Sovereign

CHAPTER 14

It was called the Castle Tower by those without respect, for it was as tall as a castle tower and seemed as well built. Tomlin, who had been in his profession his whole working life and who had inherited his position from his father, called it simply the Pigeon House for that is what it was. Situated within the grounds of the palace in Kendra but built as a separate structure, it gave Tomlin the grandest views of the city bar none. On this particular day the sun was high and bright, and a fresh southerly kept the air perfectly cool. Anyone other than Tomlin would also have said the southerly swept away the worst of the smell from the Pigeon House, but he no longer noticed the smell. Indeed, its source—the huge white cakes of bird droppings that settled at every level of the house—brought him the major portion of his income. Those who owned the city's market gardens loved the stuff, and he was more than happy to scrape it up and put it into small cloth bags and sell it to them.

But Tomlin's real love was the pigeons themselves. He knew them all by name, and could recount their pedigree back generation after generation. His father had made sure he learned to write so be could keep perfect records in case his memory failed him, and these he maintained scrupulously.

He had finished distributing the feed for the day and was checking the water in each coop, when there was a commotion in the fourth level.

'Bloody One Leg!' he cursed, drew his Jong knife and rushed down the two flights of stairs to get to the level. But the terrible one-legged crow who regularly tried to catch his pigeons was nowhere to be found. Tomlin had almost caught the bloody black bird once, which is why it only had one leg, but it was a clever beast and seemed to delight in tormenting him. His first thought was the crow was teasing him, perhaps to draw him away from one of the other levels, but then he heard the commotion again in several of the coops on the north wall.

That surprised him. He could have sworn they were empty earlier in the morning. Still, holding onto his knife he opened the little wooden catch to one of the coops and saw that indeed one of his pigeons had returned. 'White Wing!' he said in surprise, for there was no message on its leg. He opened another catch, and there was Chevron, also without a message. He peeked inside two more coops, and they were occupied as well.

'All from Daavis,' he said aloud to himself, mystified.

He sheathed his knife and went up to the sixth level to retrieve the feed bag and water flask and then back down to the fourth level to care for the returned birds.

The routine helped to settle his mind, and slowly it unravelled the mystery. The answer gave him no comfort, however, for he knew what it meant for the Kingdom of Grenda Lear.

Powl had stayed up most of the night composing a brief paragraph he hoped would do for the Book of Days. That morning, straight after prayers in the Royal Chapel, he went to the library with the piece of paper he had written on and copied the paragraph into the book in his best hand.

'We must always strive to find God inside us,' he read softly as he wrote. 'To fill ourselves with nothing but our own life is to fall short of His expectation for us, and to fall short of all that we can achieve. To have God inside us is to be complete.'

He sealed his ink bottle and put it and the pen back in his pocket. The piece of paper he put over a candle, letting it go only when the flames burned the tips of his fingers. Black smoke curled to the roof of the library, and he watched it until it had completely dispersed.

I am like that, he thought, striving to reach God but disappearing into air instead. How can one reach Goi without knowing his name?

He read again his first contribution to the Book of Days and realised it read more like the beginning of a sermon than something that was in itself complete. He had failed this test as well, and was embarrassed to think his priests would read it and wonder. Some would not understand the message and think it was their fault because they were not smart or holy enough. And yet Powl knew it would be his fault. His sin was multiplying, staining the innocent under his care.

Father Rown entered the library carrying an armful of papers. 'It is almost time for the council meeting, your Grace. I took the liberty of bringing your papers.' He held out half his load.

'Thank you, Father,' Powl said, accepting them. 'Have you studied the agenda?'

'Yes, your Grace. The most important item concerns the raising of a new army. It is the first on the list.'

'Yes,' Powl said vaguely. He wanted to say he had thought on the issue deeply. After all, the first army had come about largely because of his advice in council while still nothing but his predecessor's secretary. And because of that Sendarus is dead, he thought to himself, and then quickly, No! I wanted Olio to command it. It was not I who sent Sendarus to his death.

'Your Grace?'

'This will be the first council meeting since the death of the princess.'

'Little Usharna?'

'And your first as my secretary.'

'Yes, and I thank you for the honour. I was not expecting—'

'You must not be afraid to speak up,' Powl interrupted him. 'You are there to present your opinion.'

'Thank you, your Grace, I will endeavour—'

'But never forget you are the queen's subject, not the council's. Follow my lead on any vote. If for some reason I am not at a council meeting, Orkid will guide you, and you will have my proxy.'

'Yes, your Grace.'

'Very well. Lead on. We mustn't be late.'

Father Rown hurriedly left; Powl lingered for a moment, glancing once more at the Book of Days and wishing he had not written his little paragraph.

Orkid Gravespear had risked a great deal to rouse Areava out of her depression. He had worked hard to get her to call her council together, knowing that the work of the Kingdom was the only thing that would occupy enough of her time to stop her falling into grief every time she thought of her dead husband and child and her wounded Olio, or worse, falling into rage every time she thought of her outlawed brother, Prince Lynan. But now he knew Dejanus would put himself forward as commander of the new army Areava must create to defend the Kingdom, he wished the council was not meeting at all. Orkid had to support Dejanus or risk the constable revealing to Areava how they had murdered her brother to set her on the throne. After the initial shock of their last meeting had worn off he had believed Dejanus had been bluffing, but his spies reported the constable was drinking almost constantly, and a drunk Dejanus might do anything without fear of consequence.

Orkid thought Dejanus had trouble leading himself to the lavatory let alone leading a Kingdom army into battle against Lynan and his Chetts, but he did not know what to do. The thought of getting one of his people to assassinate the constable crossed his mind constantly, but if the assassin should fail Dejanus would not hesitate to take revenge or—in an act of suicidal rage—tell Areava the truth about her brother's death.

He had never consciously worked against the interests of the Kingdom, believing even Berayma's murder had been for the long-term benefit of Grenda Lear, but Orkid knew supporting Dejanus in his bid for command would be a betrayal of everything he loved and strove for. Yet there was no choice.

He checked the sand clock on the windowsill and saw it was time for the council to convene. He stood up heavily and gathered his papers together. He was about to leave when there was a disturbance in his secretary's office.

'I must see him! It is urgent I see him! They won't let me see the queen!'

He did not recognise the voice, but the distress of the speaker was obvious.

'The chancellor is very busy,' his secretary replied 'And he is late for a meeting—hi! Hold on there!'

A man strode into his office, followed by Orkid's harried-looking secretary. He was middle-aged, short and smelled of something foul. Orkid was about to call for a guard, but the man grabbed Orkid by his coat and shook him.

'Your Eminence! You have to listen to me!'

'I'm not anyone's eminence!' Orkid put down his papers and wrenched at the man's hands. 'And please remove—'

'It's Daavis, your Eminence! It's fallen!'

'—your hands…' Orkid stopped struggling.

'Daavis has fallen!' the man repeated. 'But no one will let me see the queen to tell her! I don't know what to do—'

'Be quiet!' Orkid ordered.

The man could not refuse that voice. He released Orkid's jacket and stepped back, struck dumb.

'Now tell me, who are you, exactly?'

The man could not open his mouth.

Orkid sighed and said more gently: 'You must answer my question. Who are you?'

'Begging your Eminence's favour, your Eminence, I'm Tomlin.'

'My title is Chancellor, nothing else. And who is Tomlin?'

'I'm sorry your… Chancellor. And I is Tomlin. Am Tomlin. Ah, I see what you mean. I am Tomlin the pigeon keeper.'

Orkid rubbed his brow with one hand. 'The pigeon keeper?'

'Yes. And I know that Daavis has fallen.'

Keeping his anger under control, Orkid asked: 'How can you possibly know this?'

'Because all of our pigeons have come home, Chancellor. All of them at the same time.'

'Our pigeons? What do you mean our pigeons?'

'I mean all the palace's pigeons sent away to Daavis have come home at one time, but none with a message. And the only way that would happen is if their house was destroyed or they were let go urgent like.'

Orkid understood then what Tomlin was trying to tell him. 'This has never happened before?'

'Only once that I know of, and that in my father's time, when I was still apprenticed to him. The late queen's father had sent the nobleman Aftel Theso on a ship to explore the Sea Between and the story goes he was never heard of—'

'Yes, yes, I know the story,' Orkid said impatiently.

'Well, sir Chancellor, we did hear from him in a sense, All the pigeons he took with him came back in one go, and my father said to me "Oh, heck, he's gone", and I said "Who would that be, Da?" and he said "Well, Duke Theso, of course, since all his pigeons have come to coop and not a one with a message".'

'But it could have been an accident,' Orkid pointed out, trying to reason the thing through. 'Someone in Daavis could have let all the pigeons out at the same time by accident.'

'Well, no. A pigeon house is a special place, you see. It's not like a chicken run with a single gate. Each pigeon has its own coop. Only way they could all come home is if the house was destroyed or they were let go like that. And seeing that Daavis is at the centre of a war…' Tomlin's voice trailed off and he finished with a shrug, Then some thought activated him again: 'Although Duke Theso, of course, did not have a house because he was just on a ship, so his pigeons could have been let go accidentally, although seeing as how he's never been seen or heard from since, it seems unlikely—'

'Yes, thank you,' Orkid said quickly. He placed a firm hand on Tomlin's shoulder. 'You must go back to your pigeon house. Speak no word of this to anyone, is that understood?'

Tomlin nodded vigorously. Orkid eyed his secretary. 'And that includes you as well.'

The secretary nodded in time with Tomlin.

'Or I will have both your gizzards cut out and fed to the pigs,' Orkid finished. 'Now go.'

Both Tomlin and the secretary disappeared. Orkid slumped on the edge of his desk. All he could think of was that with Daavis gone Hume itself must inevitably fall, which would open the way to the province of Chandra and then to Kendra itself.

He gathered his papers together hurriedly. The council must hear of this and a solution be found, or else everything he stood for, everything he believed in, would crumble away into dust. But first he had to see the queen.

Edaytor stopped when he realised his charge was no longer keeping up with him. He turned and saw Prince Olio watching with utmost concentration a game of castles being played by two young boys using nothing but scratched marks on the pavement and coloured pebbles. The two boys themselves were concentrating so intently on their game that at first they did not notice either the prince or his escort of ten Royal Guards. Then one of the guards changed his stance and cast a shadow across the game.

One of the players looked up irritably and said: 'Move out of the way you karak…' The boy gulped. 'Fuck, sorry,' he added.

The other boy looked up then and yelped in surprise.

'The blue pebbles are knights, I assume,' Olio said interestedly.

'Yeah,' the first boy muttered, his gaze drifting from one huge guard to the next.

'And the red ones?'

'Spearmen,' the second boy said.

'Ah, I should have seen that.' Olio bent over and turned over a grey pebble. 'A sapper! Delightful!'

The first boy grabbed at the pebble, all thoughts of the guards fleeing from his mind. 'Hey! Thanks giving away my surprise!'

The second boy laughed.

'I'm sorry,' Olio said quickly. 'I wasn't thinking.'

'Who do you think you are, anyway, interrupting a quiet game—?'

'He thinks he is Prince Olio Rosetheme,' Edaytor! in his most imperious tone. 'And I am Edaytor Fanhow, Magiker Prelate.'

'Oh,' the boy said weakly, his gaze shifting again to the guards.

'My name's Elynd,' the second boy said to Olio. 'My mumma named me after your father.'

Olio blinked in surprise at the boy. 'I don't think so,' he said, frowning in thought.

'I should know who I'm named after,' the boy said.

'What his Highness means is that his father was not Elynd Chisal,' Edaytor explained. 'It was Duke Amptra—'

'Oh, that's right,' the boy said quickly. 'I was named after Prince Lynan's father.' He closed his hand over his mouth and mumbled through his fingers. 'Sorry.'

Olio looked at him curiously. 'Why?'

Edaytor took Olio by the arm and led him away from the boys.

'What's going on, Edaytor?' the prince asked, hanging back.

'We should let them get on with their game.'

'Where are you taking me?'

'To the harbour. You always look at the ships from the palace, so I'm taking you to see them.'

'Will there be warships?'

'Certainly.'

'Can I go on one?'

'We will have to ask the captain for permission. I do not think you will be refused.'

Olio ended his resistance and they left the two boys behind, the guards closing around them. Edaytor would rather have gone alone into the city with Olio, but in his present condition there was no chance Areava would have allowed that.

People stared at the group, not used to seeing royalty on their streets. Most did not know what to do, but some bowed and others smiled and waved. Olio would oblige by smiling and waving back at first, but after a while got bored with that and ignored them.

'How much further do we have to walk?' he asked sullenly. 'My feet are tired.'

'Not far, your Highness. Just to the end of this street.'

All around them was evidence of the great fire during which the old Olio had lost himself trying to heal the injured, and Edaytor slowed down the pace. They passed the skeletons of houses and shops, walked over blackened cobblestones, stepped over mangled pieces of metal that may once have been saucepans or ladles. Children carelessly played in the wreckage while around them workers were pulling down charred beams and posts or putting up new frames. Cats slinked around the ruins looking for rats and birds. The air in this old part of the city still smelled of burnt wood and underneath, the faintest hint, of burnt flesh.

'There was a fire,' Olio said absently, surveying the damage.

'Yes, your Highness. A terrible fire. Do you remember it?'

'I don't think Queen Usharna would have let me see it. Fires are bad things.'

'I think you saw this one,' Edaytor persisted.

Olio said nothing, but the prelate could tell he was trying to remember. 'No,' he said, then cocked his head to one side. 'Maybe. It was very hot.'

He stopped suddenly and his entourage flowed around him. 'What was this place?' he asked, pointing to a burnt-out block that was three or four times larger than those around it.

Edaytor had to think about it for a while. There were no landmarks left standing to help him locate their position, but when he studied the shape of the block he realised where they were.

'It was a chapel, your Highness,' he said roughly. It was where Olio first used the Key of the Heart to heal someone without the aid of a magiker, the prelude to his losing his mind to the same Key.

'Yes, of course it was,' Olio said, his voice distant. He looked at Edaytor and his eyes focused. 'I don't like it here.'

'The harbour is close.' The prelate sniffed the air, 'Can you smell the sea?'

Olio sniffed too. 'No, only the burning. Take me away.'

Edaytor held the prince's hand and led him down the street. A few minutes later they were in a part of the old city that had survived the great fire. All around them people bustled at their work with no spare time to glance at the prince and his party. There were carters pushing loads between warehouses and shops, street hawkers and sellers, children rushing around and between the legs of adults, and priests, soldiers, magikers and sailors crowding the street. And then they were in the open, the narrow streets left behind as they entered the docks, a wide strip of land connecting quays to warehouses. There were dozens of ships tied to the quays, including many of the low-prowed and narrow-beamed warships of the Grenda Lear navy, their kestrel pennants fluttering from every mast. Olio headed for the nearest, Edaytor and the guards half running to keep up. Someone on the ship must have seen the royal entourage on its way, for by the time Olio had reached the foot of the gangplank an officer was standing to attention at the other end.

Olio waited for Edaytor to catch up and glanced at the officer nervously. 'What do I do?' he pleaded in a low voice.

'Ask him for permission to come aboard,' Edaytor whispered in his ear.

Olio cleared his throat. 'Captain, may I come aboard? Please?'

The officer cleared his throat as well. 'Your Highness!' he shouted, making Olio and Edaytor blink. 'Captain Eblo is not aboard! I am watch officer! Ensign Pilburn at your service!'

'Can the watch officer give me permission?' Olio asked Edaytor.

The prelate shrugged. 'Ask him.'

'Can you give me permission to come aboard? Please?'

'Your Highness!' came the shout. 'You have permission to come aboard!'

Olio breathed a sigh of relief. 'Well, that's good,' he said, and started up the gangplank. Before he took the second step one of his guards stopped him and moved in front while another squeezed himself behind. They marched up the gangplank, the rhythm of their feet making it sway. Edaytor watched with curious pleasure as the sandwiched prince, so diminutive between the guards, was escorted on board the ship. The watch officer stepped back and stood to attention. When there was room Edaytor followed with six of the remaining guards, two staying behind at the foot of the gangplank.

'So this is a warship,' Olio said with self-satisfaction, and clicked his heels on the deck as if to prove the case.

'Your Highness!'

'You don't have to say it so loudly,' Olio said. 'Will you show me around? Have you any prisoners?'

'Prisoners?'

'Pirates,' Olio continued, waving his hand in the air. 'That sort of thing.'

'No, your Highness. We have no pirates on board.' Pilburn looked at Edaytor for guidance.

'Killed them all in action, I expect.'

Pilburn's face contorted in confusion.

'Shall we start below?' Edaytor suggested.

'You can show me the brig,' Olio said. 'You do have a brig?'

'Yes, your Highness,' the officer said, leading the way to the aft cabin.

'You don't have to keep on calling me "your Highness". It isn't etiquette. Just "sir".'

'Yes, sir,' Pilburn said obediently.

Over the next ten minutes the royal entourage shuffled and crouched and squeezed through narrow ways and cabins below decks before emerging via a gangway on the foredeck.

'It's not a very big ship, really,' Olio commented.

'It's built to be swift and sure, sir,' the watch officer said. 'That's why we are named the Windsnapper.'

'That's certainly a wonderful name,' Edaytor said.

'Have you seen any action?' Olio asked.

'Why yes, sir,' Pilburn said, obviously offended at the question. 'Three years ago we caught and destroyed a pirate sloop off the shores of Lurisia. Two years ago we were involved in an action against a smuggling port on the border of Hume and Haxus. We had two prisoners in the brig after that fight. And only last year, sir, we chased your outlaw brother out to sea—'

'We've probably taken up enough of your time, Ensign,' Edaytor said quickly, talking over Pilburn. He gently pushed Olio towards the gangplank.

'My outlaw brother?' Olio asked. 'What are you talking about, Ensign?'

'Your Highness?' Pilburn asked in turn, more confused now than ever before.

'We are due back at the palace,' Edaytor said urgently to Olio. He caught the attention of one of the guards and nodded to Pilburn. The guard understood and immediately escorted the ensign back below decks. By now he had manoeuvred the prince to the top of the gangplank, but Olio wedged his feet against it and would not be budged.

'What was that officer talking about, Edaytor?' Olio demanded.

'It was a slip of the tongue, your Highness,' Edaytor answered, still gently trying to shove him down to the dock. 'Nothing important—'

'I'm not a fool,' Olio said, his voice deepening, and for the second time since Olio's accident Edaytor heard something of the old prince in that tone. He stepped back and Olio turned to face him. 'You know something about my brother. Which one? Berayma or Lynan?'

Edaytor licked his lips. He did not know what was best: to continue to feign ignorance or tell the truth. Taking his courage in hand he decided on the latter. 'Ensign Pilburn was talking about Prince Lynan.'

Olio looked over Edaytor's shoulder, out over the harbour and towards the sea. 'Lynan is made outlaw and fled overseas? Is that what all this is about? Is that why no one will talk to me any more? Is that why my mother refuses to see me, or Berayma? Was it my fault?' His voice was rising, and he took hold of Edaytor's cloak. 'Does my family want me outlawed as well?'

The guards were startled by this sudden outburst and did not know which way to look, afraid that if they caught the prince's eye he would ask them the same questions.

Edaytor rested his hands on Olio's fists and said as gently as he could: 'You are loved by your family. No one thinks you have done anything wrong.'

'But what happened to Lynan?' Olio demanded. 'He is so young. How could he possibly be an outlaw?'

Edaytor could not meet Olio's questioning gaze. 'There are some things you must know, but I am not the one to tell you.'

'Then who is?'

'Your beloved sister. Areava will tell you.' He took a deep, guilty breath. 'It is time Areava told you everything.'

'I am afraid,' Olio said, his voice becoming small and childish again. 'Edaytor, I don't know what to think.'

Edaytor put an arm around Olio's shoulders. 'Trust me, your Highness. You will be alright. There is no need for you to be afraid.' He hoped the prince did not hear the doubt in his voice.

Dejanus had not taken a drink for nearly a day. He was going to be cold sober for this all-important council meeting. He was finally going to get what he had wanted ever since he first took up soldiering—an army of his own. He got to the council room early and was irritated to find Harnan Beresard there already, setting up his small secretary's desk and carefully placing his various pens and papers upon it. But Harnan did not have a vote on the council, Dejanus reminded himself, and so was unimportant. He nodded to the secretary and then took his position near the entrance, standing as erectly as possible and giving full effect to his size. As each of the councillors arrived he caught their attention, smiled grimly as befitted the times and nodded confidently at them. Some of the councillors—mainly members of the Twenty Houses—ignored him, some seemed surprised—and one or two even a little dismayed—by his attention, but many smiled back and seemed reassured that he was there. He did a quick count. He thought he would have more votes than he needed, as long as Orkid and the two priests backed him up. After their little chat, he was sure Orkid would not vote against him, at any rate, and the primate and his secretary would follow the chancellor's lead. The only obstacle remaining was the queen, who could veto any council decision if she so desired. Areava had exercised that prerogative very rarely, though, and never on major issues.

Satisfied, he took his seat. Areava, the chancellor and the two priests had not yet arrived. He wondered what could be holding them up. Maybe they were already discussing giving Dejanus command of the new army? That would make sense; they would give the council a decision already made and with the throne's approval, There were two other vacant seats: Prince Olio's and the prelate's. He did not seriously expect Olio to appear, but the prelate had never missed a council meeting. Dejanus had no idea which way Edaytor would vote on the matter, not that it would affect the outcome. Perhaps he was in the same meeting as the queen and Orkid…

Just then Orkid walked in by himself, and the intricate story the constable had made up in his mind evaporated, leaving behind a great and hollow doubt. He could feel his heartbeat quicken. Perhaps he had been telling himself stories all the time. Maybe Orkid would call his bluff and refuse to support his bid for command of the army. Perhaps…

He bit his lip, the pain clearing his senses. This was no time to get carried away with fancies and illusion, Wait and see. Just wait and see.

Soon after Orkid came the primate with his new secretary. What was his name? Father Gown or something. He should know. He should know all these details. He dimly recalled approaching Powl on the night of the great fire and suggesting some kind of alliance, but could not recall how the idea was received. It did not bode well that Powl had avoided him ever since. Still, there may still be an opening there. Dejanus knew he had to increase his power base in the court. He had a lot of catching up to do before he had all of Orkid's connections and easy influence.

He started drumming his fingers on the table. Where was the queen? She was becoming increasingly erratic, he was sure. A sign of trouble. Did she not have some ancestor known for his madness? Or was that some other noble family? He had trouble keeping history straight. A good thing, considering his own secret history. A king slayer, an ex-mercenary who fought against Grenda Lear in the last war, and an ex-slaver to boot. No need to remember that history. Only the future really counted. Especially if the future included command of an army. No! he told himself. Command of the army. Where was that bloody woman?

Areava was standing in the south gallery looking over her great city, the heart of great Grenda Lear, and feeling for the first time in her life that she might lose it all. She had wanted to see Olio, to hold him tightly—even the Olio who thought he was still ten years old and that their mother still ruled over a blessed Kingdom—but when she had not been able to find him had remembered he was on an outing with Edaytor Fanhow. So she stood here looking out over Kendra and held herself instead.

'Your Majesty,' Orkid had said as she was leaving to go to the council, 'I have bad news.'

She hated that phrase: in the last year it had heralded one brutal shock after another to everything she lived for. She had said nothing, but waited for the chancellor to continue. His skin was grey, his eyes deep sunk. She braced herself. It was going to be terrible.

But she had no idea how terrible.

Daavis fallen. Her hated half-brother Lynan was now a conqueror as well as a murderer. He was like a demon from the old myths, but she was no god to counter him. What could someone of flesh and blood do against something like Lynan?

The afternoon sun was always kind to Kendra, its yellow light making it golden. But today the sun made the city look wan, ephemeral, as if it might evaporate leaving nothing behind but Areava with her illusions and callow, impossible hopes for a peaceful future.

'God damn you, Lynan!' she shouted. Startled pigeons fluttered into the air.

Oh God damn, damn, damn you, she said to herself. God damn Mother for ever marrying the General, God damn her for giving you a Key…

She stopped herself, her expression startled. 'No, I'm sorry!' she cried. She had not meant any of it. She just wanted things to be the way they were supposed to be, with Berayma on the throne and her and Olio helping him rule wisely and justly, and with little Lynan kept busy and out of the way.

But what God had given her was the nightmare opposite of everything she had ever wanted. It was Lynan who held power to rival that of the rightful monarch of Grenda Lear. Commoner blood or not, Lynan was fighting against his own, slaying his own, destroying his own. And she would never, never forgive him for it.

I will fight you, brother, she promised.I will fight you until you are dead or I am slain. This Kingdom will have one and only one ruler.

She realised she had made an irrevocable decision. Her course was set, and there was no turning back. With some relief she also realised the decision meant her next action was clear.

She hurried out of the south gallery, swept down the great hall and past her own chambers and burst into the council room, slamming shut the doors behind her. Everyone in the room jumped in their seat. She noted that all were present except Edaytor Fanhow. She nodded once to all of them as she sat down, ignored the tide of well-meant blandishments and slapped her hand on the table.

'We have one overriding item to attend to,' she told them. 'The creation of a new army to combat Prince Lynan. The creation of a great army.'

'Forgive me, your Majesty,' the city mayor, Shant Tenor, said. 'But since the terrible fire that has destroyed so much of the old city many other issues of equal importance—'

'Daavis has fallen to Lynan and his army of Chetts,' Areava said, cutting off the mayor.

Shant Tenor looked as if someone had told him his daughter had run off and married an Amanite sheep herder. His expression would have been comical if the situation had not been so grim.

'How… how can you be so certain?' her uncle, Duke Holo Amptra, asked.

'I do not have final confirmation,' Areava said, 'but the information we have received indicates the worst.'

'What information?' asked Marshal Triam Lief, head of the Kingdom's armed forces.

Areava glanced at Orkid. 'I'm sorry, but that cannot be revealed at this point.'

'Did your information say anything about the knights of the Twenty Houses?' Duke Amptra asked.

For the first time he could remember Areava looked at him with something like kindness. 'I am sorry. I have no word on the knights, nor their commander, your son.'

Holo nodded and looked down at his hands.

'But this is incredible!' the marshal continued. 'How could Lynan take the city? He had been defeated by our army and was in retreat—'

'Obviously he did not retreat far enough,' Areava said harshly. 'We have no other news at this moment. Which brings us back to my first point. The creation of a great army.'

'A great army?' Shant Tenor said. Areava could tell from his tone he thought it sounded expensive. 'What exactly makes an army great?'

'It will be the largest army ever seen on the continent of Theare. It will include soldiers from every province.'

'How will we afford it?' the mayor asked querulously.

'How will you afford the Chetts running Kendra and the Kingdom?' she countered.

The mayor blinked in confusion.

'When will we have more details about the loss of Daavis?' asked Fleet Admiral Zoul Setchmar.

'I have sent messages to King Tomar,' Orkid said. 'He has military posts near the Hume border. Hopefully he will be able to give us a more complete picture of the situation to our north. I would expect to hear from him within two or three days.'

'Then perhaps we should reconvene at that point,' the admiral said. There were murmurs of agreement from around the table.

'And waste two, maybe three days?' Areava said. 'No. I will not allow it to be said that this council dithered while an invading army ate away at the Kingdom.'

'Put like that…' the admiral said, letting his voice fade away.

'I want every ruler in our domain to be appraised of the situation,' the queen continued. 'I want their best units on their way within ten days.'

'On their way to where?' Duke Amptra asked. 'This city is the largest on the continent, but it could not house and feed a force as large as the one you suggest.'

'I'm aware of that, uncle,' she countered. 'They will congregate in southern Chandra. Orkid will let Tomar know our intentions.'

The primate coughed into his hand. 'Your Majesty, have you given any thought as to who will lead this force?'

'Not yet—' she began, but Orkid interrupted her.

'I believe the army will require an officer of proven experience,' he said, his eyes resting on Marshal Lief.

Dejanus felt his skin tighten in shock and dismay. Orkid could not do this to him!

'But someone young enough to endure the rigours of a long and hard campaign,' Orkid continued, and now his eyes rested on Dejanus.

The constable felt his stomach heave. It had happened! Orkid was going to give him his support!

'I suggest the Constable of the Royal Guard.' Orkid ground the words out behind his teeth.

There was a moment's silence as people absorbed what the chancellor had said. The expressions on most of the council showed confusion rather than anger or rejection. The first to speak was the primate. His voice seemed uncertain and distracted, but he supported Orkid's recommendation. Then so did the other priest, and quickly after the majority of the councillors. All eyes turned to Areava. But before she could speak the doors opened and Edaytor Fanhow made an entrance. Everyone was now looking at him, except Dejanus who kept his gaze fixed on the queen.

You must agree! he screamed silently. You must agree!

'Prelate Fanhow?' she said instead. 'Is everything alright?'

'Yes. Fine. I am sorry I am late. Have I missed much?'

Dejanus almost groaned aloud. He could not believe this was happening. As Fanhow took his seat the queen and the chancellor appraised him of the situation in Hume. Its retelling seemed to make the news more real for most at the table, and everyone's expression seemed to settle into the same despondent grimace.

'I see,' Edaytor said. 'And we were voting on the constable's appointment to lead the army?'

'Yes,' Areava said. 'Do you have an opinion on this?'

Fanhow glanced at Dejanus, but refused to meet his eyes. 'As much as I admire Dejanus, I am not sure he would be the best man to lead this army you propose. He is undoubtedly a brave and skilful warrior, but what you need, surely, is someone with experience at leading such a force?'

'Whom would you propose?' Orkid asked testily. Areava looked at him in surprise.

Edaytor could only shrug. 'I am not an expert on these matters, but surely someone like the marshal—'

'As you say,' Orkid interrupted, 'you are not an expert on these matters. Marshal Lief is a fine commander and administrator, but he has no more experience leading an army into combat than has Dejanus. Indeed, in the whole Kingdom the only man who had such experience was the previous constable, the outlaw Kumul Alarn, now thankfully dead.'

Edaytor blushed. 'I bow to your greater knowledge,' he said.

'How will you vote on this?' Orkid pushed.

'I will take your advice on this also,' he conceded.

Orkid turned to Areava. 'I believe the constable has the council's support, your Majesty. But as always, the final decision must be yours.'

God's teeth! Dejanus thought. Don't remind her!

Areava regarded Dejanus coolly. His skin tightened again, which he took as a bad sign. For a long while she did not speak, and he could not guess what she was thinking.

Come on, you bitch, he silently urged, his teeth grinding together.

'I will accept the advice of my loyal councillors,' she said, and not just Dejanus breathed out a sigh of relief. 'Constable, you are now commander of the Great Army of Grenda Lear.'

Olio had been left in his chambers by Edaytor and asked to stay there. He wanted to go to the south gallery. There he could see the Kingdom. Here all he could see was the royal bed and royal desk and royal night pot, and out his window all he could see were mountains. He was bored. Which got him thinking, mainly about Lynan. He could not understand how someone as young as Lynan could be made an outlaw. Whatever he had done must have been really bad. Olio thought about all the bad things he had done and wondered if he was next. It would explain why no one ever said anything to him about anything important. He sat on the edge of his window, his legs kicking against the wall, sucking between his teeth.

Bored.

He hoped Areava would come soon. God, he hoped anyone would come soon. There were two guards outside, but they would not talk to him. They would not even look at him. He must have been in a lot of trouble.

What had he done?

He tried to remember, but a part of his memory was blocked off from him. He could sense there was something there for him, but he did not know how to reach it, and every time he tried it was like slipping on a wet stone—he just ended up somewhere else with a headache.

He heard footsteps outside his room and heard the guards snap to attention. That meant it was Areava. No one snapped to attention for Edaytor. The door opened and his sister came in, followed by the prelate. As she always did, she looked Olio up and down.

'Get off the sash, Olio,' she commanded, but her voice was gentle.

Olio obediently jumped off and stood before Areava. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He thought she looked very pale and drawn. She looked older than he remembered.

'You've come to tell me about Lynan, haven't you?'

His sister blanched, but nodded.

'Is Mother going to outlaw me, too? I've tried to remember what I've done wrong, but I can't think of anything that bad. Don't be angry with me.'

He saw a tear in Areava's eye before she bowed her head so he could not see her face. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked up again. Olio thought she had the most beautiful eyes, like blue sapphires. The thought puzzled him. What's a sapphire?

She held up two amulets that hung from chains around her neck. 'Do you know what these are?'

He studied them closely. 'Pretty,' he admitted.

'You don't recognise them?'

'No.'

'Describe them for me,' Edaytor said.

Olio glanced at Areava and she nodded encouragingly.

'There's one with a stick on it. And there's one with a heart.'

'Do you know what the stick is?' Edaytor prodded.

'No.'

'It's a sceptre,' Areava told him. 'Only rulers have sceptres.'

'Then why do you have one?' he asked.

'Why do you think?'

Olio shrugged, blew air out of his mouth. 'Can we play something else now?'

'Why do you think I'm wearing a sceptre?' Areava persisted.

'Because you're a ruler, of course,' he said, and laughed to show he knew it was a joke. But neither Areava nor Edaytor laughed, so he stopped, feeling a little foolish.

'That's right,' Areava said solemnly.

'Does Mumma know you've got a sceptre?' His eyes widened suddenly. 'That is Mumma's sceptre. She is queen and should have it.'

'I am queen.'

Olio looked at his sister. For the briefest of moments her words made absolute sense. He shook his head to clear it; he understood what a ridiculous thing she had said, but a part of him absolutely believed it.

'This is the Key of the Sceptre, or the Ruler's Key,' Areava continued. 'It is one of the Keys of Power.'

'No!' Olio cried. 'Only Mumma has the Keys of Power. No one else can wear them!'

'That was true while our mother was alive. Just before she died she gave each of us one of the Keys.'

Olio blinked rapidly. 'Mumma's not dead. I don't believe you. She would have told me…'

'She gave you this Key,' Areava said, holding up the Key of the Heart.

'No,' he said.

'Let him touch it,' Edaytor told Areava.

She held it out to Olio, but he backed away from it. He ran into a wall and could go no further. 'Hold the Key,' she said.

He shook his head.

Areava took off the chain holding the Key and held it out to him. 'This is yours. I took it away from you. That was wrong. I am sorry. I want you to have it back now.'

'It was mine?'

'Don't you remember?'

Olio groaned. 'Sometimes. I think I've seen it before.'

'Do you remember what it feels like to wear it?' Edaytor asked.

Olio shook his head again. 'No.' Then, in a much deeper voice. 'Yes. My Key.'

'Give it to him now!' Edaytor hissed to Areava.

She slipped the chain around her brother's neck and stepped back.

The first thing Olio felt was that the Key fell against his chest in the same way a proper key fitted the right lock. It was where it should be. But almost immediately the thought was squeezed out of him as if a giant hand had suddenly gripped his brain. He shouted out, not in pain but surprise. He closed his eyes, and burned in the back of his lids was the vision of a terrible blue river, startlingly bright, searingly hot. He heard a word repeated over and over and he chased it down with his mind until he heard it loud and clear. 'No!'

And he screamed the word out loud and collapsed to the floor before either Areava or Edaytor could catch him.