book1

by Fire

“And a bodyguard needs a captain. Someone who knows how Chetts think. Someone who will choose only the most loyal warriors.”

  Gudon considered the suggestion. “Do you have an ideas?”

  “I’m sure something will come to you,” Ager said, and then: “I don’t think you’ll have to look far.”

  Chapter 11

  Areava was cold in her bedchamber. There was a fire blazing in the hearth and the morning sun shone through the east window, but still she was cold. Her handmaids busied themselves with her hair and then dressed her. She could not look at them. When her gown was finished, the handmaids put on her rings and her simple gold tiara, and then a wreath of white star flowers, the only ones that bloomed in winter. Finally, they carefully draped the Key of the Scepter—star-shaped with a vertically placed scepter in its center—and the Key of the Sword—square-shaped with two crossed swords pierced by a spear—around her neck, their heavy gold chains a symbol of their burden as well as their power.

  Someone knocked on the door and it opened slowly. Har-nan Beresard’s old face appeared. “Your Majesty?”

  “You can come in, Harnan. I am finished dressing.”

  He took a few steps, then stopped and gawked at her. “Your Majesty! You are...” His mouth worked, but he could not make the word come out.

  Areava turned to face her secretary. Her gown, layers of white wool with individual threads of gold through it, swished on the wooden floor. Its tight-fitting bodice revealed her slender form to best effect, and the full skirt seemed to flow from her waist. Harnan shook his head in wonder. He thought if winter could be personified, it would look like his queen. Tall and pale, severe, achingly beautiful. All but the eyes, which seemed lost.

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  Areava nodded to her handmaids and they quickly scurried from the room. “Am I doing the right thing?” she asked.

  Harnan blinked. He had never expected to hear the queen voice that question. “Your Majesty?”

  “Marrying Sendarus. Is it the right thing to do?”

  Harnan spread his hands helplessly. “All Grenda Lear rejoices. They are happy for you. Overjoyed.”

  Areava looked disappointed, but nodded. Harnan blushed, knowing he had said the wrong thing but not knowing what would have been the right thing.

  “What did you want?”

  “To let you know that King Marin has arrived.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “He wanted to know if you wanted to see him right away.”

  She shook her head. “Let him greet his son first. They have not seen each other for several months. I will have many opportunities after the wedding to talk with the king ... with my father-in-law.” She swallowed.

  “As you wish.” Harnan bowed and moved to leave, but hesitated. He could not help feeling she should not be left alone.

  “Is there something else?” Areava asked tonelessly.

  “No, your Majesty.” He bowed again and went to the door. It opened before he got there and Olio entered. Harnan breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “Good m-m-morning, sister,” Olio said brightly.

  “Am I doing the right thing?” she asked him immediately.

  Olio threw a glance at Harnan; the secretary raised his eyebrows but said nothing, then left.

  “About what?”

  “Don’t be obtuse,” she snapped, then closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you love Sendarus?” Olio asked carefully.

  “With all my heart.”

  “Then you are concerned for the kingdom.”

  Areava nodded. “I am its queen.”

  “You are also a woman. No kingdom demands its ruler stay celibate.” He smiled immediately at his own choice of words, knowing that celibacy was not the problem. “Or indeed, unwed.”

  “But outside of the Twenty Houses.”

  “Our m-m-mother wed outside of the Twe—” Olio’s mouth snapped shut, and he cursed himself.

  “And produced Lynan.”

  “You are not m-m-marrying a commoner,” Olio said. “You are m-m-marrying a p-p-prince.”

  “And I am marrying an alliance.”

  “You cannot m-m-make an alliance with a subject p-p-province.”

  “By marrying Sendarus I raise Aman from its knees. It need no longer genuflect before Kendra.”

  “M-m-maybe not a bad thing.”

  Areava looked at him with something like desperation. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes, if Grenda Lear is to b—b-be m-m—more than Kendra.”

  “I want to believe that, but wonder if I am making excuses for my love for Sendarus.”

  “The p-p-power of the Twenty Houses m-must be diminished. Introducing new royal b-b-blood will help to do that.” Areava did not seem convinced. He went to her and took her hands in his own; they were surprisingly cold to the touch. “Although I do not think you have your equal anywhere in Theare, I suspect Sendarus comes closest. Your union will strengthen the kingdom, of that I am sure.”

  Areava leaned over and kissed her brother’s cheek.

  He grinned bashfully and stood back, spreading her arms so he could look at her properly. “You are m-m-magnificent.”

  “I feel like ice,” she said dimly.

  Olio glanced at her with concern, but she would not meet his gaze. “You will warm up when Sendarus is by your side,” he said, and hoped it was true.

  The palace clerk Harnan assigned to guide Marin to his son waited patiently for the Amanite king at the entrance to the guests’ wing. Marin was still looking over the city from the vantage point of the palace, his aides and several of his guards by his side. The clerk could tell from the expression on the king’s face that he was amazed at what he saw. He was not far from the truth, but what was going through the king’s mind at that point was a more complex rush of emotions.

  Look at the size of this place. I knew it was huge, but had no idea what that meant. His own capital, Pila, was counted among the largest cities on the continent, but Kendra was on a different scale altogether. And my son will be wed to its mistress.

  He shook his head and smiled ruefully to himself. Kendra had so impressed him that he easily mistook Kendra for the whole kingdom, and for the first time understood how Kendra’s citizens could fall into arrogance. Their pride is not misplaced.

  He heard the clerk clear his throat. He turned from the view and followed the clerk into the wing, then stopped again. Stone walls rose on either side of him like the sides of mountains. The ceiling seemed so far away it could almost have been sky. He noticed his companions were equally awestruck. We must seem like nothing more than country bumpkins to this scribbler, Marin thought. “Well, maybe we are.”

  “Your Majesty?” the clerk asked. He looks like his brother the chancellor, he thought, only shorter and grayer. He was not sure he relished the idea of two such large and stern-looking Amanites being in the palace at the same time. If only they could shave their beards...

  Marin shook his head. “Where is my son?”

  “The prince’s quarters are not far from here; if you would follow me ...”

  They passed rooms with tapestries that covered whole walls, and murals and frescos as colorful as a summer meadow. Clerks and courtiers and the occasional noble passed them, their heads nodding a silent greeting. They came across a section of wall made up of nothing but glass, and for a breathtaking moment the visitors could see Kestrel Bay and the lands beyond, and great Kendra sweeping out from the foreground, framed like a living painting.

  Eventually the clerk stopped at a hall bisecting the corridor at right angles, turned left, and stopped again before two large double doors. He knocked and opened them, then stood aside for Marin and his party to enter.

  Sendarus was surrounded by servants helping him dress; he looked like a fruit tree being attacked by a flock of birds. The prince’s back was to the door. Orkid stood at the other end of the room, gazing fixedly out a window

  “Who is it?” Sendarus
asked.

  None of the servants recognized Marin, but quickly guessed who he must have been. They stood away from the prince so he could turn and see for himself. His face broke into a wide smile when he saw his father, but Marin put a finger to his lips, and Sendarus, puzzled, said nothing. Marin walked over to stand behind Orkid and looked over his shoulder. In the far distance he could see the highest mountains in Aman, dim and dark against the horizon.

  “You miss your home?” Marin said.

  Orkid nodded. “More and more.” Orkid frowned. The voice had sounded like Sendarus‘, but was deeper, richer. He looked over his shoulder and saw Marin. His jaw dropped.

  “Hello, brother,” Marin said and held out his arms.

  Orkid gave a cry of joy and embraced his brother, pounding him on the back. “Lord of the Mountain!” he cried. “Lord of the Mountain! I knew you would make it!”

  Marin hugged back as fiercely. They separated, but still stood holding each other’s arms. “Our ship docked less than an hour ago. A storm slowed us four days out of Kendra.”

  “I thought we were going to drown,” said a voice from Marin’s party.

  “Amemun!” Sendarus and Orkid cried together.

  The old Amanite bowed to them, sweeping back his mane of silver-white hair as he straightened. “In the flesh, no thanks to the gods of the sea.”

  “Amemun exaggerates,” Marin said. “The storm was over in a day.”

  “Two days,” Amemun retorted. “And I was not exaggerating.”

  The two brothers still held on to each other, almost as if they were afraid if they let go they would not see each other again for another twenty years. Sendarus joined them and put a hand on his father’s shoulder.

  “Well, you are safely here now.”

  “Not even the gods of the sea would keep me away from your wedding,” Marin told him. Orkid let him go so he could embrace his son. “So what is she like?”

  “Areava?”

  “Who else, boy! Amemun has been giving me these glowing reports about her. I don’t believe any of them, of course.”

  “She is glorious, father. She is the most beautiful woman in Theare. She is—”

  “Enough!” Marin cried, holding up a hand. “Now you are sounding like Amemun, and one of those is quite enough, thank you.”

  “This is the respect I get after decades of toiling in your father’s service,” Amemun said to the prince.

  “Amemun and Sendarus speak the truth about Areava,” Orkid said. “She is exceptional.”

  Marin nodded. “You, I believe,” he said. “You are so somber and level about everything that if you say this Kendran queen is exceptional, then indeed she must be someone unique.”

  “You will see for yourself at the wedding this afternoon,” Sendarus said.

  Marin nodded. “It will be a great culmination.”

  Sendarus looked at him quizzically. “Culmination?”

  “Of the love between you and Areava,” Orkid said quickly.

  Marin coughed behind his hand. “Yes.”

  “Where are we lodged?” Amemun asked to change the subject.

  “Right here!” Sendarus said brightly. “I’ll not need these chambers after the wedding, after all. What do you think of the palace?”

  “It is very spacious,” Marin said carefully.

  “It is overwhelming,” Sendarus said. “I am still not used to living here.”

  “Do you miss the mountains?” Marin asked.

  “Yes. And the forests.” He fell quiet for a moment and then added: “The Lord of the Mountain seems very far away.”

  “He is still in Aman, and still hears your prayers,” Amemun said kindly.

  “He has certainly smiled on me,” Sendarus agreed, his eyes looking far away. Marin smiled with sudden pride for his son. He was slender for an Amanite, especially an Aman-ite from the royal Gravespear family, but he was young and keen and handsome and bright.

  The prince shook his head impatiently. “You must want to refresh yourself after your long journey.” He turned to one of his servants and asked for hot water and perfume. The servant beetled off. “I have a large tub in the room next to this one. Where are your bags?”

  “Not far behind us,” Amemun said.

  “I will see they are sent in.”

  Marin laughed. He turned to Orkid. “Are we being dismissed?”

  “The groom has much to do before the wedding,” Orkid replied diplomatically.

  Sendarus kissed his father on the cheek. “I can never dismiss you, father. You are always in my thoughts.”

  Marin patted Sendarus’ cheek. “Not tonight, I think. But thank you.” He turned to his entourage. “Well, come on. We must stink like great bears before a rutting.”

  Another servant led the visitors to the next room, leaving Sendarus and Orkid behind. The two men beamed at each other for a moment.

  “I did not realize how much I missed him,” Orkid said.

  “I know he missed you as well,” Sendarus said kindly. “You were never far from his thoughts.”

  Nor the plan, Orkid thought. And now at last we both have done what we can for Aman. All else is fate.

  Areava, still cold, sat on her throne wishing she was somewhere else. She felt Olio’s hand rest on her shoulder, and she turned her head to look up into his eyes. She saw they were filled with love for her and her heart lightened. She glanced to her right, where Orkid stood, and was surprised to see his face less than stern. A first for him, she thought. Did she detect a hint of a smile on the chancellor’s lips? If so, she would never tell him; he would be horrified to learn he could be as human as the rest of the court.

  Before her the throne room was filled with people, most of them commoners, and as she looked at them, she could not help feeling proud to be their queen. These are my people. I serve them as they serve me. They understand. Then she glanced at the representatives of the Twenty Houses, between the throne and the throng, and could see through their forced smiles. Oh, how they wished the people did not understand. They cannot break our bond, no matter what they do.

  The great doors at the end of the room reverberated with a deep boom; the sound echoed through the high space. Some of the people jumped. There was another boom, a pause, and then a third. Two guards opened the doors, and there stood Dejanus, Constable of the Royal Guard, a great oak spear in one hand. Behind him stood another ten of the Royal Guard and then the groom’s party; ten more Royal Guards brought up the rear. With a slow and measured step, Dejanus led the procession into the throne room. All eyes watched Sendarus as he came in; even his enemies admired the figure he cut in his wedding finery of dyed linen pants and a coat made from the tanned hide of a great bear. Except for a fine gold coronet inlaid with small rubies, the prince was bare-headed. As the line approached the throne itself, the guards peeled away to form a line on either side of the causeway. Dejanus stood before the queen, with Sendarus and his followers still behind.

  There was a moment of silence then as even more commoners crowded into the room, all craning forward to get their own glimpse of the majesty they demanded from such state occasions. All the players were perfectly still, waiting for the next act.

  Areava gently touched Olio’s hand and he stepped forward.

  “Who comes b-b-before Areava Rosetheme, daughter of Usharna Rosetheme, queen of Kendra and so through it queen of Grenda Lear and all its realms?”

  “It is Prince Sendarus, son of Marin, king of Aman,” Dejanus replied formally.

  “What does P-p-prince Sendarus son of M-m-marin want of Queen Areava?”

  “To submit to her will.”

  Olio turned to his sister. “And in this m-m-matter, what is Queen Areava’s will?”

  Areava stood, and the audience, seeing her full gown for the first time, let out a collective sigh. She let her gaze sweep over all the people in the room, settling finally on Prince Sendarus. She swallowed but dared not hesitate. “To take him to me, body and soul. For he is the most loy
al and loving of all my subjects.”

  The commoners erupted in an approving roar, cheering and clapping. Sendarus’ face broke into a smile of happiness and relief. At that moment Areava felt as if her own personal sun had appeared over her head, and her cold and dread evaporated as if they had never been.

  I have done the right thing, she knew with certainty. I have done my duty according to my conscience and my heart.

  As was the tradition in Kendra, the wedding ceremony itself was a small and private affair, attended only by Areava with Olio for her guardian, Sendarus with Marin for his, Primate Giros Northam and two witnesses—Harnan and Amemun.

  Northam beamed at the couple, and looking a little like a large, overprotective vulture, delivered the marriage rites with stately precision and then joined their hands together. The prince kissed the queen’s palm, and with that became her husband, her consort, and her first subject above all others in the kingdom. For a long while the couple stared into each other’s eyes, the others holding back with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, as if they were overstaying their welcome.

  Primate Northam coughed politely into his hands. “Your Majesty, your Highness, your people are waiting. They want a celebration.”

  Areava nodded, still locked in Sendarus’ gaze. “Yes, of course. Lead the way.”

  Northam went to the door, followed by Harnan and Amemun, then Olio and Marin. Areava and Sendarus stayed where they were. Olio returned to the couple, gently touched his sister’s arm, and whispered to them: “If we return to the throne room without you two, your p-p-people will lynch us.”

  Dejanus stepped into the throne room, aware that all eyes were on him, if only for that moment. His huge chest swelled with arrogant pride.

  “Her Majesty, Areava, queen of Grenda Lear, and his Highness, Sendarus, the royal consort,” he announced.

  Applause filled the chamber as he moved aside to let the wedding party return. There were cheers for Northam, the two guardians, two witnesses, then wild cries of joy as the newly married couple made their first public appearance as queen and consort. Dejanus sensed everyone’s gaze settling on Areava, who looked like a goddess in her gown and with her crown of white flowers, and could not help feeling a little jealous. His chest deflated a little.