by Simon Brown
Areava shook her head. “Not yet. Find Orkid for me and bring him to my study. We must form this council as soon as possible and plan the… the coronation. The administration of Kendra must continue uninterrupted.”
Olio nodded and left her.
A moment later Areava looked around her. Except for a guard at either end there was no one else in the palace corridor, and there were no sounds other than the echo of Olio’s receding footsteps. The palace’s gray stone seemed to surround and cage her.
I am queen, she thought. I am alone.
When she entered her study, someone was waiting for her, a man in a long green cloak. His back was to her, and he seemed to be staring at the monarch’s desk.
“Who—?” she began, and stopped when the man turned around. “Oh, Harnan!”
The private secretary bowed to her. He held his hands out, shaking.
“Your Highness. I came late this morning as your brother… the king… instructed me. I did not know… nobody told me…” His voice failed him, and tears welled in his gray, rheumy eyes and rolled down his old and whiskered cheeks. “I am sorry…” His voice faltered.
Areava came forward, overwhelmed with pity for her mother’s oldest and dearest servant. She held his hands in hers. “Harnan, it is I who should apologize. I did not think. So much has happened. I should have thought to send someone to tell you.”
“Oh, milady, no, do not blame yourself in your grief. But I am… confused. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do.” His lifted his chin and tried to stifle his tears. “Forgive me… but first your mother… now this!”
Without thinking, Areava used one hand to dab away the tears on his cheeks. “There is nothing to forgive, faithful Harnan.” She stood back, looking him up and down. “As always, ready to do service. Berayma would be proud of you.”
Harnan opened his mouth to respond, but no words would come.
Areava sniffed back her own tears, knowing that if she started crying now she would not be able to stop. She said in as businesslike a tone as she could muster: “I see you have your tablet and pens.” She nodded to the wide purse hanging from Harnan’s belt.
“Yes, your High… your Majesty. I was to write letters for your brother this morning.”
“Well, since you are here, I need your assistance if you feel up to it. I need urgent messages to go out by courier to the provinces. As well, I’m reconvening my mother’s executive council and I want it to meet before noon.”
“Of course, your Majesty. It would be a relief to work.”
Areava smiled then, suddenly proud of the old man. “Then, together, you and I will administer this kingdom with such energy that it will do full justice to the memories of Usharna and Berayma.”
The pain in Harnan’s face visibly eased. He sighed deeply and drew out the writing tablet and his favorite pen from the purse.
“At your service, Queen Areava, always,” he said, his voice full of emotion.
She patted him on the shoulder and told him to take a seat. She went behind her desk and stopped suddenly. On the desk, on a square of white silk, lay the Key of the Scepter, its luster diminished by the blood of her brother. She touched it hesitantly. A spark jumped between the amulet and her finger. She drew back with a hiss.
“Your Majesty, are you all right?” Harnan asked, concerned.
Areava glanced up and nodded quickly. She cautiously touched the Key again. Nothing happened. She picked it up by its chain and put it over her head. Her dead brother’s Key clinked against her own, the Key of the Sword. She stared at it for a long moment, lost in her own thoughts.
Magicker Prelate Edaytor Fanhow had changed into more sedate clothing. Gone was the heavy velvet robe with the gold twine, the baggy trousers and the broad silver belt he had worn in his first meeting with the new queen. In their place he wore a more practical set of linen pants and shirt with the magicker’s traditional stiff collar, and his cap of office, a wide beret with the prelate’s badge pinned to its front.
He returned to the palace just before noon, hurrying to meet Areava’s deadline for new intelligence about Prince Lynan from the theurgia. When he arrived at the queen’s offices, out of breath and sweating, the guards let him through automatically.
He entered, opened his mouth to formally greet Areava, and came to a stop, his mouth closing shut with an audible snap. The main room was filled with the best from Kendra society, the very cream of the most elite professions and trades, all dressed in their very finest clothing and ceremonial garb. Everyone in the room turned to look at him, and their expressions made him feel like a latrine washer who had accidentally barged in on a wedding ceremony.
The crowd parted to let someone through. Fanhow’s head twisted from side to side, searching for someplace to hide, but there was nowhere. He found himself gazing into Queen Areava’s hard brown eyes. She looked him over.
“Dressing down for the event, Magicker Prelate?” she asked innocently.
“Umm, the event, your Majesty?”
“Did not a message go to the magicker prelate?” Areava asked the tall, wizened man by her side. Edaytor recognized Harnan Beresard.
“Yes, your Majesty, but my courier could not locate him.”
“Your Majesty, forgive me, but I have been urgently seeking answers to the problem you set me—”
“Not that it matters,” Areava interrupted, looking at Edaytor but still talking to Harnan. “For the prelate has arrived anyway. Still, some hint of ceremony in his dress would have been appropriate.”
“Your Majesty,” Edaytor began again, his voice plaintive, “I was only returning to inform you of the result of the combined theurgias’ search for your brother!”
“And?” Areava asked.
Edaytor looked downcast. “In so short a time, your Majesty, all they could discover was some relation between Prince Lynan and the element of—”
“Water,” Areava finished for him.
Edaytor gaped. “How could your Majesty possibly have known—”
“He has escaped by sea,” Areava said. “Though his freedom will be short-lived.” She eyed Dejanus, who stood behind her in the company of Orkid and Olio. “Or so I trust.”
Dejanus nodded vigorously. “Your navy will capture him soon, your Majesty. Have no doubt.”
“I have no doubt,” Areava replied. And then: “Yet.” She turned her attention back to Edaytor. “At least you returned on time, Prelate.”
Fanhow bowed as deeply as his stout build allowed. “At your service, your Majesty.”
“Indeed. And now that you are here, we can begin.”
“Begin?”
“The first meeting of my executive council. You are, of course, as magicker prelate, one of its members.”
Edaytor repeated his bow. “Your Majesty, I am honored.”
Areava regarded him coolly for a moment. “Good,” she said at last, and turned to the rest of her guests.
“We will begin as soon as you are all seated. The council room is ready.”
The guests made way for Areava and her immediate entourage, only Olio hanging back. Everyone else fell in behind her, some using swift footwork to advance their position in line but all careful not to crowd the queen. Edaytor, still recovering from shock, was content to go last. He was surprised to find Olio walking by his side.
“You did well, M-m-magicker P-p-prelate,” Olio confided in him.
“Too little and too late, I fear, your Highness,” Edaytor admitted unhappily.
“And yet you still came to report. That took courage.”
“I will always do my duty, your Highness,” he said with such seriousness it seemed almost comical to Olio.
Olio let Edaytor walk on ahead and regarded the man with new consideration. Yes, Prelate, more courage than I gave you credit for. Perhaps the theurgia, unknowingly, have done us all a favor by your promotion.
Areava sat at the head of the table, with Olio to her left hand and Chancellor Orkid to her rig
ht. Members of the Twenty Houses and government officials occupied the long side of the table on Orkid’s side, and those representatives of the various guilds, the city and the merchants sat opposite them, including Primate Northam. At the far end of the table sat Fleet Admiral Zoul Setchmar and Marshal Triam Lief, the heads of Her Majesty’s armed forces. Missing was the third member of the military trio, Constable Kumul Alarn, recently declared murderer, outlaw, and fugitive. Members of the Royal Guards stood to attention at every window and the two entrances; Dejanus stood directly behind Areava.
“By now you are all acquainted with the tragic events of the last twelve hours,” Areava began. “I have, as is my right through inheritance, assumed the throne. My first action as queen was to sign warrants for the capture of my brother, Prince Lynan, and his companions. My second action was to call together this executive council. I thank you all for attending on such short notice.”
Areava paused until the round of murmured “Thank you, your Majesty” and “I was honored, your Majesty” died down.
“We have a great deal to do. Word of King Berayma’s death will travel widely and quickly, not just throughout the kingdom but to our enemies as well. Some of them may wish to seek advantage from the succession, thinking that Kendra will be in some confusion. We must dissuade them. Four things must occur. First, I must be crowned as quickly as possible. Second, all official positions must be filled. I know that Berayma had plans to revise the bureaucracy after our mother’s long reign. I do not feel this is the appropriate time to do so.” There were some audible sighs of relief from the government side of the table. “Third, we must ensure the people know that the succession, though brought about by violence, was itself achieved smoothly and with the full support of the kingdom’s leading citizens. Fourth, Lynan must be brought to justice, and the horrible conspiracy he led exposed completely so that it can be crushed once and for all; to do otherwise will eventually lead to doubts about the authority of the throne and the security of the realm.” Areava paused long enough for her gaze to light on each of those present. “I will not allow this to happen. As far as the coronation goes, I propose the date planned for Berayma’s crowning. I have already made arrangements with Chancellor Orkid for this to occur.”
“As to the second issue, I confirm Orkid as my chancellor and Harnan as my secretary. The rest of you are confirmed in your positions as well. The one change will be a replacement for the traitor Kumul, late Constable of the Royal Guard. His position will be filled by my mother’s Life Guard, Dejanus.”
Orkid threw a surprised glance at Areava, but she did not notice it, even if Dejanus did. The new constable allowed himself the faintest of smiles. No one present disagreed with his appointment, but not everyone looked pleased.
“Constable, you may take your place with the admiral and marshal.”
Dejanus left his position behind the queen and walked with military precision to the vacant seat at the end of the table.
“Regarding the third issue, I expect all of you here to communicate to your colleagues and the members of your associations what you have witnessed here today: a ruler committed to their well-being and that of the kingdom. I expect to continue in my mother’s footsteps. While I do not claim yet to possess her wisdom and experience, I do possess the same love for my people and the same desire to see them follow their own lives within a just and peaceful society. Furthermore, I will have the able support and advice of the same ministers and officers who assisted my mother in the last years of her reign.”
Areava paused to take a deep breath. “Concerning Prince Lynan. You have already heard that he escaped the city. The navy is in pursuit, and we are confident that his capture is imminent. However, should the outlaw escape a second time, it is no excuse to panic. I have already sent messages to our provinces to warn them of his outlawry, and instructing them to ignore his authority as owner of the Key of Union. My mother explicitly stated that ownership of the Key meant swearing fealty to the crown. Lynan has betrayed that pledge and so forfeits his Key to the crown. Many of the provincial rulers will be coming here for the coronation. I will talk with each of them before they return to their own lands. Nowhere in Grenda Lear will be safe for Lynan and his followers.”
“Your Majesty, do we know where Lynan is heading?” asked Elenta Satrur, the head of the Guild of Dyers, a small man with a voice as wooden as an empty wine cask.
Areava nodded to Orkid, who cleared his throat and adopted his most patriarchal expression. “The ship he is on, called the Seaspray and owned by one Grapnel Moorice, was carrying a consignment of goods bound for Chandra.”
“Grapnel!” declared someone else at the table, obviously shocked. “He is part of Lynan’s party?”
Areava looked at the speaker, hiding her dismay when she recognized Xella Povis. “Goodwoman Povis?”
Povis nodded. “Your Majesty, forgive my interruption. But I have known Grapnel for many years. I would never have imagined—”
“And did you think I could imagine my own brother capable of regicide?” Areava asked.
Povis lowered her gaze. “Of course not, your Majesty.”
Areava indicated for Orkid to continue.
“The Seaspray was last seen sailing northeast. The navy is already in pursuit.”
“Why Chandra?” Shant Tenor, the city’s mayor, demanded.
Orkid shrugged. “Seaspray was the only vessel belonging to Grapnel in the harbor at the time of the prince’s escape, and the harbor master lists her consignment as going there. But Chandra might not be his destination. We don’t know.”
“Could King Tomar be involved in the plot against the throne?” Tenor persisted, his expression afraid.
“Enough!” cried Areava. “This is precisely the kind of talk I want to avoid. If we in the council will see conspirators in every shadow, every new turn, what can we expect to happen among the people? We must stay calm in this crisis. There is no evidence of any kind implicating King Tomar. Remember, he is my family’s friend, not just Lynan’s. He knew and loved Berayma.”
“Your Majesty, there is one possibility we must consider this morning,” Marshal Lief said quietly.
Areava frowned. “If this is more about Chandra, Marshal…”
“It is about the kingdom of Haxus, your Majesty. It will already have learned of Queen Usharna’s death. Its ruler, King Salokan, has long hated and envied Grenda Lear, and he may be assessing his options to take advantage of the succession. When he hears of Berayma’s death, it may embolden him further.”
“I agree with the marshal, your Majesty,” said Fleet Admiral Setchmar. “Salokan remembers with bitterness the defeat handed to his father by our forces during the Slaver War. He will harm or hinder the kingdom any way he can.”
“You don’t think he will invade, surely?” Areava asked. “Our armies would overwhelm him.”
“Invade, no. But I believe he will test your resolve. Acts of piracy against our shipping, for example. Raids against farms and small settlements along our common border. He will test your reaction to such provocation.”
“We will respond immediately to any incursion,” Areava said firmly. “I have a realm to run, and no petty northern king will interfere with that.”
Orkid cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, why not send a firm warning before there is any provocation? We already have a fleet and two brigades stationed in Hume to supplement Queen Charion’s own forces. Send more cavalry; they will best respond to and repel enemy raids.”
Areava looked at Lief and Setchmar. The admiral nodded. “Good advice,” he said. “I can provide transport for a couple of regiments within two weeks.”
“Our army is too dispersed, Your Majesty,” the marshal said. “We can hire mercenaries for the duration of the emergency. It would be considerably cheaper in the long term than raising new troops for a short campaign.”
“Very well,” Areava conceded. “But arrange for the mercenaries to be embarked away from Kendra. I don’t want ru
mors of a war to spread. That’s all we need right now.”
Lief and Setchmar seemed happy with her decision.
“We have dealt with the main matters,” Areava told the assembly. “It is enough for the council’s first meeting. My officials and I have had to work swiftly to contain the crisis, but in future I will rely heavily upon you all for advice and support.”
Before any questions could be asked, Areava stood, forcing everyone else to follow.
“We will meet again very soon. Harnan will inform you of the day and time. Until then, remember that the people will look to you for example. I expect each of you to behave accordingly.”
Chapter 14
When Lynan woke, the sun was almost down and there was a chill in the air. His whole body ached and he had difficulty moving at first, but eventually he was able to stand and inspect his new surroundings. Not far from him was Ager, still asleep, his breathing deep and even. There was no sign of Jenrosa or Kumul.
The cliff edge was ten paces away, and Lynan could hear the distant thunder of the waves crashing below. He dimly remembered making it to the top of the cliff and then collapsing. Someone must have dragged him the extra distance in case he rolled over while he was asleep and fell to his death.
He turned around. To the north and east the land gently climbed to the top of the Ebrius Ridge, falling away more sharply southeast toward Kendra and north where the province of Chandra lay. In the far distance he could just discern the outline of Kendra, and behind it the far end of Kestrel Bay, a smiling blue curve that emptied into the Sea Between. Looking southwest he could see the beginnings of Lurisia, and the edge of the rain forest that covered most of the province. A thin gray line cutting through the forest was the Gelt River, where Lynan and his companions had been heading before their encounter with the warship. Between the cliff and the sea he saw the wavering silhouettes of kestrels soaring with the day’s last thermals.
The ground was covered in long grass which gradually surrendered to low shrubs as the land sloped up and away. On either side of the ridge denser vegetation took over: tall, broad fern trees and wideoaks, with a scattering of sharrok pines and sturdy golden fans among them. From among a clump of wideoaks on the ridge’s southeast side appeared Jenrosa and Kumul, looking tired and bedraggled, but nonetheless smiling as they waved at Lynan. He waved back and went to meet them.