“Very well,” said Jordan. “Gawaine, you come with me. You can stand guard outside the door while the steward and I are talking. The rest of you stay here and block off both ends of this corridor. No one gets in or out until we’re finished. Try and keep alert—Lewis or Dominic would quite happily kill all of you, just to get a chance at killing me.”
The steward waited a moment to be sure he’d finished, and then set off briskly down the corridor. Jordan and Gawaine followed after her. Jordan could hear Roderik spluttering with what sounded like pure rage behind him, but he didn’t dare look back to see. He didn’t trust himself to keep a straight face if he did. Taggert led the way to an unobtrusive door tucked away in a shadowy corner. She opened the door with a heavy key on a chain, and gestured for Jordan to enter. He did so, and Taggert went in after him and shut the door behind her. Outside, Sir Gawaine drew his ax and took up his guard.
The room was small and bare, and the walls smelled strongly of fresh whitewash. The only light came from a single candlestub burning in a wall holder. Jordan let his hand drift casually closer to his sword. He trusted Taggart, but there was no point in being foolish. Taggert looked uncertainly at Jordan, as though wondering exactly where to start.
“Just say it right out,” he said gently. “I don’t think either of us have much patience with diplomatic language.”
Taggert smiled suddenly. “You’ve changed a lot since you went into exile, Viktor. You weren’t a bad sort before, for a prince, but after you met Elizabeth and she threw you over, you just fell apart at the seams. No offense.” Jordan nodded to show he’d taken none, and she continued. “At the time, I thought you’d become as bad as your brothers. There’s a well-established streak of instability in your family, you know. Comes from all that inbreeding for Blood in the old days. King Malcolm used to think about that a lot. It worried him.
“We talked quite a bit, your father and me, after my father died. I suppose because my dad and I were the only people in the Court who didn’t play politics. We never have. Our job is too important for that. Anyway, the point is your father trusted me. He told me where to look for his will if anything should … happen to him. So when he died, suddenly, I followed his directions: took the will, and kept it. I agreed with the Regent—you see, I thought neither you nor your brothers were fit to be king. And then I saw you, fighting beside me in the Court and again in the West Wing, and I knew I’d been wrong about you. I’m sorry, Viktor. Here’s the will. It’s yours.”
She reached into her pocket and brought out a single polished ruby. It gleamed darkly on her palm like a single great drop of blood. Jordan looked at Taggert for a long moment, and then took the jewel from her. Their eyes met, and she shrugged and smiled, suddenly embarrassed.
“You stood up well in the West Wing, Viktor. Not everyone can cope with the Unreal—it takes more than ordinary courage. You were scared half out of your mind, but you didn’t let it stop you. Watching you cut a path through the Unreal was like watching your father on a battlefield in his prime. Strong and brave and … royal. I was impressed. We all were. I’ve never listened to the will myself, but I suppose it contains instructions on where to find the crown and seal. If anyone’s going to wear the crown, Viktor, I’d rather it was you. Now, if you’ll excuse me …”
Jordan nodded dazedly, and she hurried out of the room. Sir Gawaine looked in, to make sure everything was all right with Jordan, and then went over to join him. Jordan speechlessly showed him the ruby, and Gawaine nodded slowly.
“Malcolm’s will. You must have made quite an impression on the steward, Your Highness. I haven’t known her to blush and go all tongue-tied since she was in pigtails. Now we’d better get back to the others. I don’t like us being off on our own, away from the guards. And I think the sooner we’ve got that will in a safe place, the better.”
Jordan nodded, and slipped the ruby into one of the hidden pockets in his sleeve. The jewel felt strangely warm, its heat pulsing against his arm like a living thing. He walked out into the corridor with Gawaine at his side, and only then realized he hadn’t even thanked the steward. He looked quickly up and down the corridor, but Taggert was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged unhappily and rejoined his party, and Roderik cursed him in an icy monotone all the way back to Jordan’s suite. Not that Jordan listened to any of it; he had too many other things on his mind. The steward had placed a great deal of trust in him by giving him the will, because she believed the kingdom would be safe in his hands. But it wouldn’t be him on the throne—that fell to Viktor. And Prince Viktor was rather different from the man who was currently playing him. Admittedly, it was hard to tell how different. The man had been deathly ill for some time, and invalids were notorious for their bad temper. And yet …
There is a history of instability in your family.
Jordan began to wonder if he’d done the right thing in letting Sir Gawaine know he had the will. Gawaine was a good man, no doubt about that, but at bottom the knight was still bound by his oath of loyalty to Viktor. And Jordan was becoming increasingly unsure as to whether Viktor was worthy of such loyalty.
Back in Jordan’s suite, the conspirators watched in silence as Jordan handed the ruby to Prince Viktor. It glowed with a somber crimson light, until Viktor closed his fist around it. He stood before the open fireplace and grinned broadly about him. Heather clung tightly to his arm, almost bursting with pride and happiness. Roderik’s mood had mellowed, and Argent had actually been seen to smile briefly, once or twice. Sir Gawaine stood guard by the door, and though he watched the proceedings closely, his face gave away nothing at all. He’d stopped off on the way back to check that his wife was safe, and Roderik hadn’t wanted to spare the time. Gawaine had had to insist, and neither of them had been polite about it.
Viktor finally settled into his chair again, and Heather perched on the arm, as before. The others pulled up chairs around him, and Viktor spoke the Word of Power that would unlock the ruby’s secrets.
The air before them shimmered and grew vague, and King Malcolm was suddenly standing in the room. Jordan studied the image closely. Unlike the others, this was his first look at King Malcolm of Redhart. The king was tall and muscular, and carried his regal robes well. His dark hair was shot with silver, but still thick and wavy. His eyes were a silvery gray, like Gabrielle, and he had the same harsh-boned face as Lewis and Dominic. His gaze was sharp and commanding, and his mouth was a firm, flat line. He looked like someone who expected others to listen when he spoke. His voice was calm and assured.
“If you’re hearing this, then I am dead. I have no way of knowing how or when my death will occur, but I feel safe in assuming that the Court is currently in a state approaching panic. You will have discovered by now that my crown and seal are missing. I have ordered them hidden.
“I assume you are here, William, as Regent. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, old friend, but I think you understand why it was necessary. According to custom, I should begin my will by declaring which of my sons is to inherit my position, my wealth, and my throne. I choose not to do so. It is my sad opinion that none of my sons are worthy to take my place as king of Redhart.”
The dead king stood silently for a while, frowning unhappily. The conspirators looked at each other and at Viktor, but nobody said anything.
“Lewis has become degenerate. For a time I thought he might follow in my footsteps and continue the conquests I began, but more and more it seems to me that he considers nothing important save the satisfying of his various hungers. Dominic has always been unstable. I had hoped his marriage to the Lady Elizabeth might settle him, but if anything it seems her ambition has only fueled his madness. Of late, I fear Dominic has become dangerously insane. Were he not my youngest son, my last born, I would have had him killed years ago.
“After I lost faith in Lewis, I placed all my hopes in Viktor. He showed real promise—his only faults those of youth and inexperience. But unfortunately, he too encountered the Lady Eliza
beth, and she taught him among other things the pleasures of ambition and intrigue. Perhaps his time in Kahalimar will calm his hot blood—but I doubt it. He has already tried to kill Dominic, and no man who would murder his own brother over a lover’s quarrel can be trusted with the throne of Redhart.
“It is time for new Blood. I have therefore given instructions that in the event of my death, a trusted servant is to take my crown and seal and hide them where they will not easily be found. You, William, as Regent, will be forced to proclaim the Rite of Transference, and a new royal line will begin. This will inevitably mean a time of chaos, but that will pass, and Redhart will be the stronger for it. I have no regrets for what I have set in motion. More and more it seems to me that I have done more harm than good in the kingdom which was entrusted to my keeping. Weep no tears at my passing—I am old and tired. I have seen my wife die, and watched my sons grow to be monsters.
“I have no way of knowing who is listening to me now. It doesn’t really matter. All I have left to say is that if you would find my crown and seal, you must look among those who have gone before. There. A final clue to help you on your way, whoever you are. Wear the crown proudly, use its power wisely, and beware of the Unreal. I am King Malcolm of Redhart. Hear my words.”
The image of the king flickered and disappeared. For a long time nobody said anything. Viktor sat staring at the ruby in his hand. Finally Roderik stirred, and his chair creaked loudly as his weight shifted. Everyone turned to look at him.
“It’s a good thing the steward did take the will and hide it. If this had been shown in open Court, civil war would have broken out on the spot.”
“He called me a monster,” said Viktor. “I came all the way back here to avenge his murder, and what do I find? He’d rather some stranger wore the crown than me. I fought in his wars, bled in his battles, even accepted internal exile rather than risk a civil war, and all for what?”
“Viktor …” said Heather.
“Monsters,” said Viktor. He threw the ruby away from him. It hit the far wall, and fell back onto the carpet. It rolled a short distance, and everyone watched it till it lay still. No one made a move to pick it up.
“King Malcolm has at least given us a clue,” said Roderik. “He said the crown and the seal lie among those who have gone before. Does that mean anything to you, Viktor?”
“I don’t want to talk about that now,” said Viktor.
“But darling,” said Heather, “you must see that …”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Viktor’s voice rose to a shout, and he glared about him. No one met his eyes. “Leave me, all of you. I don’t want you around me for a while. No, wait, you can stay with me, actor. The rest of you, get out. I’ll see you again in an hour.”
Jordan looked at Gawaine for some clue as to what to do, but the knight just shook his head slightly. Heather made as though she wanted to say something to him, but a glance at Viktor’s scowling face dissuaded her. One by one the conspirators left the suite, and Jordan was left alone with Prince Viktor.
Viktor sat in silence for some time, staring into the fire. Jordan waited for an invitation to sit down, and when it didn’t come, he sat down hesitantly in the chair opposite Viktor. The quiet, crackling fire spread a pleasant warmth through the room, and despite everything, Jordan began to relax a little. What with one thing and another, this was pretty much the first chance he’d had to just sit down and take it easy since he entered Castle Midnight. Whatever else you could say about the place, it wasn’t dull. Jordan stretched out his legs, and surreptitiously studied the prince sitting opposite him.
Viktor looked a little better than he had, but his face was still pale and gaunt. The strain of his long illness showed in his sunken eyes and the tired boneless slump of his body in his chair. Jordan sensed a basic confusion within the man, as though he was desperately searching for answers he wasn’t sure were even there. Jordan tried to work out how he felt about Viktor, and wasn’t surprised to discover he was feeling pretty confused himself. On the one hand, people seemed to agree that Viktor had been the most promising of the three brothers before he’d met Elizabeth, but given the competition that wasn’t saying much. Sir Gawaine had stood by him through thick and thin, but how much of that was down to personal loyalty and how much to the oath he’d sworn to King Malcolm? The Lady Heather seemed genuinely fond of Viktor, but there was no doubting she was very ambitious. And ruthless … not unlike the Lady Elizabeth, in fact. Viktor didn’t seem to be having much luck in his choice of women. He had tried to kill Dominic, which was a point in his favor, but in a stupid and amateurish way, which wasn’t. Jordan sighed silently. He kept working around the main issue, reluctant to face it head on. Catriona Taggert had given him King Malcolm’s will because she believed his version of Prince Viktor was worthy to be king. But was the real Viktor worthy? And if not, what was he going to do about it?
Victor looked up from the fire and looked soberly at Jordan. “It’s strange to see another man with my face,” he said slowly. “We have a legend, here in Redhart, of the dopplegänger—a supernatural double who appears to us only at the time of our imminent death. Are you a bad omen for me, actor?”
“I hope not, Your Highness,” said Jordan carefully. “I’m here to help gain you the throne.”
Viktor smiled slightly. “Yes. I will be king. I never really thought I would, when I was younger. Lewis was the eldest, after all, and Dad’s favorite, so I always assumed he’d wear the crown. Not that he deserved it. He’s been chasing everything that breathes since his voice dropped. And those he couldn’t intimidate with his position, he took by force. You’d have thought he’d have more pride. I never liked Lewis. No one did really, but all the time I was here, Dad wouldn’t hear a word said against him. Old fool. He didn’t want to know about Dominic either, though we all told him often enough. Even Lewis couldn’t stand Dominic. I think he was born crazy. One time, when we were all still kids, he took a puppy from the castle kennels and cut it open, to see how it worked. None of us were surprised when Dominic took up sorcery. I’m going to enjoy ordering his death.”
Jordan looked at him, startled, and Viktor smiled.
“Oh yes, actor, Dominic is going to die. I should have taken my time and done the job properly when he first took my Elizabeth. That was when things started to go wrong …” His voice trailed away, and his eyes became distant, fixed on yesterday. “I loved her, actor. I loved her more than I ever loved anyone else … I used to walk around all day with a stupid grin on my face, just so happy that she loved me. I didn’t believe it at first, when they told me about her and Dominic. I threatened one man with a duel, for spreading such vile rumors. I was so young … In the end, I had to believe it. I confronted Elizabeth with the truth, and she laughed at me. I should have taken more time, and done the job properly. I should have killed them both when I had the chance.
“I’ve learned patience since then, rotting in exile with only that stupid relic Gawaine for company. All he knows is duty and honor and taking orders. Those things are for the lesser people—not princes and kings. Kings don’t answer to anyone but themselves. They don’t have to. No, actor, I had a lot of time in exile to think of all the things I’d do if they were ever foolish enough to allow me back. On my first morning as king, I’ll see Lewis and Dominic and Elizabeth die. Their heads shall sit on spikes outside my castle gates, and the ravens will eat their eyes.”
Viktor heaved himself up out of his chair and stood with his back to the fire. His face was flushed, and his eyes were unnaturally bright. “Everyone who ever stood against me will die! All of them! Once I am king, the power of the Stone will be mine, and I will take vengeance for all those long years of insult and neglect. I will command the Unreal, and Redhart will become great again, through me.”
Jordan looked uneasily at the prince, disturbed by the direction his thoughts were taking him. “From what I’ve seen of the Unreal, Your Highness, it’s not something to trifle with.
It’s too dangerous …”
“Don’t lecture me!” Viktor glared at Jordan. His voice was high and strained. “What do you know about the Unreal? I was born and raised in this castle, and I know more about the Unreal than you ever will. Now be quiet, actor. You’re here to listen, not to talk. I’m sick of people advising me, telling me what to do. I don’t have to put up with that anymore, and I’m not going to. There’s a power in the Stone and in the Unreal, actor—a power beyond your comprehension. My father was afraid of it, but I’m not.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” said Jordan. “But what are you going to do with that power?”
“Whatever I choose,” said Viktor, his eyes still far away.
“The harvests have been bad this year,” said Jordan. “It’s been a long hot summer, with little rain. I’ve traveled through your kingdom, town by town, seen the hardships and the suffering. Food’s scarce, and market prices are high. Your people are hungry. By winter, many of them will be starving.”
“Let them,” said Viktor. “What did they ever do for me? Where were they when I was sent into exile? Damned peasants breed like rabbits anyway. As long as they pay their taxes on time, I’ll leave them alone, and if they’re sensible, they’ll be thankful for that. They’ll praise my name soon enough when I’ve made Redhart strong again. What do a few bad harvests matter? If we need food, we can always take it from Hillsdown, or the Forest Kingdom. After the battering they took in the Demon Wars, they’re in no shape to stand against us.”
“They’re not that weak,” said Jordan. “They’d fight back. There would be war.”
“Does the word frighten you, actor?” said Viktor. “I thought you made your living from tales of the glory of war, of the heroes and their battles. Or perhaps the raw meat of war is too strong for your stomach? War is the true test of kings, where they can reveal their true strength and destiny. I’ve had a long time to think about all this, actor. All those years in exile, while another man had my woman as his wife. All those years in a backwater of boredom and idleness. But I didn’t waste my time, actor. I made plans, forged partnerships, found willing allies for a man who would be king … I have many enemies, I know, but they won’t stop me. They’ve stolen my woman, banished me from Court, left me to rot, tried to poison me … but I’m back now, and I’ll make them pay. I’ll make them all pay! No matter how many I have to kill, they’ll pay for what they did to me!”
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