Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3

by Mark E. Cooper

  Keverin listened intently as Ascol raged about Julia and Gylaren. He thought Ascol’s guest must be Demophon, but he changed his opinion when he heard the sound of a palm striking flesh. No sorcerer would stand for that. Ascol’s consort might it be? He aborted his instinctive urge to barge through the portal when he remembered that Ascol had arrived at the palace minus his consort. He relaxed with that realisation. If Ascol had struck a woman, then secrecy be damned. He would have been inside before Ascol could blink.

  “Please father!” said another voice followed by the sound of another blow.

  Keverin tensed again. Ascol hitting his son was marginally better than hitting his consort to his mind, but only just. Adrik was old enough to fight back if it became too bad. The sound of a door opening came through the portal clearly.

  “Ascol! We need to talk. Stop playing with him and listen, we have important things to discuss.”

  “I’m busy!” Ascol snarled, “Wait outside.”

  “Send the boy out, or I’ll remove the problem myself, permanently.”

  “How dare you—” Ascol screeched.

  “If you try to use that on me again, I’ll kill you. Once was enough. I won’t warn you again Ascol, sheath it now!”

  Smackkk!

  “Father!”

  “Don’t try it boy,” Demophon said slowly. “You should be grateful to me for keeping your latest beating so short.”

  “I deserved it for speaking out of turn. My father is an Ascol. I’m an Ascol, but you… I’ll find a way to make you pay for hurting him, sorcerer,” Adrik said in a voice that sounded very young.

  Keverin shook his head at the boy’s foolishness. Talking to anyone that way was bad enough, but to a sorcerer… well, Adrik was dead lucky not to be feeling the man’s fires right now. If Adrik had been his son… but he wasn’t. He had no sons, would he ever?

  The door slammed.

  “Enough of this, we have things to discuss. Your son takes after you in his stupidity, but that could be useful if turned upon the right target.”

  “Plans you said,” Ascol said. “What need have I of a sorcerer who fouls himself in fright at the sight of a mere woman? I will deal with the whore in my own way.”

  Keverin’s eyes blazed, but he checked his instinctive urge to attack. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in rage. If the wall hadn’t been so thick, he would have smashed through and wrung the bastard’s neck for talking about Julia that way.

  Demophon snorted. “Underestimating her will be your downfall… unless I am. Yes, I was scared that day, if you had seen it… but you can’t. Lady Julia was this close to destroying us all. The amount she was holding would have seen Devarr turned to a smoking pit in the ground. Mortain—may he live forever—would be less than ash if he tried to hold that much power, but what did Julia do? She laughed in joy! Joy! Do you even have an inkling as to what that means?”

  Ascol obviously had no more idea than Keverin did. The awe and fear in Demophon’s voice worried him. What did it mean?

  Halden wriggled backward like an eel, and stood to whisper in Keverin’s ear. “Let us go. I have heard enough.”

  “But we haven’t heard their plan,” Keverin whispered in turn.

  “It doesn’t matter, I have what we need,” Halden said grimly.

  “What? No, tell me later,” Keverin whispered and moved carefully back along the passageway.

  * * *

  16 ~ Party

  Julia could hear music and the sound of voices as she walked through the palace. She held Keverin’s arm intent on appearing like a noble woman born. She was determined not to disgrace him before the other lords. She was wearing her white dress, the one Jessica had given her to wow Keverin. She was pleased to see that it hadn’t lost any of its appeal through familiarity. Her jewellery, diamonds and sapphires, contrasted the pristine white of her dress and had dazzled many an eye before now. Although she was biased, she thought hers outshone any she had seen previously barring Jessica’s emeralds, which her late consort Kevlarin had given her. Jessica was wearing them now.

  She smiled and Jessica returned it from her place on Gylaren’s arm. She whispered something and Gy glanced over. Julia raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

  “Dazzling as ever, Lady,” Gy said inclining his head without checking his stride.

  She blushed.

  Keverin chuckled fondly. “It’s your own fault. You know what that dress does to people.”

  “He’s right, Julia,” Lysara said from her place on Lucius’ arm. “It’s like bashing them on the head!”

  “You can talk!” she said with a gurgle of laughter. “Yellow silk? I’ve never seen you looking so glorious!”

  “I have,” Lucius said with a grin. “I will never forget our first meeting. She was like a vision. I couldn’t look away.”

  “Oh that old thing,” Lysara said with a negligent wave of her hand. “It was just something I threw on that morning,” she said but she was inordinately pleased with Lucius’ comment.

  Julia laughed gaily.

  Lysara was still waging her campaign to win Lucius. From the way he kept glancing at her when she wasn’t looking, Julia thought Lysara was winning. Purcell and Isolde were walking arm in arm just behind Lysara, but they were close enough for her to see Purcell’s wink. He grinned at his daughter’s back. He knew Lucius’ days as a bachelor were numbered.

  Jihan and Ahnao completed their group. Ahnao wore a simple dress of blue cotton and lace that would outshine many a lady’s more expensive and gaudy dress. She had a quiet beauty that none could fail to see. Where Ahnao’s dress was simple, Jihan’s was the opposite. Everything about him was black—from his shiny boots to his leather trousers, from his silk shirt and velvet doublet to the single onyx earring he wore. The doublet was particularly fetching. It sported rows of pearls down each arm. He looked splendid, and knew it. He grinned at Julia whenever she looked his way.

  “You should have worn the green, Kev,” she said eyeing Jihan for the umpteenth time.

  “I prefer the russet.”

  “I know, but Jihan’s so pretty. He’ll steal the show!”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Ahnao said smiling lovingly at her consort. “If we had a prize for the most handsome lord, he would win.”

  “He can have it,” Keverin grumped over Jihan’s splutters.

  Jihan seemed to think being called pretty was somehow undignified, but everyone knew Ahnao was right.

  “I can’t believe we’ve been here all this time and still haven’t chosen a king,” Jihan said trying to steer the conversation away from his looks. “The decision should have taken no more than a tenday, two at the outside.”

  “Stop being so negative,” Julia chided. “Tomorrow or the next day will see it over and done, and we can go home.”

  “Nothing is certain,” Gylaren warned. “Raising a king is only the first step. We have to change the trade situation, and the treasury needs addressing. Taxing is a big issue, and then there’s the Protectorate to worry over. We need standing armies on the same scale as the legions if we hope to hold out against Mortain for long.”

  I know, I know,” she sighed. “But tonight is for celebrating. Let’s make the most of it.”

  They entered the bunting decked hall without ceremony. If the king had been alive, the lords would have entered in order of seniority. The Four were first of those lords given land to hold. As the first lords raised within Deva they had the right to enter first. Athione had seniority among the Four—it was the oldest. Next came Malcor, which was also the strongest of the Four in military terms. Meilan and Elvissa were built at the same time not long after Malcor was completed and were equals in theory. In practise, all four wielded the same influence. They regarded themselves as equals and more—they were brothers in arms.

  Julia and the others paused on the threshold to study the lords as if studying armed camps. They very nearly were. As with every argument, there were two sides to the issue and this was appare
nt from the stance the lords had taken. Those siding with Gy had gravitated to the right of the hall and those with Ascol were more to the left. The so-called Undecideds were enjoying their brief notoriety and popularity by holding themselves aloof from either camp in the centre.

  She watched lord Karel detach himself from his allies and speak to a lord of the undecided camp. It was a kind of courtship she was witnessing. Lord Horlen received Karel as a king receives an ambassador. He inclined his head politely but made it plain he was the one being courted. He listened to Karel for a short while then acquiesced to follow him back to Ascol to hear more. Ascol was holding court with his allies and received Horlen with apparent good will, but Julia could see the anger in his eyes. Courting a lesser lord would be distasteful to him, necessary perhaps, but still distasteful. She hoped it soured his stomach.

  “Don’t glare at him, my love. It will only spoil your evening,” Keverin said guiding her inside the hall.

  “I wish I could be there when you stick it to him!” she growled, but she allowed herself to be led toward Lord Halden and their other friends.

  “Stick it to him?” Keverin murmured. “I like that! Shame I can’t use my sword.”

  “A dagger is sharp enough. The one I have in mind will do the job nicely.”

  Keverin agreed with a nod.

  Julia offered her hand to Halden to kiss and then his son Davida. Davida was a good friend. He and Keverin had known each other for years.

  “You look… amazing,” Davida breathed.

  Keverin smiled down at her. “She always does.”

  Julia blushed. She wished she had a spell to help her with that. “Have you decided what you will say tomorrow?”

  “Indeed, Lady,” Halden said. “Have no fear on that. Ascol does not know it, but his own actions have doomed him to the block. Let him try to sway the lords to him, it matters not. We have already won.”

  “Confidence is good, my lord, but overconfidence can lead to unexpected places,” she warned.

  “Gy will be King Gylaren the first,” Keverin said with no doubt. “I give oath that Ascol will die before he sets one foot on the dais.”

  Davida blinked in surprise at Keverin’s vehemence. “Why so angry?”

  “A strange thing to ask,” Purcell said. “Ascol has done much that is worthy of anger, but bringing sorcerers here… that deserves anger and worse than anger.”

  Gylaren nodded. “If Ascol were king, Deva would be annexed to the Protectorate in less than five years. He has no idea what he’s dealing with.”

  Julia agreed with that. “You can’t deal with a sorcerer without getting dirty.”

  Gylaren raised an eyebrow. “Another saying from your world?”

  “Something like that.”

  She watched the goings on and listened to the music. The musicians were trying hard to please but no one was dancing. The lords were grouped together talking about tomorrow’s vote or busy trying to persuade their peers to vote for Ascol or Gylaren. The consorts looked bored from where they sat along the walls or stood picking at the array of food on the tables. The musicians had been chosen from the best the lord’s retinues had to offer. The occasional dropped note could be ignored. It didn’t lessen her enjoyment of the music.

  “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” Keverin said with a smile.

  She curtsied. “That would be delightful,” she said but spoilt it with a grin.

  Keverin led her into some space and whirled her into a world of music and dance where all that mattered was his strong hands guiding her around the floor. The music seemed to fade as she stared mesmerised into his eyes. God, how she loved him. It was frightening in its intensity, that love, but she wouldn’t change it. She would give everything she was to see him safe and happy, and he would do the same for her. Keverin was everything she had ever looked for in a man, everything she had dreamed of and more. He was her life, her soul, everything. She held him close and swore their love would never end—if she had to burn the world to ensure that, still would she swear and make it so.

  Though she could care less, she had the rare pleasure of dancing before all the peers of the realm. Her delight in Keverin and the music proved infectious and it wasn’t long before the sons of the lords began asking the ladies to dance. Their fathers for the most part remained aloof and continued their own dance of politics. Julia noticed not, her world was Keverin and his hands upon her.

  The music ended all too soon. “You are my life,” Keverin whispered.

  “And you are mine,” Julia said drowning in his eyes.

  “Let us find a priest and be wed now—on the instant.”

  “Ye—” Julia was saying, but lord Meagan used that moment to interrupt.

  Meagan, Lord of Herstal was a non-entity next to Keverin. A ferrety man, he wore such finery as any king would be proud to own, but on him, it was wasted. His pasty complexion and scraggly beard needed a lot more than a fine doublet and be-ringed fingers to offset. He was thin to the point of emaciation and shifty with it.

  Julia loathed him now more than ever.

  Meagan looked nervously back at his master. Ascol and his cronies were watching intently. It was obvious Ascol had sent him on the errand. With that in mind, Julia grasped her magic. She didn’t seriously expect Meagan to attack her or Keverin, but with her words to Gy about overconfidence clearly in mind, she decided to take no chances. After all, there were sorcerers loose in the palace.

  “May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” Meagan said nervously.

  Keverin growled and made to step forward, but Julia recovered from her jaw dropping surprise and interceded with a touch on his arm.

  “How can I refuse such a courteous invitation? I accept.”

  Keverin’s head whipped round to stare at her in shock.

  “Meagan has something to say to me, I would judge. Not so?”

  Meagan swallowed and nodded jerkily.

  Keverin’s eyes narrowed in anger, but not at her, thank goodness. He chose Meagan and Ascol for his targets. He inclined his head slightly to Meagan, very slightly, and gave Julia into Meagan’s care before stalking away to find the wine.

  The music began and they moved mechanically into the dance. Julia did not enjoy herself. Meagan’s touch was repugnant. She would need a good scrub in the tub to remove it.

  “Lord Ascol—” Meagan began.

  “Your owner wishes to send me a message. Why did he not deliver it himself?”

  Meagan’s lips compressed into a thin line. That he was angry there was no doubt, but he was also afraid of her. Many people were, but Meagan had more reason than most to fear her. She recalled her journey to Devarr clearly, and chief among those memories was a town called Hringham—a town of starving people supposedly administered by the him.

  “He does not own me, I’m my own man. We are merely allies.”

  “You’re deluding yourself. The Protectorate owns Ascol and will own Deva through him. The sorcerers will never let him rule as a king should. He will be their lackey and you will be one of his. If you doubt me, look to Bandar. Where are those proud lords now? Either dead, retired to their much reduced estates, or serving in the legions.”

  “That won’t happen here. We have assurances—”

  “Spare me,” she said with a snort of contempt. “Don’t you think the Bandarians were given assurances? Of course they were.”

  “This is not what I was sent to discuss,” Meagan growled.

  “No? Then what was?”

  “I am to make you an offer.”

  “He has nothing I want.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Meagan said smugly. “Ascol has acquired certain information that he feels you would be interested in obtaining.”

  Julia frowned. “What information?”

  “Information of a magical nature perhaps. Perhaps information that would see you safely home.”

  The music ended but she hardly noticed. She stepped back a pace from Meagan, one dan
ce was all she was prepared to tolerate. A way home, he said. He didn’t mean Athione that was certain. Was the book in Athione’s vault the only one? It must be. If there were others, the sorcerers would have used what they contained before now. What was Ascol’s game? He must know she wouldn’t fall for so transparent a ruse… unless it wasn’t a ruse. She needed her mirror. If someone had somehow gained entrance to the vault… No, it wasn’t possible. Even she would have trouble getting through Darius’ ward on the vault door. It was complex in the extreme and strong with it.

  “Ascol doesn’t have the knowledge, and neither do his masters,” she said with certainty, but she wanted her mirror. She was sure Meagan was lying, but a mirror… was he lying?

  “He’s willing to show you under any conditions you care to name,” Meagan said. “He knew you would be sceptical, but once you see what he has, you will deal with him.”

  “What makes you think I want to go back? I like it here.”

  Meagan blinked. “I… I was told you were brought here against your will.”

  “I was.”

  “Well then.”

  “Well then nothing!” she snapped. “I will never deal with the likes of Ascol. You can tell him from me that I know what he did. Tell him that I’ll see him in hell before I’ll deal with his masters!”

  Julia stalked away leaving Meagan standing alone. She scanned the room and found Keverin heading her way. She intercepted him near the tables. She poured a glass of wine for each of them and stood alternatively sipping her wine and glaring at Ascol’s lackeys. The gall of the man trying to buy her with his lies… was it a lie?