by Simon Brown
“I can’t see my own feet in this gloom. Lower the torch.”
Dejanus did as asked. “It’s fresh blood, and there’s a knife…”
“I still can’t see—”
Before he could finish, something slammed against the back of his skull. The dark air seemed to explode in his eyes. As he collapsed onto the cobblestones he heard Dejanus’ feet running away, their sound echoing in his mind like the beat of his own heart. He tried to call out, but his senses fell away one by one and he knew no more.
Berayma rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands. Since late morning he had had a nagging headache, and the day’s warmth and the afternoon’s drinking had only made it worse.
“Could I get Dr. Trion for you?” Orkid asked solicitously.
Berayma shook his head. “It will go of its own accord. Let’s get this business out of the way so I can get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
“Indeed, your Majesty. You wished to see me about Prince Lynan. Is something the matter?”
Berayma did not want to discuss Areava’s offer to Lynan with the three other men gathered in his room. He did not yet trust the chancellor as his mother had done, and it was no business of Dejanus’, who had appeared to let the king know that the constable had been unavoidably detained, and considering how Harnan Beresard collected gossip like gold coins, Berayma thought his private secretary probably knew already.
“Lynan has to consolidate his position as quickly as possible or, Usharna’s will or not, he will find himself the object of continuous derision, court rumor and suspicion. He needs to be set on his path.”
“Your Majesty?”
“I want him sent on a mission to Chandra as soon as possible, and I want you to accompany him.”
“Your Majesty?”
“Must you always say that?”
Orkid looked ready to repeat his phrase, but closed his mouth in time. “I’m sorry. Why and when?”
“Why? Because I want him given the opportunity to prove himself as soon as possible. I also want him out of Kendra, so people, especially those in the Twenty Houses, have time to get used to the idea of his holding one of the Keys of Power. Chandra has been one of our most loyal subject kingdoms for hundreds of years, so the embassy will be relatively easy for Lynan to carry out. I need you to come up with some excuse, and to arrange for the Chandra Commission here to offer him an invitation.”
“That should not be hard, your Majesty. I’m sure King Tomar would be glad to welcome the prince; he and Lynan’s father were friends, I believe.”
“Exactly. Can you arrange it for autumn?”
“I see no difficulty with that.”
The king turned to the private secretary. “In the meantime, Harnan, send for Lynan. I want to discuss some issues with him tonight.”
“Of course, your Majesty.”
“And then get yourself to bed, old man. I will need you refreshed tomorrow, but don’t come before mid-morning; I won’t have got through all the papers you’ve already given me by then.”
Harnan bowed and had started to leave when Orkid said, “Must you see Lynan tonight? You are already feeling overtired…” Harnan hesitated at the doorway.
Berayma sighed heavily. “Yes, Chancellor. It must be tonight.”
“But surely it could wait until—”
“Now!” Berayma shouted, and Harnan disappeared. Berayma groaned. “Orkid, I’m sorry. I should not have raised my voice like that.”
“Do not trouble yourself about it, your Majesty,” Orkid said stiffly. “I understand perfectly. It has been a long and trying day for you.”
“Thank you for your patience,” the king said sincerely. “I do not think there are any other matters to trouble you tonight. You may go.”
“There is one small issue, your Majesty,” Orkid said carefully. “Concerning your own recent embassy to Hume.”
“Really?” Berayma was puzzled.
“I have received a message from one of my agents there. I think you should read it.”
“Very well. We have some time before Lynan arrives.”
“We should be alone,” Orkid added.
Berayma nodded to Dejanus. “Leave us please. If you see the constable, tell him to wait until after I have spoken to Lynan.”
Dejanus left, and Orkid placed a long sheet of paper in front of the king.
The recruits had finished putting away all the training weapons. Ager was checking the cabinets when he noticed Lynan’s knife was missing. He called one of the recruits over. “All the weapons have been found?”
“All that were on the grounds, Captain.”
Ager pointed out the missing spot in the cabinet. “Do another search. I want the knife found.”
The recruit gulped and called back his mates. For another half hour they scoured the training arena and fencing shed, but found no trace of the missing knife. They reported glum-faced to Ager.
“All right. Nothing more can be done here tonight. We’ll do another search tomorrow in better light. In the meantime I’d better report this to the constable.”
The recruits went pale, and Ager dismissed them before one of them passed out.
He went to the Long Walk and asked one of the two guards on duty if Kumul was still with the king.
“No, Captain. He did not see the king. He was on his way here when Dejanus called him away.”
“Where did they go?”
“I did not hear, sir. But you can ask Dejanus yourself. He is in with the king now, and should be out soon.”
Ager shook his head. “No. It’s not important. I’ll try the constable’s rooms.” He turned on his heel and left.
“If it’s not so damned important, why did he bother me about it?” the guard asked his fellow when Ager was out of earshot. The two men laughed quietly. “Officers and whores,” the guard went on, “always asking for something.”
“Soldier!”
The guards snapped to attention. Dejanus appeared in front of them, his blue eyes wide with anger.
“What was that about officers?”
“Officers, sir?” The guard tried playing dumb; as often as not, it got you out of trouble.
“Come with me,” Dejanus ordered, then turned to the other guard. “And I’ll deal with you later.”
Dejanus waved the first guard into what had been the queen’s sitting room and closed the doors behind them. The guard had a sinking feeling that playing dumb was not going to get him out of trouble this time. He was afraid to turn and face the Life Guard.
“Look at me, soldier, and come to attention!” Dejanus ordered.
The guard snapped erect and wheeled about on his right foot. Before he finished his salute, Dejanus drove the knife he had been hiding up his sleeve deep into the guard’s midriff, between the iron slats of his armor, forcing out of him a gush of air and his last breath. Dejanus caught him as he fell and eased him gently to the floor.
“And two to go,” he said to himself.
Harnan Beresard had not found Lynan in his chamber, and so had gone to Pirem’s room instead. He banged on the servant’s door until Pirem appeared, rubbing his eyes and wearing nothing but a scowl.
“What the—!” Pirem blinked when he saw who it was. “Oh, forgive me, sir, I thought—”
“I am sorry to wake you, Pirem. But the king needs to see Lynan immediately. He is not in his room. Can you tell me where I might find him?”
Pirem shook his head. “He sometimes wanders around the palace if he can’t sleep. But I’ll find him. I know his favorite places.”
Harnan nodded. “Very well, but see that his Highness sees the king tonight, or we’ll both be in trouble.”
Pirem disappeared back into his room and quickly dressed. He rushed to Lynan’s room and, using the spare key he always carried, let himself in. He found Lynan’s good coat and his father’s sword and belt. He paused for a moment to consider what else the prince might need, then slapped his forehead. “Oh, hurry, you old fool
,” he told himself. “The king’s not goin’ to care what the lad looks like at this time of night.”
He started his search in the gardens, then the south gallery, then along the palace walls, but without success. There was one place left, and that was a long walk followed by a long climb. But the king wanted to see him now! Berayma’s chambers were on the way, and Pirem decided to let him know Lynan would be with him soon rather than letting His Royal Majesty sit alone, twiddling his thumbs and wondering where his brother had got to.
“Hurry, Pirem, hurry!” he urged himself, and set off at a trot.
“I see nothing so urgent about this report,” Berayma said, handing the paper back to Orkid.
“Forgive me, your Majesty, but I thought the information about Queen Charion’s plans to limit Chandra’s trading rights were not only important but relevant, considering your intentions to send Lynan on an embassy to King Tomar.”
Berayma carefully studied Orkid’s face. The two had never get on, but Berayma had to admit he had made a very good chancellor under Queen Usharna, and had been absolutely loyal to her. He nodded slowly.
“And you were right to present it to me. The fact that I do not agree with your opinion should not deter you in future from presenting me any information you consider important.”
Orkid bowed slightly, accepting the truce, and the implicit compliment. Dejanus returned then and nodded to Orkid.
“Your Majesty, the constable has not shown up?” the Life Guard asked.
Berayma shook his head. “I will give you his instructions. You can pass them on to Kumul when you see him.”
Dejanus nodded and Berayma started to write instructions on a sheet of paper. The Life Guard looked over his shoulder as if to read the instructions as they were written. Then Orkid moved forward. Berayma looked up at the chancellor. “You can go, Orkid. Thank you for your advice tonight.”
“Your Majesty.” Orkid bowed deeply, and then before Berayma could react, the chancellor gripped Berayma’s arms just below the elbows.
“What—!” cried the startled king, and pulled back, raising his head. Dejanus took out his hidden knife and drove it straight into the side of Berayma’s neck.
Berayma lurched back, his arms breaking Orkid’s grip and reaching behind him for his attacker, but at that instant Dejanus pulled out the blade. Blood spurted across Berayma’s desk, spraying Dejanus and Orkid. The king tried to stand, but he started falling. He grabbed at his desk, scattering paper and ink, tried to reach for Orkid but could only grab his coat. As he lost consciousness and collapsed, he took Orkid down with him. He crashed into his chair, hit the floor, and was still.
As the jagged wound in Berayma’s neck pumped blood, Orkid frantically jerked his coat loose from the dying king’s hands and teetered to his feet. The flow of blood abated and finally stopped.
“Lord of the Mountain,” muttered Orkid, his arms out wide, his hands and coat covered in blood. It had all happened quicker than he had thought possible, and was far bloodier and more terrible than he could have imagined.
Dejanus looked down grimly at his handiwork.
“No one saw you deal with the guards outside?”
Dejanus shook his head. “And I have ensured that the guards on duty at the gates are my men; all have some grumble against Kumul. They will be ready to believe whatever we say about him and Prince Lynan.”
“We have to get things ready before Lynan appears.”
“It would have been easier if Berayma had not called for him.”
“Be that as it may, we are now committed.”
Dejanus lifted his gaze to meet Orkid’s. “I hope the rest of your plan goes more smoothly.”
Before Orkid could answer, there was a cry from the door. Both men whipped around. They saw an old man standing there, his mouth agape, his eyes wide in horror.
“Pirem!” Dejanus shouted.
Pirem snapped out of the terrible shock that had frozen him in place. He backed away from the door.
“Kill him, Dejanus!” Orkid cried. “And then kill his master!”
Dejanus lunged forward, but his feet slipped on the pool of Berayma’s blood and he fell heavily to his knees. He looked up in time to see the servant flee like an old rat with a cat after it. He jumped up, but before he could set off in pursuit, Orkid grabbed his arm.
“No, wait! There is a better way! All the pieces are in place, we only have to keep to our roles.” He took Lynan’s training knife from Dejanus’ hand and dropped it on the floor near the body of the dead king. “Put the bodies of the sentries back in their place, then call out the Royal Guards.” He could not help staring at Berayma’s corpse. “The king has been murdered by Prince Lynan and his protectors, the constable and Pirem. What a pity they were slain trying to escape the palace.”
Chapter 10
They were sitting on the room’s stone floor discussing magic.
“It isn’t that I don’t believe there is magic in the stars,” Jenrosa was explaining to Lynan, “but that I think the theurgia is going about finding it in the wrong way.”
Lynan nodded wisely, as he had learned to do while attending his mother’s court, but mostly he was concentrating on Jenrosa herself and not her words. He decided she was more attractive than he first thought. He liked the snub nose with its spray of freckles. When she smiled, her face changed, became softer somehow, and when she frowned, he could not help the urge to stroke her cheek and console her. But, his alcoholic bravado gone, he kept his hands to himself.
“Why don’t you present your argument to your maleficum?”
Jenrosa looked aghast. “Are you serious? Do you have any idea how much the hierarchy have invested in the old beliefs? How many decades—centuries!—of research and practice? They would throw me out! They would burn me at the stake!”
“We don’t burn people anymore,” Lynan pointed out. My grandfather Berayma VII banned that right at the start of his reign.”
“Then they’ll convince your brother to bring it back.”
“Just for you?”
Jenrosa nodded. “God, yes. They hate heretics.”
Lynan leaned forward and refilled her glass.
She took the bottle from him and shook it. “The wine is almost gone,” she said sadly.
Lynan reached into a dark recess under one of the lower bookshelves and retrieved a second bottle.
“Magic!” she declared.
“So what would you like to see your theurgia study?”
“To begin with, the same things sailors and explorers have to study. They use the stars to get their directions.”
“I know that,” Lynan said. “Everyone knows that. Why should the theurgia study what everyone else already knows?”
“Because there is no formal system incorporating all the ways the stars are used for navigation. And more importantly, finding your direction implies having at least some idea of where you are at any given time. If we could refine the methods the sailors use, we may be able to devise a way of finding out exactly where we are, anywhere in the world.”
Lynan considered her words, then smiled. “Ah, but what if it is a cloudy night!”
Jenrosa looked at him sourly. “You have to begin somewhere.”
Lynan swallowed. “Speaking of beginning somewhere—”
“Oh, yes, of course! You now have one of the Keys!”
Lynan blinked. How did that happen? He was going to talk about them, not about him. “Yes, I have one of the Keys, but what I was trying to say—”
“What does it mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“Well, what responsibilities do you take on?” She waved her hands at him. “No, no, don’t tell me! It’s the Key of Union, right?” Lynan nodded, feeling a little adrift. “So that means you’ll be responsible for administering the provinces?”
“No. That is the king’s duty. I’ll be a kind of ambassador. Berayma will use me to represent the throne outside of Kendra.”
“A t
oast,” Jenrosa said, raising her glass. “To the king’s new representative to the provinces!”
Lynan raised his glass halfheartedly. “It means, of course, that I may not return to Kendra for many years. There are some things I would like to do before I—”
“You’ll begin with a grand tour,” Jenrosa interrupted. “Across Kestrel Bay to pay a visit to Goodman Barbell in Lurisia. Then west to Aman, and a word with King Marin; I hear he’s a conniving old goat, so you’ll have to be on your guard. And then farther west, into the Oceans of Grass, and you’ll see all the tribes of the Chetts—”
“If I can find any of them,” Lynan pointed out.
“—then east to Hume, and Queen Charion,” Jenrosa continued, unabated. “I’ve heard she is the most cunning of all the king’s subjects. Your will learn much from her, I think.”
“She will undoubtedly learn a great deal from me,” Lynan said dryly. “And where do I go after Hume?”
“South to Chandra, and King Tomar II.”
“He was a friend of my father’s,” Lynan said quietly.
“Then it will be like visiting an uncle,” Jenrosa said, moving closer to Lynan. “I spoke to him once. He was here on one of his state visits and came to the theurgia’s school. He spoke to each of the instructors and students personally. He was round and jolly, with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“He lost his wife at sea about twenty years ago. Her ship was attacked by Slavers. They never found her body.”
“That would explain the eyes,” she said. “What part of the tour will you enjoy the most, I wonder? I think it will be the trek through the Oceans of Grass. You probably won’t find many Chetts, but you’ll see some amazing things.” Her eyes took on a distant look. “Grass stretching from one horizon to the other, huge herds of strange animals with horns and long, flowing manes. Wild horses, thousands of them, not afraid of anything under the sky. Thunderstorms as big as continents sweeping overhead. Or maybe you’ll like Lurisia the best. Everything’s green in Lurisia, and it’s always hot. Rowers the size of meat plates, insects with rainbows instead of wings…”