Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  Mathius rocked a hand side to side. “I suppose so, but I wouldn’t call Robsort a traitor. He’s just an idiot. You’re right though, the King’s Law would find them all guilty of treason… if we had one.”

  “Well, that’s something we’re going to arrange,” Lucius said stroking a finger along the beard at his jaw. “I think you can forget about executing these lords for treason. They will never vote for Gylaren if they think the first thing he’ll do is behead them.”

  She nodded, that made sense. “Robsort didn’t mention law proceedings, or a pardon.”

  “That’s because he’s an idiot,” Jihan said with a snort of contempt. “He’ll think of it eventually, you wait and see. Tomorrow he’ll come back here asking for one. I’d lay money on it.”

  “How much?” Lucius said.

  “How about five coppers?”

  “Make it five silvers and you’re on.”

  “Done!” Jihan said instantly.

  Julia waited for it and wasn’t disappointed.

  “Julia,” Lucius said timidly. “You couldn’t lend me five silvers could you?”

  She sighed, but she held out her hand to Mathius. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and handed over the purse. She always let Mathius hold her money. Her dresses didn’t have pockets. Hanging it from the girdle at her waist, as was the custom in Deva and elsewhere, was awkward because it pulled the gold chain she used off centre. Gold and silver was heavy, and anyway she’d only spend it all if she carried it. She withdrew five silvers and gave them to Lucius.

  “I’ll get it back to you,” Lucius said in thanks.

  “Any ideas how we should approach Lord Rowton?” she asked and handed her purse back to Mathius. “He won’t be so easily pushed as poor Robsort.”

  There was silence while everyone thought of ways and means. Surely, the lack of trade must have hit his finances hard. Perhaps they could use that in some way.

  * * *

  Keverin strode through the silent streets boiling with anger. Brian and Udall kept pace a step behind with difficulty, but they managed to keep up by trotting every few paces. Keverin had always prided himself on how well he cared for his own people, but he had blinded himself to the injustice he was doing to the rest of the kingdom. Oh yes, he had big plans, important plans to save Deva from the sorcerers, but they hadn’t included the plight of the common folk, and they should have curse it!

  “But what could I have done?” Keverin said plaintively.

  “Lord?” Brian said.

  “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  If he had come storming into Devarr full of righteous anger to depose the King, he would have started a war all right, but it would have been the wrong one! Deva needed to be strong, not divided by civil war, and that’s exactly what would have happened if he’d tried to force Pergann to act. Athlone, curse his hide, had his rotten fingers into everything. Julia had showed him the evidence on their way here in the form of letters. Athlone had even had contacts in Japura of all places! What by the God was in Japura that any decent man would want?

  Ah, but that was the crux of the matter, was it not? Athlone had been many things, but decent was not among them.

  Julia had been badgering him to do something about the King ever since the war ended last year. He knew she didn’t blame him for this mess, but she didn’t have to. He blamed himself. He was a lord of Deva, but with the privilege came responsibilities. He had been loyal to the crown, when he should have been loyal to the people first.

  At least Devarr had food enough now. Gylaren, bless his foresight, had brought abundant supplies with him, and Ranulf had just the place for distributing it. Ranulf’s inn was on Merchant’s Way. Merchant’s Way was the main street through the city, and his inn was central to it. It had been the best in the city at one time, and although the place had seen better days, it would be so again.

  Keverin had always taken pride in his honour. He didn’t feel very proud now. All he felt was anger. Two-thirds of the lords were here now, but they couldn’t begin proceedings to elect a new king until the others arrived. What they could do was set the palace and Devarr to rights, but even here, he had met resistance. He didn’t have to ask Purcell, Gylaren, or Jihan for help. They had seen the need for themselves, but the other lords seemed to walk around in blinkers. He had to badger, cajole, and in a few cases, outright threaten them to get co-operation. But get it he had. He had forced the lords to supply him with guardsmen to help patrol the streets, which were dangerous still. Another group comprising of older guardsmen had been set to break into the houses and buildings. That was a bad job and best left to men with strong stomachs. Thankfully, the task was almost complete. Another day should see the unpleasant necessity finished, and the pall of smoke from the cremations would clear. He hoped the memories would fade as quickly. How Devarr had managed to stay free of the pestilence was anyone’s guess, but it had, and he thanked the God for it. The sick were being cared for by volunteers and priests sent by Dugan from Holy Isle. The weakest among the sick had been taken directly to Julia’s Hospital. She spent most days there helping care for them with her magic.

  Keverin entered the palace grounds and dismissed his bodyguard. That had taken some getting used to as well. He had never needed a bodyguard to walk a simple street before, but Devarr wasn’t safe even for a heavily armed man. Gangs of young toughs were still roaming the streets. Brian and he had captured a couple of the would-be brigands only yesterday. Del and Tor were completely wild and had fought as if their lives depended upon escape. They hadn’t known that he had no intention of holding them for a judgement. He had given them into Ranulf’s care, but after forcibly washing and feeding them, both boys had run off. He hoped they had the sense to realise it was safer to go to Ranulf for food than to take on the patrols.

  He entered the palace and stopped to look around. Everything was as it should be. The broken furniture and ripped tapestries had long been burned. The floors and lamps were clean, and the undamaged furniture and tapestries had been re-distributed. Jessica, with help from her friends among the lord’s consorts, had taken care of that side of things. It was as if nothing had ever disturbed the place, and perhaps that was part of the problem. The illusion created by Jessica and her friends was contributing to the lack of concern shown by the lords. If he could find a way to encourage them out onto the streets, they might then begin to understand how bad things really were. With a little luck, they would be attacked—surely that would show them?

  It was something worth thinking about.

  On his way through the palace, Keverin found Ahnao helping an older woman hang a tapestry. He decided to stop a moment and have a word. Ahnao certainly had changed from the young village lass he had first met when Jihan informed him of Athlone’s treachery. Ahnao hadn’t been at her best, what with a broken leg and all. She had been very unsure of herself, but she had covered it well with bluster. Now she was Jihan’s consort, and had him wrapped around her little finger. Ahnao still had a tongue like a file sometimes, but it rarely showed unless she was upset about something. She could be very charming when she wanted to be, and that reminded him strongly of Julia. They both could be charming, but say the wrong thing, and they could make you think they’d had the hide off you! Julia’s tongue could be lethal! Fiery she was—they both were. Neither he nor Jihan would have it any other way.

  “Ahnao? Could I have a moment?”

  Ahnao glanced his way and smiled. She murmured something to her companion that made them both laugh and Keverin cringe. She came over and greeted him with a peck on the cheek. The little tease had picked that up from Julia. He quickly looked around to see if they’d been seen, but with relief, he found they were alone except for her companion.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  Oh no, she was in a playful mood. Keverin looked around for some help, but there wasn’t anyone. “Umm… no one in particular,” he said warily.

  “Oh, I thought you might be ashamed of me or somet
hing,” she said in a timid voice.

  Keverin gaped. “Of course not! Why would you think… ha, ha.”

  Ahnao laughed. She was very beautiful when she laughed…but not as beautiful as his Julia was, he thought loyally.

  “I was wondering if you knew where Jihan is.”

  “Yes I do.”

  Keverin sighed. It was going to be one of those days, he could tell. With a formal bow, he asked her again. “Would you tell me where your lord is please, Lady Ahnao?”

  “Since you asked so nicely, he’s with Julia and Mathius in her rooms.”

  With relief, Keverin realised that she was letting him off. “My thanks lady,” he breathed gratefully.

  Ahnao laughed and returned to her friend who glanced at Keverin before murmuring something to her. Ahnao shook her head and blushed. Her friend seemed surprised at Ahnao’s reaction. Keverin decided to leave while he still could. Whatever they were discussing wasn’t meant for his ears. He reached the women’s quarter and was escorted to Julia’s room by Moriz. Halbert was standing guard on Julia’s door as usual. Keverin nodded to him and entered.

  “What are you four up to?” Keverin said as he entered. He didn’t expect the reaction he received.

  Julia looked guiltily away and Jihan was stricken dumb. Lucius smiled and watched in unconcerned silence.

  “What do you mean, my lord?” Mathius said with his face flaming.

  Julia groaned. “Mathius! You’ve blown it!”

  Blown it? Julia often said strange things—Keverin had come to expect it. Mathius didn’t understand either, so he was in good company.

  “What’s going on?” he said collapsing into a spare seat.

  Julia glanced at the others and sighed when they failed to rescue her. “I suppose you would have found out sooner or later. We’ve been talking to the lords about making Gy the next king.”

  That wasn’t what he had expected to hear. He’d thought they were planning a surprise dinner or something. He looked to Jihan for an explanation.

  His friend leaned forward with elbows on knees. “We need a king who has had no dealings with my father. Julia showed you the letters. Would you want anyone who could write such?”

  Keverin shook his head emphatically. Of course he didn’t want that, but what they were proposing was fixing the vote. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that deals between lords weren’t being made, but if he did the same, how was he better?

  “I understand what you’re saying, Jihan, but vote fixing is dishonourable. It’s wrong.”

  Julia waved a hand wiping away Keverin’s words. “We aren’t fixing the vote. I know it seems that way, but we’re not. We all know when a lord votes he’s looking for a king who will benefit him. Am I right?”

  He nodded. “But we need someone who will benefit everyone.”

  “Exactly. You have to agree that Gy would make a fine king, Kev. He wouldn’t play favourites like some others I could name. All we’re doing is making the lords see where their real benefit lies. Some will see it without help. You, Purcell, and Jihan will vote for Gy because you know him. The other lords don’t know him like you do. They will vote for friends, or for someone who will favour their short term interests. They don’t realise that without a king like Gy on the throne, there won’t be a long term!”

  Keverin glanced aside at Jihan and found the expression he had expected to see on his friend’s face. He heartily agreed with Jihan’s rueful grin, but he didn’t agree with the sentiment behind it.

  “You’re not just telling them about Gy’s fine character. Those letters being here tells me that you’re threatening them!”

  Julia made to answer, but Lucius interrupted her. “Where I come from, the men who wrote those letters wouldn’t be threatened, they would be dead. Julia is being kind to them, too kind. If she can save Deva by calling them bad boys and waving letters under their noses, I say well done!”

  Keverin frowned. Was he wrong about this? Just a little while ago he had cursed himself for allowing Devarr to suffer because his honour forbade him from denouncing the King. Was he going to make the same mistake again? No he thought firmly, but honour was important. If he didn’t already know that, he had only to remember Jihan’s father to see it.

  Julia interrupted his thoughts. “Is killing people honourable?”

  Keverin shook his head. She knew it wasn’t, but there was no harm in him saying it. “No.”

  “But you killed people when you came after me with Jihan didn’t you?”

  “That was necessary…” he broke off. That had been war, and yes killing wasn’t honourable, but he had been defending himself and his men.

  “Yes, you do see now don’t you? What we’re doing here is necessary. Right or wrong, it’s necessary, Kev.”

  Keverin looked at Jihan who was grinning for all he was worth. How did Julia do that? It wasn’t magic he was sure. Then again, perhaps it was. The magic of knowing someone you loved better than he knew himself.

  * * *

  “This course is unwise… extremely unwise,” Demophon said uneasily.

  Rowton snorted in amusement. They were sitting comfortably in his rooms in the east wing of the palace and completely safe, yet he was almost shaking in his boots! Hah! Besides, two of Demophon’s friends were standing guard just outside the door for the God’s sake. They looked indistinguishable from any other guardsman in the armour he had supplied to them. Julia wouldn’t get near, no one would, but if anyone tried they would have a nasty surprise indeed. Sorcerers didn’t give second chances, or leave bodies behind.

  Rowton had arranged his late arrival at the palace to avert any chance of suspicion. As it was, most of the other lords had been too lazy to arrive on time anyway, so he had still been in the first group. As it turned out, the insufferably honourable Keverin had been the very first to arrive, which had suited him perfectly. The story of Morfran’s suicide had circulated and was readily believed coming from Keverin’s lips. It amused Rowton greatly to use the excruciatingly honourable Keverin to cover his regicide. Of course, if the man ever found out… but he wouldn’t. Keverin might be a heroic figure to the lords, but heroism went hand in hand with stupidity as far as Rowton could see.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Demophon said through gritted teeth.

  That was really too bad of him, Rowton thought. Not only did he think he could give orders to a lord and future King of Deva, but he thought that he could get away with insolence as well. Demophon might be a powerful man, but he was still a peasant. Most sorcerers were, of course. The realisation lent a measure of composure to Rowton. He would make allowances for their boorish behaviour. After all, one couldn’t blame a horse for shitting in the street, so why expect a peasant to have manners? It was a puzzle to him that Keverin and some of the more powerful lords actually seemed to care for the little animals.

  When he first arrived at Devarr, he had been quite shocked to find so many guardsmen at the city gates and on the walls. For a moment there, he had forgotten the plan and Keverin’s towering reputation. He had thought that Athione had stolen the throne out from under him! What had really upset him though, was the care being lavished upon the peasants. Why, he had even set up that—what had he called it? A hospital, that was it. His lady had even arranged a hospital to care for them.

  Didn’t Keverin realise that one batch of peasants didn’t matter? There were always peasants. They grew like weeds in a field. There was certainly no need to worry over them. Let them all die and then bring some more from the countryside to serve. Now there was a thought… might it be that Keverin was concerned about a lack of servants? Yes, that really might be it, he realised. Finally, he had the answer! Puzzles always vexed him. He didn’t like puzzles, especially ones involving powerful lords who might do him harm in the future.

  “Listen you fool!” Demophon said and grabbed Ascol’s arm.

  That was too much! Rowton drew his dagger and rounded upon Demophon so fast that the sorcerer was taken c
ompletely by surprise.

  “Take your hand from me peasant,” he growled. “I’ve made enough allowances for you. Laying hands on me isn’t something I will tolerate.”

  He was quite pleased with the sound of that. It was something he imagined Keverin would say. He giggled at the look of shocked horror on Demophon’s face. He really did look quite comical trying to see the blade under his chin without moving.

  “You are mad. Truly mad,” Demophon whispered in stunned realisation.

  “Now, now. No insults please,” Rowton said cocking his head in thought. Was it worth explaining Demophon’s death to his friends, or would it be better to wait until he was crowned to kill him? “We are friends after all,” he said cheerily, and decided to wait.

  Demophon blinked. “Friends… yes of course.”

  Friends, he thought contemptuously. Lords had friends amongst their own kind or not at all. Still, peasants could be useful sometimes. One said what one had to. He withdrew the blade.

  “I will meet with the woman as I said. There’s nothing to worry about my dear, Demophon. She won’t hurt me.”

  He was confident of that. Women loved him. His wife had told him years ago, and he knew it was true. They could see his greatness and were attracted by it.

  Demophon’s eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Trying to fool Julia will be your… our undoing,” he said watching Rowton intently. He seemed balanced on the edge of some decision. “Julia is shrewd—perhaps even intelligent. You have no chance of bringing the Lord Protectors to our side. My sources tell me she has already moved to secure lord Robsort’s vote for Gylaren. Horton, Meagan, and the others have all reported attempts to sway them to her side. You’re next on her list, but she won’t stop with you.”

  He regarded himself in the ancient mirror. It was part of a chest of drawers that dated back to the Founding. The craftsmanship was exquisite. When he became King, he would be sure to remember the piece. He would have it moved to the King’s apartments—his apartments.