Inheritance

Others, such as Xella Povis, were more circumspect about the idea of the marriage, but were canny enough to keep their opinions to themselves and make the best of it.

Then there were those like Primate Giros Northam, even now talking with the queen and Sendarus, who would support Areava in all things. That Northam was a good man, Orkid did not doubt, but he was also wise enough to see that the queen was his church’s most valuable supporter. Although the poor would always pray, in a kingdom where simple faith struggled against the more obvious and demonstrative powers of magic, royal approval gave it greater currency and respect among the nobility, especially among those eager to display their loyalty to the throne by paying some kind of obeisance to Northam’s god. Orkid was less sure of Father Powl, Northam’s right hand man. He was a small, thin man with a ready smile but eyes as hard and gray as steel. As Areava’s confessor, his standing had improved recently, but Orkid had been told by Usharna that Northam had not nominated Powl as his successor. Orkid suspected this was because of Ushama’s express wish, and Northam had complied. According to the church’s dictates, only Northam and his nominated successor could know the true name of their god; did Father Powl expect to hear it still, or did he know he was not destined for the primacy? There might be another lever there for Orkid to pull.

The royal group was joined by Magicker Prelate Edaytor Fanhow. He and Northam exchanged a courteous greeting. Orkid had always thought Usharna’s greatest achievement as queen was to ensure the church and the malefici were allies and not rivals. By giving the church her protection and by maintaining her authority over the prelate’s office, she made sure both powerful factions were supporters behind her throne instead of enemies bickering in front of it. A split between them would give the enemies of Rosetheme a dangerous lever, and Orkid would do everything in his power to make sure that would never happen.

The chancellor wandered around the reception, fending off a flock of flatterers and pleaders with well-practiced blandishments, studying the reactions of those near Areava and Sendarus. Hovering over the royal couple was the ever present shadow of Dejanus, his face fixed with his usual quizzical half-smile, his eyes alert for any threat to the queen. For one moment the gaze of Orkid met that of Dejanus, and the chancellor felt the wary coolness there. Well enough, he told himself. We know too much about each other to be enemies, but we will never be friends. It was better that way, Orkid knew; it was so much harder to eliminate a friend.

The thought had come unbidden to his mind and he faltered for a second. His hangers-on stumbled around him. He smiled at them easily, apologized, and pretended to give them half an ear, but his mind was backtracking to find out from where the thought had arisen.

His gaze fell to his hands, the same hands that had held down Berayma’s arms as Dejanus had stabbed the king in the neck. Orkid had been overwhelmed by the amount of blood. The room had filled with a stinking lake of it. And yet he had felt no remorse. He had never liked Berayma, and the greater cause had fortified Orkid for over twenty years, so the act itself—with all its gore—was more like an ablution than a murder. He could as easily have done the same to that whelp Lynan. But what of the other two surviving children of Usharna?

He gaze lifted again to Areava, and for a moment he thought he was seeing the old queen as she had been two decades before. His heart jumped a beat. Yes, he liked Areava a great deal, could even learn to adore her as he had her mother, but there was something more about her that stirred something deep inside of him. With some guilt he realized it was a pang of jealousy, jealousy toward his own nephew. The understanding shocked him, and he turned his thoughts to Olio.

The shy prince had changed over the last few weeks, become stronger and more confident. He was still cursed by his awful stammer, but his manner had more authority in it now. Was it the Key of the Heart that was transforming him, or his sister’s need for support? Orkid liked Olio, always had, but wondered if the time was coming to be afraid of him. Olio had always been a fervent believer in Grenda Lear being more than Kendra and its self-interested Twenty Houses and merchants, and Orkid had long looked on him as an ally, but a more assertive prince working in the same court as Areava and Sendarus could prove harmful to Aman’s long term interests. Yes, Orkid told himself, he would have to keep a careful eye on the young man.

Speaking of which, where was he today? Orkid looked around the hall, finally discovering him by the knot of minor officials clustering around him to get his attention. Not long before, Olio would have been flustered by all the attention, but now handled such situations with calmness and almost infinite patience. Even as Orkid watched, he extricated himself from the group and made his way to his sister. Olio and Areava exchanged a few words, then he bowed and left, taking Edaytor Fanhow with him.

Those two have been spending an unusual amount of time together, Orkid thought. Whatever do they find to talk about?

As soon as Olio was out of hearing of his sister, he asked the magicker what news he had of the hospice.

“It is ready, Your Highness,” Edaytor said, smiling broadly. “Primate Northam has been as good as his word. There are ten beds for the sick, and he has assigned another priest to the chapel to care for them full-time. I have already recruited several magickers to play their parts.”

“Now all we need are the sick themselves.”

“The priests will take care of that for us. They visit the poor regularly, and will bring those most in need to the hospice for treatment. It will not be long before the sick come of their own accord.”

“Will ten b-b-beds be enough?”

“For the worst affected. But the primate is now thinking of building a dispensary that can deal with less serious cases.”

Olio nodded. “This is much better than I expected. At last I can do something for my own people.”

Edaytor put a finger to his lips in thought, but hesitated to speak.

Olio sighed. “Out with it, sir.”

“I am still concerned about how the healing will affect you. You know how tired you were after the first time.”

“Surely, as we gain more experience in this, the healing will become easier.”

Edaytor shrugged. “This is new to me as well, Your Highness. Truly, the more one practices magic the easier it becomes, but the Key is no ordinary talisman. I remember how weak your mother was after she healed the crookback.”

“But she was old and ill herself.”

“Undeniably, but nonetheless neither of us is sure that continued use of the Healing Key will not have some deleterious effect.”

“I will be careful,” Olio assured him.

Edaytor heard the excitement and eagerness in the prince’s voice, and wondered if being careful would be enough. He would have to instruct his magickers to make sure Olio did not overextend himself.

There were plenty of barges heading down river, but it was not until well after dawn that Jenrosa sighted the first sail heading in the opposite direction. She called the others, and as the barge came into view they waved their arms and shouted. The pilot waved back and continued on his way. They were still cursing him when a second barge appeared sailing upriver, and they repeated the demonstration. This time the pilot, a short, thickset woman, steered closer to the bank. She looked warily at the giant Kumul and the crookback Ager.

“What is it you want?”

“Passage!” Kumul cried out. “And some food!”

The pilot surveyed them and their four horses for a moment and replied: “How much do you offer?”

“We have no money, but can give you one of our horses for payment,” Kumul shouted.

The pilot considered for a moment, then brought the barge close enough to drop her anchor and push out two planks to touch the shore. As they started leading their horses aboard, she told Kumul she was going no farther than Daavis.

“That will suit us,” he said grimly. He had no idea how far upriver Prado was intending to take Lynan, but getting to Daavis would at least give them a chance to catch up some of their lost ground.

They tethered the horses to the central mast and then helped bring in the planks and anchor.

“You’re carrying a light load,” Ager observed.

“I make my profits the other way, carrying ore to Sparro. This consignment will cover my costs.” She nodded at the horses. “And on this trip one of those will bring me a profit.”

The pilot seemed disinclined to talk, so the three companions found spaces for themselves among the bales and boxes up forward.

“How will we find Lynan again?” Jenrosa asked.

Kumul shrugged. “We reach Daavis and make inquiries there about the barge he was taken on. If it did not stop there, then we follow the Barda upriver until we discover some clue to his whereabouts.”

“What if they backtrack?”

“There is nothing we can do about it,” Kumul said gruffly. “We do what we can.”

“I think Prado was in too much of a hurry to get to his destination to try anything so clever,” Ager said. “My bet is he’s heading for Daavis, either to meet someone or as a staging post for a ride north into Hume.”

“This just gets stranger and stranger,” Jenrosa said. “They are taking Lynan farther away from anyone who cares if he is alive or dead.”

“Queen Charion would probably appreciate having him,” Ager said, thinking aloud. “If she turned him over to Areava, she could not help but gain leverage in the court in her trade disputes with Chandra.”

“Then all is lost,” Jenrosa said gloomily. “They will get to Daavis before us, and that is Charion’s capital.”

Kumul looked up suddenly, and said carefully: “Or Prado is taking him to Haxus.”

“To King Salokan?” Ager looked dumbfounded. “What would Salokan do with the son of his worst enemy?”

“Slay him!” Jenrosa said, horrified.

Kumul shook his head. “No. Ager said it before, and I should have seen it then. Lynan may not be simply a hostage, but a symbol.”

“What are you talking about?” Jenrosa asked.

“King Salokan’s no fool, and he has his spies in Kendra, as we do in his court at Kolbee, so will know what has happened over the last few weeks. He will use Lynan as a weapon against Grenda Lear, set him up as a pretender and invade the kingdom. Many will flock to Salokan’s banner then, or at least offer only halfhearted resistance.”

“That is not so different from what we intended,” Ager said.

“Of course it is different!” Kumul said vehemently. “Our intentions were to bring the kingdom to its senses, to see Lynan reinstated and Berayma’s real murderers caught and punished. Salokan wishes the kingdom harm, and would not hesitate to use Lynan to bring it about. He cares nothing for what is right, or for the justice in this matter. We do!”

Jenrosa was taken aback by Kumul’s fierceness, and could not help wondering if he had been speaking as much in his own defense as that of Lynan’s cause, and in turn it made her think about the conflict going on inside his heart. Kumul was—still was, in his mind, she was sure—Constable of Grenda Lear, and it was his duty to put things right in the kingdom. She wished she could have some of his nobility of purpose, but for her the goals were more immediate: to rescue Lynan. It occurred to her then that she and Kumul had more in common than she would have thought possible. She studied the giant more carefully, and for a moment thought she could see the man beneath the constable’s livery and responsibilities. His regard for Lynan was due more than his loyalty to the youth or to the memory of the general. He was more like a father to Lynan than a guardian, and he was fighting for his son’s life That insight made her understand at last how she regarded Lynan. He seemed like a brother to her, and not a lover. Did that make Kumul her father, then? The thought made her smile. No, not a father. Something more perhaps, something she could not yet describe nor properly give voice to. She blushed involuntarily and turned her gaze out over the river. These were the stirring of feelings she did not ever properly understand herself.

Ager lay down on the deck and shaded his eyes from the sun. “Well, there’s no point in worrying about what to do next until we reach Daavis. I’m going to get some sleep.”

Kumul grunted, and looked in no mood to sleep. Jenrosa left them to stand at the stern and looked down into the river’s brown water. For a moment she wished she was a fish down there, gliding along in life without a care in the world.

No you don’t, she told herself. For the first time ever you’re actually starting to enjoy your life.

The thought made her smile for the second time.