There would be war. The empire would be split in two between those loyal to Prince Michael and those who would support Lord Arwyn. And without knowing how much support Arwyn could muster, there would be no telling how long it would last, nor what the cost would be. And if it came to war, no matter which way it turned out in the end, the empire would be left weakened. That would certainly serve Fhileraene’s interests.
“So where does that leave us, with respect to you, Your Highness?”
Aedan asked. “And what has become of the Imperial Court?” he added nervously, afraid to hear the answer.
“For the present, it leaves you as my guests,” Fhileraene replied.
“The last word I received, only this morning, reported only that Lord Arwyn had declared a state of emergency upon the Emperor Hadrian’s death and Prince Michael’s disappearance and had imposed martial law upon the province of Boeruine. And, by extension, one supposes, whatever portions of the empire he can induce to go along with him.
Beyond that, there has been no further information. As you must have guessed, I have agents in Boeruine, and under current circumstances, they must remain especially circumspect. As soon as I know more, I shall send word to you. GIlvain has extended his offer of hospitality to you, and
you shall remain welcome in Tuarhievel until it can best be determined what our course of action should be.”
“If the Imperial Court is being held hostage at Seaharrow,” Aedan said,
“we must reach Anuire as soon as possible and raise a force to rescue them. We must make certain word is spread that Prince Michael. . .”
he paused, significantly, “. . . Emperor Michael, I should say, is still alive. The longer we delay, the more time Lord Arwyn has to strengthen his position.”
Fhileraene smiled. “You shall make a good minister to your liege,” he said. “Very well. Let Prince …
Emperor Michael compose a message to his subjects, while you prepare a list of those to whom it should be sent, and I shall arrange for messengers to be dispatched. In particular, is there someone you may depend on in Anuire whose loyalty is beyond question and who may accurately report to you on the state of matters there?”
Aedan thought only for a moment. “My tutor, Baladore Trevane, the librarian at the College of Sorcery in Anuire.”
Fhileraene nodded. “I know of him,” he said. “A man worthy of respect, by all repute. Very well, it shall be done. And the other messages shall be sent out as soon as you have prepared the list.
Gylvain will see to it.”
“I am very grateful for all your help, Your Highness,” Michael said to Fhileraene, with a slight bow.
“I shall not forget.”
“Rest assured we shall remind you if you do, Majesty,” Prince Fhileraene replied with a wry smile.
“From this day forth, it shall be known that the elven kingdom of Tuarhievel was the first to recognize the Emperor Michael Roele and declare an alliance against those who would disrupt the peace between us.
“It shall be so,” said Michael, drawing himself up proudly. For the first time since he had heard the shocking news of his father’s death, he seemed to accept the fact that he was now no longer Prince Michael, but Emperor Michael.
At the moment, an emperor without an empire to command, thought Aedan.
But as to whether or not it would remain that way, there was no way of knowing until word had been sent out that he was safe and they heard responses to their messages.
Would the nobles of the empire line up behind Michael, as was their duty, or would they transfer their allegiance to Arwyn of Boeruine?
And if some nobles did defect, would there be enough to make the eventual outcome certain?
Too many questions, Aedan thought, and not a single answer. Yet. It was a difficult way for Michael to begin his reign, and for him to begin his duties as lord high chamberlain. They were both too young, and far from ready. But fate did not wait on the convenience of individuals, as Aedan recalled his tutor saying often. As they took their leave of Fhileraene and once more made their way outside, escorted by Gylvain, Aedan said a silent prayer to Haelyn. He thanked the god for their deliverance, and he prayed for guidance in the days to come. They had been saved. Now it would be up to them, two boys, to try to save the empire.
Baladore Trevane was out of breath. He was no longer a young man and was unaccustomed to running. He was a short man, about five-and-a-half feet tall, and his considerable girth did not permit him to move very quickly, but nevertheless, he had trotted all the way to the docks from the College of Sorcery, panting with each labored step. His hair was white, merely a fringe that went around his head like a laurel wreath, and he carried a red kerchief as he ran, using it to mop the perspiration off his bald pate, so that the sweat wouldn’t run into his eyes. As he huffed and puffed his way onto the docks, he wished he could have used a spell to transform himself into a bird and flown to the Imperial Cairn. However, at his age, he had to be careful of his spells.
For one thing, he would have made an exceedingly stout bird. A pelican, no doubt, a great, big fat one. And as a pelican, he would still have expended considerable energy in flapping his wings to fly.
Assuming he could even get off the ground. It was easier to run, all things considered. At least that way, he didn’t have to worry about whether or not he got the spell exactly right.
His memory just wasn’t what it used to be. He no longer trusted his recall. He had to look everything up. Some things he remembered with no difficulty.
He could, for example, still recite the history of the empire without getting a single date wrong, but when it came to spells, sometimes he simply wasn’t sure anymore. There was nothing more ludicrous or pathetic than an absentminded sorcerer, he thought.
But then again, he was almost seventy years old. All in all, he was in remarkably good health for his age, even if he did get a trifle vague from time to time.
On this occasion, however, there was nothing vague about his state of mind at all. A halfling messenger had arrived at the college, carrying a dispatch all the way from Tuarhievel from Prince Fhileraene himself.
Of course, the fact that the messenger had been a halfling meant that he had almost certainly not traveled all the way from Tuarhievel the way normal people would. Doubtless, he had shadowwalked, creating a portal into the Shadow World and passing through it, emerging in Anuire. A handy little skill to have, thought Baladore, going from Point A to Point B without passing through the distance in between.
Too bad humans couldn’t learn to do it. Still, he understood that passage through the Shadow World, even for a halfling, could be very dangerous, so the message that this halfling brought had to be important. When he learned it was from Prince Fhileraene, he knew it was. But when he saw whose hand had written the message, his heart leapt, and he ran straightaway for the Imperial Cairn.
Young Lord Aedan was alive! And Prince Michael was alive, as well! It was wonderful news, and he rushed to bring it to the palace. He hailed a boat captain and had the man take him out to the island where the palace stood. With the sail up and the rowers assisting the boat’s passage through the bay, it was much faster than traveling along the causeways, and even though boat travel made him seasick, this news simply couldn’t wait.
Baladore had not gone to Seaharrow with the Imperial Court. He had remained in the city of Anuire, as he always did, because his duties as librarian of the College of Sorcery required his presence there at all times. The college was the repository of all the magical knowledge of the empire, and it was one of the few places in Ceriha where students could come-if they were fortunate enough to be accepted-to study the mystic arts. The college numbered some of the finest adepts in the empire among its teaching faculty, and many wizards from realms as far off as Zikala or Kiergard made annual journeys to the capital to study and do arcane research in the library of the college in exchange for teaching some of its students.
Consequently, Baladore co
uld not afford to be absent from his post and so he always remained in Anuire throughout the summer season while the Imperial Court repaired to the cool ocean breezes of Seasedge in the province of
Boeruine.
Baladore’s first inkling that something had gone drastically wrong at Summer Court came only when he heard that Lord Tieran had arrived at a gallop back at the palace with the empress and the house guard. Rumors had flown wildly all over the city and, what with his duties, it was a few days before Baladore was able to make his way to the palace to ascertain what had really happened.
That was when he had discovered that the emperor had died at Seaharrow, which was tragic news, of course, but not nearly as devastating as the news that Prince Michael and Lord Aedan had disappeared, apparently the victims of foul play. They had apparently gone out hawking in the morning and their horses had returned to the stables by themselves.
There had been blood on Aedan’s saddle, too.
Why they had gone out by themselves, without taking an escort of the house guard with them, was anybody’s guess. It was certainly not like Aedan to be so irresponsible. He had even left his sword behind in the stables. Clearly, his mind had been elsewhere than on his duties.
Questioning of the guards posted at the castle gate had resulted in the information that Prince Michael had gone out hawking by himself, and that Aedan had followed alone, shortly thereafter. Lord Arwyn had reportedly flovm into a rage at his guards for allowing the prince to go out by himself, but the guards had insisted that Prince Michael had commanded them to let him through, saying Aedan would be following right behind. They had naturally assumed Aedan would follow with an escort, but when Aedan came galloping through the gates alone, they had seen no reason to stop him. Perhaps the guard escort would follow on his heels.
When they didn’t, however, it was reported to the captain of the watch, who supposedly should have delivered the information to Lord Arwyn, who in turn claimed he had never heard a thing about it.
When the boys’ horses returned by themselves, Lord Arwyn had raged that heads would roll and had immediately set out with a squad of mounted men-at-arms in search of the two boys.
What Lord Tieran had done then must have been the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life.
As soon as Lord Arwyn and his knights had passed through the castle gates, Lord Tieran had assembled the Royal House Guard and immediately had horses saddled for the empress and her daughters. Without stopping to bring anyone else along except his wife, the Lady Jessica, Lord Tieran had made haste to depart before Lord Arwyn could return with his knights. He had left the rest of the court behind and immediately set out for Anuire on horseback with his female charges and the entire house guard for an escort.
They had ridden hard, covering the entire distance from Seaharrow to Anuire, about two hundred and fifty miles, in a mere three days. It must have been a brutal pace, thought Baladore, for he had heard that when they finally arrived at the Imperial Cairn, the empress and her daughters had to be lifted from their mounts and carried inside. It was a miracle they hadn’t killed the horses.
Lord Tieran had set a fast pace during the day, and then a walking pace during most of each night to allow the horses to recover. They took only short rest periods, sleeping for only a few hours at a time while the guards took turns standing watch. More than anything, Lord Tieran had been afraid of being overtaken on the road by Lord Arwyn and his knights. They had to reach the capital at all costs, even though Lord Tieran knew absolutely nothing of what had become of his own son.
As the sea breeze ruffled Baladore’s cloak, he bit his lower lip and tried not to think about the pitching of the boat in the choppy waters of the bay.
Instead, he thought of how Lord Tieran had looked when he had seen him last-tired, drawn and haggard, pale, with a haunted, tortured look about him.
To have left Seaharrow as he did, with his own son’s fate uncertain, must have taken a supreme act of will and self-sacrifice. As a father, he must have wanted desperately to set out on Aedan’s trail. As lord high chamberlain, however, his first duty was to the empress and the empire, and he had to act quickly to safeguard both.
As the boat drew up to the jetty at Cairn Rock, the windswept island from which the imperial palace rose almost like a natural extension of the rock formations, Baladore stepped onto the dock, assisted by the boat captain. He swallowed hard, thanked the man, paid him a bonus for making the journey under full sail, then hurried up the jetty toward the palace gates, grateful to be on dry land once again. Well, relatively dry, at any rate, he thought. He squinted at the sea spray coming off the rocks as the waves crashed against the island. The wind had picked up, and the swells were coming in harder and faster.
Why Haelyn, in his mortal days, had ever wanted to build the palace on this rock out in the middle of the bay was something Baladore had never been able to discern. Its natural defensive position was the only thing that argued for the site. It was as safe from any attack as possible, except a protracted siege by sea, and an enemy’s ships would have had a hard time maintaining a blockade, given the unpredictable swells and currents of the bay in the Straits of Aerele. Unless a captain really knew these waters, he could easily wind up on the jagged rocks that ringed the island like a deadly necklace.
Admitted through the gates, Baladore hurried to find Lord Tieran. The lord high chamberlain was in his private quarters in the tower, standing at the window and staring out across the bay at the city of Anuire. He turned as Baladore came in. Lord Tieran appeared to have aged at least ten years since he had returned from Seaharrow. The strain of worrying about the empress, who had sunk into despair at the loss of her son and husband, and the stress of losing-or so he thought-his own son, added to his
concerns about the fate of the empire now that the succession was in doubt. It all had turned his hair completely white, and there were new lines etched into his face. His eyes looked dark and sunken from lack of sleep, and he had lost weight, as well.
“Baladore,” he said, greeting him in a weary voice.
He frowned. “By the gods, you look red as beet, and you are all out of breath. Please, sit down, old friend.
Here, have some wine and tell me what brings you out to the Cairn in such a state.”
” Great news, milord,” said Baladore, sinking down gratefully into a chair. “Wonderful news!
Miraculous news! Prince Michael is alive and well, as is your son!”
Lord Tieran stared at him with disbelief, as if he weren’t sure he’d heard correctly. “By Haelyn! Can it be true?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Baladore took a quick gulp of wine before replying. “I have just this morning received a message from your son,” he said, “written in his own hand, which your lordship is aware I know as well as I do my own. And there is an added postscript from the prince, with his signature appended. Here, see for yourself.”
“A message?” said Lord Tieran, his eyes lighting up as Baladore passed him the scroll. ‘But how? By what means?”
“Delivered by a halfling, milord, sent from Tuarhievel by Prince Fhileraene himself,” Baladore replied. “What transpired is all contained therein, in your son’s own hand.” And he waited, slaking his thirst with wine while Lord Tieran read the message, which was an account of how the boys had been captured by the goblins and then rescued by the elves,
led by the mage, Gylvain Aurealis, and how they had been received by Prince Fhileraene.
“Bless you, Baladore, for bringing me this news!”
Lord Tieran said. “I must bring this to the empress at once! She was convinced that Prince Michael had died, as I fear I was as well. I had dared hope they still lived, but I did not really think we would ever see them again. This message will restore her spirits.” He paused as something else occurred to him.
“Baladore, this note makes no mention of any ransom,” he said, uncertainly. “Surely, Prince Fhileraene must want something for their safe r
eturn?”
Baladore shook his head. “If he does, milord, neither the message nor the messenger made mention of it.”
“Hmm. Does this halfling messenger wait for word to be sent back?”
“He awaits back at the college, milord, where I have seen to it he shall be fed and rested well.”
“It is good,” Lord Tieran said. “Oh, it is so very good, indeed. I feel, good Baladore, a tremendous weight has been lifted from my chest, a weight that had been crushing me. Come, come with me. We must go tell the empress together. I am certain she will want to see the message and read it for herself.
Then we must compose a reply and send it back to Tuarhievel with this halfling. Prince Fhileraene must know the empire will be grateful for the safety of Prince Michael….” He paused. “No, by Haelyn, Emperor Michael! The succession is no longer in doubt.”
He clenched his fist around the scroll. “Arwyn of Boeruine will find he has gravely overreached himself. Claim regency, will he? Well, he shall have a
hard time justifying his claim to power now. And if he persists, all will see his bold ambition for what it truly is. Come, Baladore, let us go tell the empress the great news. And my wife, of course. She has cried tears of grief for long enough. She will now cry tears of joy, and it will do my heart no end of good to see it.”
“Is that the best you can do?” the elf girl said as she easily parried Aedan’s attack. “You will surely never slay your enemy if you come at him so gin gerly.”
“I did not wish to hurt you,” Aedan replied.
Sylvanna raised her thin and gracefully arched eyebrows. “Indeed? And what makes you think you could?”
“The fact that I might, even though unintentionally, is enough to give me pause,” said Aedan. “I owe my life to Gylvain Aurealis, and it would be a poor show of gratitude if I were to injure his own sister.”
“Ah, I see,” Sylvanna replied. “So a sense of obligation to my brother makes you exercise caution and hold back, is that it? Well, in that case, perhaps I should seek another opponent to help me in my practice, for you are not providing any challenge.”
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