Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  “On the field of battle,” continued Pharikian, “you did of your own free will forsake your former allegiance, swearing fealty instead to the House of Pharikian, even to the pledging of your life. I ask you now; do you here, before these Witnesses, aver and declare that oath to be true?”

  Marik swallowed before replying clearly, “Majesty, I so swear. I am a humble servant of your House and will uphold your supremacy all my days.”

  The assembled guests roared with one voice, causing the walls and floor to vibrate with the strength of their approval, “Heard and Witnessed!”

  Stepping closer, the Hierarch raised his sword, and Marik went down on one knee, bowing his head. Pharikian leveled the naked blade and offered it to Marik’s lips. “Ty Marik, you have sworn allegiance to the ruling House and to the Crown of Andaryon before Witnesses. Will you serve faithfully and sincerely for as long as you have life?”

  Marik kissed the blade and replied, “Majesty, I will.”

  “Ty Marik, it is the Crown’s pleasure to bestow upon you the title of Duke. Will you swear to govern your people wisely and well, pledging to raise troops from your lands as required by your ruler, in defense of the Crown and the realm?”

  Once more kissing the blade, his voice reflecting the gravity of the moment, Marik responded, “Majesty, I will.”

  Pharikian passed the sword back to Gaslek and held out his right hand for Marik to kiss the royal amethyst seal upon his finger. Raising Marik, he said, “Ty Marik, the Crown confirms and avers that you hold the title of Duke to the province of Kymer. It is also our wish that the lands of Cardon be joined seamlessly to this fief, these lands to be united under you and your heirs in perpetuity. May their people serve the Crown better than under their former liege.”

  This was clearly more than Marik had expected, and he looked stunned as the Hierarch turned him to face the assembly. Without exception, the gathered nobles made obeisance as Pharikian’s voice rang out once more.

  “My Lords and Ladies, nobles all, the Crown presents Lord Marik, Duke of Cardon and Kymer.”

  A great wave of cheering and applause rose from the assembled guests. Idrimar’s eyes were shining, the Prince was smiling, and Marik was so proud that he didn’t know what to do next. His problem was solved by Pharikian, who embraced him whole-heartedly, slapping him on the back. Then Idrimar reclaimed his hand, leading him once again before her brother. They stood smiling at each other before the Princess repeated her request. “Your Highness, my brother, I wish to formally ask your permission to wed this man, Lord Marik, Duke of Cardon and Kymer. Will you give us your blessing?”

  “Dearest sister, with all my heart.”

  Whatever they said to each other as Idrimar’s loving arms fastened around his neck was lost in the cheers and roars of approval that rang around the joyful Hall.

  + + + + +

  The rest of the day passed pleasantly in feasting, music, and good company. Sullyan found time to approach the newly invested Duke of Kymer, adding her congratulations to the many others he had received. Marik was still struggling to take it all in and was thoroughly embarrassed by the deeply reverent curtsey she made him.

  “So, my Lord Duke,” she said, giving him an impish look, “are we mere mortals permitted to address your Grace?”

  Marik grabbed her hand and raised her. “Stop that, Brynne,” he scolded, glancing wildly about to see if anyone had seen. “You’ll make people think I’m giving myself airs.”

  “You?” she murmured. “Never!”

  Mindful of her damaged arm, he swept her into a hug, then glanced at Robin for permission before guiding her onto the dance floor. “I never dreamed he would give me Rykan’s lands as well as my own, you know. It was quite a shock.”

  As the musicians struck up, she melted into his arms. “He was right to do so. You will govern them well, Ty. And you are part of the royal family now, or will be once you and Idri are wed, so you will need lands and status enough to be worthy of her.”

  “I suppose so. But I’ll tell you one thing, Brynne.” His tone had turned cold. “I’m going to raze that cursed palace of Rykan’s to the ground. I’m going to burn the lot. There’ll not be a single trace left, especially of those thrice damned cells.”

  She was overcome by his vehemence. “Oh, Ty, you do not have to worry on my account.”

  “I want to,” he said grimly. “There’s no way I could ever live there, and my old mansion is far too small to accommodate Idri’s household, no matter how finely it was renovated. So I’ve decided to build a new palace, somewhere between the two, one that will be a symbol for the merging of two lands and two families.”

  She smiled, loving him for his sentiments, and after another dance gave him up again to the arms of his betrothed.

  During the latter part of the evening, Sullyan was approached by Anjer and Torien. She was sitting at her ease, watching Robin partner one of the court ladies. Anjer and his tiny wife sat down beside her, and Sullyan smiled pleasantly at Torien. The woman blushed crimson every time the Major looked her way. Sullyan couldn’t help but be amused. The incident in their bedchamber and the personal nature of her advice to Torien raised no awkwardness in Sullyan. She had never been embarrassed by intimate matters, having lived most of her life among men. She had been inured at an early age to innuendo and frank talk. Even had she not been, the necessity of attending to bodily functions alongside the men of her company when out in the field would soon have swept any shyness away, as privacy was rarely possible. Her early experiences had ensured she was never troubled by shyness.

  Torien, however, had been more delicately raised, and it was no surprise to Sullyan that she found such topics difficult to broach. What did surprise her was that Anjer also seemed less than comfortable discussing the subject.

  Avoiding her direct gaze, he said, “My lady tells me that we have cause to be grateful to you, Brynne.”

  This was a glad topic, and as the events of the evening had further lifted her spirits, Sullyan mischievously chose to misunderstand him. “I only helped ward you from further damage, my Lord,” she said. “You would have recovered by yourself, only more slowly.”

  He stared hard at her innocent expression. “I wasn’t referring to that! I was talking about the other matter.”

  Her eyes on Taran, who was being guided through the steps of a stately pavane by an attractive young lady from Tikhal’s retinue, Sullyan asked, “What matter would that be, my Lord?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, dammit!”

  She ceased her teasing and smiled. “My Lord General, you and Lady Torien will make excellent parents. I wish you every joy of your future offspring. I am sure you will both more than enjoy your efforts to obtain them!”

  Anjer’s face flushed. “Witch!” he accused. Torien’s face was flaming too, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “You just wait,” continued Anjer. “I bet it won’t be long before that handsome young captain of yours wants to start a family.”

  Her happy mood fell instantly away and she glanced across at Robin. “Yes,” she murmured, absently rubbing her aching wrist, “I am sure you are right.”

  There was one other surprise before that pleasurable evening finally drew to a close. It was one that Sullyan whole heartedly approved of, although she hadn’t known of it beforehand. Ky-shan and his men had been invited to the Great Hall to join in the celebrations, although most of his band had chosen to remain with the soldiers and join in their rowdy festivities. Ky-shan himself, however, with Jay’el, Ki-en, and the twins, had consented to attend the Hierarch’s gathering and had not disgraced themselves. Sullyan had danced with them all, as had Rienne, but at this late hour only the younger members of the gathering still had energy for dancing. The older seamen had retired to the sidelines.

  As she sat peacefully listening to the minstrels, Sullyan noticed that Pharikian and Aeyron seemed to be conducting a deep discussion, and that their eyes repeatedly fell on Ky-shan’s stocky form. She was intrigu
ed, so when they rose and approached the seaman, she managed to creep close enough to overhear their conversation without being observed. Ky-shan was watching his son’s creditable performance in the close embrace of one of Tikhal’s young ladies and didn’t immediately see the two men. When he did, he glanced at Pharikian sharply.

  “Ky-shan,” began the Hierarch, “I wanted to tell you personally how grateful I am for your efforts against Lord Rykan. Not least for the assistance and support you gave Major Sullyan at a most difficult time. Your … care of her here at the Citadel was also noted and appreciated.”

  Ky-shan’s swarthy complexion deepened under Pharikian’s praise. “We only did our duty, Majesty.”

  Pharikian smiled. “Then you did it very well.” He changed the subject. “I won’t prevaricate, Ky-shan. Aeyron and I have a proposition to put to you, and we would be obliged if you would consider it very carefully before coming to a decision.”

  The seaman’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from Hierarch to Heir. Pharikian traded a look with Aeyron before continuing. “We have some shipping interests on the eastern seaboard which we want to expand. We have employed a succession of factors to manage these interests for us, but they have all been land-based and this has proved a problem. It seems there are too many ways in which ships can be lost or taken on the open ocean, and we are reluctant to sink much more investment into the venture without firmer assurances of a return on our expenditure. What we need is a factor who understands the sea. A man who can speak with authority on the best design of cargo vessels, and the safest, most profitable routes those vessels should take. A man who can hire the right captains for those ships, who will manage and oversee the entire venture in return for a share of the profits. What do you think, Ky-shan? Could you be the man we’re looking for?”

  The pirate had remained silent throughout the Hierarch’s speech, his eyes growing wider and his expression more amazed. When Pharikian finished, the stocky seaman barked out his gruff laughter and grasped the Hierarch’s arm.

  “By the Triple Sea, Majesty, I never expected this! You want me to turn legitimate and run your shipping business for you? Ha! I tell you, there would be many a frightened man on the high seas if I agreed to that!”

  His rough and loud amusement turned many heads close by. The Hierarch’s face fell, but the stocky pirate wasn’t done. Eyes glowing with malicious humor, he grinned at the ruler of Andaryon. “By the Triton’s teeth, Majesty, I believe I’ll do it. There are some old scores to be settled and some favors to be called in, and more than a few noses will be put out of joint, believe me! But you couldn’t have found a more knowledgeable seaman to run your venture for you. And if I don’t turn a healthy profit in the first year, I swear you can toss me over the side and feed me to the fishes!”

  Sullyan saw Pharikian sigh with relief as he offered the seaman his hand. “I hope it won’t come to that, Ky-shan. Welcome to my court.”

  The festivities carried on well into the early hours of the following morning, but despite her pleasure in Ky-shan’s good fortune, Sullyan had lost all appetite for gaiety. She had tried hard to forget, just for one day, the sword of Fate hanging over her, but her conversation with Anjer had reminded her of it. The plain and simple truth was that she was terrified. Terrified she wouldn’t have the strength to do what her friends—and especially Robin—wanted her to do. She badly needed to talk with Deshan about the practicalities and, more importantly, the feasibility of using Rykan’s Staff. The terrible experience of purging his poison had made her all too aware of how precarious her hold on life was. She feared that an attempt to rid herself of it completely might well prove beyond her capabilities. She already knew that if she did it at all, she had to do it alone. Neither Pharikian nor Deshan could help her this time. She needed advice, needed someone else to make the decision for her, whether she should attempt it or not. So, after making her excuses to Pharikian and Aeyron, pleading her scarcely recovered health, she went alone to her chambers. In the uncaring darkness, she cried herself to sleep.

  + + + + +

  The following morning, still feeling low and oppressed, Sullyan took Robin with her to the palace training ground. She needed to clear her mind of the depressing dreams that had crowded her sleep, and sword play was the only anodyne she knew. They had the arena to themselves as most of the revelers were still sleeping off the previous night’s excesses. She started slowly, using her father’s lighter sword and her right hand, giving herself time to recondition her muscles to the disciplines of sword play. She and Robin sparred gently for half an hour before Sullyan called a rest.

  So absorbed had she been, sharp steel and exercise working its usual charm upon her mind, that she had not noticed the small group of people watching from the sidelines. Rienne, Taran, and Bull were there, along with Prince Aeyron, who had Norkis, the Hierarch’s young page, with him. As soon as Sullyan glanced his way, Norkis came running across the training ground toward her. Skidding to a halt, he grinned impishly and gave her a courtly bow.

  “Good morning, Lady Brynne. His Majesty sends his compliments, and would you and your companions be pleased to join him and the Master Physician in his Majesty’s private chambers? He will provide you with refreshment.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Norkis. Please inform his Majesty that we will attend him once we have made ourselves presentable.”

  The page scampered off, and they made their way back into the palace so she and Robin could change. Although the Hierarch’s invitation had included them all, Rienne asked softly, “Brynne? Would you rather speak to his Majesty alone?”

  Sullyan glanced at her. “I would be very happy to have your company, Rienne. I may well need your support today.” She turned to Aeyron. “Highness, will you join us also?”

  He seemed surprised, but looked pleased. “As you wish, Lady.”

  When they finally gathered in Pharikian’s private chambers, Deshan was already there. After greeting both men, they ranged themselves around the room. Aeyron chose to sit by the large window, slightly apart from the rest. The Staff was lying on a small side table, but no one even glanced at it, concentrating instead on the food and wine brought in by servants. When they had all eaten their fill, the Hierarch nodded to Norkis and the young page brought the Staff closer. He then served everyone with fresh fellan and withdrew to his post by the door.

  Pharikian leaned forward in his chair, capturing their attention.

  “Brynne, my child, Deshan and I have been discussing your problem and we have examined this artifact in as much detail as we can. There are a few points we wish to make before we turn to the practicalities of your situation. First, my dear, are you aware of the properties of this artifact, and how it was made?”

  Sullyan glanced at the innocent-looking metal rod on the table and tried to suppress a shudder. She shared a brief look with Taran, who was sitting as far from the thing as he could get while still being part of the group. He would know exactly how she felt.

  She took a steadying breath. “I know that its main component is a form of spellsilver, which instead of nullifying or blocking metaforce actually attracts and amplifies it. I have not had a chance to examine it more thoroughly.”

  Pharikian nodded. “It is mostly made of what is known as reversed polarity spellsilver. This in itself is remarkable, for despite the fact that spellsilver occurs naturally in our realm, it is extremely rare. Known stocks of the normal ore are closely and jealously guarded. I would have been amazed enough to learn that Rykan possessed a sufficient amount of positive spellsilver to make such an object, but the fact that he laid his hands on this quantity of reversed polarity ore is astounding. It does exist in a natural state, but it is extremely hard to come by.

  “However, that is not the weapon’s only remarkable aspect. The silver is encased by a type of ceramic which is notoriously tricky to manufacture. It requires a highly sophisticated method of construction. It must be combined with a particular type of silica and melded in a furnace
which must be controllable to a precise and extreme temperature. Not only do I have no knowledge of anyone possessing such a furnace, but if one did exist then the cost of its hiring would be prohibitive. Add to that the incalculable cost of the raw materials—not to mention the almost unimaginable skill necessary to combine them so precisely—and what you have is an artifact not only beyond Rykan’s skills to create but also worth the price of several kingdoms.

  “Wealthy as he was, there is absolutely no possibility that Rykan could have funded such a device.”

  Everyone except Sullyan bore expressions of confusion and astonishment. She was staring at the Staff with a contemplative look. Then she raised her eyes to Pharikian’s face.

  “You are saying that Rykan had allies. Rich and powerful allies who were prepared to put their weight and wealth behind him in return for … what?”

  She cocked her head at Andaryon’s ruler, her eyes widening as her thoughts raced ahead. Silently, he waited for her to answer her own question.

  “Timar, if what you say about the rarity and value of this artifact is true, then we have been looking at far too narrow a motive for Rykan’s actions. Taking into account the more sinister aspects of the Staff’s capabilities, we must conclude that his allies, whoever they are, created it for a very specific reason. Surely they would not beggar themselves simply so Rykan could usurp the throne?”

  The aging monarch remained silent, his yellow eyes locked on hers. Sullyan held his gaze, and he frowned as she drew a slight breath.

  “The crucial question here is what was Rykan’s—and his allies’—true objective? Was the throne of Andaryon their ultimate goal, or was it their intention to place him and themselves in a position where they could dominate or—oh, dear gods—eliminate every other Artesan in existence?”

  There were gasps of horror. Clearly none of them, except maybe Pharikian, had thought of this before Sullyan voiced it. Reluctantly, the Hierarch nodded. “The throne was secondary, I think.”