grus realized as much. Logic or no logic, he couldn't do it. He could imagine his son being dangerous in a fit of fury. Anything that required planning? He didn't think so. Going hunting the next day was about as far as Ortalis' planning reached.

  The more dubious Grus looked, the more insistent Hirundo got. He said, "For all you know, Limosa's egging him on."

  "Maybe," Grus said, not wanting to laugh in his old friend's face. He couldn't see anyone leading Ortalis around by the nose. He'd never had any luck doing it, anyhow; he knew that.

  Of course, he'd always tried to lead Ortalis in the direction he himself wanted his son to go. It never occurred to him that Ortalis might be easier to lead in the direction he wanted to go, or that the dreams he and Lanius had always perceived as nightmares might seem something else again to his son. And they were leading Ortalis, too.. ..

  Even in their bedchamber, behind a door that was closed and barred, Limosa's voice was the barest thread of whisper. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

  "I have to," Ortalis whispered back, even more softly. Limosa worried about Grus because he'd sent her father to the Maze. Ortalis worried about Grus because his father had been there scowling at him, shouting at him, hitting him, for as long as he could remember. Why Grus had felt he needed to do those things was forgotten. That Grus had done those things never would be, never could be. Ortalis went on, "It's for Marinus' sake."

  "Of course it is," Limosa said. "He's not just robbing you. He's robbing your whole line, that's what he's doing. And all because of -

  "

  "Lanius," Ortalis finished for her. He whispered his brother-in-law's name, too. Somehow, that let him pack more scorn into it, not less. "All he does is sit around and read things all day, read things and play with his miserable animals. And for him – for him – my own father's going to disinherit me, disinherit his grandson, too. Oh, no, he's not, by the gods."

  That some of his own actions – and inactions – might have given Grus reason to prefer Lanius to him never once crossed his mind. Even if it had, Limosa or, more likely, the Voice in his dreams that were better than dreams would have talked him around. He wouldn't have needed much persuading; like most people, he saw himself in the best possible light.

  Limosa saw him in the best possible light, too. She leaned over and kissed him. "When you put on the crown, you'll show everybody what being king is really all about. You'll be the best king Avornis ever had. You'll pick up the Scepter of Mercy and… do all sorts of good things with it." Her imagination failed her, there at the end.

  "Of course I will." Ortalis tried to sound confident, too. He really would rather have forgotten all about the Scepter. Now that it was back here, he didn't suppose he could, not permanently, but he still wanted to.

  He cursed well could forget about it for the time being. He kissed Limosa, too, kissed her hard, and kept on kissing her until he tasted blood. She whimpered in mixed pain and pleasure. They were always mixed for her. Giving them was always mixed for him. If the two of them weren't made for each other, no couple ever had been.

  "Oh, Ortalis," she murmured when at last their lips separated. He caressed her roughly and took her even more roughly. "Oh," she said again, softly, when he went into her. A few minutes later, the sounds she made were altogether unrestrained. Ortalis laughed, there on top of her. Then he groaned as though he were the one under the lash – a place he'd never had the least interest in being.

  If palace servants – or his father's spies – heard noises like that, they wouldn't think twice about them. They might be jealous, but that kind of jealousy didn't worry Ortalis. On the contrary – it made him proud.

  After they'd used the chamber pot and gotten back into their nightclothes, Limosa teased him, saying, "You're going to act just like a man. You're going to roll over and go right to sleep."

  "You do that as often as I do," he said, which was true. But his yawn declared she hadn't been wrong, either.

  He went out hunting the next morning. He didn't invite Anser, though his half brother had been his chief hunting partner for a long time. Not all the men he did invite had reputations as enthusiastic followers of the chase. They were, however, all enthusiastic followers of Ortalis. To Grus' legitimate son, that counted for much more.

  One nice thing about the hunt was that it seldom roused suspicion. If you went out and came back with lots of carcasses, you'd had a good day. If you went out and came back with next to nothing, the most anybody would say was, "Oh, bad luck!" If anything besides hunting happened while you were out there… Well, who was likely to find out?

  With his henchmen gathered together, Ortalis could ask them, "Are we ready to move when the time comes?"

  "Your Highness, we are." Serinus spoke with what sounded like complete confidence and assurance. The other young officers in the royal bodyguard nodded.

  "Will your men follow you no matter what orders you give them?" Ortalis persisted.

  "Your Highness, they will." Again, Serinus sounded very sure. Again, his fellow officers nodded. Ortalis could never have gotten so many of them together in the palace without stirring up more gossip than he wanted. Out here in the woods body was likely to pay any attention to what he did.

  He said, "You've told me what I most needed to hear, time is coming soon. I know I can count on you to do your duty"

  The time is coming soon. A year or two earlier, he would have been able to imagine saying those words. He never would have had the nerve. Truth to tell, he wouldn't have had the will either. But things had changed since then. He had a son now, a son and heir. That made him look differently – as oppose indifferently – on his place in the bigger scheme of things. And he had his dreams. The Voice made him think of his place in bigger scheme of things, too, and that his place ought to be bigger as well.

  "Soon?" Some of his followers sounded pleased. A few sounded alarmed. Ortalis knew what that meant. It meant he had some fair-weather friends, men who would suck up to a prince for the sake of whatever advantage that might bring, but who wouldn't back him when it counted.

  He glanced toward Serinus and Gygis. They both noded They were his most reliable followers. He could count on them to make sure none of the others got cold feet at a bad time.

  "Soon," he said firmly. "It will be fast. It will be smooth. And then things will go on as they were meant to."

  "Let's give three cheers for King Ortalis!" Gygis called.

  Everyone in the hunting party did cheer, too. Ortalis beamed at Gygis. Good to know who the clever ones were, and that was very clever indeed. Now they'd all cheered him as king. They couldn't say they hadn't had any idea what he was thinking about. And they would have a harder time withdrawing from this plot.

  "When the time comes, do we deal with both of them together, or just the one?" Serinus asked.

  "Just my father. He's the one who's always been trouble for me," Ortalis said venomously. "We don't need
to worry about Lanius. He's been my old man's lapdog for years. Why should he be any different for me?"

  Several young officers chuckled. Serinus sketched a salute. "However you want it, Your Majesty, that's how it'll work. I just needed to find out."

  "Fair enough," Ortalis said. The more he heard himself called Your Majesty and King Ortalis, the better he liked it. People should have been calling him things like that a long time ago. If Grus had to share the throne with somebody, he should have shared it with Ortalis, not with the weedy good-for-nothing who'd sat on it beforehand.

  "What will you do when you're king, Your Majesty?" one of the guards officers asked eagerly.

  "Why, I'll do – " Ortalis broke off. Despite having lived in the palace for many years, he had only a vague notion of what his father did when not harassing him. He gave the best answer he could. "I'll do all kinds of really neat stuff."

  That seemed to satisfy the guardsman. "I bet you will, Your Majesty!" he said.

  Serinus pulled a flask off his belt and yanked out the stopper. "Here's to the new king!" he said. Most of the officers had flasks of their own. They drank the toast, and passed wine to the few men who hadn't brought any. Ortalis had his own flask. As he drank the red, red wine, he imagined it was his father's blood. It would have been even sweeter if it were.

  A knock on the bedchamber door in the middle of the night always meant trouble. Grus knew that. Good news would wait until sunup. Bad news? Bad news cried out to be heard right away.

  "What do they want?" Estrilda asked sleepily.

  "I don't know." Clad in only his nightshirt, Grus was already getting out of bed. "I'd better find out, though." He walked over to the door and asked, "Who's there? What's the word?"

  "It's Serinus, Your Majesty," said the man on the other side, and Grus relaxed, recognizing the captain's voice. Serinus went on, "A courier's just come in from the south. Some kind of trouble down there – I don't know exactly what, but it didn't sound good."

  "Oh, by the gods!" Grus exclaimed. And it might have been by the gods, too. Had the Banished One found some way around the concessions Grus had forced from him with the

  Scepter of Mercy? Were the Menteshe kicking up their heels even without any help from the exiled god? Or had some ambitious and stupid noble decided this was a good time to rebel? "I'm coming," Grus added, and unbarred the door. "Where is this fellow, anyway?"

  "Near the front entrance, Your Majesty," Serinus answered. "He's hopping around like he's got to run for the jakes any time now."

  "He can do that after I've talked to him," Grus said. "Come on. What are you waiting for?" He hurried up the corridor.

  So did Serinus, who hadn't really been waiting for anything. A couple of squads of soldiers, all of them armed and armored, fell in with the guards officer and the king. But for their thumping boots and jingling chainmail, the hallways in the palace were very quiet. Grus wondered what the hour was.

  He also suddenly wondered why, at whatever hour this was, so many soldiers should appear as though from nowhere. Suspicion flared in him. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

  "This way, Your Majesty," Serinus said as though he hadn't spoken.

  "Wait a minute." Grus stopped. "For one thing, you didn't answer me. What is going on? And, for another, this isn't the way to the front hall."

  "Well, so it isn't." Serinus smiled. It was not the sort of smile Grus wanted to see – more the sort a wolf would have worn just before it sprang. The young officer bowed to Grus. "But you see, Your Majesty, that's part of what's going on." He nodded to the soldiers. The ones who carried swords drew them. The ones who carried spears pointed them at Grus. "You can come along with us quietly or" – he shrugged – "the servants will have to clean a mess off the floor. Up to you."

  "You can't do this!" Grus blurted. "You can't expect to get away with it, either."

  "Oh, but we can. And we do. And we will." Serinus sounded as though he had all the answers. At the moment, he certainly had more of them than Grus did.

  "Where do you aim to take me?" Grus asked. In his nightshirt, without even an eating knife on his belt – without even a belt! – He couldn't do much about it no matter where it was.

  His best hope was that somebody would come by and notice this… this kidnapping. But no one except Serinus and his men seemed to be up and about.

  "Why, to the Maze, of course." Serinus certainly had the answer to that question. "You've sent enough people there yourself. High time you find out what it's like, don't you think?"

  Grus thought nothing of the sort. Still more outraged than afraid, he filled his lungs to shout for help. Some of the soldiers saw him doing it. They shook their heads. A couple of them brandished their weapons. He didn't shout.

  "Smart fellow." Serinus nodded approval. "They say blood is so hard to get out from between these little mosaic tiles." His voice lost its good humor and assumed the snap of command. "Now get moving. If anybody sees us and tries to stop us, you'll be the one who's sorriest. I promise you that."

  Believing him, Grus did get moving. He couldn't help asking, "Who put you up to this? King Lanius?"

  Serinus laughed uproariously. So did his henchmen. "By the gods in the heavens, no," the officer answered, laughing still. "We serve King Ortalis."

  "King -?" Associating his son with sovereignty was so ridiculous; Grus couldn't do it even now. He wanted to laugh himself, at the absurdity of the idea. He wanted to, but he couldn't. Ortalis and these men evidently didn't think it was absurd. I should have paid more attention to Hirundo, Grus thought, much too late for it to do him any good.

  Serinus and the soldiers hustled him out of the palace. They bundled him onto a horse and tied his legs beneath him. They had horses, too. Out of the city they rode, as slick as boiled asparagus.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Your Majesty, the other king wants to see you in the small dining room as soon as you can get there," a guard outside Lanius' chamber told him as soon as he opened the door.

  "Does he?" Lanius said around a yawn. The soldier nodded. Lanius yawned again, then asked, "Did he tell you what it was about?"

  "No, Your Majesty, but I think you'd better hurry. I've got the feeling it's important," the guard answered.

  He knew more than he was letting on. Lanius didn't have to be a genius to figure that out. The king wondered if he ought to press the soldier. In the end, he decided not to. He would find out soon enough from Grus. He wondered what had happened. The other king hadn't summoned him like this in quite a while.

  Scratching his head, Lanius went to the room where he usually ate breakfast. Ortalis sat there, sipping on a cup of wine and fidgeting a little. "Oh, hello," Lanius said. "The guard must have gotten his signals crossed. I thought your father would be here."

  "What did he say?" Ortalis asked. The silver goblet shook in his hand – not very much, but enough for Lanius to notice. "What exactly did he say?"

  Lanius thought back. He prided himself on being able to get things like that straight. "He said the other king wanted to see me in here as soon as possible." That wasn't word for word, but it caught the meaning well enough.

  Ortalis nodded and smiled – a surprisingly nervous smile for so early in the day. "Good. He did get it right then," he said. "That's what I told him to tell you, all right."

  "What you told him to tell me?" Lanius' wits weren't working as well as he wished they were.

  "What I told him to tell you, yes." Ortalis sounded a little more confident this time. Without rising from his stool, he struck a pose. "I'm the new King of Avornis."

  "You're what?" No, Lanius wasn't at his best. He didn't laugh in Ortalis' face, but held back only by the tiniest of margins. "What's happened to your father?" That worry was the main thing that made him not show everything he was thinking.

  He waited for Ortalis to tell him Grus was desperately ill, or even that he'd died in the night. Grus had seemed in good health the last time Lanius saw him, but the other king wasn
't a young man. Such things could happen, and happen all too easily.

  But, a certain ferocious glee in his voice, Ortalis answered, "I packed him off to the Maze, that's what."

  Now Lanius frankly stared. "You.. sent your father to the Maze?" He couldn't believe it. Grus had overcome every foe in sight, from rebellious Avornan nobles to King Dagipert of Thervingia to the Banished One himself. How could he possibly have fallen to his own son, a far less dangerous opponent?

  As soon as Lanius asked himself the question that way, the likely answer became clear. As far as Grus was concerned, would Ortalis have been a visible opponent at all? Grus had always made allowances for his legitimate son, and never taken him very seriously. He had to be regretting that now.

  "You'd best believe I did," Ortalis growled. "He had it coming, too. This is my kingdom now, by Olor's beard."

  "Yours?" Lanius said. "What about me?"

  "What about you? I'll tell you what about you," his brother-in-law answered. "You can be king, too, if you want. You can go on wearing the crown, if you want. Whenever my old man said, 'Frog,' you'd hop. As long as you keep on hopping for me, everything will be fine." He smiled, as though to say he was sure Lanius wouldn't mind an arrangement like that.

  Back when Grus first put the crown on his own head, all the power had been in his hands. Lanius had been a figurehead, nothing more. Grus would have gotten rid of him if he could have done it without inflaming people by ending Avornis' ancient dynasty. He hadn't even bothered pretending anything different.

  Little by little, though, Lanius had gathered bits and pieces of power into his own hands. Grus' going out on campaign so often hadn't hurt things, not one bit. Grus had needed someone who could run things here in the capital while he was away. To whom else would he have given the job? Ortalis? Ortalis hadn't wanted it. And so it came to Lanius, and more and more came with it.