by Simon Brown
In the end, it was her own curiosity that made her come—not about the palace, but about the royal family. She had never actually seen any of them except Usharna herself in a special celebration held years ago for the delivery of the fishing fleet after a severe storm. She had a vague idea of what Berayma looked like because his face had appeared on a special coin issue, and everyone thought they knew what Areava looked like because she was supposed to be a younger version of her mother, but no one she knew personally had ever seen Olio or the youngest one, Lynan. During the funeral procession she had seen glimpses of them all between crowds of official and soldiers, but always from behind.
When they reached the wake, Jenrosa and her friends played guessing games, placing wagers with each other about which two of the hundreds of well-dressed young men in the palace were Olio and Lynan. After losing half her weekly stipend, Jenrosa decided to drop out of the competition and instead found a drink and started wandering around the grounds marveling at the palace and all its decorations. She was admiring a particularly large tapestry hanging from the great hall’s north wall when a voice behind her said: “The Hunt for Erati, by the Weavers’ Guild in Chandra. A special tribute to King Berayma.”
Jenrosa looked over her shoulder and saw a short youth with a round, pleasant face and thin brown hair that stuck up at odd angles. He was dressed in fine clothes and wore a sword that seemed strangely plain and dull in comparison. He smiled at her. The flask he held in one hand and the slight slackness of his jaw and glaze in his eyes told her he was someone to be avoided.
“It’s quite spectacular, isn’t it?” the youth continued. “It’s one of the largest tapestries in the palace, and easily the most colorful. Do you like the way the line of the hunting pack follows through to the forest trail and finally to its prey? The eye just glides along.”
“How do you know all this?”
“A man called Harnan told me.”
“A friend of yours?”
The youth thought about the question. “I’m not sure how to describe him. Professional acquaintance, probably.” He seemed pleased with himself.
“Well, thank you for the lecture notes.” Jenrosa moved. “I am going to join my friends now.”
“I could tell you about the other tapestries, if you like.”
She shook her head, tried to smile kindly. “Thank you, no. My friends are waiting for me?”
“Banisters? Statues? Paintings?”
Jenrosa stopped and turned to face him. She decided to be stern and frowned at him. “What?”
Her frown did not work. He came up to her, still smiling far too easily for her liking.
“I can tell you all about this whole place. I could give you a tour.” He was having trouble focusing on her.
“What makes you think I want a tour of this place?”
“Well, it’s the palace, isn’t it? Everyone wants to see inside the palace.” He burped in her face. The smell of his breath almost made her faint.
“You know what I would like to see?”
The youth shook his head. “No. Tell me, please!”
“I would like to see you walk away from me and take your idiot grin with you.”
Her words had the opposite effect than intended. He smiled even more widely. “Delightful!” he cried out loud enough to draw looks from those nearby.
“Why are you so happy?”
“Because today things are turning out so much better than expected.” He winked at her. “I’ve met you, for example.”
Jenrosa shuddered. “Look, find a midden and bury your head in it.”
Now the youth actually laughed. “You speak like Kumul,” he said.
“And who is Kumul when he’s not telling you where to go?” she asked, getting angry now.
The youth looked around, then pointed at a huge man about fifty paces away dressed in the livery of the Royal Guards. “That’s Kumul.”
Jenrosa checked herself. “He’s a soldier,” she said slowly.
“He’s a constable!” the youth declared.
“But you’re not a soldier, right?” She was playing it carefully now. She did not want to discover she had been insulting one of the more influential court members; inevitably, word would get back to her maleficum if she had.
He shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m too short to be a Royal Guard.” He sighed deeply. “Alas.”
“But you’re a member of the court.”
He had to think about that one. “Not really.”
Jenrosa breathed a sigh of relief. “I really have to go now. My friends are waiting for me.” She walked away. The youth kept up with her.
“Do you mind if I come?” There was a glint in his eyes Jenrosa did not like.
“You’re too young,” she said shortly.
“I can’t be any younger than you.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Well, a year younger.”
“And all my friends are much older than me.” She picked up her pace, but the youth matched it.
She stopped suddenly and he overshot her. He turned back and looked around. “Where are your friends?”
“What is your name?” she demanded.
“Pirem,” he said quickly. “What’s yours?”
“Leave me alone,” she said.
He held out his flask. “Your cup is empty, Leave-Me-Alone. Would you like some more wine?”
“I’ve already told you what I’d like.”
“Oh, yes. The midden.” He giggled.
“You’re drunk.”
He considered the question then shook his head. “Not yet. Not truly, absolutely stonkered.” He blinked. “Well, maybe a little.”
Before she could say anything more, someone called out her name. Her friends appeared, including Amrin, who was as big as a bear. “These are my friends. The big one likes wrestling.”
Amrin scowled at the youth. “Are you being bothered?” he asked.
“Not at all,” the youth said quickly. “She’s delightful.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Amrin said forcefully.
“So, are you all magickers?”
“Students,” Jenrosa said. “Now we have to go and study.” Her friends looked at her strangely.
“Umm, yes,” Amrin said doubtfully. “We have to go and… study…”
“Are you sure you all wouldn’t like more to drink?”
Jenrosa turned on him suddenly. “I don’t want to be in your company, Pirem. Nothing personal, but…” She shook her head. “Yes, it is personal. I’m sorry, but I find you annoying.”
The youth appeared suddenly crestfallen. Jenrosa groaned inside.
“I see. Well, if that’s the way of it…”
“That’s the way of it,” Amrin said, scowling again. He pointed to his theurgia’s star symbol of on his tunic. “So if you don’t want us to practice our magic on you, scuttle away!”
The effect on the youth was instant. His expression turned as cold as ice, and he met Amrin’s gaze with suddenly clear brown eyes. “I carry a magic symbol, too,” he said evenly.
Amrin guffawed. “Of course you do, little mouse.”
The youth reached into his jerkin and pulled out an amulet on a silver chain. He held it up for them all to see. The students stared at it for a moment, then blinked. They all knew what it was. And Jenrosa knew what it meant. “Oh, God,” she breathed weakly. “You’re name’s not Pirem.”
“No.”
There was a stunned silence among Jenrosa’s friends. After a moment one drifted away, then a second and then a third. Jenrosa and Amrin were left to their own fate.
“I… your Highness…” Amrin was not sure what to say.
“You were only defending your friend. You have done no wrong. But you had best leave now.”
Amrin nodded and melted into the crowd.
Jenrosa swallowed. “Your Highness, if I have given you offense—”
“I took no offense.” He was starting to smile again. It had taken all his
concentration to act sober.
“—then you got all you deserved.”
Lynan’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed. “Other than my own siblings, you’re the first person I’ve met today who hasn’t tried to fawn their way into my favor.”
“A bit late for that.”
“To the contrary. What’s your name?”
“Jenrosa Alucar, your Highness.”
“Of course, your manners must not go completely unpunished.”
Jenrosa said nothing.
“You must present yourself to the guard at the door to the inner palace when the wake is finished. That should be about sunset. He will instruct you where to go.”
Lynan started to leave, but Jenrosa called after him. “What punishment?”
Without turning, he said, “You’ll see.”
Chapter 9
Jenrosa considered fleeing the palace, grabbing what she could from her dormitory at the theurgia, and trying to stow away on one of the merchant ships in the harbor. Or even better, stowing away on one of the ships of the foreign dignitaries who had arrived in time for the queen’s funeral; then, at least, she could run away in relative comfort.
But then she used the same arguments against the plan that she had used to convince herself to stay with the theurgia: she had a home here in Kendra, she had a future as a magicker, and nowhere else could offer her that.
At sunset, accordingly, she presented herself to the guards at the entrance to the inner palace. One of them ordered her to follow him and led the way through a series of narrow corridors and flights of stone steps into one of the towers that ringed the monarch’s own chambers and the throne room.
Well, at least I’m not being led to a dungeon, she told herself, but the thought did little to ease her apprehension. What sort of punishment had the prince in mind for her? Was he going to throw her off the tower? She knew in her mind that the idea was ridiculous; all the same, her anxiety was beginning to make her legs feel weak.
They eventually arrived at a narrow wooden door that looked as old as the roughly shaped stones that framed it. The guard knocked once with the butt of his spear, opened it and pushed Jenrosa through. The door closed behind her. She found herself at the foot of a set of stairs worn with ancient use.
The prince’s voice said from somewhere above: “Come up, Jenrosa Alucar.”
She hesitantly ascended into a circular chamber filled with the smell of dust and old books. The prince was standing in the middle of the room. He had changed into less formal clothes, and was without his sword and knife. His Key shone dully in the little light shining between the wooden shutters of the room’s only window.
“You are still smiling at me, Your Highness,” she said. “I hope that is a good sign.”
“I’m glad you came,” he said sincerely.
“It wasn’t as if I had a choice,” she pointed out, and looked around her.
The walls were lined with shelves inset into the stone, and each shelf was crammed with books that looked as old as the tower itself. “What is this room?”
“Kendra’s first great king, Colanus, was part magicker. He made the Keys of Power. Some say that is how he gained the throne. This is his study. No one uses it anymore.”
Jenrosa pulled one of the books from its shelf. She carefully opened the leather cover and looked in surprise at the writing on the first page. “What language is this?”
Lynan shrugged. “No one knows. Which explains why no one uses the study anymore.”
“The malefici would commit murder to get their hands on these volumes.” She meant it jokingly, but the words seem to hang in the air between them.
“The malefici have already tried,” the prince said lightly. “You know any history?”
“Very little, unless it is to do with the study of the stars.” She was starting to get impatient. She wanted to be given her punishment so she could get back to her dormitory, away from the palace and away from this strange prince.
“Three hundred years ago a band of powerful magickers conspired to get their hands on the contents of this room. Their plot was discovered and they were thwarted by the king. He executed the ringleaders. Do you know what he did with the rest of the magickers?” Jenrosa shook his head. “Let them into the room to study the books on the condition they submitted to his will.”
“But if he didn’t object to the magickers seeing the books, why did he kill their leaders?”
“Because they conspired against him, of course. After several years of unsuccessfully attempting to read these volumes, the surviving magickers gave up.”
“And what was the king’s will?” Jenrosa asked, curious despite herself.
“That they form into the five theurgia with a ruling prelate elected from their own ranks who consults directly with the monarch.”
“He got them under his thumb.”
“In other words.”
“Is that what you want to do to me?” she asked.
“I don’t understand…”
“Put me under your thumb?” Her hazel eyes stared defiantly at him.
Not under my thumb, exactly, he thought, but feigned surprise. “Of course not.”
“Then how are you going to punish me?”
“By offering you a glass of wine and a chance to see a sunset such as you have never seen before.”
Jenrosa shook her head. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”
The prince pointed to the window. On the stone sill were two glasses and a bottle. Her eyes widened in surprise. She had never drunk from glass before. In fact, she could not remember ever having drunk from a bottle. He waved her forward, then with some effort managed to open the shutters.
“See for yourself,” he offered, and moved out of the way so she could see through the window.
She moved in his place and looked out, gasping at what she saw. The whole city was spread out before her like a glorious map. Kestrel Bay shone like liquid gold as the sun set far, far to the west, behind a range of mountains that were dim and dark in the distance. Seagulls played above the harbor, and farther out she could just discern the long, splayed wings of kestrels swooping low over the waves.
“It is… Oh, it is beautiful.”
The prince joined her. He pointed south, to a green landmass that rose from the waters like a mirage. “Lurisia,” he said. Then he pointed to the mountains in the west. “And that is the Long Spine, the farthest border of Aman.” Finally, he pointed east. “That landmass is Chandra, and beyond that you can just make out the great Sea Between.”
He pulled back again and carefully poured wine into the two glasses. “This is a bottle from the queen’s own reserve.” His eyes dulled for a moment, then he said, “Sorry. The king’s reserve.” He offered her one of the glasses, and she took it hesitantly.
“Some punishment,” she said.
Kumul made sure the last of the guests at the wake had been ushered out of the palace before starting his inspection of the night watch. He began his round at the main gate and worked west from there, making sure the guards on roster were at their appointed places and that torches were lit along the palace walls and over each entranceway. He completed the circuit an hour after he started, and stood in the courtyard for a while watching busy palace servants sweeping and wiping and polishing the great hall to make it ready for business as usual the next day.
Business as usual, he thought grimly. Constable under a king who doesn’t like me, and who is friends with the Twenty Houses, none of whom like me.
For a moment he wished he had given himself the night off to visit one of his many female friends in the city. Yet he knew that on this night of all nights he had cause to be on duty. It was his last act of service for Usharna, his dead queen, and once-wife to his beloved general.
Ager joined him, looking tired. “Where did you disappear to?” Kumul asked.
“Some of our guests had broken into the training arena. There were empty flasks and bottles everywhere, an
d some of them had used our equipment for practice.”
Kumul grinned. “Did any impale themselves?”
Ager shook his head. “Regrettably, no. The arena’s cleaned up now, and I’ve got a couple of the new recruits stowing away our gear.”
“Well, check with them, then get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be as busy as today. Berayma will want to talk to us about his plans for the coronation. I’m just going in now to see him before retiring myself.”
“As you say.” Ager left, and Kumul surveyed the courtyard and gate one more time. Everything seemed to be in its place. He resented it. He felt there should be some change, some sign, after the death of the woman who had ruled here for a quarter of a century.
But she was a ghost now, and ghosts had no need of palaces. He grunted to himself and went through the great hall to the Long Walk and made for Berayma’s chambers. Before he got there, he heard running steps behind him and Dejanus called out his name. The Life Guard looked very worried.
“Kumul, I’ve found something.”
“What?” Kumul asked sharply, suddenly alert.
“It’s best you see for yourself. Follow me.”
Without waiting for a reply, Dejanus led the way back to the great hall and then through a door leading to the servants’ quarters. Kumul followed unquestioningly. Whatever had rattled Dejanus was something he wanted to see for himself. The Life Guard was setting a hard pace, stopping only to get a torch, but finally slowed when they reached one of the corridors leading to the cellars, part of the very first palace built hundreds of years ago, and dark and wet with mildew.
“It’s around here somewhere… There! Do you see it?” Dejanus was pointing to a spot on the cobblestones.