“There is no balance,” Serdot said. “They’ll spy on you whether you are careful or not, I assure you. Even now, for although your enemies are fewer as a young lord, you have inherited the enemies of your father.”
Arthan knew Serdot was right. He felt it in his gut and in his father’s absence. “So you are my hidden shield, then, Serdot?”
“For as long as you wish it.”
“What about me and my other counselors? Have you turned your discerning eyes and ears upon us?”
“There’s been much change of late,” Serdot said. “For example, Medoff hides this from you well, but the guilt of your father’s death will consume him if he is not kept busy. He is a formidable and worthy general, much as I spar with him at times.”
“And Alfrem?”
“The alderman is one of the wisest administrators I’ve ever met. Sometimes I wonder if he knows Rachard better than me. But his flaw is that he too often sees good where there is none. If Medoff is too quick to condemn, Alfrem is too quick to excuse. But a good balance between them, I would say.”
“Count Dardanon and Countess Iserenne?”
“Dardanon loves the pleasures of life too much. Even homely women of Port Oradrond receive his gaze. His eyes equally scrutinize the bottom of any bottle of wine or spirit, especially those imported from across the sea. And he loves a game of chance, especially if it risks a coin. Despite his vices, your father judged him to be a loyal and competent keeper of eastern Delavon, and I still agree.
“As for the Countess of Sobel, there could be no better opposite of Dardanon. Prudish, serious, and afflicted with constant worry. But Iserenne is utterly reliable and commands the respect of her knights. And she is a follower of the Congregant religious sect, making her a useful bastion against any disquiet from that minority.”
“I’m impressed.”
“What about me?” Bardil asked.
“May we stop there, my lords?” Serdot asked. “I take my observations of people seriously and don’t wish to insult anyone, particularly you sirs.”
“Sounds like you have a touch of countess,” Arthan said.
“Undeniable. My critical observation of people includes myself, and I’m prudent enough to know when to keep my mouth shut.”
“I don’t care,” Bardil protested. “I’d like to know if—”
Arthan waved Bardil off. “Serdot, do keep me appraised of Medoff. No one laments Father’s death more than Bardil and me, but if Medoff does not cope as we are…”
“Of course, my lord.”
---
On the third day, Arthan’s convoy arrived in Bredahade. Lord Reimvick’s castle was near the center of the old city. In the foothills beyond, toward the semicircular ridge of the beautiful Vaudreuil Mountains, Arthan could make out a second, peculiar castle looking out over the forest.
“What is that?”
Serdot followed his gaze. “Thorendor Castle. An ancient place inhabited by the youngest of the three Reimvick brothers. Well, two, now that Raymond has been killed…”
“What is his name?”
“I don’t know. He’s just a hermit, lost his professorship at Bredahade Academy years ago.”
“For what offense?” Arthan asked.
Serdot shrugged as if it was a meaningless detail.
“How can you claim to know everything of importance about everyone if you don’t even know his name?”
“I will look into it when we return to Delavon, my lord.”
As they approached Reimvick’s castle in the city they found the lord minister ready, standing by his own carriage. Their carriage pulled up alongside, and Arthan stepped out.
“Welcome to Bredahade, Lord Valient!” Reimvick smiled broadly. He was a tallish man yet potbellied, with locks of graying brown hair. His mustache was too long at the ends and fading to gray under his nose. But he was cheerful. “I’m honored that you accepted my invitation to travel together.”
“The honor is mine, Lord Reimvick,” Arthan said. “Please, ride with me for a time.”
“I’m very sorry for Maillard,” Reimvick said as he stepped into Arthan’s carriage. “It pains me to know that his wise counsel will no longer fall upon the king’s ear, perhaps when he needs it most. Your father was the most honorable knight, loyal friend, and able servant of the Crown.”
“Thank you, and thank you for your letter. It’s still difficult for me to think of him lying in a cold tomb.”
“The feeling of loss will never pass, but it will get easier,” Reimvick said.
“My condolences for Raymond as well. I know Father held him in high regard.”
“Thank you. I can’t help but think that Maillard might be alive today if he hadn’t taken on Raymond’s burden to keep the Empire Alliance afloat. Though I initially supported my brother’s efforts, I soured on them once I realized how little King Erech cared. It certainly wasn’t worth the lives of Raymond and Maillard.”
“Or my cousin Count Golbane. And our knights.”
Reimvick’s tone changed and his eyes grew wide. “Oh yes. I must confess: never in my years at the royal court have I been so concerned for the future of our kingdom. And now I fear for our personal safety. Three lord ministers dead.”
“Three?”
“Have you not heard? Duke Gottfried, the king’s cousin, was killed at his castle in Lyonseln. The assassins attacked him with poisonous gas and swords, similar to what happened with Raymond.”
“And Father…” Arthan glanced at the silent Serdot seated beside Reimvick. The look on his face told Arthan that Serdot was not surprised as the news.
“I cannot help but wonder if you and I are being lured to Eglamour so that we may fall victim to these plots as well,” Reimvick said.
“That thought crossed my mind as well,” Arthan said. “Yet, we have our duty.”
“Of course. Have you heard any good rumors about who is behind it all? If you have cause to suspect the Rugens, then I would agree. But I can’t help but wonder, given all the change that is afoot.”
“No theories as of yet,” Arthan said. “But my gut tells me the Rugens, or perhaps the Almerians, must be involved.” Arthan glanced at Serdot as he spoke. Serdot gave a quick wink to approve Arthan’s discretion with the information about Marlan’s use of ancient tribal methods.
“Yes, that seems certain. I hear the Rugen ambassador, that sharp-eyed Vesamune, still remains in the capital despite all that has happened. Maybe she is pulling the strings on all this?”
“Perhaps we’ll know more once we’re in Eglamour,” Arthan said.
“May I ask, have you ever been to the royal court?”
“Not for a while. Perhaps Father wished to shelter me from the storm.”
“Much has changed,” Reimvick said. “But some things have not. Surely you’ve heard about the king’s growing weakness?”
“I’ve heard a bit…”
“As you know, Erech trusted Maillard early in his reign, before the king’s mind rotted and his confidence withered. It’s a holy shame that Maillard’s final duty to the king was to preside over the doomed Alliance, but I digress.
“Erech’s mind is now easily swayed, controlled even. He surrounds himself with aggressive vassals who usurp his power daily. Everyone from Nore to Hanovel sees it, except for the king himself. In a nutshell, that is the situation in which we will pay homage and gain our confirmation, before God and all the corrupted court.
“Now,” Reimvick continued, barely taking a breath, “you should know a thing or two about these usurpers you’ll encounter. First is Duke Brugarn, the king’s youngest brother and lord minister of Toulon. He oversees the largest ministry but spends all his time behind the throne, whispering in Erech’s ear. Since Toulon is not enough for him, I can only guess that Brugarn covets the crown for himself. At the same time, he does his best to seem like Erech’s most loyal servant.”
Arthan caught a slight nod from Serdo
t. He was not sure if it was confirming what Reimvick had said, or confirming Reimvick’s long-windedness.
“Second is Chaultion,” Reimvick continued. “He is general of all the armies of Donovan, potentially including yours and mine. He has the authority, in consultation with the Council of Lord Ministers, to march your brigades where he needs them to protect the Crown, at your expense. Much like Brugarn, Chaultion is a vain, greedy, self-centered man with too much anger and not enough brains. He’s a ruthless plunderer, eager to make war for his own profit. And though he is an ally of Brugarn, Chaultion may also have his own designs on the crown.
“Lastly, beware of Meltres, the man who represented Erech at the Empire Alliance Council in Rachard. You undoubtedly saw his love for prodding the Rugens to anger. I’m convinced Erech, or rather Brugarn and Chaultion, chose Meltres because they were sure he would properly sink that ship.”
“Why does the king tolerate such men?” Arthan asked.
Reimvick smiled. “You’ll learn how weak he is. These usurpers have him firmly in their grasp. And they will test and isolate you, too, if you let them.” Arthan nodded solemnly. “I’ve already talked enough, as I’m apt to do, young Arthan. But suffice it to say that Erech’s court is a snake pit. Then there are Erech’s middle brothers, the twins Asteroth and Erath, lord ministers of Alpenon and Gadolin, respectively. They’re also heavy-handed brutes, but too far away right now to cause you many problems.”
“I cannot thank you enough, Lord Reimvick. I hope I can depend on your insight in the weeks ahead.”
“It would be my pleasure. Speaking of the royal court, have you heard about the chambermaid who was found in the—”
Arthan was surprised at how quickly Reimvick bounced from grave matters to gossip. He feigned interest in Reimvick’s latest hearsay for a while before announcing his need to rest.
For the remainder of the journey to the capital, the two lords often rode together until Arthan needed a break from Reimvick’s talking. But, just as his father would have advised, he intended to maintain the friendship.
32. FETZER
On the Road to Thorendor, Lundwynland Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
Fetzer opened his journal carefully. The binding was beginning to tear at the edges, but it was still reliable, trustworthy, and always willing to listen.
Our journey back has been slow and stained with the death of Morroy. Juhl says they have not lost anyone before but Bertwil noted that the Order has a long history of sacrifice. Both of them are uncertain as to how Master Arasemis will react to the loss of Morroy.
We escaped the island ministry of Leauvenna easily enough, this time on an Ovelian merchant ship named the Taranoga. Like the Meurden, her crew was oblivious to our presence and the captain well paid for her trouble.
We made port in Quayrond on the northern coast of Lundwynland. There we purchased horses and rode steadily south, camping away from the roads. Bertwil says we’ll reach Thorendor within four or five days.
I’ve met Juhl’s gaze more than once now. She is beautiful, but her eyes are dangerous. Bertwil has finally acknowledged my contribution and offered what passed for an apology for nearly leaving me stranded inside the duke’s walls. If not for Juhl, I’d be dead. But I don’t feel like one of them yet, despite our success with Gottfried.
I live still and my wounds are minor and healing. My mind is on Thorendor and what I might find there…
33. MILISEND
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Flowertide, 3034
“They are beautiful. Thank you, Regaume.”
“Try them on.”
Milisend dipped her toe into the black slippers. They fit perfectly and would match the slim outfit Regaume had bought her earlier.
“Walk and jump,” he said. “See how they feel.”
Milisend made a show of her thief acrobatics, slinking along the wall of her bedchamber, sprinting to the door, then leaping like a cat onto a table. She finished with a smile. “Silent shoes,” she said approvingly.
“And the shape of the toe points will get you around narrow ledges for the more difficult windows,” Regaume said.
“You bought these from that special tanner in Goyngard?”
Regaume nodded. “No one makes better clothing and equipment for professional thieves, widsemers, and quillshades. And I just got this, too.”
Milisend’s eyes widened when he pulled a matching hood and mask from his bag. She smiled as she put them on. The hood was tight on her hair, like a second skin. The mask covered her face with similar black cloth, with narrow cutouts for her eyes.
“Is this what the thieves of your band wear?” she asked. “I still wonder when I will meet them.”
“Maybe now you can, since they’ll have no chance of recognizing you. They wear similar clothing, but this is the best. Look at this.” Regaume showed her a jointed seam in her outfit. “Thin plates of steel are sewn into the leather in the entire suit. It won’t stop a crossbow and most sword blows, but you’ll escape knives and glancing slashes.”
Milisend cocked her hooded head. “What thievery do you plan for us next, Regaume? I told you I don’t want to be involved in anything violent. Stealing jewels is fine, not anything like—”
“I know, Mili…” His voice turned grim. “But given how things are going with the lord ministers and the riots, I want you to be safe if the assassins come to Eglamour.”
She smiled. “What have you done with Regaume the Readyfingers? He is fearless and—”
“I’m serious, Mili. Many cities are having riots now. Bandits less discerning than my little band are prowling every major road. Normally I’d see opportunity in that, but with you, I…”
There was a knock at Milisend’s door. She jerked off the mask and hood as Regaume straightened up in his stolen soldier’s uniform. “Yes, who is it?”
A rotund, red-cloaked woman just entered as Milisend hid the hood and mask behind her. “Princess Milisend, I…who is this?”
“Greetings, Marielle,” Milisend said, relieved that it was only her mother’s lady-in-waiting. “This is a castle guard, of course.” It always made her nervous when Regaume showed up like this—but she did like the look of him in a uniform. “He was delivering…this…bag for me.”
“Filthy homespun?” Marielle scoffed at the bag in Regaume’s hands. “Who would send you such an item? Get out of here and don’t bother the princess with empty errands. If something needs to be delivered, it should be given to Rosellen or one of the others.”
“Yes, my lady,” Regaume said with a curt bow. He made for the door, winking behind Marielle’s back as he exited.
Marielle turned to close the door behind him. Milisend quickly stuffed the hood and mask into a nearby drawer.
“Princess, your mother sent me to fetch you. She wishes to discuss the question of marriage.”
“Not again…”
“Avalane is already wed to Duke Henrey. You are twenty-one, well past ready. And Brielle will not be allowed to wed until you are.”
“She’s only sixteen.”
“But not too young for initial suitors. Regardless, the queen wants to discuss it with you.”
Milisend sighed, knowing there was no way around it. “I will visit her later this evening.”
“The queen gave me strict orders to bring you at once.”
Milisend considered simply running, as she had done before. Regaume was probably waiting for her somewhere close by. He’d have her run away permanently. But something had been growing inside her, a determination to confront her mother’s designs once and for all. She would not have this question hanging over her head any longer.
“Then I will go.”
“Princess, what are you wearing on your feet?”
She looked down at her black leather slippers with the peculiar ledge-walking toes and searched for an answer. “I, well, I found them. They fit, so…Never mind, they�
��re hideous.” She kicked them off and stepped into her silver-threaded slippers.
“Hideous, indeed,” Marielle muttered.
---
When Milisend arrived in the queen’s solar, she found her mother sitting, exhausted. The queen’s physician was mixing her afternoon drink of popaver and licorice. It always made Milisend sad to see her addicted in this way.
“Come, Mili…sit,” said the queen, patting the cushion next to her.
Milisend sat quietly, watching the sips. Her mother had once been a beautiful queen. Milisend remembered being a child and looking into her mother’s amber eyes and her warm smile. Her long shining chestnut hair. Like Father, Mother never smiled anymore. She kept her hair hidden in a twist of silk. And, like Father, the life had dimmed from her eyes.
“I do not wish to wed yet, Mother. There is no suitable—”
“Silence, child. Our times are darkening but you won’t hear me dwell on it. Your father does enough brooding for all of us. I know your heart, Mili, and I will not ask you to wed Lord Reimvick. He is too old for you. And Gottfried had no clear heir for you to wed, so you will be spared a life isolated on his island.”
“Thank you, Mother…”
“But Lord Arthan Valient would be most suitable. He is from a good house, formerly of royal blood. It would solidify the Valients as our allies at a time when our enemies encircle us. And he is gallant, charming, and wealthy.”
“I met Arthan only once, Mother. He was arrogant and talked only of himself. And he’s younger than I.”
“By a year or so. Heaven’s sakes, you’re both young. But he has matured beyond his years. You would have a long, productive life together for the benefit of the kingdom.”
“I do not love him, Mother.”
“We are duty bound to marry for politics, not love, Mili. But, like me and your grandmother before, you can grow to love him, and he you. It is your lot in life and one you must never shun.” The queen took a long sip from her popaver.
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