Fire and Sword

Chapter 11

Areava was cold in her bedchamber. There was a fire blazing in the hearth and the morning sun shone through the east window, but still she was cold. Her handmaids busied themselves with her hair and then dressed her. She could not look at them. When her gown was finished, the handmaids put on her rings and her simple gold tiara, and then a wreath of white star flowers, the only ones that bloomed in winter. Finally, they carefully draped the Key of the Scepter—star-shaped with a vertically placed scepter in its center—and the Key of the Sword—square-shaped with two crossed swords pierced by a spear—around her neck, their heavy gold chains a symbol of their burden as well as their power.

Someone knocked on the door and it opened slowly. Har-nan Beresard’s old face appeared. “Your Majesty?”

“You can come in, Harnan. I am finished dressing.”

He took a few steps, then stopped and gawked at her. “Your Majesty! You are...” His mouth worked, but he could not make the word come out.

Areava turned to face her secretary. Her gown, layers of white wool with individual threads of gold through it, swished on the wooden floor. Its tight-fitting bodice revealed her slender form to best effect, and the full skirt seemed to flow from her waist. Harnan shook his head in wonder. He thought if winter could be personified, it would look like his queen. Tall and pale, severe, achingly beautiful. All but the eyes, which seemed lost.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

Areava nodded to her handmaids and they quickly scurried from the room. “Am I doing the right thing?” she asked.

Harnan blinked. He had never expected to hear the queen voice that question. “Your Majesty?”

“Marrying Sendarus. Is it the right thing to do?”

Harnan spread his hands helplessly. “All Grenda Lear rejoices. They are happy for you. Overjoyed.”

Areava looked disappointed, but nodded. Harnan blushed, knowing he had said the wrong thing but not knowing what would have been the right thing.

“What did you want?”

“To let you know that King Marin has arrived.”

“Oh. Good.”

“He wanted to know if you wanted to see him right away.”

She shook her head. “Let him greet his son first. They have not seen each other for several months. I will have many opportunities after the wedding to talk with the king ... with my father-in-law.” She swallowed.

“As you wish.” Harnan bowed and moved to leave, but hesitated. He could not help feeling she should not be left alone.

“Is there something else?” Areava asked tonelessly.

“No, your Majesty.” He bowed again and went to the door. It opened before he got there and Olio entered. Harnan breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Good m-m-morning, sister,” Olio said brightly.

“Am I doing the right thing?” she asked him immediately.

Olio threw a glance at Harnan; the secretary raised his eyebrows but said nothing, then left.

“About what?”

“Don’t be obtuse,” she snapped, then closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you love Sendarus?” Olio asked carefully.

“With all my heart.”

“Then you are concerned for the kingdom.”

Areava nodded. “I am its queen.”

“You are also a woman. No kingdom demands its ruler stay celibate.” He smiled immediately at his own choice of words, knowing that celibacy was not the problem. “Or indeed, unwed.”

“But outside of the Twenty Houses.”

“Our m-m-mother wed outside of the Twe—” Olio’s mouth snapped shut, and he cursed himself.

“And produced Lynan.”

“You are not m-m-marrying a commoner,” Olio said. “You are m-m-marrying a p-p-prince.”

“And I am marrying an alliance.”

“You cannot m-m-make an alliance with a subject p-p-province.”

“By marrying Sendarus I raise Aman from its knees. It need no longer genuflect before Kendra.”

“M-m-maybe not a bad thing.”

Areava looked at him with something like desperation. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes, if Grenda Lear is to b—b-be m-m—more than Kendra.”

“I want to believe that, but wonder if I am making excuses for my love for Sendarus.”

“The p-p-power of the Twenty Houses m-must be diminished. Introducing new royal b-b-blood will help to do that.” Areava did not seem convinced. He went to her and took her hands in his own; they were surprisingly cold to the touch. “Although I do not think you have your equal anywhere in Theare, I suspect Sendarus comes closest. Your union will strengthen the kingdom, of that I am sure.”

Areava leaned over and kissed her brother’s cheek.

He grinned bashfully and stood back, spreading her arms so he could look at her properly. “You are m-m-magnificent.”

“I feel like ice,” she said dimly.

Olio glanced at her with concern, but she would not meet his gaze. “You will warm up when Sendarus is by your side,” he said, and hoped it was true.

The palace clerk Harnan assigned to guide Marin to his son waited patiently for the Amanite king at the entrance to the guests’ wing. Marin was still looking over the city from the vantage point of the palace, his aides and several of his guards by his side. The clerk could tell from the expression on the king’s face that he was amazed at what he saw. He was not far from the truth, but what was going through the king’s mind at that point was a more complex rush of emotions.

Look at the size of this place. I knew it was huge, but had no idea what that meant. His own capital, Pila, was counted among the largest cities on the continent, but Kendra was on a different scale altogether. And my son will be wed to its mistress.

He shook his head and smiled ruefully to himself. Kendra had so impressed him that he easily mistook Kendra for the whole kingdom, and for the first time understood how Kendra’s citizens could fall into arrogance. Their pride is not misplaced.

He heard the clerk clear his throat. He turned from the view and followed the clerk into the wing, then stopped again. Stone walls rose on either side of him like the sides of mountains. The ceiling seemed so far away it could almost have been sky. He noticed his companions were equally awestruck. We must seem like nothing more than country bumpkins to this scribbler, Marin thought. “Well, maybe we are.”

“Your Majesty?” the clerk asked. He looks like his brother the chancellor, he thought, only shorter and grayer. He was not sure he relished the idea of two such large and stern-looking Amanites being in the palace at the same time. If only they could shave their beards...

Marin shook his head. “Where is my son?”

“The prince’s quarters are not far from here; if you would follow me ...”

They passed rooms with tapestries that covered whole walls, and murals and frescos as colorful as a summer meadow. Clerks and courtiers and the occasional noble passed them, their heads nodding a silent greeting. They came across a section of wall made up of nothing but glass, and for a breathtaking moment the visitors could see Kestrel Bay and the lands beyond, and great Kendra sweeping out from the foreground, framed like a living painting.

Eventually the clerk stopped at a hall bisecting the corridor at right angles, turned left, and stopped again before two large double doors. He knocked and opened them, then stood aside for Marin and his party to enter.

Sendarus was surrounded by servants helping him dress; he looked like a fruit tree being attacked by a flock of birds. The prince’s back was to the door. Orkid stood at the other end of the room, gazing fixedly out a window

“Who is it?” Sendarus asked.

None of the servants recognized Marin, but quickly guessed who he must have been. They stood away from the prince so he could turn and see for himself. His face broke into a wide smile when he saw his father, but Marin put a finger to his lips, and Sendarus, puzzled, said nothing. Marin walked over to stand behind Orkid and looked over his shoulder. In the far distance he could see the highest mountains in Aman, dim and dark against the horizon.

“You miss your home?” Marin said.

Orkid nodded. “More and more.” Orkid frowned. The voice had sounded like Sendarus‘, but was deeper, richer. He looked over his shoulder and saw Marin. His jaw dropped.

“Hello, brother,” Marin said and held out his arms.

Orkid gave a cry of joy and embraced his brother, pounding him on the back. “Lord of the Mountain!” he cried. “Lord of the Mountain! I knew you would make it!”

Marin hugged back as fiercely. They separated, but still stood holding each other’s arms. “Our ship docked less than an hour ago. A storm slowed us four days out of Kendra.”

“I thought we were going to drown,” said a voice from Marin’s party.

“Amemun!” Sendarus and Orkid cried together.

The old Amanite bowed to them, sweeping back his mane of silver-white hair as he straightened. “In the flesh, no thanks to the gods of the sea.”

“Amemun exaggerates,” Marin said. “The storm was over in a day.”

“Two days,” Amemun retorted. “And I was not exaggerating.”

The two brothers still held on to each other, almost as if they were afraid if they let go they would not see each other again for another twenty years. Sendarus joined them and put a hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Well, you are safely here now.”

“Not even the gods of the sea would keep me away from your wedding,” Marin told him. Orkid let him go so he could embrace his son. “So what is she like?”

“Areava?”

“Who else, boy! Amemun has been giving me these glowing reports about her. I don’t believe any of them, of course.”

“She is glorious, father. She is the most beautiful woman in Theare. She is—”

“Enough!” Marin cried, holding up a hand. “Now you are sounding like Amemun, and one of those is quite enough, thank you.”

“This is the respect I get after decades of toiling in your father’s service,” Amemun said to the prince.

“Amemun and Sendarus speak the truth about Areava,” Orkid said. “She is exceptional.”

Marin nodded. “You, I believe,” he said. “You are so somber and level about everything that if you say this Kendran queen is exceptional, then indeed she must be someone unique.”

“You will see for yourself at the wedding this afternoon,” Sendarus said.

Marin nodded. “It will be a great culmination.”

Sendarus looked at him quizzically. “Culmination?”

“Of the love between you and Areava,” Orkid said quickly.

Marin coughed behind his hand. “Yes.”

“Where are we lodged?” Amemun asked to change the subject.

“Right here!” Sendarus said brightly. “I’ll not need these chambers after the wedding, after all. What do you think of the palace?”

“It is very spacious,” Marin said carefully.

“It is overwhelming,” Sendarus said. “I am still not used to living here.”

“Do you miss the mountains?” Marin asked.

“Yes. And the forests.” He fell quiet for a moment and then added: “The Lord of the Mountain seems very far away.”

“He is still in Aman, and still hears your prayers,” Amemun said kindly.

“He has certainly smiled on me,” Sendarus agreed, his eyes looking far away. Marin smiled with sudden pride for his son. He was slender for an Amanite, especially an Aman-ite from the royal Gravespear family, but he was young and keen and handsome and bright.

The prince shook his head impatiently. “You must want to refresh yourself after your long journey.” He turned to one of his servants and asked for hot water and perfume. The servant beetled off. “I have a large tub in the room next to this one. Where are your bags?”

“Not far behind us,” Amemun said.

“I will see they are sent in.”

Marin laughed. He turned to Orkid. “Are we being dismissed?”

“The groom has much to do before the wedding,” Orkid replied diplomatically.

Sendarus kissed his father on the cheek. “I can never dismiss you, father. You are always in my thoughts.”

Marin patted Sendarus’ cheek. “Not tonight, I think. But thank you.” He turned to his entourage. “Well, come on. We must stink like great bears before a rutting.”

Another servant led the visitors to the next room, leaving Sendarus and Orkid behind. The two men beamed at each other for a moment.

“I did not realize how much I missed him,” Orkid said.

“I know he missed you as well,” Sendarus said kindly. “You were never far from his thoughts.”

Nor the plan, Orkid thought. And now at last we both have done what we can for Aman. All else is fate.

Areava, still cold, sat on her throne wishing she was somewhere else. She felt Olio’s hand rest on her shoulder, and she turned her head to look up into his eyes. She saw they were filled with love for her and her heart lightened. She glanced to her right, where Orkid stood, and was surprised to see his face less than stern. A first for him, she thought. Did she detect a hint of a smile on the chancellor’s lips? If so, she would never tell him; he would be horrified to learn he could be as human as the rest of the court.

Before her the throne room was filled with people, most of them commoners, and as she looked at them, she could not help feeling proud to be their queen. These are my people. I serve them as they serve me. They understand. Then she glanced at the representatives of the Twenty Houses, between the throne and the throng, and could see through their forced smiles. Oh, how they wished the people did not understand. They cannot break our bond, no matter what they do.

The great doors at the end of the room reverberated with a deep boom; the sound echoed through the high space. Some of the people jumped. There was another boom, a pause, and then a third. Two guards opened the doors, and there stood Dejanus, Constable of the Royal Guard, a great oak spear in one hand. Behind him stood another ten of the Royal Guard and then the groom’s party; ten more Royal Guards brought up the rear. With a slow and measured step, Dejanus led the procession into the throne room. All eyes watched Sendarus as he came in; even his enemies admired the figure he cut in his wedding finery of dyed linen pants and a coat made from the tanned hide of a great bear. Except for a fine gold coronet inlaid with small rubies, the prince was bare-headed. As the line approached the throne itself, the guards peeled away to form a line on either side of the causeway. Dejanus stood before the queen, with Sendarus and his followers still behind.

There was a moment of silence then as even more commoners crowded into the room, all craning forward to get their own glimpse of the majesty they demanded from such state occasions. All the players were perfectly still, waiting for the next act.

Areava gently touched Olio’s hand and he stepped forward.

“Who comes b-b-before Areava Rosetheme, daughter of Usharna Rosetheme, queen of Kendra and so through it queen of Grenda Lear and all its realms?”

“It is Prince Sendarus, son of Marin, king of Aman,” Dejanus replied formally.

“What does P-p-prince Sendarus son of M-m-marin want of Queen Areava?”

“To submit to her will.”

Olio turned to his sister. “And in this m-m-matter, what is Queen Areava’s will?”

Areava stood, and the audience, seeing her full gown for the first time, let out a collective sigh. She let her gaze sweep over all the people in the room, settling finally on Prince Sendarus. She swallowed but dared not hesitate. “To take him to me, body and soul. For he is the most loyal and loving of all my subjects.”

The commoners erupted in an approving roar, cheering and clapping. Sendarus’ face broke into a smile of happiness and relief. At that moment Areava felt as if her own personal sun had appeared over her head, and her cold and dread evaporated as if they had never been.

I have done the right thing, she knew with certainty. I have done my duty according to my conscience and my heart.

As was the tradition in Kendra, the wedding ceremony itself was a small and private affair, attended only by Areava with Olio for her guardian, Sendarus with Marin for his, Primate Giros Northam and two witnesses—Harnan and Amemun.

Northam beamed at the couple, and looking a little like a large, overprotective vulture, delivered the marriage rites with stately precision and then joined their hands together. The prince kissed the queen’s palm, and with that became her husband, her consort, and her first subject above all others in the kingdom. For a long while the couple stared into each other’s eyes, the others holding back with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, as if they were overstaying their welcome.

Primate Northam coughed politely into his hands. “Your Majesty, your Highness, your people are waiting. They want a celebration.”

Areava nodded, still locked in Sendarus’ gaze. “Yes, of course. Lead the way.”

Northam went to the door, followed by Harnan and Amemun, then Olio and Marin. Areava and Sendarus stayed where they were. Olio returned to the couple, gently touched his sister’s arm, and whispered to them: “If we return to the throne room without you two, your p-p-people will lynch us.”

Dejanus stepped into the throne room, aware that all eyes were on him, if only for that moment. His huge chest swelled with arrogant pride.

“Her Majesty, Areava, queen of Grenda Lear, and his Highness, Sendarus, the royal consort,” he announced.

Applause filled the chamber as he moved aside to let the wedding party return. There were cheers for Northam, the two guardians, two witnesses, then wild cries of joy as the newly married couple made their first public appearance as queen and consort. Dejanus sensed everyone’s gaze settling on Areava, who looked like a goddess in her gown and with her crown of white flowers, and could not help feeling a little jealous. His chest deflated a little.

The constable watched their procession along the causeway with ironic amusement, knowing the last person in his office to perform as herald had been Kumul, and the occasion the wedding between Usharna and her beloved General, Elynd Chisal. At that time Dejanus had been fighting as a mercenary for the slavers, something unknown to any but Orkid Gravespear. And now here he was, respectable and honored. And powerful.

He looked around the crowd with a great deal of smugness. He noted the city mayor, Shant Tenor, and knew as constable he wielded more power. He saw Xella Povis, head of the merchant guild, and knew he was more powerful than she. He saw the heads of other guilds and dismissed them in his mind. He saw the clerics and magickers, and knew he held more power in his hands than any of them. He saw the chancellor and hurried on. Orkid was easily his match, but he was only one of a very few in the court. The queen, of course. Olio, perhaps, although he was hearing things about him that promised a way around him—or through him if need be. And Sendarus? He was a likable fellow, but weak, Dejanus suspected. The new consort would be no threat. And then the nobles of the Twenty Houses, the traditional source of power in the kingdom. He despised them as much as Areava and Orkid did; if anything, it was this that welded him and Orkid to each other, together with the terrible secret of their crime against Berayma.

As constable of the Royal Guard, he might be able to do something about those inbred pigs. They were parasites, and not worth the clothes they wore so ostentatiously. Dejanus smiled to himself. He needed a new challenge. And once the Twenty Houses had been tamed, there was no need for him to maintain an alliance with Orkid.

Duke Holo Amptra felt like a hollow man. He had learned to tolerate Usharna when she was queen. At first they had ensured she married within the Twenty Houses, but his fool brother—her second husband—had thrown away any control the nobles had over Usharna by siding with her enemies during the Slaver War. Usharna had married the General—the slavers’ greatest enemy—and those who thought like Holo believed it was the beginning of the end. But then a glimmer of hope. Berayma, her first-born and successor, had come to them voluntarily, had sought alliance and friendship among his father’s family and clan, and the Twenty Houses believed that Usharna would prove to be the exception, the only black mark, in the long line of rulers controlled by the nobility.

And then tragedy again. Usharna died, and soon after Berayma was murdered by the worm in the court, the half-commoner Prince Lynan, offspring of slaves. Now the kingdom was ruled by Holo’s niece, a woman who hated the Twenty Houses even more than her mother had. And on this day she might once and for all have broken the power of the Kendran nobility by marrying outside of Kendra itself.

He was an old man, and knew the misery of this world would not torment him for much longer, but he had wanted so much to leave the kingdom strong and united for his son Galen. He snorted. Galen himself did not seem to appreciate how much the kingdom had changed since the old days. It was hard to blame him for that, though, since he was born under Usharna, and would likely spend the rest of his life under the reign of another woman, his cousin Areava.

Holo watched Galen talking among the nobles of his own generation. They were all young, warrior-trained, and haughty. They only had thoughts of the coming war with Haxus, anxiously awaiting spring when they might prove themselves on the battlefield. Don’t be too hard on them, he told himself. You were no different at their age.

Galen saw his father and joined him.

“You are so somber, father.”

“This is a somber day.”

“Not so somber, perhaps, as you feared. At least Areava has married another noble.”

“An Amanite.”

“A noble Amanite. A good man, too.”

“I have no doubt,” Holo said gruffly. “But I should not complain. This is your time now, not mine. In spring you will win your battle honors and return to Kendra in glory. I do not blame you for thinking of the future instead of the present.”

“We will return from battle with more than honor. We will have gained more power as well.”

“Eh?”

“I told you before that the time would come when Areava would learn to rely on us once more. The coming campaign gives us the perfect opportunity to find favor with our ruler. Who knows, we may even be able to win over her chancellor.”

Holo grimaced. “Nothing will ever convince Orkid Gravespear to view the Twenty Houses with anything but spite.”

“We may work on him through Sendarus. Win over the prince consort, and we may in time win over both the queen and the chancellor. But first we must prove our loyalty.”

Holo looked offended. “No one has ever doubted our loyalty to Kendra!”

“True, but many have doubted our loyalty to Usharna and her family. We must rectify that. What is a kingdom without a throne? And what is a throne without a monarch?” He smiled easily at his father. “And what is a monarch without nobles?”

Father Powl had left his position of honor among the invited guests soon after Areava and Sendarus’ entrance. He strolled among the common people who had made it to the throne room, listening to their excited babbling. They were so proud of their queen, and more than one was already making comparison between Areava and her mother.

The priest could not help feeling a sense of pride at the queen’s popularity. He had been her confessor for a long time and liked to think he had helped her mature into adulthood. Their relationship had been a formal one, but for all that he had learned intimate details about her life, and had a good idea about how her mind worked. He knew she was good at heart, strict with herself and others, disciplined, short-tempered, with few vices. True, her capacity for hatred had been unknown to him until Lynan had killed Berayma, and he was surprised how much her prejudice against her brother had fed that hatred. But he was certain that in her core she was a good woman of noble purpose.

He watched farmers and tanners, cooks and cleaners, carpenters and clothmakers all bustling among one another to get a glimpse of their beautiful monarch and her handsome consort. They liked the idea of her marrying outside of the Twenty Houses, just as they had been overjoyed when Usharna had married a commoner like them. It gave them the feeling that they, too, shared in some of the queen’s power, had some stake in the kingdom.

Father Powl was not so naive to think Areava did not realize the political advantage of courting the commoners, but he knew she also had a deep affection for and pride in them. Theirs was a happy union that not only predated her marriage to Sendarus but one that may ultimately prove more important for her reign.

He stopped his wandering, lost for a moment in his reflections. Power could came from the most unlikely source, but only those with the wisdom and perspicacity to seize it would profit by it. He studied his hands and wished he had endured a harder youth. There was something wrong in such soft palms, such uncallused fingers, holding the influence he knew he now possessed. He should have been raised in a logging camp or in a fishing village or on a farm; perhaps he would have been if his unknown parents had not left him as a swaddling babe at the door of a chapel of the Righteous God. But all his life he had been cloistered from such labor, protected from the toil and danger the common people endured to support the state. He was not feeling guilt, it was deeper than that. He felt undeserving.

Favored by circumstance, once patroned by the Primate himself, made Areava’s confessor, and now with the ear of the chancellor and holder of secrets that placed him near the middle of an intricate political web, he felt utterly undeserving.

Olio refused the wine a servant offered him.

That’s twice this afternoon. I must be doing all right. His hands shook a little, and he would have done almost anything for a drink, but seeing his sister’s happiness made it easier for him.

Don’t make the effort for yourself. Make it for her.

People said things to him, and he said things in return, but only moments afterward he could not remember what words had been spoken. He hoped he had not promised half the kingdom to some supplicant from Lurisia or Hume. It seemed to him he was drifting through the throne room, walking on air. He wondered if the light-headedness was caused by his deprivation of alcohol or some side effect of the Key of Healing. He fingered the amulet. It rested cold against his skin. Cold and heavy.

At one point the burly King Marin put his arm around him and gave him a bear hug. “If your sister is now my daughter-in-law, does that make you my son-in-law?”

“As m—m—much as the idea appeals to me,” Olio replied gently, “I don’t think it works quite like that.”

“Ah, I think you’re right. Pity. You could have called me ‘father.’ ” Marin laughed suddenly, and Olio pretended to join him. Marin went off, looking for someone else to grin at.

I wonder if he’s had too much to drink? Olio wondered. He suspected Marin never got drunk, and he felt a twinge of envy.

He saw Areava and Sendarus walking from group to group, thanking them for their wishes. They leaned against each other the whole time, holding hands, giving each other a kiss now and then, their eyes as bright as lamps. A feeling of relief washed through him.

Areava has him now to draw on for strength. My failures are diminished.

The thought made him feel edgy, as if he was giving in too easily to his own demons. Without thinking, he glanced around for the rest of his family; the realization that he and Areava were all that were left sent a ripple of nausea through his stomach.

No, there is still Lynan. Somewhere.

The nausea did not go away.

Afterward, Marin invited Orkid to his rooms. There, with the servants sent away, the two brothers and Amemun sat in deep comfortable chairs with some bottles of fine Storian wine on a small table between them. As soon as they had sat, Orkid and Amemun started talking about the new political situation now that Sendarus was married to the ruler of Grenda Lear. Marin sat silent, pretending to listen, content to gaze quietly at the face of his only brother, a man he had not seen for many, many years. When Orkid asked the king a question without receiving a reply, Amemun told Marin to stop being so maudlin.

“You haven’t lost Sendarus, your Majesty. And soon, if the union is blessed, you will have grandchildren to worry about.”

“I am not feeling maudlin, old friend,” Marin said seriously. He looked around the room. “I do not like this place.”

Orkid glanced up in surprise. “I must be used to it,” he said.

“It is not the palace, brother. It is who lives in and around it. All day I have been feeling the stares of a hundred Kendrans bore into my back. I have an itch I cannot reach right between my shoulder blades.” He leaned forward suddenly and grasped one of Orkid’s hands. “My son will be safe here?”

Orkid sighed deeply. “As safe as anywhere except Pila itself. I will protect him, Marin, although I suspect Areava herself will make sure my protection is unnecessary.”

Marin rested back in his seat and nodded glumly. “She is a fine-looking woman, and strong,” he admitted. “But I don’t like the nobles, and some of the officials—like that mayor whatsisname—”

“Shant Tenor.”

“—Mayor Shant Tenor and his ilk make me want to take to them with my ax.”

“Would it help if I told you that Areava feels the same way?”

Marin waved his hand. “I know all that. I read your reports myself, Orkid, whatever you may think.”

“I never doubted it.”

“This place is askew,” Marin said urgently, his body stiffening. “There is something wrong about it, something deep.”

“It is an ancient place of intrigues and plots,” Orkid said. Berayma’s dead face flickered in his memory and he could not help wincing. “Nothing here is ever quite what it seems.”

“They must come to Pila,” Marin said.

“Who?”

“Sendarus and his bride, of course.”

“Need I remind you that this is the capital of the kingdom, not Pila.”

“I mean for a visit. And soon. I want to see how Areava behaves outside of her own den, and I would like to see my son away from this court, if only for a short while.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Orkid said. “Maybe next summer? I could suggest it as part of a tour of all the kingdoms. It would be good for morale if the war with Haxus starts in the spring.”

“That’s an idea.”

“Now relax,” Orkid told him. “The event we have been planning for so many years has at last come to pass. Aman will no longer be considered a small backward province of Grenda Lear. The next ruler in Kendra will share our blood.”

“It is you who did all the work. For that I am grateful beyond words.”

Orkid bowed his head.

“What next?”

“We get the Key of Union off Lynan and make sure it is given to Sendarus,” Orkid said.

“Better he get the Key of the Sword,” Marin replied.

Orkid looked up in surprise. “What?”

“We convince Areava to hand Sendarus the Key of the Sword. If the marriage sees him accepted by the majority of Kendrans, then being bearer of that Key will make him acceptable to all. Even the Twenty Houses would not move openly against him.”

“And how do we manage that?”

“By getting him command of the army to move north in spring.”

“I thought Prince Olio had that command,” Amemun said.

Marin regarded his old tutor for a moment. Amemun had tutored two generations of Gravespears, including himself, teaching them almost everything they knew about Aman and the larger world outside. He felt a surge of affection for the man and his mane of white hair.

“Can Olio be persuaded to surrender it?” Marin asked Orkid.

“It is Areava we have to persuade,” Orkid said.

“Well, I’m sure you can handle that,” Marin said smugly.

“Be careful, brother. She is her own woman, just as her mother Usharna was.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Nonetheless, I have seen how she looks to you, and now that your nephew is her husband, I think she will be even more amenable.”

“You may be right. Time will show us one way or the other.”

“And time,” Marin said, “is something we have plenty of.”

Wedding parties were going on throughout the city. From her window, Areava could see bonfires in almost every square. Lanterns were hauled up the masts of every ship in the harbor. Snatches of song drifted up to the palace in the evening breeze.

“We have made them happy,” Areava said.

Sendarus stood behind her, his arms around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. “I am glad some of our own joy has spilled out.” He kissed her neck, and raised one hand to trace a finger along her jaw.

“In one year I must learn to be queen and wife. It is more than I ever expected.”

He kissed her ear and then her temple. He felt her tense.

“Is something wrong?”

She giggled nervously. “I am afraid.”

“Of tonight?”

She nodded, felt like a little girl. “It’s silly, isn’t it? It’s not as if we haven’t...” Her voice trailed off.

“We have never made love as husband and wife before. That is different. We are more than lovers now.” He stood back and turned her around, then kissed her on the lips. “We are one life; we have one future.”

She knew the truth of the words as she heard them, and kissed him back, and even as she felt her breath quicken and her skin flush with blood, the Keys over her heart seemed to come alive with a warmth all their own.