by Brandon Mull
Galloran waited again for the approval to subside.
“If any man would care to challenge my right to rule, or to call us to war, or to denounce the emperor, speak now and face me in combat.” Galloran gazed solemnly over the multitude, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Nobody stirred.
“Let the celebrations of the previous days suffice. Now is the hour to make ready for war. Lords, call your vassals. Summon your knights. Ready your soldiers. Heralds, take my words to the far reaches of our kingdom and beyond. Call the men of Lyrian to arms. Now is the hour to prepare, for our host will march before the week is out. As your king, I am honored to serve alongside you in this monumental cause. The future generations of Trensicourt will look back on this day with reverence. We stand at one of the great turning points of history. We must not fail! We will not!”
Galloran turned and left the dais, leaving the room in a state of enthusiastic pandemonium. Years of uncertainty and oppression had combined with the elation of their king’s return into a more fervent atmosphere than Rachel had expected. She realized that many of those present had been desperately hoping to hear words like Galloran had spoken. People around her who had seemed nervous minutes ago were clapping one another on the back, emboldened by the prospect of taking action behind a leader such as their new king. A minority in the crowd brooded, arms folded, expressions clouded, but even the most pensive onlookers tried to look positive as they were jostled by their neighbors.
Down on the dais Rachel noticed Copernum, eyes roving the assemblage from beneath his large, tricornered hat. He surveyed the scene calmly, as if gathering data. From across the wide space his sharp, calculating eyes found her, seeming to penetrate her veil. His small frown bent into a faint smile, and with a swirl of his cloak he exited the room.
CHAPTER 7
CORONATION
Not only did everyone in Trensicourt turn out for the procession, but many from the surrounding countryside had flooded into the city as well. Peasants and nobles, grandparents and youngsters, tradesmen and merchants and farmers alike lined the streets, rooftops, and balconies of the parade route. Bells sang throughout the great city. Vendors hawked baked treats, sweet nuts, and handkerchiefs emblazoned with the royal crest of Trensicourt. Spectators hollered and cheered, waving arms and handkerchiefs and banners. Many laughed. Many wept.
Arrayed in splendid ceremonial armor, the rightful king of Trensicourt rode at the front of the procession on an enormous white charger, gleaming like a knight from a fairy tale. Flanked by a mounted honor guard, eyes uncovered, Galloran took his time, waving and pausing to greet individuals packed along the edges of the road. Flowers and garlands snowed down from the crowded rooftops and terraces.
Behind Galloran came a cavalcade of five hundred horsemen, riding in formation. Thousands of foot soldiers followed, bearing pikes, axes, or swords. After them marched troupes of musicians, filling the air with music, followed by an athletic host of drummers and dancers, leaping and tumbling through the streets. Jesters capered about, pulling pranks and feigning clumsy accidents with one another. Jugglers followed, and acrobats, and men who performed startling feats with fire. At last rolled a gilded coach, from which Dolan hurled handfuls of bronze drooma into the jubilant crowd. A large honor guard protected the burnished vehicle.
Leaning against the stone railing of a palace balcony, Rachel surveyed the scene. From the lofty vantage, the crowd noise shrank to a distant roar, and the members of the parade were reduced to tiny figures gradually advancing in tidy patterns. She wished she could be closer to the excitement.
Ferrin peered through a long telescope. He passed it to Rachel, allowing her to zoom in and observe details. She found Galloran leaning down from his horse to shake the hand of an elated boy in the crowd.
“Quite a turnout on short notice,” Ferrin approved.
“I had less than a week to make the arrangements,” Copernum sniffed. “But the prospect of Galloran returning provided all the motivation necessary to prod extra effort out of everyone involved and to draw a prodigious crowd. I have never beheld the populace more swollen with emotion.”
“They sure love him,” Rachel said, lowering the telescope.
“How could they resist?” Copernum replied. “A figure of legend has descended from the heavens to walk among them. Most know little of Galloran the man. They are infatuated with the idea of him. They have swapped tall tales about him. They consider him the lost treasure of our kingdom. It will be interesting to study how their attitudes evolve as he dwells among them.”
“For most men that would pose a larger problem,” Ferrin said. “The reality of Galloran does much justice to the tales. I’ve never met a truer man or seen a more capable fighter.”
Copernum gave an amused sneer. “This from a displacer.”
Ferrin grinned. “It must sting to host me.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. Ferrin and Copernum had taken jabs at each other during the entire procession. Why were men so in love with bravado? Didn’t they get how pathetic it seemed? She glanced over her shoulder at the chancellor’s apartments. The opulent residence occupied a sizable portion of one of the tallest towers of the castle. She thought about how Jason had slept here one night, narrowly escaping an assassination attempt.
“Because you killed my cousin?” Copernum asked dryly. “You and I were adversaries back then. Ever since you joined the rebellion I have found you much more intriguing.”
Ferrin folded his arms. “I would have expected that my siding with Galloran would further diminish me in your eyes.”
“On the contrary,” Copernum insisted. “Don’t misinterpret my previous affiliation with the emperor. I courted his good opinion to benefit Trensicourt. My posturing with Felrook was political maneuvering on behalf of the kingdom I serve, nothing more. If Galloran can keep us equally safe with less demeaning methods, I will support him wholeheartedly.”
“You want me to believe that you’re glad I’m here?” Ferrin asked.
Copernum plucked a leaf from a vine and crumpled it in his palm. “I despise displacers as much as the next man. And I disliked you even before I learned what you were. I’m not appreciative that you murdered my relative.”
“Lester challenged me to the duel,” Ferrin reminded him. “I dispatched him in self-defense.”
“And then I had you decapitated,” Copernum said. “It suffices. Were the charges against you just? Perhaps not. Did I love my cousin? Not particularly. But your impudence toward him was an indirect insult to me. You received a sentence. It was carried out. Since you are a displacer, losing your head did not end your life. You wisely fled the city. Perhaps in the end I’ll be relieved that you survived. You are a resourceful person, Ferrin, and our cause will need capable allies in the coming months.”
“Galloran is entering the castle,” Rachel reported.
“Alongside his closest companions,” Copernum noted. “With a couple of exceptions.”
“I’m not sure we’re particularly close,” Ferrin replied.
Copernum cocked his head slightly. “No need to take it personally. Galloran shrewdly omitted you from his retinue. Drinlings and seedfolk add to his mystique. But you? All of Trensicourt will be gossiping about his mismatched eyes. Having a displacer in his company would only fuel further speculation about his loyalties. There are plenty of guardsmen in this town who would recognize you.”
“Why aren’t you down there with Dolan?” Ferrin wondered.
Copernum pulled his mantle more snugly about his narrow shoulders. “I do not crave public attention. There are circumstances when such appearances are necessary. Otherwise, I prefer to exert influence quietly.” Copernum turned to Rachel. “Why do you suppose Prince Galloran elected to keep you out of the procession?”
Rachel shrugged as if she didn’t care. Galloran had told her she would be safer and more comfortable in the castle. It had bothered her a little to be left out, but this was his kingdom, and she figured he knew best.
> “I expect he wants to keep you shrouded in mystery,” Copernum answered. “Ostensibly for your protection. Mostly because you’re too young. He doesn’t feel you look the part—the abnormally gifted Edomic adept. Your wholesome appearance does not match the rumors currently circulating. To be honest, despite the whispers that had reached me, I had dismissed your worth myself until you put me on the floor.”
Rachel combed her fingers along her temple, tucking some hair back. “Whatever his reasons, I’m happy to do what Galloran wants.”
“Such flagrant loyalty,” Copernum murmured. “Would that I had so devoted a servant.”
“I trust him,” Rachel said.
“Evidently,” Copernum replied. His gaze strayed to Ferrin, then returned to Rachel. “Surely you realize that an adept of your talents needn’t take orders from anyone. At this point in history you’re invaluable, more precious than orantium. Utterly unique.”
“I try to help out,” Rachel said, the flattery making her self-conscious.
Copernum looked to Ferrin. “Is she truly so innocent?”
“She’s not weak,” Ferrin assured him. “Nor is she foolish. What are you playing at, Copernum?”
“Nothing,” he said, holding up his long hands. “I just wonder if Rachel appreciates that entire kingdoms would rally around a gift like hers. Maldor would trade all but Felrook to have her, either to slay her or to train her.”
“I think you’re exaggerating,” Rachel said, hoping the hotness in her cheeks was not visible as a blush.
“Which is why I label you innocent,” Copernum replied with a small bow. “The prince has entered the castle. Today accomplished everything he had hoped. The two of you should go greet your friends and celebrate.”
Ferrin inclined his head a fraction. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“At your service,” Copernum replied. “I should like to become better acquainted with both of you.”
Ferrin led Rachel away from the balcony and out of the luxurious residence. On the way down a stairway he leaned close to her. “What did you take from that?” he whispered.
“Be wary of Copernum,” she replied softly.
“Could you feel him cuddling up to us like a snake?” Ferrin asked. “Like a constrictor maneuvering for a deadly hold before the squeezing begins.”
“He tried to kill Jason,” Rachel said. “He tried to kill you. He tortured Nedwin for years. He’s only acting nice until he has another option.”
“Exactly right. He suspects we might be valuable. Did you notice how he tried to plant doubts and build trust? During such conversations, I like to imagine flattering words as a noose being tied round my neck. He gently tried to make you feel he appreciated your worth more than Galloran does. He tried to portray himself as a wise confidant. Nothing too drastic. He settled for patiently nudging our minds toward certain conclusions.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll never trust him.”
Ferrin walked beside her in silence for a moment. “Do you trust me?”
“Not completely.”
“Good.”
* * *
Rachel didn’t get to talk to Galloran on the day of his procession until the companions who had set out together from Mianamon gathered for a private evening meal in the royal chambers. After the parade Galloran had met with a variety of nobles, merchants, scholars, artists, and other influential members of society. Everyone seemed desperate for his attention, and he had patiently greeted the endless flood of well-wishers, giving each as much personal interaction as circumstances permitted.
Galloran had saved Rachel a seat immediately beside him. For the first time that day he put on his blindfold. “We can speak freely here,” he said. “I won’t chance spies reading your lips through my eyes.”
“Did anyone ask about your eyes?” Nollin inquired.
“Not a soul,” Galloran replied. “Everyone noticed. Nobody spoke of it. The lack of commentary suggests they assume I’m ashamed, which I probably should be.”
“No reason to feel shame,” Nedwin said. “You did what was necessary to stay in the fight.”
“I’ll address the matter after my coronation,” Galloran said.
“The coronation will proceed on schedule?” Nollin asked.
“Day after tomorrow,” Galloran replied. “Dolan has already announced my legitimacy. The grand duke will do the honors.”
“This has been a long time coming,” Nollin said. “How do you feel?”
“Like a stranger in my own home. Most of the people I once admired are gone. Many honorable men could once be found among the nobility of Trensicourt. Not so anymore. Those who remain are cautious and compromising at best, plotters and backstabbers at worst. But the kingdom will be mine, and with it a substantial host of soldiers, and that is what we most need at present.”
“Good food,” Io commented.
Rachel had been so attentive to the conversation that she had neglected to start eating. The table was burdened with crispy fowl, peppery venison, delicate fillets of trout, pots of soup, baskets of bread, platters of fruit, and trays of vegetables. A feast fit for a king, which Rachel supposed made sense under the circumstances.
“I’ll agree,” Ferrin said, spreading soft white cheese on a dark hunk of bread. “The road has its charms, but meals like this are scarce. The pleasure of city food prepared by experts nearly excuses the exhausting politics.”
“You had it easy today, displacer,” Kerick grunted. “The sun was hot during the procession, and the progress slow.”
“At least you benefited from better company,” Ferrin countered.
“Am I that boring?” Rachel complained.
“Not you,” Ferrin clarified.
Galloran leaned toward Rachel. “I have meant to ask how you enjoyed the companionship of the acting chancellor.”
Rachel swallowed a bite of bread. “Ferrin compared him to a snake.”
Ferrin bobbed his head. “Copernum was everything you expected, Galloran. He has a definite fixation on Rachel.”
“Unsurprising,” Galloran replied. “His master has shown uncommon interest in her. I don’t want Rachel ever left alone with him. Or anyone, really. Trensicourt is infested with treacherous manipulators. The sooner we’re off to war the better.”
“Agreed,” Io seconded heartily.
“It’s fine with me,” Rachel inserted. “I’d much rather avoid guys like Copernum.” She at least wanted the appearance of having some say in the matter.
“Will the more prominent schemers let you mount a war?” Nollin asked.
“I spent the day investigating attitudes on the subject,” Galloran said. “Some won’t want to make it easy. If I intended to wait a month to start a campaign, it might not be possible. But riding the current tide of high emotion, I expect to succeed. My most cunning enemies will rejoice to find Trensicourt mobilizing for war. The cleverest among them will gladly hurry me out of town. They will find many opportunities in having me away on a doomed offensive.”
“How do you intend to counter them?” Nedwin asked.
“I’ll do what I can,” Galloran replied. “Who knows how the war will progress? Who can say how long it will last? Many options close to us if Trensicourt falls. I’ll leave a trusted steward in command, along with a reliable aide or two. Apart from that I’ll have to lay aside my concerns about the politics of Trensicourt for a season. According to the prophecy, an assault on Felrook is the key to dethroning Maldor. Until that goal is achieved, all other matters are secondary.”
Looking around the table, Rachel wondered who Galloran might leave behind. Hopefully, none of the group who had set out together from Mianamon. She had already said good-bye to too many friends.
“I will grant you one thing,” Nollin said, wadding a napkin and tossing it aside. “You are not asking your allies to assume the greatest risk. Your present course will leave Trensicourt quite vulnerable.”
“This offensive is our last hope,” Galloran said. “I i
ntend to pursue it with every resource I can muster. Sacrifices are inevitable.”
After Rachel finished her meal, she noticed Tark sitting alone at a small table away from the others. She went to him. “How did you enjoy the parade?”
“Not much,” he replied in his deep, raspy voice. “I would have been happier blowing a sousalax than trotting astride an overgrown pony. I disliked leaving you alone with Copernum and Ferrin, but it didn’t seem my place to protest.”
“Copernum wouldn’t have done anything to me with Galloran around,” Rachel said.
Tark lowered his voice. “Isn’t just Copernum I worry about.”
Rachel gave a small grin. “I’m not totally defenseless. I know a few tricks.”
“I’ve seen you knock people flat with a word,” Tark said. “And I saw you set the walking dead aflame. But I vowed to Lord Jason that I would protect you, and I mean to keep my oath. I did that duty poorly today.”
“Today was unusual,” Rachel said.
“Aye, and if I let unusual conditions stop me, I won’t be any help until this whole affair is over. I’m happy to admit that I’m in way over my head. I never expected to get involved with the high matters of great men. But I made two promises to Lord Jason: to help Galloran fight his war, and to watch over you.”
“You’ve done great so far,” Rachel assured him. “The war is on schedule and I’m doing fine.”
“Keep me near, if you can,” Tark urged. “I want to be of service.”
“I’m glad to know I can count on you,” Rachel replied, a hand on his arm.
Tark sniffed uncomfortably and looked away. “Now, don’t go relying on me too much. I’ll give you my best, but don’t forget to keep practicing that Edomic of yours.”