Paedris was not aboard the Lady Hildegard, nor were any other wizards that Koren knew of. If there were a wizard aboard the ship, surely that wizard would have acted against the pirates. But without wizardry, Koren had no explanation for how or why the bomb had not harmed him. Even if the bomb had exploded prematurely, or struck something in the air, the burning oil should have continued to fall forward onto Koren and Alfonze. Now even Alfonze looked at Koren with fear and suspicion. “I don’t know how I survived, sir. I can only tell you that I didn’t do anything.”
“Aye,” the captain considered. “If you were a wizard, you’d not have needed an arrow to set that pirate ship on fire. Yet, no one could make a shot like that, two shots, at such distance.”
“I was lucky,” Koren protested lamely.
“Mister Scanton tells me you release the arrow when you feel it is time,” the captain leaned across the desk. “Archers that I know do not rely on a feeling.”
“I can’t explain it, sir. It’s been like that ever since I was little, and I was hunting on my parent’s farm,” he said truthfully. “When I wait until I know it’s the right time, I never miss.”
Captain Reed leaned back in his chair. “Kedrun, the bomb missing you and Alfonze; I could have thought that merely strange. Taken together; the bomb missing you, your incredible skill with a bow, and your reflexes, I cannot ignore my suspicions. You are no mere landsman who joined my crew. Explain yourself.”
Koren had been fearing this day. Ever since he had fled the castle, he had expected the skill Paedris had cast on him to fade, but it had not. When the crew had drilled with wooden blades, Koren always had to slow himself down until it was almost painful to watch the slow and clumsy the actions of whatever man he was sparring with. He had feared this day, when his unnatural skill was discovered. And he had been preparing for this day. He had prepared a story that contained enough truth to be believable. “I was servant to a gentleman from Estada,” Koren explained at least half-truthfully.
“Ah,” the captain said with a raised eyebrow. “That’s why you know how to cook exotic foods, then.”
“Ur, yes.” That also was close enough to the truth. “This gentleman wished me to be able to act as a guard for him, and for such, I needed more speed and skill than I had. So my master caused a wizard to cast a spell on me, giving me unnatural abilities.” He looked at the captain to judge whether the man was believing his story. As it appeared so, Koren continued. “It must have happened while I was asleep; I did not know it.” That part was entirely true.
“You ran away, then?” The captain asked. Servants and apprentices running away from their masters did not both him; such people formed much of new crewmates for merchant ships.
“Yes. I feared for my life. If that spell had been cast on me, I feared what could be next. And I thought, that once I was gone, my abilities would disappear. I have been surprised to see they have not. I can’t explain it.”
The captain let out a long breath. “Magic like that is not natural. It can burn you out from inside, if not removed. You need to consult a wizard.”
“A wizard? How? It was a wizard who did this to me, against my will. All wizards belong to the Council, I think. One wizard would not likely help me, by undoing the work of another,” he said bitterly. “They would be more likely to capture me, and bring me back to my master.”
The captain sat back in his chair and considered for a moment. Above them on deck, Koren could hear footsteps on the wood planks, shouts, the creaking of timbers and ropes being tightened. The normal sounds of a ship, the crew going on about the business of sailing the Hildegard, as if nothing unusual had happened that day. “Aye. Wizards can be good or bad, but they can’t be trusted to respect the lives of simple folk like us. Wizards live in their own world, and regular people such as you and me don’t matter to them.” Kedrun’s problem was not the responsibility of Captain Reed or the crew of the Lady Hildegard. Still, Reed felt sympathy for the young man. Kedrun had come aboard the ship, concealing an important secret, but how many of the crew had done the same? Reed himself had been running from something he would rather forget when he first went to sea. “When I was a younger man,” Reed reminisced, “I traveled north, to the dwarf lands. One of our party was injured in a fall down a mountain, and a dwarf wizard healed her. Maybe you could seek out a wizard of the dwarves. They have their own council.”
“I could do that?” Koren asked, his eyes wide. He thought back to Hedurmur in Linden, a dwarf who had sold him a magic-spelled blade. The sword had been made by dwarves, he knew that; and by reputation, dwarves were the premier metalsmiths in all the world. But it had never occurred to him that the wizard who had put a magic spell into the blade had been a dwarf. It was not that he had thought dwarves incapable of being wizards; he had simply not mentally connected ‘dwarves’ and ‘wizard’ before. “They would help me?”
“There are good dwarves and bad dwarves, like any other people,” Reed cautioned. “All I can say is, although we have an alliance with the dwarves against Acedor, dwarves are not beholden to anyone.”
“I will think about it, Sir,” Koren responded, his head spinning with possibilities. When he had fled Linden, all he had in his mind was to get far away. To get away from the reach of the Royal Army, for his own safety. And to get a safe distance away from anyone he cared about, so his jinx curse could not harm anyone. Except, everyone he went, he found people to care about, like the crew of the Hildegard. He had never thought of seeking someone to help him. It had never occurred to him that anyone could help him. Despite the harsh words of the priest in the royal chapel, could his curse be lifted by a wizard? Did dwarf wizards know magic that even Paedris did not? It was certainly worth a chance, Koren decided.
“Whatever you decide to do, you need to leave the ship,” the captain declared, looking Koren directly in the eye. “We’ll be docking at Istandol, I don’t know if you’ve ever been there?”
Koren shook his head.
The captain reached into his desk, shuffled rolled-up papers around, and pulled out a map. He spread it on the table. “It’s a busy port, you can surely find another ship there, if that’s what you wish.”
“No. I want to do as you suggested, and find a dwarf wizard. I’ll go north.” He knew where Istandol was, having seen it on maps back when he and Princess Ariana had loved to spend a lovely afternoon looking at maps from the royal library, and imagining what those distant lands were like. That memory was now bitter, he pushed it to the back of his mind. He touched the map, his finger tracing a route. Istandol lay where the broad mouth of a large river met the sea. The ridgeline of the hills to the west of the river valley formed much of Tarador’s eastern border, so he could remain safely out of that realm’s territory for much of his intended journey. He would take passage on a ship going upriver, but at some point, he would need to turn west and cross into Tarador to reach the dwarf lands. How he would do that, he could decide later. And he would need money, more money than he possessed. That, also, he could figure out later.
Bjorn was ready to leave the blacksmith shop. He had stayed there past a fortnight in order to help Fergus with a new apprentice, an awkward boy who could barely make his way around the shop without burning himself. “That’s it, then,” Bjorn announced, setting down his tools after cleaning them and wiping them with oil.
“Yes,” Fergus replied. “I guess that’s it. Oh,” he acted like he had just remembered something. “Here,” he held out canvas sack. “My wife prepared food for your journey. It’s hard bread, some cheese, dried beef, a couple of those meat pies you like.” The blacksmith was embarrassed.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Bjorn said gratefully.
“Please,” Fergus said with a dismissive wave of a hand, “it will make her happy for you to take it. Here’s your last pay,” he tossed a small pouch to his former, and best, helper.
Bjorn caught it, felt the weight of it in his hand, then opened it. “This is too much,” he p
rotested.
“No it isn’t.” Fergus waved a hand to indicate all the finished pieces around the now clean and well-organized shop. “I’d not have completed all these orders on time without you, nor gotten these new orders,” he held up a sheaf of papers. “You’ve earned it. Good luck to you, Bjorn Jihnsson. And good luck to your family, when you see them.”
Every morning, Ariana woke up wishing to ask Chief Advisor Kallron what progress he had made in finding a way around the law of coronation, so she could take the throne immediately. Instead, she waited patiently. Actually, she waited impatiently, frustrated, knowing that as soon as Kallron had news, he would tell her. Before they both left for the summer palace, he had not found any legal means for her to become queen before the sixteenth birthday. At the summer palace he had remained in his suite of rooms, except for the evening meal, studying the ancient scrolls and books he had brought from the royal library. And much to his disappointment, he had not found anything useful. As soon as they returned to Linden, he had buried himself in the royal library again. So when he requested to meet with the crown princess as soon as possible, she was fairly trembling with excitement. Until she saw the gloomy expression on his face. “Highness, it is as I feared,” Kallron reported sadly. “I have searched the royal archives; I have also made discrete, very discrete searches of other legal libraries. The law is clear, it is well documented, and it is as strong as iron. You cannot take the throne until your sixteenth birthday. The Regency Council,” consisting of the dukes and duchesses of Tarador’s seven provinces, “guards its power carefully. They wrote the law to prevent a young crown princess, or prince, from taking the throne as long as possible. To sustain their influence as long as possible.”
Ariana bit her lip in anger and frustration. “The Regency Council made the law. Surely they can change it.”
“That is a good question. The law can be changed, yes. According to the law, the process for changing the rules of coronation for a sovereign, begins with five of seven provinces approving a revised law.”
“Five of seven?” Ariana asked, surprised. Four of seven was a majority. She could count on the votes of three provinces; two for sure. Four would require negotiation, but it could be managed, somehow. Five? Five was very difficult, with the Falcos controlling their own province and having strong influence over two others.
“Five, Highness. Five of seven is referred to in the law as a super majority. That is not the real problem. After the law is approved by the Council, it must be approved by the sovereign.”
“What?” The princess sputtered. “But the law of coronation is only in effect when there is no sovereign on the throne!”
“Exactly, Highness. The law was written specifically to prevent the Regency Council from making a deal with potential inheritors of the throne, and choosing their own sovereign. For example, were you to have a younger brother or sister, they could deal with the Falcos to take the throne instead of you. That is why the law of coronation cannot be changed without a king or queen on the throne. It is, Your Highness, a wise law.”
“Oh,” Ariana sighed. “I suppose it is.” She would not like the idea of a younger sibling passing over her to wear the crown. Especially not if she had been passed over because the throne had been sold to the Falcos. “There is truly no way, then?”
“Short of using the Royal Army to seize the throne by force, there is no way for you to become queen short of your sixteenth birthday. I would not recommend we attempt such an extreme act, in case you were wondering.”
“No, of course not.” Ariana hastened to say. She had been wondering exactly that; whether the Royal Army would follow her. Whether she could convince Grand General Magrane to support her. The problem was that not all of the Royal Army would likely join her cause, and then there would be strife within the Royal Army. The combined Ducal armies of the seven provinces were three times the size of the total royal force; against a united Regency Council, Ariana could not prevail. “There is truly no way?”
“Highness, I am truly sorry. There is no possibility of you becoming queen until you are sixteen years of age,” Kallron looked down at the floor, as if accepting blame for his failure. “There is, however,” he looked up with a twinkle in his eyes, “a wrinkle I have discovered.”
“A wrinkle?’
“Yes. In my research of the royal archives, I came across a very curious, a most curious fact. I was reading about the history of the Regency, and, here is something odd; the only requirement to be Regent is for the person to have been born a Taradoran citizen.”
“Why is that odd?” That requirement made sense to Ariana.
“My point,” Kallron said with a broad grin, “is that, as you were born a citizen of Tarador, there is no reason you could not become Regent.”
“That makes no sen-” Recognition dawned on the princess, and she gasped. “I could become my own Regent? Hold power for myself?”
“Yes. The law may, as you were going to say, make no sense,” he said with a wink. “There is no law preventing you from holding power as Regent, until Ariana Trehayme comes of age and takes the throne.”
“Oh. Oh!” She stood up and playfully pounded the man’s chest with her fists. “Uncle Kallron,” she used the name she had called the man when she was a child, “you made me wait and worry!”
“A lesson in patience, Your Highness.” He kissed the top of her head, as he had done when little Ariana had sat on his knee. “And a lesson in how convoluted our laws can be.”
Ariana fairly danced across the room to pour a cup of tea for herself, and red wine for her advisor. Then she looked sharply at her advisor. “This is not a game you are playing on me? I truly can become my own Regent?”
Kallron nodded slowly, seriously. “I would never joke about such a subject, Your Highness. What I said is true.”
“The law truly makes no sense,” she crinkled her forehead in puzzlement, spooning sugar into her tea. “The law says that I am too young to take the throne, but I can hold the power of the throne through the Regency?”
“Highness, it is not that the law makes no sense; the law simply did not consider such a possibility. While you must be sixteen to be crowned queen or king, the Regency has no age requirement. Because the law does not state that a future monarch cannot be elected Regent, the Regency Council may elect anyone they wish. It is certain that the Falcos, perhaps others, will argue that you becoming Regent goes against the intent of the law, and such an argument may well be right. Such as argument is also irrelevant; the law stands as written. Authority for interpretation of the law rests with the sovereign, and as you mentioned, we have no sovereign.”
“I know the law for appointing a Regent,” Ariana said while carefully carrying a too-full goblet of wine to her new advisor. “We need, what did you call it? A supermajority?” She pronounced the unfamiliar word slowly. “Appointing a new Regent also take five votes on the Council, for me to replace my mother.”
“Five votes,” Kallron nodded in agreement. “You can count on only two for certain,” he warned, holding a finger in the air for emphasis.
“Rellanon and LeVanne.” Ariana recited the names of the provinces closely allied to the Trehayme family. “Dukes Magnico and Yarron.”
“Friends you can count on, now and when you take the throne,” Kallron agreed. “Then there are Duchess Portiss of Anschulz Province, and Duke Romero of Winterthur. They likely would agree to you assuming the Regency, given certain assurances. Romero, as his lands border Acedor, would require a commitment that the Royal Army would assist in securing his border against the enemy.”
“I have maintained my personal guard in the Thrallren Woods of LeVanne province, to bolster our defenses there. The Thrallren extends up into Winterthur.” Ariana reminded the former chancellor. “Uncle Yar-” she slipped into speaking of the man as she had known him since she was a little girl. Yarron was not an uncle, but he was related to Ariana by blood. “Duke Yarron knows that I will protect him. Romero sur
ely can see the same.”
“Romero knows you sympathize with him. He may fear that your guards are in the Thrallren to spite your mother, and that once you hold the reins of power, you will find better uses for those skilled soldiers. Romero will seek formal assurances.”
“He will receive them. We must hold the Thrallren Woods. If we cannot prevent the enemy from invading through such difficult territory, we cannot hold our borders anywhere. What of Duchess Portiss?” Ariana asked fearfully. Portiss had a second son, in his early twenties now. In years past, Portiss had hinted that her son would be a good match for Ariana, but as the boy had grown into a man, Portiss had not mentioned the possibility of a union for quite some time. There were rumors that her son had been about to announce his engagement to a wealthy princess of Indus, until the outbreak of war had put a halt to any such celebrations.
“Duchess Portiss will, I think, offer her support in the sincere belief that our nation is doomed so long as your mother remains in power.” Ballana Portiss and Carlana Trehayme had never liked each other; the rift between the two women had grown wider since Carlana had become Regent. Or, rather, since Carlana had shown herself to be a completely ineffective leader of Tarador. “Duchess Portiss is happy with the matches her sons have made,” her oldest son and heir was married to Duke Magnico’s oldest daughter, “she has given up designs on you marrying one of her family.”
“Four votes,” Ariana’s face brightened. “That is four votes, certain or likely! All we need is one more. Thank you, Uncle Kallron!” She refrained from flinging her arms around the man. He was her advisor now, and she the future ruler of Tarador. “We must begin to look at which-”
Transcendent (Ascendant Book 2) Page 12