Brown,_Simon_-_[Keys_Of_Power_03]_-_Sovereign

by Simon Brown

  'There is no hurry, Eynon,' Lynan answered. 'I was thinking you might want to do more than hunt down the war band.' He and Makon shared a secret smile. Eynon was not sure he liked that.

  'Meaning?'

  'Meaning that if you feel the urge I see no reason for you to stop at the edge of the Oceans of Grass.'

  'You mean carry on to Saranah territory?' Lynan nodded, and Eynon already liked the idea. 'To do as I wish?'

  'Completely. I remember I also promised to replace every head of cattle you lost. I will, but cannot do it before winter when the clans gather at the High Sooq, In the meantime, you might as well wreak a proper revenge.'

  'You are returning to the High Sooq this winter?' Eynon could not hide his surprise.

  'No. There is the rest of the Kingdom to win before I return to the Oceans of Grass.'

  'Then who will carry your authority at the High Sooq?' Eynon asked,

  'You will.'

  'Your Majesty—' Eynon blurted.

  Lynan and Makon laughed together. 'I told you he would choke on it,' Makon said.

  'But what does Korigan say?'

  'She is in agreement,' Lynan told him. 'She watched your clan four times assault the west wall of Daavis. She holds no doubts about you or your loyalty to my cause.'

  'She even agreed to let me go again,' Makon added.

  'Let you go?' Eynon asked.

  'Makon knows the Red Hands,' Lynan answered for him. 'He has commanded them in his brother Gudon's absence and has proven himself in combat. Use him as one of your commanders. He can also vouch for your authority at the High Sooq. If those clans traditionally antagonistic to you doubt your word, Makon, being from Korigan's clan, will convince them quickly enough.'

  Eynon could not help grinning. 'I would be happy to have Makon ride with me again.' By now the extra six troops had lined up behind Eynon's own. One thousand experienced warriors. With these, Eynon thought, I can carry the war far south indeed.

  'Remember, you can take whatever action against the Saranah you deem fit.'

  Eynon looked up sharply at Lynan. It was almost as if the prince had read his mind. 'The Saranah will wish they had never left their desert,' he said.

  Jenrosa watched Eynon lead his combined force northwest from Daavis. They rode at an easy trot, confident and determined. Casually, almost absently, she licked the tip of one finger and used it to draw a line along the top of the stone parapet in front of her. She breathed softly over it. The only particles to move were made of red quartz. They scattered across the line, but almost immediately a soft breeze blew the other way sending the crystals back again. She was not surprised, but which of her imaginings did it fit? That was something no teacher could show you. One of her first instructors in the Theurgia of Stars had told her that the interpretation of magik was often no more than a test of someone's ability to fit the facts after the event; in other words, prescience was a matter for the gullible. She wanted to believe that, but she could not shake off what she had seen since joining the Chetts and taking instruction under Lasthear.

  What Jenrosa did not know, and was afraid to discover, was whether or not her understanding of what her magik showed was the future, fixed and unchangeable, or a future that could be averted—or aimed for—through certain actions. The problem being that the latter seemed too much like prescience for the gullible.

  She saw Lynan walking back to the palace. As he passed near her he paused but did not look up. He can feel me watching him, she told herself. We are connected so strongly. A moment later he continued on his way. She observed Chetts bow as he walked by them. She observed the locals bow even lower to avert their eyes from his, the children scampering behind the nearest adult. Lynan, obviously deep in his own thoughts, ignored them all. After Daamis had been taken there had been some looting, but Lynan had quickly stopped it and made sure only soldiers who resisted the occupation were killed. So far as conquerors went Lynan seemed less cruel and more lenient than many others in history. Nonetheless, the citizens of Daamis avoided him when they could; Lynan's appearance and reputation were enough to scare people.

  'What are you now?' she wondered aloud. It occurred to her there was an even more important question. What am I now?

  She knew she had no answers. For all her power at magik it was a hollow thing, nothing more than a conduit for more mystery and frustration than she would ever have believed possible as a bored student in Kendra all those years ago.

  Wait, she told herself. Not years ago. Only a year ago.

  'You are thinking of home,' said Ager's voice.

  She looked to her left. God, for a crookback he could move quietly when he wanted to.

  'You think you are so wise,' she jibed.

  'I can tell,' he said, ignoring her, 'because of the look on your face. Whenever you think of home your eyes lose focus and you face towards Kendra. I know a few merchants who would pay a small fortune to have you as navigator on one of their ships. They would always know which direction to travel to reach Kestrel Bay.'

  She smiled despite herself. 'You still call Kendra home.'

  'Strange, isn't it? I wasn't born or raised there, and I've spent most of my life living somewhere else, but yes, Kendra is the place I always thought of as my home. Maybe it is for anyone who thinks of themselves as belonging to Grenda Lear.' Ager frowned then. 'I don't know that I do any more, not really.'

  'It's the Oceans of Grass for you?' Areava asked.

  'Perhaps.'

  'Morfast is a very beautiful woman,' Jenrosa observed.

  Ager grunted, smiled to himself.

  'And the Ocean Clan is a noble one.'

  'That is my home now, I think.'

  'The clan?'

  He nodded. 'And what about Jenrosa Alucar? Where is her home these days? With the Chetts? Or do you still pine for the dusty halls of the theurgia?'

  'I don't have a home any more,' she said shortly, trying to end the conversation.

  'The Truespeaker will always have a home,' Ager countered.

  Jenrosa gritted her teeth. 'I hoped you of all people would never call me that.'

  'Ah,' Ager sighed. 'So that's the problem.'

  'It's not a problem!' Jenrosa spat. 'It's a delusion on the part of Lasthear and others who are so desperate for a new Truespeaker they are willing to see ability where there is none.'

  'That's a lie and you know it,' Ager replied sharply. 'Lasthear is no fool, and nor are the other Chett magikers who talk about you the same way the rest of the Chett people talk about Lynan.'

  'I don't have to listen to this—'

  Ager grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. 'You are behaving like Lynan at the beginning of our exile. You have responsibilities you don't want to face, are afraid to shoulder. That's fine, I understand how you feel. But none of us has an excuse to behave like that any more. Whether we like it or not the entire Chett nation has given itself into our hands. Lynan is their king—even Korigan accepts that—and he has grown to recognise it. I am clan chief, something I have grown to recognise. You are the Truespeake. It is time you grew to recognise that.'

  Jenrosa pulled out of his grip. 'And Kumul? What was he meant to be before he was slaughtered?'

  Ager shook his head. 'That isn't fair. You were his lover, but Lynan and I loved him as well.'

  Jenrosa closed her eyes in shame. 'I'm sorry…'

  'Hasn't it occurred to you that we four were meant to leave Kendra together when we did? That fate or God or whatever it is that rules our lives had a purpose for us? Lynan will be king of Grenda Lear, of that I have no doubt now. I, who belong to the ocean, rule a clan named after it. You, a student magiker who never fitted in with the theurgia, discover you are perhaps the most powerful magiker of all. And Kumul… Kumul was our hero and sacrifice. He will be remembered by the Chetts for longer than you or I. Every time a Chett whispers the name of Lynan Rosetheme, the White Wolf, they will also whisper the name of the Giant, Kumul Alarn. His life was the price he paid for that de
stiny. He had no more say in it than we have in ours.'

  'And what will be our price?' she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  Ager looked away from her. 'I do not know.'

  'I see only blood in my future, but whose blood I do not know.'

  'Don't be afraid now, Jenrosa. We have all gone too far to be afraid any more.'

  'I don't believe in destiny, Ager,' she said. 'That would be a worse fate for us than you could imagine.' And as she said the words she realised she spoke the truth, and some of her doubt was lifted from her mind.

  Lynan sat on Charion's throne. It was almost exactly the right size, he realised. Then it must be my destiny to possess it, he told himself.

  The man standing in front of him presented a peculiar mixture of fear and disdain. He was an ordinary looking fellow, someone Lynan would not have noticed in a crowd, but there was something about his character that he found very attractive, something he could not yet put his finger on.

  'I am told your name is Farben,' Lynan said.

  'Yes.' One of the Red Hands jabbed him in the back with the pommel of a sword. 'Your Majesty,' Farben finished.

  Lynan hid a half-smile behind a finger. 'And you were Charion's secretary?'

  'Queen Charion's secretary. One of them.'

  'Do you know where she has gone?'

  'For a ride,' Farben said. 'I expect her back shortly.'

  'With an army, no doubt.'

  'No doubt at all.'

  'And you stayed behind to protect her home and hearth?' Farben did not answer. 'That was very brave.'

  'I am attached to the many works of art in this building: statues, paintings, books. I wanted to make sure your barbarians did not use them for firewood or toilet paper.'

  That earned Farben another jab in the back. He broke out into a sweat.

  'These so-called barbarians now rule your home, Farben,' Lynan said matter-of-factly. 'I would be careful what you say about them.'

  'My home is where my queen lives. The Chetts will never rule her.'

  That is what it is I like about him, Lynan thought. His loyalty. He is petrified of me, and yet will not deny his fealty to Charion.

  'I want you to work for me,' Lynan said. Farben stared at him, wide-eyed. 'I need someone who knows this city to help me administer it.'

  'You cannot be serious.'

  'You will be serving Charion,' Lynan added.

  Farben laughed nervously at that. 'A fine joke, your Majesty.'

  'If you truly believe she will return, then surely it is your duty to ensure her city is maintained for her?'

  Farben's expression showed his confusion.

  'I have already rebuilt the walls and city gate. Most of the rubble has been cleared away. My Haxan allies are rebuilding houses and shops. I want life here to return to normal as quickly as possible, but to best do that I need someone willing to take over the administration who knows the city and its people.'

  'You will use the city against your enemies,' Farben said. He straightened himself before adding: 'And they are my allies.'

  The Red Hand behind him raised the pommel of his sword again but Lynan waved him down. 'Undeniably. Nonetheless, a working Daavis best serves its own citizens, and those citizens may one day be Charion's once more.'

  'Not if you win,' Farben pointed out.

  'Don't be so sure. She is not my enemy. My sister is my enemy.' Lynan could see Farben had no answer to that but still he did not look convinced. 'If she survives the war and is prepared to swear her allegiance to me, then I will happily return Hume to her, and Daavis as her capital. But what kind of city shall she receive if the conqueror is left alone to administer it?'

  'If I accept your offer people will think I am a traitor,' Farben said feebly.

  'Then you have my permission to let everyone in the city know you are working for Charion, and not for me. You can put up notices to that effect if you like. I only ask you do no intentional harm to me or my cause.'

  'Your Majesty?' Farben could not believe his ears.

  'There is a price to be paid,' Lynan added.

  Farben snickered. 'I see.'

  'No you do not see. The price is that when Charion swears her allegiance to me, so must you.'

  'You could force me to do that now.'

  Lynan shook his head. 'You and I both know that is not true. No doubt I could force you to do a great many things. I might even get you to say the words, but they would be empty. I am prepared to wait for true loyalty.'

  Farben did not answer for a moment, then—ever so slightly—he bowed.

  She was overwhelmingly desirable. Lynan could not help falling into her arms, embracing her as if she was and had always been his true love. They did not speak, their passion so powerful no words could express it. The forest surrounded and swallowed them. The world was rich and green and moist.

  He entered her, moved easily in time with her body, His hands felt her skin as smooth as paper. He kissed the sweat off her face and it tasted like dew. Her hair smelled like the earth. In turn she kissed his chest, his cheek, his forehead, his neck and finally his lips. He felt her tongue slide over his own.

  Then pain, sudden and sharp, in the back of his throat. He tried to scream but he had no air left. He struggled against her but she was far too strong. She pinned him to the ground, her lips still around his, the needle-like tip of her tongue still impaled in him, sucking out his blood.

  But he did not surrender. He placed his hands over the Keys sandwiched between them and held them tight, Strength and warmth shot through his body. The vampire screeched, flew off him into the air. His own blood sprayed down on him. She flapped her giant wings and disappeared into the night sky. He gasped for breath and felt life-giving air fill his lungs, and his eyes opened wide… to see the roof of Charion's private chambers above him, its ornate paintings seeming to come to life in the flickering candlelight beside the bed.

  He sat up, panting, and he could taste blood on his tongue. He felt inside his mouth with a finger. There was no wound, and when he withdrew the finger it was unstained. He swung his legs over the side and stood up. The room had windows on two walls. He went to the closest and opened the wooden shutters. Clean night air rushed in, cooling his sweat. An old moon hung low above the horizon. A few wispy clouds faintly patterned the sky.

  He gasped in surprise and jerked away from the opening. He had seen something eclipse the moon, the silhouette of a wing. He told his heart to slow down, and his mind to stop imagining things. He peeped out the window. The moon was unchanged. There were no giant wings against the sky. The breeze smelled clean and dry and of ripening grain. It was the smell of autumn.

  'Time is running out,' he said softly into the night. 'Time is running out.'

  He gathered his clothes and dressed quickly. Two Red Hands looked at him in surprise when he left the room and immediately fell in behind him. Usually he found the close company of his bodyguards irksome, but not tonight.

  He found the room he was looking for in a wing of the palace opposite the courtyard from the royal quarters. 'Just like Kendra,' he mumbled to himself. He went to a desk, found paper and pen and ink underneath its lid and brought them out. The two bodyguards stayed at the door.

  At first he wrote quickly, but as the minutes passed he slowed down until he was struggling over every word. Nearly an hour later he put the pen down and read what he had written. Then he drew out a second piece of paper and started again, finishing in half the time; this too he read, then folded it carefully and tucked it inside his shirt.

  When he returned to his room he found Korigan waiting for him.

  'You still awake?' he asked, closing the door behind him and leaving the guards outside.

  'I've been thinking about things. I was surprised to find you not only awake but absent.' She patted the bed.

  Lynan sat down next to her and kissed her. 'I had some work to do.'

  'In the scriptorium.'

  He frowned. 'Now how did you
know that?'

  She held his right hand and opened it palm upwards. 'Ink stains,' she said, and smudged some of it. 'Fresh. Also there's this.' Before he could react her hand darted inside his shirt and took out the folded paper. He tried to snatch it back but she was too quick for him, retreating from the bed and dangling it before him like a lure.

  'Letter to some old lover?'

  'I don't have any old lovers.'

  It was her turn to frown. 'Are you serious?'

  Lynan nodded.

  'You mean you were a… you know…'

  'I am only eighteen,' he said defensively.

  'And I was only fifteen,' she retorted, then shrugged. 'Well, maybe you're late developers in the city.'

  'I think it's that you Chetts are early starters. It has to do with all the sex you see. The cows do it. The horses do it.'

  'Our parents do it.'

  'Well, yes, but you don't see…' She was smiling at him with perfect innocence. 'You're not serious?'

  'Our parents teach us everything. We don't have schools like in the east, or private tutors like you had.'

  'This isn't something any school in the east teaches.'

  'And your private tutors?'

  He shook his head. 'Regrettably.'

  'So I was your first?'

  'Yes.'

  'I'm flattered.'

  'Good,' he said levelly. 'Now can I have my paper back?'

  'Personal, is it?'

  'Not from you,' he admitted. 'But I'd rather not have it damaged. It took me a long time to write it and I don't want to have to start all over again.'

  'I can read it?' she asked.

  'Yes.'

  Korigan was about to open it, then changed her mind and handed it back to Lynan. 'Not much point, really, if I'm not learning something I'm not supposed to know.'

  'Fun or not, it's something you should know. It's a letter to King Tomar.'

  'Saying what?'

  'Setting out my side of the story about Berayma's murder and subsequent events.'

  'The aim being?'

  'I conclude by asking him to join me, or at least to offer me no resistance when I move through his territory.'