Fey 02 - Changeling

by Rusch, Kristine Kathryn

  Canter stopped in front of Nicholas but did not bow. Nicholas stared at him, a chill running down his spine. If Canter did not give him obeisance, the others would think they could get away with it too. This meeting was more important than any other. Nicholas knew it and they knew it. This was the meeting that would decide who was in control of the Kingdom.

  "Lord Canter," Nicholas said, "are we unworthy of your acknowledgment today or are you merely forgetful?"

  A dull flush crossed Canter's face. Nicholas had never used the royal we in the presence of the lords before. "Forgive me, Sire," he said as he bowed. "I have been quite forgetful these last few days."

  "Would that we all could be so lucky," Nicholas murmured.

  Canter remained bowed. Nicholas waited an extra moment before bidding Canter to stand.

  As he did, Enford entered with Egan and Holbrook. All three men walked down the runner, then bowed in front of Nicholas. They had apparently seen the last part of the interaction with Canter.

  Egan nodded his head again, then approached the stairs. His robe was tight around his middle, and he huffed as he climbed toward the throne. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. He bowed again when he reached the step below Nicholas then leaned toward him.

  "Sire," Egan said so softly that he almost whispered, "I wish to give you my deepest condolences and my deepest understandings. I hope you don't think I outstep myself here, but if the nights grow too long for sleep, you may feel free to summon me. We can share hot mead and conversation until dawn."

  Egan's kindness nearly shattered Nicholas's resolve. Of all of the lords, Egan was the only one who had suffered devastating loss. His only child, a son, had died on the day of the Invasion. Egan had searched for the boy for three days before finding the mutilated body beside the river.

  Nicholas made himself smile. "Thank you, milord. I will remember your offer."

  Egan nodded and went back down the stairs. Enford watched the entire exchange closely. Holbrook had been studying Fesler. Fesler's obvious aging had apparently disturbed them all. Suddenly Fesler looked older than Holbrook, who had always appeared twice as old as the other lords. Nicholas had never realized the two men were of an age, an age his grandfather, and his own father, had never seen.

  "Now that we are all assembled," Nicholas said, "let's begin."

  "Forgive the intrusion, Sire, but the seating seems to be limited," Canter said.

  Nicholas stared at him for a moment. So this was how it would go. The dissenting lords believed they could gain control quickly, now that the King's Fey wife was dead. "Have you forgotten yourself again, milord?" Nicholas asked. "This is the second protocol error you've made this afternoon."

  "Highness, I was merely noting that Lord Holbrook also appears uncomfortable and —"

  "Fight your battles alone, Canter," Holbrook said. "My feet have borne my weight for decades and will continue to do so without complaint."

  "This forgetfulness of yours seems to be quite serious, Lord Canter," Nicholas said. "I believe we shall have to keep it under observation. If it interferes with your functions within this House, we shall have to ask you to step aside and allow your son to fill your seat."

  "My son is just a boy, Highness," Canter said. "I'm sure that even with diminished capacity I could perform better than he."

  "Your son and I are of an age, milord," Nicholas said. "We surpassed 'boy' a long time ago. I would be pleased to have him work at my side. It certainly appears easier than dealing with your new affliction."

  Canter stared at Nicholas, jaw working. Nicholas met Canter's stare. Finally Canter looked away, and slowly bowed.

  "I shall, Sire, make certain that my affliction does not interfere with my duties."

  "See that it doesn't," Nicholas said. "I shall be monitoring you."

  When Canter stood the flush had left his cheeks, but the speculation had not left his eyes. Nicholas purposely turned away from him.

  "My friends," Nicholas said, emphasizing the word "friends," "we face the largest crisis to hit Blue Isle since the Roca faced the Soldiers of the Enemy. I'm sure by now Lord Stowe has told you about the Fey seen in the area where my father was murdered."

  The lords nodded.

  "Just a few moments ago, a groom told me that he saw Matthias place the cloth he was using to protect Jewel in a pouch with vials of holy water. My wife's death was no more accidental than my father's."

  Fesler's hands tightened on his cane. Enford looked down. Stowe frowned. Canter and Miller didn't move. Egan closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Only Holbrook seemed unmoved. "That's a very serious charge, Highness."

  "I realize this," Nicholas said. "I would not make it if I did not know it to be true."

  "I have heard the groom's testimony as well," Enford said. "He is unimpeachable. I tried before I brought him to the King."

  "You cannot base something this serious on the word of a servant," Fesler said.

  "I do not," Nicholas said. "I base it on the word of a groom, on my own knowledge, and upon Matthias's actions. He did not want Jewel to leave the coronation hall. If she had stayed any longer, we would have lost her and the child."

  "Forgive me, Highness, but wouldn't that have been a blessing? They're already saying that the babe is more of a monster than her brother." Canter spoke softly, as if he didn't mean to offend.

  Nicholas rose slowly from the throne. He walked down two steps, stopping on the last step and looking down at Canter. "I will tolerate no more of this from you."

  Canter squinted. "You will have to, Highness. If you don't hear it from me, it will be whispered behind your back. Already on the streets, they are saying that it is good the Fey woman died. It is good that the royal blood will no longer be polluted with the blood of the damned. They are saying you were bewitched and that Matthias broke the spell."

  Nicholas raised his chin just enough so that he could look down his nose at the man. "You are speaking of my wife and children."

  "I am speaking of the state of the monarchy."

  "The state of the monarchy." Nicholas tested the words. "The state of the monarchy is this: I am taking over my father's place. Cross me and you will commit treason. Speak ill of my wife or my children, and you will also commit treason. Treason is and always has been punishable by death. Do I make myself clear, Canter?"

  Canter put his well tended hands behind his back. "Yes, sir." He did not sound docile.

  "Whether or not you punish the citizens for speaking ill of the royal house," Holbrook said, "will not solve the problem, Highness. Your marriage to Jewel was an unpopular gamble that unfortunately resulted in a first-born who cannot rule. Her death in a religious ceremony, at the hands of the Rocaan, divides our people. You must deal with these things."

  "I plan to," Nicholas said. He returned to his throne and made a ceremony of sitting down. The men watched him, their expressions more wary than he had ever seen them. He gripped the arms of the throne so tightly that his hands hurt.

  "I understand the problems that Matthias's act of murder has created. I know that he has fanned sparks that were growing already. We face battle on two fronts, gentlemen. On the first, the Fey, who began this by sending one of their own to kill my father."

  "Then Matthias was justified in retaliating," Canter said.

  Nicholas raised one hand for silence, keeping his gaze on Canter. "On the second, we have the Tabernacle. The actions of the Rocaan split this Isle down the middle. People must choose between their faith and their king. I hope to quash the first and negate the second."

  "Impossible, Sire," Fesler said. "You cannot force the people to choose loyalty."

  Nicholas smiled. The smile felt strange on his face. The smile was something he wore, like his robe. It was not connected to his heart. "I most certainly can," he said. "Matthias reminded me of that during the ceremony he used to kill my wife."

  "You're being mysterious, Sire," Stowe said.

  Nicholas shook his head. "I
am being deliberate, Milord. There is nothing in the Words Written or Unwritten that provides for the Tabernacle. The only thing --the only thing, gentlemen --in the Roca's words that allows for the Tabernacle at all is His admonition that the eldest son become King and the second son lead in the spiritual realm. Perhaps, gentlemen, we have failed. Perhaps we did not follow the Roca's second admonition. Perhaps that is why we were so ripe for conquer in the first place."

  Enford's face went white. Holbrook grinned, then quickly suppressed the look. Miller leaned his head back, looking interested in the conversation for the first time.

  "The only true representative of the Roca on Blue Isle is me, gentlemen. I carry his blood in my veins. Leaders in Rocaanism must live chaste lives, an odd choice, I think. Or they would have been able to follow in the path of the Roca's second son. The Roca meant for his family to rule Blue Isle, not second sons of average people. The failure of the 50th Rocaan, and the destructiveness of Matthias prove that God is not with the Tabernacle. God is here, in the palace. With me."

  "If God were with you," Canter said, "your son would be able to think for himself."

  "Watch yourself," Enford said softly. He hadn't taken his gaze from Nicholas's face. Apparently Nicholas was looking as fierce as he felt.

  "If I split with the Tabernacle, will you stand with Matthias, then?" Nicholas asked.

  Canter shook his head. "Fortunately," he said. "I am not a practicing Rocaanist."

  "The faith's tenets demand that the King do the Roca's work in the world and the Rocaan do the work within the spiritual realm," Fesler said.

  Nicholas shook his head. "The faith's tenets, which I learned from Matthias himself, only say that the second son do the work within the spiritual realm. Our current Rocaan is not related to the Roca. He has no right to lead in the spiritual realm."

  "You would forgo the spiritual, then?" Fesler asked, his voice cracking just a bit.

  "It seems," Nicholas said, "that we already have."

  No one spoke. Only Lord Enford continued to look at Nicholas. Lord Stowe studied his hands. The sweat dripped down Lord Egan's face.

  They thought he was crazy. They clearly thought that the events of the last few days had driven him over the edge. He opened his mouth to defend himself —

  — and stopped. No matter what the course, steer steadily and with great control, his grandfather used to say. You must show them strength, Jewel had told him once. People respect strength, Nicky.

  Just as he had respected hers.

  "You leave us with a divided country if you do this thing," Holbrook said.

  "No, I won't," Nicholas said. He continued to speak with great firmness, pretending a confidence he wasn't sure he had. "I will take over the Tabernacle. I will run it until we find others to do so, or until one of my children can."

  "The girl?" Miller asked. He swiveled as he did so.

  "The girl," Nicholas said, "will act as regent for her brother when she gets older."

  "You're planning to have more children, Highness?" Lord Stowe asked.

  "I'm not planning not to," Nicholas said. "It is much too soon to think of another wife."

  His heart couldn't bear it. Inside, he apologized to Jewel, yet he knew of all people, she would understand the most.

  "You cannot allow a woman to run the country," Canter said.

  "You were the one who said that my son would not be capable," Nicholas said. "A point which we could debate. My daughter will be capable. She may serve as regent should something happen to me."

  "But, Sire, what if something were to happen to you before she comes of age?" Egan asked.

  "We'll have to make certain it won't, won't we, milord?" Nicholas said.

  A slight frown creased Holbrook's lined features. "I still do not understand how you will set Matthias aside."

  Nicholas leaned back. The wooden back of the throne gave his spine the stiffness it needed. "I will use Matthias to solve our other problem."

  "The Fey?" Stowe said. "How would you do that?"

  "They have the same difficulties we do."

  Miller started to speak and Egan shushed him.

  Nicholas nodded his thanks to Egan. "My wife knew nothing of the plot against my father. She went to see her friend Burden, the Fey who started the Settlement, and asked him if he had sent someone after my father. Burden had known nothing of it either and had, in fact, been surprised that a Fey was even connected to the crime."

  "How did your wife know?" Fesler asked. "Stowe didn't return until yesterday."

  "She listened to Matthias like the rest of us. Only unlike us, she agreed with him. She knew that the murderer had to be Fey. The crime was committed in a way that was too cunning and calculated — and unmotivated — for an Islander. She went to see Burden, and told me of their conversation the night before she died."

  "Do we know who committed this crime?" Egan asked.

  "No," Nicholas said, "but I think Jewel did. She wasn't ready to tell me until she knew for certain."

  "We already know that the Fey murdered your father," Fesler said. "I don't understand how that compares."

  Nicholas tilted his head, looking down on Fesler. Even his jaw was swollen. His hands, resting on his cane, were shaking. He looked wrung out. Fesler wasn't siding with anyone. He was trying to make sense of events.

  As they all were.

  "The Fey didn't murder my father," Nicholas said. "A Fey murdered him. A single Fey, acting alone. I learned that much from Jewel and from the others at the coronation. If the Fey had unilaterally opposed the marriage and the alliance, they wouldn't have worked so hard to save Jewel and Arianna."

  "You believe they had someone acting without authorization from their leaders, creating a situation the way Matthias did," Stowe said. His thin, exhausted face had a puzzled look to it, as if he were having trouble following Nicholas's argument.

  "Exactly," Nicholas said. "I believe my father's death caught most of the Fey by surprise."

  He didn't discuss the interlude in the kitchen after Jewel's death, the fight between the Shaman and Jewel's father over the placement of Arianna. Or Solanda's mysterious comments about Rugar.

  "So the Rocaan was right in retaliating," Canter said.

  "Matthias was wrong in retaliating, especially against Jewel who, for the first time in her life, actually agreed with him. She was the one who could have resolved all of this. He killed the very person we needed to help us." A lump grew in Nicholas's throat. He had to swallow — hard — to make it go away. "Matthias should have spoken to me. Jewel and I would have resolved this. Peaceably."

  "Dreams," Canter said.

  Nicholas shook his head. "Reality."

  "I believe the King is right," Enford said. "The situation we have now is untenable. The Queen's death only made things worse. But I'm not sure I like your proposal so far, Highness."

  "You may like this part even less," Nicholas said. "I propose we do not fight the Fey. I —"

  "We couldn't fight them anyway," Miller said. "You forget, Highness. The Rocaan is the only one who makes holy water. If we anger him, we lose any advantage we have against the Fey."

  "Do we?" Nicholas asked. "I contend we have no advantage now. The Fey may be planning something even now as a retaliation for Jewel. And they won't come for me. They'll go for Matthias."

  "Or the rest of the Isle," Fesler said.

  "That isn't the Fey way," Nicholas said. "They won't destroy the place in order to win it. Jewel taught me that. You have to listen to me. I think I have the only way out of these conflicts. The only way that will leave Blue Isle intact."

  He was begging, but he no longer cared. They had to listen to him. They had to understand.

  "Go on, Highness," Egan said.

  Nicholas took a deep breath. His heart was pounding. Hard. His palms were so damp they were sliding on the arms of the throne. "I will propose to the Fey that they turn over their killer to us, and we'll turn over ours to them."

  "What?"


  "Highness!"

  "You can't mean that!"

  The cries were so uniform that he couldn't tell who had spoken. He kept his grip on the chair. He might be nervous, but he couldn't show it. Not now.

  "I do mean it," he said. "It's the only way."

  "And what if they don't turn over their killer?" Holbrook asked.

  "Then we don't turn over ours."

  "But what if they give us the wrong person?"