Sovereign

CHAPTER 16

He was rescued from drowning. For a long time Olio had felt he was immersed in something like water: seeing the world through a refracted, shimmering light, hearing sounds that were distorted and ponderous, separated from reality by a different kind of space and time.

Then he was pulled out of it, the sea falling away from him. Light as hard as steel pierced his eyes and he blinked back tears. Sharp sounds, almost percussive, assailed his ears. And then he smelled bedclothes and herbs and stone walls and late summer.

How long had he been asleep? What a godawful nightmare. He must have been drinking again. He looked down at himself. The Key of the Heart lay heavy against his chest. He touched it and he heard a single tone, like the sound of a distant bell, and felt his hand tingle. Had this been responsible? He looked around. He was in his bedchamber. Nothing was different.

And yet.

He sniffed the air again. Yes, late summer. Maybe autumn. The smell of ripening fields. But yesterday it had been spring or early summer. He was sure of it. He swung out of bed and stood up. Then fell down, his legs giving way beneath him. Startled, he tried standing up more carefully. He became dizzy and stretched out his fingertips to steady himself against the end of his bed.

I won't ever touch another drop of wine, he promised himself, and almost immediately realised his condition had nothing to do with alcohol. In fact, he distinctly remembered having already given up wine. He made his way to the south window. Curtains fluttered as they caught the edge of a westerly.

We don't get westerlies in spring, he reminded himself. Something was wrong with his view, but he could not put his finger on it right away. There was the harbour, with its forest of masts. There was the old city, and above it the houses of the merchants, and above them… His gaze wandered back to the old city. He rubbed his eyes, thinking sleep was blurring them. But the smudge was still there, like charcoal smeared across a canvas.

Charcoal. Fire.

'Oh God!' he gasped, suddenly smelling the smoke, feeling the heat of flames on his skin and hearing the cries of the dying and wounded. He automatically grasped the Key and fell backwards, collapsing on the edge of his bed, his eyes squeezed shut.

'No!' he shouted, and as quickly as his senses had been assailed he was free again. He opened his eyes and lay on his bed panting for breath, confused and frightened.

His door burst open and two guards rushed in. 'Your Highness, are you alright?' one asked. They looked around the room as if expecting to find an intruder. The second guard loped to the window and peered out.

'Yes,' Olio said, his fear disappearing. He wished the confusion would as well. 'I think so.'

The guards glanced at each other, obviously not convinced.

'Could you get Dr Trion for me?' Olio asked. 'I don't think I'm well.'

The guards bowed and left, closing the door behind them. He heard the lock click, and rather than being angry or upset about it all he could do was wonder why they had done it.

What had happened to him? What was it that had flashed in his memory? Something to do with fire and…

The old city had almost all been burned down. That explained the black smudge across the cityscape he saw from the window. But when had this happened? And what had he to do with it? He rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands, trying to remember, but it made no difference. Had he caused it, God forbid? Or been harmed in it?

The last felt more like it. He thought that if he had caused it nothing would stop him from remembering.

He heard people coming, more than two, and he wondered who else the guard had brought beside the doctor. The door was unlocked then opened, and there stood Areava.

'Good morning, sister,' he said, pleasantly surprised. 'I'm sorry they've disturbed you over this. I just wanted to see Dr Trion. Did you bring him with you?'

She stood aside and another entered, but still not the doctor. 'Edaytor? Did the guard bring anyone else? The cook, maybe? Or a stable groom?'

Areava and Edaytor stared at him. He could not decipher their expressions, which seemed to be a strange combination of awe, curiosity and relief. 'It's just that I seem to be feeling incredibly weak this morning. I don't know what I've done—'

'That would be because you have been asleep for nearly five days,' Areava said.

'Asleep all summer and more,' Edaytor corrected her.

Olio was not sure what to make out of that. 'Well,' he said, 'would one of you care to explain what you mean?' He sat up and waited.

'I don't know where to begin,' Areava replied after a while, and her voice started wavering. If Olio did not know her better, he would have sworn she was about to cry. The possibility disturbed him more than his own disorientation. Areava never cried.

She took a slow step towards him, then virtually leaped the remaining distance, gathered him in her arms and hugged him so tightly the breath was squeezed out of his lungs. So startled was he that he did not embrace her in turn, but hung in her grip like a cloth doll. He glanced at the prelate for some kind of explanation, but almost went into shock when he saw that the prelate was crying.

When Areava eventually let him go he took a deep breath. Ignoring the pain in his ribs he took his sister's hand and patted it.

'Something has happened, hasn't it?' he ventured.

Dejanus sat at the head of the table. No one asked him to, or offered it to him, but he took the privilege for himself. Similarly, when Marshal Lief, Fleet Admiral Setchmar, Chancellor Gravespear and Duke Holo Amptra finally arrived, without discussion he started the first meeting of the Great Army Committee by calling for order. The others looked at him with mild annoyance since no one actually had been speaking at the time. He nodded to the priest assigned as secretary to the committee and the man distributed a written page to everyone present.

'What's this?' Orkid asked.

'The schedule of equipment and supplies necessary for the creation of the Great Army.'

'This first meeting was supposed to be about discussing the creation of such a schedule,' Lief said.

'I've saved the committee a great deal of time then,' Dejanus answered. 'Now we can move directly to discussions on how to achieve the schedule.'

The other members exchanged wary glances then read the paper in front of them, their eyes widening as they did so.

'You can't be serious,' Orkid said. 'This will bankrupt the Kingdom.'

'Then the queen can raise taxes,' Dejanus countered. 'Better a bankrupt Kingdom than a razed Kingdom.'

'The provinces will never stand for it,' Duke Amptra objected.

'How unexpected to hear a member of the Twenty Houses protest on behalf of the provinces,' Dejanus said.

The duke blushed and started to rise from his seat. The marshal put a hand out to stop him.

'I don't believe the provinces will mind overly,' Dejanus continued, 'considering the fate of Daavis and its ruler.'

'The fate of its ruler? What do we know about the fate of its ruler?'

Dejanus shrugged. 'Well, if the city was destroyed we can assume Charion died while defending it.'

'We don't know that Daavis was destroyed,' the marshal said, 'let alone what happened to Queen Charion.'

Orkid put up his hands to stop the discussion turning into an argument. 'Whatever the condition of Hume's capital, I think the constable is right. The other provinces will provide what we ask of them to stop Prince Lynan from reaching Kendra.' Holo and the marshal scowled at him. 'However, I do think the demand on Aman in this instance is excessive.'

Dejanus grinned at the chancellor. 'No more than a fair contribution considering the province's favoured position in court.'

Orkid could not help noticing that Holo and the marshal were now smiling nastily at him. It occurred to him that Dejanus was playing them all with unexpected cunning. Animal cunning, he explained to himself, the way a grass wolf might exploit the weakness of a karak herd.

'Nonetheless, considering the substantial contribution Aman has already made to the first army, I ask the sum be reconsidered.'

Dejanus turned to the secretary. 'Make a note of that,' he said. 'The chancellor believes Aman's contribution is too high.'

'That isn't exactly what I said—'

'And now that we've all seen the schedule,' Dejanus said, speaking over Orkid, 'we can set about finding ways to implement it.'

Again the others exchanged glances, but no one complained or criticised. They were allowing themselves to be boxed in, but were so taken aback by Dejanus's assertiveness they were not sure how to counter it.

'As I understand it, Kendra is already on a war footing,' Dejanus continued.

'It has been for half a year,' Lief said. 'Foundries must give over half their time to the production of war goods. Similarly with lumber mills, weavers, tool makers…'

'And farms, fisheries?'

Lief shook his head. 'No. Until now we have produced enough—'

'It won't feed this proposed Great Army,' Orkid said. 'We will need to divert more of the Kingdom's agricultural production.'

'The Kingdom has never done that,' Holo objected. 'Not even during the Slaver War.'

'Grenda Lear itself was never seriously threatened during the Slaver War,' Dejanus said. I should know, I was on the other side. 'Now it is.'

'To meet this schedule we will have to raise the level for industry,' Setchmar said. 'Maybe to six tenths or even seven tenths of their production.'

'That will cause inflation,' Orkid pointed out. 'The common people will suffer.'

'For a short period at least,' Setchmar agreed. 'But it might lower the cost to the Kingdom for buying war goods.'

'Inflation?' Dejanus shook his head. 'Why should it cause inflation?'

'Because there will be less domestic goods produced,' Setchmar explained in a tone that suggested it was obvious.

Dejanus nodded, pretending to understand, something Orkid observed. 'Of course,' the chancellor said quickly, 'we could mint more coins to provide the common people with the money they needed.'

All on the committee stared at him, horrified. All except Dejanus. 'A good idea,' he said, trying to sound wiser than he felt. After all, if goods were going to cost more, what could be simpler than increasing the supply of money? He turned to the secretary. 'Make a note of that.'

The secretary, who had already made a note of it, was not sure what to write.

'Write that I suggest the Kingdom mint more money to help the common people,' Dejanus said brusquely.

The secretary duly noted it. Those committee members who thought the idea a terrible one now understood why Orkid had suggested it.

'These troop contributions you've listed here for the provinces might necessitate conscription,' the marshal said carefully. 'Especially if you want the troops in Chandra by the date you've specified under Item 12.'

There were mumbles of agreement from around the table.

Dejanus glanced at the secretary who now knew how the constable wanted the minutes to be recorded. He wrote down that Dejanus suggested conscription be introduced in the provinces to ensure troop levels were met.

Orkid smiled easily now. The constable may have possessed an animal cunning, but like a hungry grass wolf he was easily led out of his depth. He checked the schedule for any other items he might profitably bring to Dejanus's attention.

Powl stood alone in the tower room. There was an empty bottle, covered in dust, on the floor. The wooden shutters to the only window were open. The round stone walls had a deep inset at about head height, and this was filled with ancient tomes. The books of Colanus, Kendra's first great king. And, if the legends were right, the first magiker.

Powl pulled out one of the books, waving away a cloud of dust, and opened it. The writing was almost unrecognisable. One or two of the signs he knew from the alphabet used all over Grenda Lear, but most of them were unknown to him.

'He gathered the old knowledge before him,' Powl murmured to himself, remembering part of the legend of

Colanus he had read in the church library. But what old knowledge? And how do I read it?

He put the book back and took out another. As far as he could tell it used the same script as the first book. He turned a few pages experimentally, felt one of the leaves between his thumb and forefinger. Not paper exactly, but not parchment either. Nor brittle, nor yellow with age. There were no illustrations or diagrams. Just words in this strange writing, and probably in a strange language.

Powl sighed heavily. I will not find what I seek among these volumes. It was stupid of me to think that I would. He replaced the second book and ran his finger along the spines of the entire library, walking a circuit of the room. But where else can I look for the name of God?

He stopped. Something had caught his attention. For a long moment he looked around, trying to discover what it was. He had just given up and was turning to leave the room when it happened again.

'The books,' he said aloud. 'Something about the books.' He studied the spines closely, but there was nothing about them that seemed extraordinary. 'Except that they are in this strange room and completely unreadable.'

Powl pulled another book out and held the spine up to the light. That's when he saw it. His attention hadn't in fact been caught by something visible but by something he had felt with the tip of his finger. The spine was embossed about a third of the way down. He angled the book to see if he could cast a shadow, but the embossing was too shallow. He ran his finger along all the spines again, this time at the same level. They were all embossed.

'Is this the clue, dear God?' he asked. 'Is your name hidden somewhere in these volumes?'

His desperation made him want to believe it. Perhaps God had forgiven him his terrible crime. Perhaps his prayers had not been for nothing after all.

'And all because of this?' Olio asked, holding up the Key of the Heart.

'And all because of that,' Edaytor said, looking at it the way he might a spider. 'I wish you would not handle it so readily.'

'It is harmless now.'

'You must not use it.'

'I have no intention of using it.'

'You have not come across any sick.'

'I will stay locked in the palace.'

'Well and good,' Edaytor said. 'But remember that the common people now know what you are capable of.'

'They know what the Key is capable of. By all accounts I was nothing more than its conduit. Anyone could use it.'

'I do not think so. The Keys were made by your ancestor for the rulers of Grenda Lear, not for any other mortal.'

Olio slipped the Key under his shirt. 'Well and good then; it means no one else will be subjected to its power as I was.'

'How are you feeling now?'

Olio shrugged. 'I am not sure. How am I supposed to feel? How did I feel the day before I lost my mind? Is it the same as I feel now? I no longer know these things. I do not know if how I am now is how Olio was before the fire. I do not know myself any more. I have the mind of an adult with the memory of an infant.'

'You have not forgotten everything, surely? You remember Kendra, your sister, the death of your mother and the murder of Berayma.'

'And the outlawry of my brother,' Olio said sadly. 'Yes. Facts and places and names I remember, but not what I felt or knew about them. I have vague recollections of being fond of Lynan—'

'You were,' Edaytor confirmed. 'You talked of him frequently and with great sorrow.'

'—and yet I feel nothing at all about him now. I could not care less that he is an outlaw if it was not for the fact that he is threatening the Kingdom. For that I owe him my spite and not my love, brother or no.'

'I see,' Edaytor said quietly. 'And what of Areava? How do you feel about her? Or any of your other friends?'

Olio smiled at him. 'You, you mean?'

Edaytor blushed.

'As soon as I saw you both I knew I cared about you, and that is how I feel.'

Edaytor's blush deepened. 'Perhaps it would be the same with Lynan then.'

'Perhaps,' Olio said shortly. 'That is something I do not wish to ponder. I cannot imagine a time when we might see each other again.'

'His army might reach Kendra.'

'No army has ever reached,Kendra.'

That does not mean there won't be a first time, Edaytor thought, but kept it to himself.

Areava went white with fury as she read the minutes from the first meeting of the Great Army Committee. As she read each page she screwed it up in her fist and threw it to the floor. Harnan Beresard picked up each ball and flattened it out again, softly tsking through his teeth. Was it only secretaries who realised the importance of every single copy of every document?

When she got to the last sheet she waved it under Orkid Gravespear's nose. 'And what were you doing while Dejanus was plotting to destroy my Kingdom from the inside?' she demanded.

Orkid sighed, spread his hands. 'I don't think the matter is helped by exaggerating—'

'Inflation!' she cried over him. 'Conscription! Treason trials!'

'I know it sounds bad—'

'Bad!' She screwed up the last sheet and threw it over her shoulder. Harnan scrabbled quickly enough to catch it before it hit the floor. 'It sounds disastrous! Who gave him leadership of the committee?'

'He took it upon himself. He is commander of the Great Army, after all.'

'Commander, yes!' Areava said, jabbing Orkid in the chest with each syllable. 'Dictator, no!'

'They are only recommendations,' Orkid countered.

'Recommendations for the destruction of Grenda Lear. If I forced the provincial rulers to introduce conscription they would be overthrown and their people would open the gates of their capitals for Lynan and his Chetts to just stroll in. There were five of you on the committee, not just Dejanus. Why didn't you take control?'

'He is hard to counter at the moment. After all, he is commander—'

'If you remind me Dejanus is commander of the Great Army just one more time I will punch you on the nose!'

Orkid retreated a step. Even Harnan Beresard retreated a step. And Areava herself seemed surprised by her threat.

'I'm sorry,' she said, shaking her head. 'It's just that I can't believe you, of all people, let Dejanus get away with this.'

Orkid could only spread his hands again. He could not say the words himself. Areava had to do it without his help.

'He cannot stay on the committee,' she said. 'There's nothing for it. He stays as commander, but the committee will be responsible for all logistical and administrative issues concerning the Great Army until it is ready to march to war.'

'I cannot agree,' Orkid said, making sure he spoke loudly enough for Harnan to hear and trying not to sound as relieved as he felt. 'It was his first meeting. If he is allowed a second chance—'

'If he is allowed a second chance I may end up receiving the committee's advice to execute everyone in the Kingdom with Chert blood! No, Orkid, my mind is made up. There is no place for Dejanus on the committee.'

'Who will you replace him with?'

'No one for the moment. That's a decision I will make in council.'

'Will you tell him?'

'Must I?'

'It would be better coming from you.'

'God. Alright.' She turned to Harnan. 'Ask the constable to come and see me right away.'

Harnan bowed and hurried off.

'He's not going to like this,' Orkid warned her.

Areava snorted through her nose.

'Do you want me to stay?'

'No. It will only make it worse for him if you are present. I don't want to humiliate him. Go on, get out.'

'Thank you,' he said sincerely, and quickly left.

Dejanus woke in the middle of the night, fully alert, eyes as wide and white as lamps, sweat prickling his skin. He barked in relief. He was still alive. Tendrils from his nightmare slowly evaporated and in a short while all he could remember was the face of his enemy, with skin as white as ivory. The face had been vaguely familiar, the way that such things often are in dreams, but he could not recall now who it belonged to.

His mouth felt as dry as sand. He reached down beside the bed and grabbed a bottle. He was not sure what was in it, but it ran fiery and smooth down his throat and made the rim of his eyes burn. There was a moan beside him. He looked down at Ikanus, still sleeping off the sex. He grunted. Or the bruises. He laughed at his own joke. She moaned again.

'Shut up,' he said, not loudly enough to wake her, but loudly enough to finish his own waking.

That's when he remembered, and the memory made him flush with anger.

'Bitch,' he said hoarsely. 'That white-haired bitch.'

She had humiliated him in front of her puking little secretary. He had wanted to take Harnan's neck in his two hands and crush it like a leather bag. Areava. He had wanted to kill her too. Shove a dagger in her throat, just as he had done to her brother, Berayma. He had wanted to feel her warm blood splash over his hands. He wanted to scream his hate into her face as the air in her lungs whistled through the wound.

But, as always, he had done nothing.

Not cowardice, he told himself. Just common sense. The guards would cut him down without thinking. Him, their own constable. But it was that bitch they loved.

'I am sorry, Dejanus,' she had said. She even sounded apologetic.

'It was Orkid's idea, wasn't it?' he had said.

'No, he was against it.'

Sure he was, he had thought. Sure he was against it.

She must have seen the doubt on his face. 'Isn't that right, Harnan?'

The secretary had nodded. 'I heard him say so.'

'This is my decision, Dejanus. No one else's.'

That was when he had wanted to kill them both. Rage filled him up and he could do nothing about it. He thought he was going to burst a blood vessel.

'Who will command the Great Army?' he had managed to ask.

Areava had looked surprised. 'You are its commander, Dejanus. That will never change.'

'But I am not good enough for the committee.'

'That is not what I said,' Areava blurted, and he could sense her growing anger then; his own seemed to diminish before it. 'I said you were not temperamentally suited to the committee. That is a different thing altogether.'

A cool night breeze brushed against his face and he was back in the inn room with a bottle of something or another and an aging whore. He felt the swelling in his lower lip. For an aging whore she could sure put up a fight. Why had she done that? Why did everyone want to get in his way? What had he done to any of them?

Ikanus moaned a third time, the sound almost a rattle.

She should not have hit him. That was a bad thing to do. It had made him angry all over again, as if he was right back in Areava's chambers and being humiliated.

'I am not temperamentally suited,' he mumbled.

Dejanus got out of the bed and dressed, finished drinking the contents of the bottle. He leaned over and shook Ikanus to wake her. She did not move. He turned her over. Blood, sticky and black in the dark, covered her face.

'You shouldn't have hit me,' he said, his voice almost gentle. He shook her again, but still she did not wake.

He put a hand under her jaw and felt for a pulse, then stood back in haste. For a fleeting moment he felt sorry for her, then anger.

What in God's name was he going to do with her body?