Chapter 13
Eryk put down the reports he’d been reading and rubbed his temples. The reports were giving him a headache, and he really wasn’t any closer to understanding what had been going on in these meetings up until now. He suddenly wished that he’d paid closer attention to what his father had been doing, but then he brushed that thought away as unproductive. There was absolutely no point dwelling on past mistakes, especially not with the meeting looming.
He turned to Branden, who was sprawled on the couch with another set of reports in his hands. Branden was looking at him, watching him rub his aching temples.
“Do you want some of my medication?” Branden asked. “I’m sure it will take the edge off that headache of yours.”
“No, thank you,” replied Eryk. “So what do you make of all of this? Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”
“Only a little,” Branden replied, shaking his head ruefully, “and what little I do know is from my father, not from these blasted reports.”
“Well, for better or for worse, I guess it’s time that we go and muddle through this meeting. We might as well get set up so that we at least look like we know what we’re doing.” Eryk smiled contritely.
The two friends made their way down the hall, neither of them saying anything, lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Eryk stopped, scanning the hallway. He was certain that he’d just seen something move farther up the hall. Branden stopped a few paces along, and turned with a worried look on his face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I thought I saw something move, just a little bit ahead there.”
Branden turned to look up the hall, and seeing nothing, turned back toward his friend.
“You’re just jumping at shadows,” he said. “It’s totally understandable, what with how your day started. Let’s get going.”
Eryk shrugged and forced himself to agree. It had already been a very long day, and it made sense that he would be on edge. But he could have sworn that he’d caught a glimpse of something grey and black up the hall.
They soon reached their destination, a small meeting chamber on the main floor of the castle. When they first walked into the room, the map of the kingdom on the far wall drew their eyes. The mural also showed all of the neighboring kingdoms, including Evendell to the south and Madelia to the north. The right hand wall was set with three floor-to-ceiling windows, which were open on the bottom to let in light, as well as the sweetly scented summer breeze from the garden outside. The other walls were paneled in warm oak and contained shelves filled with books, maps and scroll cases.
In the center of the room sat a round table, already adorned with a large map of the Bacovian and Madelian border. There were pen marks on the map, showing the progress of the border discussions to date. Also marked on the map were the areas of production, agricultural in Bacovia and forestry-based in Madelia. It was obvious that trade talks were also being conducted as part of the treaty agreement. Six chairs surrounded the table, and there was a sideboard set with light foods and drinks for the delegates from both kingdoms.
Eryk and Branden seated themselves and waited for the emissaries to arrive. They didn't have to wait long. The two gentlemen who entered the room, preceded by the court secretary, were definitely foreign. Their dress, their accent, even their movement spoke of faraway places. As they strode into the room, their gait seemed to amble along, as if they had all the time in the world with nowhere important to be. It seemed strange to Eryk, who was used to everyone nearly running here and there, always desperate to squeeze a few more minutes from the day.
They were dressed head to toe in clothing of various shades of brown and green. Some of the cloth even had patterns stamped into them. It seemed like each piece of clothing was made from several pieces of previously worn clothing sewn together, creating a mismatch of shade and texture for each individual garment, but the effect was far from haphazard. For example, the tunic of one man looked pieced together from five different garments, but when Eryk looked at the tunic over the light brown shirt, he realized that this man would easily fade into a forest background, leaving no defined lines of clothing to stand out. These men were dressed in camouflage, and it seemed to be their everyday clothing. Eryk had to wonder what sort of nation required you to hide at a moment’s notice.
“We are very sorry to hear of the passing of your father, you Majesty,” one man began. “I am Kardon, and this is my companion Sookra.”
“We are pleased to make your acquaintance,” Eryk responded. “I am Eryk, and this is my chief advisor, Branden.”
“It is an odd custom to replace your advisor when you assume the throne,” remarked Sookra. “It would seem more logical to keep the previous knowledge and experience close at hand.”
“Regardless, it is our custom, allowing the king to usually avoid multiple changes of advisor over his reign. However, you can rest assured that Lord Collin will remain an advisor to his Majesty,” Branden replied.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we, gentlemen?” Eryk was eager to get this finished. Something about these two men made him uneasy.
The hours that followed were full of arguments and veiled threats, in the case of both nations, but predominately from Madelia. It seemed that the emissaries were hoping to take advantage of a young and inexperienced king, but Eryk had had some training from his father, at least. He didn't plan to let the Madelian emissaries get away with any of their bullying tactics.
“I understand that your people could benefit from the arable lands just to the south of the current border,” Eryk began for what seemed like the tenth time, “but I am not prepared to grant Madelia that much land, let alone for the pittance that you are offering. I still believe that the trade agreement is the better option for Bacovia.”
“That land is essentially unpopulated by Bacovians, so we do not understand your need to keep it. Those few settlements that are there can simply move, or we can draw the border to accommodate for some of them. Madelia requires that land!” Kardon was getting angrier by the moment, and Eryk felt that now was likely a good time to end the discussions for the day.
“Think about what we are offering. The surplus of agricultural goods, including seed and stock, for an equal weight of wood is a fair deal. Considering how much seed and grain you could receive for a single cord of wood, this offer is more than generous. We will not cede any lands to you beyond the border negotiations that you already concluded with my father. Perhaps some time to mull over this offer before returning to the table would benefit all of us.”
“You can keep your ‘surpluses’, your Majesty,” Kardon spat. “You may live to regret the day you did not listen to us. Madelia needs that land, and we will get it, one way or another.” With that, Kardon and Sookra turned and strode out of the room, followed by the secretary, and Eryk slumped in his chair as soon as the door closed behind them.
“Well, that was exhausting,” he commented to Branden, who looked just as tired as he felt.
“Yes, it was, but I think that you did the right thing. The borders that your father negotiated previously are more than generous.” Branden gestured toward the map on the table. “We have given them considerable acreage of fertile land.”
“True. I can’t help but wonder how much of their talk is bluff and how much of it is actual threat though. They make me uneasy.”
“Well at least we don’t have to deal with them again until at least the day after tomorrow. All government business is suspended tomorrow due to the coronation ceremony.”
Eryk groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he pleaded. “That’s not going to be particularly fun. Between the vigil that starts at dawn, and then the horrendously long ceremony that begins at noon, tomorrow will prove even more exhausting than today, I fear.”
“Come on,” said Branden, “let’s go have some dinner and then you can turn in early.”
“That sounds like a
good plan. I should have a nice hot bath and soak away some of these aches too.”
Branden smiled. “Wouldn't it be nice to have a wife to rub your back for you too?” he asked.
Eryk rolled his eyes. “Would you stop? I suppose you think that Alexius would be good at back rubs?”
“Well…now that you mention it,” Branden began.
“Enough! I swear that if you don’t stop shoving Alexius down my throat, I'll marry Aislynn just to spite you!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Eryk realized that he was only partially joking.
Branden’s face immediately darkened with anger.
“You would marry that…killer? How could you do that? Alexius is a fine young woman, and she’d make a wonderful wife for you, loving, caring, and quiet. You were right to send that creature from Evendell away from you. How could you even consider marrying her?”
Eryk was totally taken aback by the depth of Branden’s apparent hatred for Aislynn. He knew that Branden didn't trust her, but this seemed very extreme. Eryk had had all day for his temper to cool, and while he didn't regret the decision to send Aislynn away, he was no longer angry. Branden, apparently, was even more angry and full of hatred than he had been this morning.
“Whoa Branden, relax. I was just kidding. I know that you think I should marry Alexius, and I know she’s a sweet girl. I've known her for her entire life and she’s almost like a sister me. I don’t understand your loathing for Aislynn, though.”
Branden struggled visibly to get his anger under control. After a few moments, he turned away from Eryk and headed toward the door.
“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” he said. “Let’s go grab some dinner. I invited Alexius to the castle for the meal, but if you want, I'll send her away.”
“No, that’s fine,” Eryk replied. At this point, he would do just about anything to keep Branden from exploding again. “I should probably spend some more time with her anyway.”
The two men left the room, shutting the door behind them.
Outside in the garden, Aislynn stretched out her legs, easing out of the cramped position she had spent most of the afternoon in. When an examination of the meeting room had revealed nowhere for her to hide, she had sought refuge in the garden, where she could observe through the open windows. She had set herself up against the stone between two of the windows, and using a small mirror that she now tucked away, she had been able to observe most of the meeting.
She definitely didn't like what she had seen or heard. Eryk may not have been able to tell the difference between bluff and threat, but she certainly could. The body language of the two emissaries had screamed aggression, and Aislynn was sure that they were somehow involved in Tarren’s death. She couldn't figure out how they would benefit from killing the royal family though. Unless they thought that they’d be able to get the treaty they wanted from the successor to the throne, of course. But she was sure that Tarren had mentioned that the next closest relative was Davin, hadn't he?
Getting up very slowly, Aislynn meticulously stretched each of her muscle groups before trusting her weight to them. She knew that Eryk would be safe enough in the dining hall for dinner, and she needed to speak with Byron. These Madelians needed watching.
She started away toward her own dinner with the guards, just catching a glimpse of Cheta’s grey and black tail as she rounded the corner. Apparently, the wolf had been out scouting this afternoon, and Aislynn wondered if she had found anything interesting. She regretted being unable to communicate directly with the eesprid, and not for the first time.
Aislynn ate with her own guards in the barracks’ dining hall, with nobody else willing, or perhaps brave enough, to speak to her. Without Byron there to act as an intermediary, the majority of the guardsmen seemed to be afraid of her. She really couldn't blame them, she decided. She sort of went against everything that they knew. Here in Bacovia, the women were quiet and meek, and only the men learned to handle weapons of any sort.
Finally, Byron returned to the barracks after his own dinner was finished, and Aislynn was able to fill him in on what she had seen and heard.
“We have to keep a close eye on them,” she stated as she finished her recount. “I don’t think that they can be trusted.”
“I'll see what I can do,” Byron promised, “but it’s likely to be difficult to get anyone close to them without that someone being noticed. I'll do the best that I can though.”
Having done what she could, Aislynn excused herself for the night, after reminding Byron that she would be unable to attend their morning practice. Eryk’s vigil started at dawn, and she was determined to be there with him, even if he didn't know it.
Aislynn walked back into the castle and up the stairs to her rooms for the first time since her abrupt exit early that morning. She could see that Marja was still a little apprehensive when she entered the suite, so she smiled in reassurance.
“I’m sorry about this morning, Marja,” Aislynn started. “The death of the king had all of us frazzled, and I acted poorly and far beneath my station.”
Marja smiled back, hesitantly. “Does your Highness require the black dress for tomorrow?” she asked.
Aislynn shook her head. “No, Marja, at least not right away. I will be keeping watch over his Majesty during his vigil, and the dress will just get dirty, most likely. If there is time, I will come back here and change before the ceremony, so that I can put in a proper appearance, but I’m not sure I’d be welcome at the ceremony anyway.”
At Marja’s puzzled expression, Aislynn explained what had happened that morning, which basically boiled down to the fact that until Eryk said otherwise, she was incapable of being where he was in any official capacity. And she felt that as long as Branden was around, Eryk would never countermand his order. So, for now, it was all hiding in shadows in her future.
Marja shook her head. “You know that your father is going to kill me, right?” she said.
“Why ever for?” Aislynn demanded. “None of this is your fault.”
“No, it isn't,” Marja agreed, “but it is my responsibility to keep you from making these sorts of errors. I guess it could be worse, though.”
“Worse? How could it possibly be worse?”
“If it wasn’t for the pact between our kingdoms, then his Majesty’s command to leave would have sent you fleeing from this castle. Then who would be here to protect him?” Marja smiled.
Aislynn laughed, considering the irony of it. The pact that brought her here and made it impossible to disobey Eryk’s direct commands was the same pact that required her to remain here, thereby disobeying Eryk’s implied command. Once again, she was thankful that he’d phrased her banishment as a wish and not as an order.
It was with a considerably lighter heart that Aislynn retired for the night. It had been a long day, and tomorrow promised to be considerably longer.
The King's Assassin Page 22