by Simon Brown
Powl sighed heavily. I will not find what I seek among these volumes. It was stupid of me to think that I would. He replaced the second book and ran his finger along the spines of the entire library, walking a circuit of the room. But where else can I look for the name of God?
He stopped. Something had caught his attention. For a long moment he looked around, trying to discover what it was. He had just given up and was turning to leave the room when it happened again.
'The books,' he said aloud. 'Something about the books.' He studied the spines closely, but there was nothing about them that seemed extraordinary. 'Except that they are in this strange room and completely unreadable.'
Powl pulled another book out and held the spine up to the light. That's when he saw it. His attention hadn't in fact been caught by something visible but by something he had felt with the tip of his finger. The spine was embossed about a third of the way down. He angled the book to see if he could cast a shadow, but the embossing was too shallow. He ran his finger along all the spines again, this time at the same level. They were all embossed.
'Is this the clue, dear God?' he asked. 'Is your name hidden somewhere in these volumes?'
His desperation made him want to believe it. Perhaps God had forgiven him his terrible crime. Perhaps his prayers had not been for nothing after all.
'And all because of this?' Olio asked, holding up the Key of the Heart.
'And all because of that,' Edaytor said, looking at it the way he might a spider. 'I wish you would not handle it so readily.'
'It is harmless now.'
'You must not use it.'
'I have no intention of using it.'
'You have not come across any sick.'
'I will stay locked in the palace.'
'Well and good,' Edaytor said. 'But remember that the common people now know what you are capable of.'
'They know what the Key is capable of. By all accounts I was nothing more than its conduit. Anyone could use it.'
'I do not think so. The Keys were made by your ancestor for the rulers of Grenda Lear, not for any other mortal.'
Olio slipped the Key under his shirt. 'Well and good then; it means no one else will be subjected to its power as I was.'
'How are you feeling now?'
Olio shrugged. 'I am not sure. How am I supposed to feel? How did I feel the day before I lost my mind? Is it the same as I feel now? I no longer know these things. I do not know if how I am now is how Olio was before the fire. I do not know myself any more. I have the mind of an adult with the memory of an infant.'
'You have not forgotten everything, surely? You remember Kendra, your sister, the death of your mother and the murder of Berayma.'
'And the outlawry of my brother,' Olio said sadly. 'Yes. Facts and places and names I remember, but not what I felt or knew about them. I have vague recollections of being fond of Lynan—'
'You were,' Edaytor confirmed. 'You talked of him frequently and with great sorrow.'
'—and yet I feel nothing at all about him now. I could not care less that he is an outlaw if it was not for the fact that he is threatening the Kingdom. For that I owe him my spite and not my love, brother or no.'
'I see,' Edaytor said quietly. 'And what of Areava? How do you feel about her? Or any of your other friends?'
Olio smiled at him. 'You, you mean?'
Edaytor blushed.
'As soon as I saw you both I knew I cared about you, and that is how I feel.'
Edaytor's blush deepened. 'Perhaps it would be the same with Lynan then.'
'Perhaps,' Olio said shortly. 'That is something I do not wish to ponder. I cannot imagine a time when we might see each other again.'
'His army might reach Kendra.'
'No army has ever reached,Kendra.'
That does not mean there won't be a first time, Edaytor thought, but kept it to himself.
Areava went white with fury as she read the minutes from the first meeting of the Great Army Committee. As she read each page she screwed it up in her fist and threw it to the floor. Harnan Beresard picked up each ball and flattened it out again, softly tsking through his teeth. Was it only secretaries who realised the importance of every single copy of every document?
When she got to the last sheet she waved it under Orkid Gravespear's nose. 'And what were you doing while Dejanus was plotting to destroy my Kingdom from the inside?' she demanded.
Orkid sighed, spread his hands. 'I don't think the matter is helped by exaggerating—'
'Inflation!' she cried over him. 'Conscription! Treason trials!'
'I know it sounds bad—'
'Bad!' She screwed up the last sheet and threw it over her shoulder. Harnan scrabbled quickly enough to catch it before it hit the floor. 'It sounds disastrous! Who gave him leadership of the committee?'
'He took it upon himself. He is commander of the Great Army, after all.'
'Commander, yes!' Areava said, jabbing Orkid in the chest with each syllable. 'Dictator, no!'
'They are only recommendations,' Orkid countered.
'Recommendations for the destruction of Grenda Lear. If I forced the provincial rulers to introduce conscription they would be overthrown and their people would open the gates of their capitals for Lynan and his Chetts to just stroll in. There were five of you on the committee, not just Dejanus. Why didn't you take control?'
'He is hard to counter at the moment. After all, he is commander—'
'If you remind me Dejanus is commander of the Great Army just one more time I will punch you on the nose!'
Orkid retreated a step. Even Harnan Beresard retreated a step. And Areava herself seemed surprised by her threat.
'I'm sorry,' she said, shaking her head. 'It's just that I can't believe you, of all people, let Dejanus get away with this.'
Orkid could only spread his hands again. He could not say the words himself. Areava had to do it without his help.
'He cannot stay on the committee,' she said. 'There's nothing for it. He stays as commander, but the committee will be responsible for all logistical and administrative issues concerning the Great Army until it is ready to march to war.'
'I cannot agree,' Orkid said, making sure he spoke loudly enough for Harnan to hear and trying not to sound as relieved as he felt. 'It was his first meeting. If he is allowed a second chance—'
'If he is allowed a second chance I may end up receiving the committee's advice to execute everyone in the Kingdom with Chert blood! No, Orkid, my mind is made up. There is no place for Dejanus on the committee.'
'Who will you replace him with?'
'No one for the moment. That's a decision I will make in council.'
'Will you tell him?'
'Must I?'
'It would be better coming from you.'
'God. Alright.' She turned to Harnan. 'Ask the constable to come and see me right away.'
Harnan bowed and hurried off.
'He's not going to like this,' Orkid warned her.
Areava snorted through her nose.
'Do you want me to stay?'
'No. It will only make it worse for him if you are present. I don't want to humiliate him. Go on, get out.'
'Thank you,' he said sincerely, and quickly left.
Dejanus woke in the middle of the night, fully alert, eyes as wide and white as lamps, sweat prickling his skin. He barked in relief. He was still alive. Tendrils from his nightmare slowly evaporated and in a short while all he could remember was the face of his enemy, with skin as white as ivory. The face had been vaguely familiar, the way that such things often are in dreams, but he could not recall now who it belonged to.
His mouth felt as dry as sand. He reached down beside the bed and grabbed a bottle. He was not sure what was in it, but it ran fiery and smooth down his throat and made the rim of his eyes burn. There was a moan beside him. He looked down at Ikanus, still sleeping off the sex. He grunted. Or the bruises. He laughed at his own joke. She moaned again.
'Shut up,' he
said, not loudly enough to wake her, but loudly enough to finish his own waking.
That's when he remembered, and the memory made him flush with anger.
'Bitch,' he said hoarsely. 'That white-haired bitch.'
She had humiliated him in front of her puking little secretary. He had wanted to take Harnan's neck in his two hands and crush it like a leather bag. Areava. He had wanted to kill her too. Shove a dagger in her throat, just as he had done to her brother, Berayma. He had wanted to feel her warm blood splash over his hands. He wanted to scream his hate into her face as the air in her lungs whistled through the wound.
But, as always, he had done nothing.
Not cowardice, he told himself. Just common sense. The guards would cut him down without thinking. Him, their own constable. But it was that bitch they loved.
'I am sorry, Dejanus,' she had said. She even sounded apologetic.
'It was Orkid's idea, wasn't it?' he had said.
'No, he was against it.'
Sure he was, he had thought. Sure he was against it.
She must have seen the doubt on his face. 'Isn't that right, Harnan?'
The secretary had nodded. 'I heard him say so.'
'This is my decision, Dejanus. No one else's.'
That was when he had wanted to kill them both. Rage filled him up and he could do nothing about it. He thought he was going to burst a blood vessel.
'Who will command the Great Army?' he had managed to ask.
Areava had looked surprised. 'You are its commander, Dejanus. That will never change.'
'But I am not good enough for the committee.'
'That is not what I said,' Areava blurted, and he could sense her growing anger then; his own seemed to diminish before it. 'I said you were not temperamentally suited to the committee. That is a different thing altogether.'
A cool night breeze brushed against his face and he was back in the inn room with a bottle of something or another and an aging whore. He felt the swelling in his lower lip. For an aging whore she could sure put up a fight. Why had she done that? Why did everyone want to get in his way? What had he done to any of them?
Ikanus moaned a third time, the sound almost a rattle.
She should not have hit him. That was a bad thing to do. It had made him angry all over again, as if he was right back in Areava's chambers and being humiliated.
'I am not temperamentally suited,' he mumbled.
Dejanus got out of the bed and dressed, finished drinking the contents of the bottle. He leaned over and shook Ikanus to wake her. She did not move. He turned her over. Blood, sticky and black in the dark, covered her face.
'You shouldn't have hit me,' he said, his voice almost gentle. He shook her again, but still she did not wake.
He put a hand under her jaw and felt for a pulse, then stood back in haste. For a fleeting moment he felt sorry for her, then anger.
What in God's name was he going to do with her body?
CHAPTER 17
It had been a long and exhausting ride for the knights of the Twenty Houses. They had charged through the remains of Daavis's north gate, losing many riders in the rubble and to Chett arrows, then east as fast and as far as their horses could carry them. It would not be long before Lynan or some other Chett commander sent a detachment after them, and they wanted to put as much distance as they could between them and the city. They rode through the night until the moon was high up, then dismounted and buried their armour to lighten their load. They rested for two hours then continued on, eventually meeting again with the Barda River. Morning found them nearly fifteen leagues from Daavis, and Galen risked letting them rest again.
'But no fires,' he told them. 'No need to let the Chetts know our exact location.'
While the others slept, he tended Charion. The ride had caused her constant pain, and he was worried one of her broken ribs may have damaged a lung or some other organ. He laid her down carefully on the ground and gave her some water. She sipped at it gratefully, then hovered between unconsciousness and a state of delirious half-sleep. He knew she needed to rest, but they could not afford to stay so close to the fallen city.
At any moment he expected to hear the war cries of charging Chetts and a storm of their deadly arrows.
Before noon they were riding again, following the Barda east, pushing their mounts to the limit. In the late afternoon the Barda swung southeast. Galen ordered another brief rest, then on again into the night. In the early hours of the third day of their flight he allowed several hours rest, feeling safer now that they were approaching the province of Chandra—King Tomar's territory, Nonetheless, he kept a watch going, and sent scouts ahead to see if they could find a Chandra outpost or detachment,
The longer break did Charion some good. She spoke a few words with Galen and ate a little dried meat. She was still vague enough not to worry about Galen showing Magmed the bruising and asking for his opinion.
'A good colour,' Magmed said. 'It is going yellow, purple mainly on the edges. She is healing.'
Galen agreed, and with that and the lack of any pursuit so far started to relax. As soon as he did exhaustion felled him and he slumped, asleep, by Charion's side. Magmed undid his own cloak and put it across both of them.
For the next two days they continued to follow the Barda, stopping only long enough to rest the horses, then left the river behind as they moved directly east towards Sparro. Not long afterwards they met their first patrol from Chandra. Ten light cavalry intercepted their course. There were some hurried explanations and the patrol galloped off for reinforcements in case the Chetts were not far behind. At least, that is what the patrol leader told Galen.
'There are no Chetts behind us,' Magmed said to Galen. 'If they had followed us that closely we'd all be dead by now.'
Galen agreed. 'Perhaps the reinforcements are not for the Chetts but for us.'
'Since when is King Tomar suspicious of knights from Kendra?'
'Maybe not Kendra,' Galen replied, and nodded towards Charion, half asleep in her saddle. 'She is queen of Hume, Chandra's traditional enemy for centuries before union with the Kingdom.'
'But the whole Kingdom is at war!' Magmed protested. 'Surely these petty rivalries are put aside now?'
Galen shrugged. 'Some hatreds are too old to put aside so easily.'
'We must stop,' Charion said weakly and reined in.
Galen copied immediately, letting the knights flow around them. 'What are you doing?' he asked.
'This is Chandra.'
'Yes. We're two, maybe three, days ride from Sparro.'
'I cannot go there.'
'You must go there. Once safe in Sparro you can raise an army to take back your city.'
Charion wobbled in the saddle. Galen took her arm to steady her.
'You don't understand,' she said. 'I cannot ask Chandra for help. The cost to Hume would be too high.'
'Too high?' Galen sputtered. 'You've lost Daavis! What higher price could you possibly pay?'
'I will win back my capital without the help of Tomar. I will rally my own people.'
'You can't do that from Chandra—'
'Exactly. I must return to Hume. There are towns and villages north of the Barda where I can find refuge and start gathering an army together.'
'But we are already in Chandra,' he pleaded. 'You can stay in Sparro long enough to recover, surely?'
She shook her head. 'I said you didn't understand. I will go no further with you.'
Galen grimaced. For a fleeting moment he considered forcing Charion to come with him, but besides being fraught with political difficulties he knew it could fatally damage their friendship.
Friendship? We love each other. At least, I love her.
Yet his own duty was clear. He had at his command the remnants of the knights of the Twenty Houses, and they would be needed to defend Kendra itself if Chandra should fall. Even now Areava might be calling together a new army, and she would need the knights to lead them, His cavalry was the singl
e remaining unit in Grenda Lear with any experience of fighting Lynan and his army. He could not deprive Areava of all that was worth to the Kingdom.
Magmed returned. 'What is the hold-up? Does the queen need someone to ride with her?'
'This queen will never share her saddle with another,' Charion was able to mutter.
'She will not go to Chandra,' Galen said shortly.
Magmed looked at Galen with an expression that said 'Take care of it', but it was not as easy as that. Despite what Charion had said, he did understand why she would go no further, and knew enough about politics to see how winning back her Kingdom with Tomar's help could be disastrous in the long term for her and her people. He opened his mouth to try and explain to Magmed, then snapped his jaw shut as he realised he did not have to remain with the knights. Magmed could lead them until he was sure Charion was safe and rejoined the unit either at Sparro or further south if necessary.
'I must take the queen back to her land,' Galen said, 'You are in command of the knights until I can return.'
'I think this is foolishness,' Magmed said bluntly.
'You always thought you could command the knights. I saw it in your face the first day we rode out of Kendra.'
'I was wrong,' Magmed admitted. 'I was wrong about you and Sendarus. But I'm not wrong now. The knights need you to lead them.'
Galen shook his head. 'No. They need someone who has learned enough to take responsibility for decisions. That's you. I have a responsibility to Charion as well as the knights. Imagine what Areava would say if she learned we abandoned a fellow monarch to her fate after bringing her so far, or forced her to do something against her will?'
He watched Magmed struggle to come up with some refutation, but in the end the young duke could only growl in frustration. 'Take a dozen knights with you.'
'No. All the knights will be needed. Anyway, if we are attacked by the Chetts, a dozen knights will only give them more targets.' He held out his hand.
Magmed took it hesitantly, but gripped it firmly. 'I will command in your absence only,' he said.
'I understand.' He took the reins of Charion's horse and slowly eased it away from the column still riding around them. 'We will meet again!' he cried out to Magmed, and started back west.