by Simon Brown
Orkid left. Areava turned back to her city. She could imagine the despondency that would set in once the citizens learned of Chandra's desertion. Perhaps even panic. There was now nothing except the Great Army between Lynan and the capital.
Lynan. The name left a bitter taste in her mouth. He represented for her everything that was wrong with the world, a commoner above his station, a rebel and a revolutionary, a traitor and a warmonger. In his wake was nothing but despoliation, ruin, despair, the destruction of the traditions and laws that made Grenda Lear great. And all of this was reflected in his twisted mind, the maelstrom at the heart of her half-brother which the Key of the Sceptre had let her see that night she lost control of her own dreaming. She had touched, tasted, smelled, his insanity, and it made her feel unclean. In all her life she had never been afraid of any person, but now Lynan loomed in her dreams like the shadow of death.
Areava shivered, and wondered if she would ever feel warm again.
Dejanus was roused from his heavy sleep by a sergeant.
'I said I didn't want to be disturbed,' he mumbled.
The sergeant grabbed him by his jerkin and forced him to sit upright.
Dejanus stared at the sergeant's face. 'You!' he roared. It was the same man who had woken him so roughly the day after the city fire. He should have gutted him then, and would have been tempted to do so now if he was not feeling so damnably under the weather. 'What do you think you're doing?'
'The chancellor is here to see you,' the sergeant said.
'The chancellor? Hoot to the chancellor. Let him wait…'
'Under instruction of the queen,' the sergeant interrupted.
Dejanus cleared his throat. 'The queen?'
'Thank you, sergeant,' said Orkid's voice. The sergeant backed away, and his place in Dejanus's limited line of vision was taken by the black-robed chancellor. 'You are to get your fondest wish.'
Dejanus sneered up at him. 'My fondest wish? What would you know about my fondest wish?'
'You've talked about it often enough, complained to all and sundry that you have been deprived of it.'
Dejanus stood up uncertainly. He did not like Orkid's tone one little bit. Uppity bloody Amanite. 'What are you talking about?'
Orkid winced at the stale gust of breath that washed over him". The constable's clothes did not smell much better. 'You had better get cleaned up.'
'I'll get cleaned up when I'm good and ready.'
'You can't greet your army smelling like a wine pot.'
'My army?'
'You've got your orders. The queen wants you to take command of your army personally. Now.'
'Now?' Dejanus supported his head with his hands; why was it feeling so impossibly heavy?
'As I said, you are to get your fondest wish. The army needs you.'
'Why now, for God's sake? What's the hurry all of a sudden?'
'I'll explain to you on the way to your ship.'
'Ship? I'll go bloody overland. I hate ships.'
'You have to be in Chandra tomorrow. You'll go by ship. Order of the queen, I'm afraid.'
Orkid's voice did not sound very apologetic to Dejanus. 'How do I know all of this is really coming from the queen?'
'I'll take you to see Areava right away if you want proof, although I'm not sure she'll appreciate the interruption. It's been a busy morning so far—not that you'll have noticed here in your bed—and promises to get a lot busier yet.'
'I need to pack—'
'Already done, thanks to Sergeant Arad. Good man, that. Might recommend him for promotion to constable.' Dejanus's face flushed in anger. 'After all, after being commander of the greatest army ever seen in Theare, you won't want to go back to being head door-opener in the palace, will you?'
Dejanus did not know what to say. He had certainly never heard of the constable referred to as being 'head door-opener' before. He was damn sure no one ever called it that to Kumul Alarn's face when he constable.
was
'Get cleaned up. I'll be back shortly to escort you down to the docks and explain to you the situation in Chandra.'
Dejanus could feel panic building in him. It was too soon for him to take over real command of the army. He had not been given enough time to prepare. He needed to go over strategy with the queen and tactics with the marshal. He did not even have a general's ceremonial garb yet; at least, not the garb he thought someone in his position deserved.
'Can't someone go ahead of me and prepare the army for my arrival?' he asked, trying hard but unsuccessfully not to sound plaintive.
Orkid, who had always struck Dejanus as being so expressionless—so without normal human feelings—he might as well have been carved from stone, suddenly seemed to become even more inhuman. Dejanus thought he could feel cold radiating from the chancellor. He leaned forward so only Dejanus could hear him and said in a whisper that cut like a whip: 'Listen to me, you oaf. Grenda Lear now faces the most dangerous days in its entire history. Through blackmail, fate and sheer good fortune, you find yourself in command of the one thing that can restore stability and peace to the Kingdom. If you fail, we will all go down under the heel of a conqueror who will have no mercy on you or me; if you succeed, you will become the greatest hero the Kingdom has ever known, greater even than General Elynd Chisal. Not bad for someone who was once a slaver and mercenary without a coin of his own to spend on cheap wine or a diseased whore.'
Before Dejanus could think of a reply, Orkid was gone. Sergeant Arad reappeared. 'Right, sir,' Arad said. 'Best we get you cleaned up right smart.'
'I have a headache,' Dejanus said.
'Unfortunate,' Arad said without sympathy, 'and without remedy. You'll just have to put up with it, sir.'
Powl tried to ignore the knocking on his door.
History, he thought. It is all history.
The knocking would not stop.
'What is it?' he shouted.
The door opened a crack and Father Rown's head appeared. He glanced at all the books and papers on the primate's desk. 'Forgive me, your Grace, but you weren't at service yesterday, nor this morning, and I thought something might be wrong—'
'Nothing is wrong!' Powl yelled.
'Or something I might help you with.'
Powl closed his eyes and breathed deeply to control his temper. 'I need no one's help,' he said between gritted teeth. 'Just leave.'
Rown swallowed. 'Your Grace—'
'Leave! Now!'
'But the queen—' Rown said.
Powl glared at him. 'The queen what?'
'There is an urgent council meeting this afternoon. We have been ordered to attend.'
'Very well,' Powl said tiredly. 'Give me the agenda.'
'There is none. It is an extraordinary council meeting. There will be no discussion of previous items.'
Powl went to the door, opening it wide. Rown looked at him anxiously, obviously wishing he was somewhere else. 'What do you mean no agenda? What's happened?'
Rown shrugged. 'No one is saying.'
'Something to do with the war,' Powl said, more to himself than Rown.
'Almost certainly. Will I come by when it is time to attend?'
Powl nodded absently. 'Yes. Do that. Thank you, Father.' He withdrew and closed the door. What could have happened? And why was no one saying anything? That could only mean the queen alone, or perhaps the queen and Orkid, knew what was going on.
He shook his head in frustration. It isn't important. Compared to his new work, nothing else was important. He went back to his desk where his books and notes waited for him. No one except me understands what it all means. He ran his hand over one of the volumes from the tower of Colanus and laughed softly. The contents of the tower was a kind of joke played by Colanus on all his descendants; not intentionally, of course, but that innocence was the source for some of the irony.
Everyone assumed that because the volumes contained secret knowledge it must involve magik; that was certainly what the first great magikers themselves ha
d assumed. It was also why they failed to translate the volumes: they could not see past their own desires. But Colanus had not gathered together ancient and arcane magikal practices, he had brought together all the myths and legends of ancient Theare to compile a history, a history that told where all the races came from, where the Keys of Power came from, why everything in Theare was the way it was.
So far he had only had enough time to translate small sections from each volume, enough to show him what the collections contained, how the history was organised, and one very special piece of information that intrigued and worried him: Theare, the name of the continent inhabited by all the known peoples from Haxus in the north to the Lurisians and desert Chetts in the south, was an ancient word for prison.
Orkid, late for the extraordinary council meeting, was hurrying back to the palace after delivering Dejanus to his pinnace. The constable had gabbled all the way to his boat, desperately trying to find some excuse that would allow him to stay in Kendra. At last Orkid had told him bluntly to shut up, and before Dejanus could use that as an excuse to fuel his bad temper the chancellor told him about King Tomar's betrayal.
'Chandra is about to fall,' Orkid explained carefully. 'The only thing preventing that, and preventing the way to Kendra being open to Lynan and his army of barbarians, is the Great Army in southern Chandra. Your Great Army.'
The news about Tomar's defection was enough to shut up even Dejanus, and the rest of the trip to the harbour passed without a single word of complaint, giving Orkid's conscience the space it needed to agonise over his decision to support Dejanus for command of the Great Army in the first place. He knew in his bones it was a disastrous choice, but desperately hoped the quality and size of the army would be enough to overcome the failings of its general. Anyway, he consoled himself, he had had no choice: Dejanus could have brought them both down if Orkid had not supported him.
When Orkid arrived at the main gate to the palace he saw it was blocked by a group of twenty or so ragtag riders who were arguing with the Royal Guards on duty. He was about to push through and leave it to the guards to sort out when he heard a voice he recognised.
'God,' he said aloud, 'where did he come from?'
Orkid pushed his way through the stamping crowd and grabbed the reins of the horse closest to the gate.
The rider twisted around, his face suddenly angry, mouth open to curse or swear or shout, but instead said in surprise: 'Chancellor?'
'Galen Amptra? It is you!'
'Would you tell this fool of a guard who I am?'
Orkid hesitated—there was no love lost between him and any member of the Twenty Houses—but in this time of emergency petty rivalries were irrelevant. 'It's alright, let them in,' he said to the guard. 'This is the son of Duke Holo Amptra, and I will vouch for him and his fellow knights.'
'We are not all fellow knights,' said a woman's voice. Orkid glanced at the rider next to Galen, but did not recognise her under the dirt and grime.
'I am sorry, madam, I meant no offence—'
'Not "madam", Chancellor,' Galen said. 'This is Queen Charion of Hume.'
Orkid swallowed. 'My apologies, your Majesty. I had no idea—'
'Understandable in my present condition.'
Orkid waved them through but did not let go the reins of Galen's horse. 'The last we heard you were still with Tomar,' he said. 'We assumed he imprisoned or ambushed you when he changed sides.'
'Tomar gave us safe passage,' Charion said. 'We rode straight here.'
'How many of you are there?'
'There are three hundred of us left,' Galen said, despondent. 'We have fought many battles.'
'Did you speak to Tomar?'
'No. It was Barys Malayka who informed us of the changed political situation in Chandra. And he gave us a letter from Tomar to Queen Areava. If you could help us see her right away I would appreciate it.'
The mention of a letter made Orkid's heart miss a beat. 'Do you know what the letter contains?'
Charion withdrew a piece of folded, brown parchment from her saddlebag and showed Orkid it was still sealed with Tomar's red crest.
'The queen is in emergency council right now,' he said, his words tumbling over one another. 'In fact, I was on my way to join her. Give me the letter and I will make sure she receives it.'
Charion did not hesitate to hand it over. 'Thank you. In that case, if you could assign us rooms for us to clean and change into other clothes…'
'My father will be proud to have you under his roof, Charion,' Galen said.
Orkid noticed the sweet smiles that passed between the two. He was not sure whether or not that boded well for him and the court, but it warranted close attention. He never expected a member of the Twenty Houses to invite someone from the provinces to stay with them, even one as high born as Charion. The arrogance of the Twenty Houses had Jong been one of the constants in Orkid's life at court.
'I think it better if I stay here in the palace,' Charion said. 'To do otherwise might offend Areava, and I would not willingly do that. And you forget that your father is of the old nobility, and they regard me in status as not much better than a Kendran washerwoman.'
Galen opened his mouth to protest, but honesty prevented him. Charion was right. 'Very well, but I won't pretend I'm not disappointed. I will be back as soon as I
I can.' He glanced at Orkid. 'After all, I am a member of the council that is meeting, unless Areava has replaced me.'
'The queen would not do that,' Orkid said. No matter how much I might wish it. 'But the queen will not expect you to attend this afternoon after your long journey and all your travails. Report to her this evening.'
'Until then,' Galen said, this time to Charion. They kissed quickly, and he and the other knights quickly left the palace. Orkid called a passing servant across.
'Accommodation for her Majesty Queen Charion of Hume. The royal guest wing. Make sure she has the clothes and toiletries she needs. And see to her horse.'
The servant nodded, looked skeptically at the woman supposed to be a queen, and took the reins of her horse to lead her away.
'Thank you, Chancellor,' she called over her shoulder. 'I will not forget you came to my rescue at the gate.'
'I'm sure,' he said, not quite loudly enough for her to hear. He hurried to his office and carefully unsealed Tomar's letter. As he had been afraid, it detailed Tomar's reasons for siding with Lynan, including an account from Lynan of the events on the night of Berayma's murder. With one important exception—the conclusion that Areava must have been complicit in the plot that put her on the throne—the account was accurate. When he had finished reading it he lit one corner over a candle and watched the parchment burn to a cinder on his desk.
It seemed to Olio that when Areava broke the news to her council that Tomar had declared for Lynan it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Mouths gaped open but no one could say a word.
Olio, who was the first to recover from the shock, asked: 'What about the Great Army?'
'Still encamped in south Chandra,' Areava said. 'Dejanus is on his way there right now.'
'So there is still a buffer between Lynan and Kendra?' asked an anxious Shant Tenor.
'Yes. There is a buffer in time as well. It will take Lynan several days for his army to reach Sparro from Daavis, and several days after that for them to reach the south.'
'But Tomar could attack first,' one of the nobles said. 'He need not wait for Lynan.'
'Tomar would not dare attack the Great Army by himself,' Orkid said derisively. 'He is not stupid.'
There was a shocked gasp from the members of the Twenty Houses; even Areava seemed surprised at the chancellor's uncharacteristic outburst.
'By the way, Duke Amptra,' Orkid continued, nonchalantly, addressing another of the nobles, 'your son is safe and waiting for you at home.'
'Galen? He is returned?'
'What is this, Orkid?' Areava demanded.
'Galen and the survivors of the knight
s were given safe passage back to Kendra from Chandra. They arrived just before the meeting. They have brought Queen Charion with them.'
'Why were they not invited here immediately?'
'I thought it best they have a chance to rest. They were exhausted, and had nothing except the clothes they arrived in.'
'Did they bring anything else with them?' Areava asked. 'A letter or proclamation from Tomar?'
'A letter,' Orkid said carefully. 'It contained nothing but slander and lies.' His eyes flickered. 'Against you, my queen. I burned it in anger.'
'Orkid?'
'I am sorry, your Majesty. I know it was wrong—'
'Very wrong,' she said. There was no anger in her voice, but that seemed to make the judgement worse for
Orkid. 'The letter would have ensured history noted the justness of our cause.'
He bowed his head. 'I realise that now, your Majesty, and apologise to you and the council for my lack of foresight.'
Areava carefully regarded the chancellor. 'We have other things to discuss now.'
'City defences, for example,' the marshal said from the opposite end of the table. 'Just in case the Great Army fails to stop Prince Lynan.'
Olio saw a look of panic cross the faces of many members of the council.
'We can begin by diverting some of the Great Army's forces still on their way to Chandra to garrison duty here,' the marshal continued.
'No,' Areava said quickly. 'The Great Army is still Kendra's best defence, and it makes no sense to weaken it. We have the Royal Guards, still the best soldiers in all of Theare. Kendra will be safe.' She caught each of the city representatives in her gaze. 'And I count on all of you to get out that message.'
There were subdued murmurs of agreement around the table, and a discussion started on how best to prepare Kendra for a possible siege. Olio contributed by suggesting he cooperate with Edaytor Fanhow and the primate to establish hospices and surgeries, an idea warmly received, but then found himself with little to add as the discussion moved to wall-building and troop deployment. He noticed that Orkid himself was contributing little; he seemed distracted and nervous, which was entirely out of character. The other surprise was the primate. It was not a matter of Powl being distracted—he gave the impression his mind was completely absent, and poor Father Rown sitting next to him was fidgety and seemed out of his depth. Could Fowl have been so shocked by the news of Tomar's betrayal? Olio had thought Powl a man with deeper reserves than that; he saw Areava occasionally throw furtive glances towards the two clerics, obviously expecting the primate to speak up on several of the issues raised by others.