By Schism Rent Asunder (22 page)

“It does, My Lord,” he acknowledged. “Captain Yairley's working on me, but there's never been a single noble in my entire family. Not even a simple knight, as far as I know! What do
I
know about being a ‘duke of the realm'?”

“Probably a bit less than I know about being an earl,” Hanth said with a grin. “Which, to be blunt, means not one Shan-wei-damned thing!”

“Less than that,” Aplyn-Ahrmahk told him with a crooked grin.

“Well, I guess we'll just both have to get used to it, Your Grace.” Hanth looked back across the harbor at the somewhat battered Hanth Town waterfront. There'd been more than a little arson involved in the final fighting against Mahntayl's abandoned mercenaries, and the gutted walls of at least half a dozen warehouses stood gaunt and charred under the morning sun.

One more thing to rebuild
, he thought.

“But at least you always knew you were in the succession, My Lord,” Aplyn-Ahrmahk pointed out, and Hanth nodded.

“That I did. But, to be honest, I never expected for all five of the siblings and cousins between me and the title to up and die on me. Never wanted them to, for that matter.” He shook his head, his expression glum. “I never could convince that idiot Mahntayl that I didn't
want
the damned earldom. I think that's why he tried so hard to have me assassinated even after the Church gave it to
him
, instead. He never understood that the only reason I contested his claim in the first place was that I just couldn't stand by and watch someone like him ruin it. Which is exactly what he's spent the last couple of years doing, when all's said.”

Hektor Aplyn-Ahrmahk doubted that very many people would believe the earl's claim that he'd never really wanted the title. Aplyn-Ahrmahk, on the other hand,
did
believe him.

“I remember something the King—King Haarahld, I mean—said to me once, My Lord,” he told the salt-and-pepper-bearded veteran standing beside him. “He said there were really only two sorts of officers—or noblemen. One felt that the rest of the world owed him something because of who he was; the other felt that
he
owed the rest of the world
everything
because of who he was. I know which sort His Majesty was. I think you're the same sort.”

“That's a compliment I'll treasure, Your Grace,” Hanth said, looking back down at the serious-faced youngster at his side. “And, if you'll forgive me for saying so, I think I know which sort you'll turn out to be, as well.”

“I mean to try, at any rate,” Aplyn-Ahrmahk replied. “And I had a good example. The
best
example.”

“Yes. Yes you did,” Hanth agreed, and for just a moment, he decided, all of the proper protocol he and young Aplyn-Ahrmahk were still learning could go to Hell. He reached out, wrapping one arm around those straight, slim shoulders, and the two of them stood there side by side, gazing out at the cheering, shouting faces of the nameless subjects to whom he owed so much.

.VII.

Royal Palace,
City of Tellesberg,
Kingdom of Charis

“So, Merlin, what interesting things have you been seeing lately?”

King Cayleb's smile was crooked as he and his personal bodyguard stood on the palace balcony while night settled in. Cayleb often dined in his chambers, and his valet, Gahlvyn Daikyn, had just finished supervising the removal of the supper table. He'd be back shortly to oversee Cayleb's preparations for bed. Neither Cayleb nor his father had ever seen any reason to maintain the army of personal servants some other rulers, especially on the mainland, required to wait upon their every need, but Daikyn had been with Cayleb since he was a boy. Breaking him of the habit of making certain “the young master” had brushed his teeth before turning in was a far more formidable challenge than the mere bagatelle of dealing with the Group of Four!

Now Cayleb shook his head in fond exasperation, then drew a deep, lung-swelling breath as he and Merlin gazed out over his capital city. Whatever might be happening in the Temple, and whatever might be happening in the halls of diplomacy throughout Safehold, the Tellesberg waterfront was a hive of activity. The destruction of their enemies' fleets had freed the merchant ships which had been huddled at wharf-side and lying to anchor off the idled port while they waited out the war. Now all of those ships' owners were frantic to get them back out to sea with the cargoes which had accumulated in Tellesberg's warehouses. And the possibility that the ports of Haven and Howard might be closed against them undoubtedly played a part in their thinking, Merlin thought. They wanted to get their cargoes landed, sold, and paid for before any embargo was proclaimed.

It's going to be interesting to see if Howsmyn's predictions about trade patterns hold up
, he reflected.

“Actually, I've seen quite a few ‘interesting things,'” he said aloud in a mild tone. “I'm planning on writing most of them up for Bynzhamyn. I assume you want the summary version?”

“You assume correctly.”

Cayleb turned, leaning back against the balcony's waist-high balustrade and propping his elbows on it, to gaze at Merlin. He'd never heard of Self-Navigating Autonomous Reconnaissance and Communication platforms, nor had he ever heard of the almost microscopically small parasite sensors a SNARC could deploy. But, like his father before him, he'd come to rely on the accuracy of Merlin's “visions.” And, unlike most of the other handful of people who knew about those visions, Cayleb had a very shrewd notion that there was nothing particularly “miraculous” about them, although there
was
the tiny problem that Merlin had explained they violated the Proscriptions of Jwo-jeng. Which, miraculous or no, would have made them—and Merlin—anathema in the eyes of the Inquisition.

Continuing to accept Merlin's aid after discovering that minor fact hadn't been the easiest thing Cayleb Ahrmahk had ever done in his life, but he was no more inclined than his father had ever been to look back and second-guess his decisions.

“Where would you like me to start?” Merlin asked politely.

“Well, you could begin with Queen Sharleyan, I suppose. If, of course, there's not something more interesting you want to tell me about.”

Cayleb's expression was almost as pointed as his tone, and Merlin chuckled. Marriage of state or no, Cayleb was remarkably nervous about the Chisholmian queen's reaction to his proposal. The fact that he'd never even seen a portrait of her didn't appear to make his internal butterflies any smaller or better behaved, either.

He really is
very
young for a reigning king, isn't he?
Merlin thought. Then his chuckle faded.
And he's awfully young to be making a cold-blooded political marriage. Of course, I think he's going to be pleasantly surprised when he finally gets a look at her.

“Actually,” he said, “I think she's considering the notion very carefully. And favorably, I suspect, although she's playing that very close to her tunic at the moment. She hasn't openly committed herself one way or the other, even with Green Mountain, and he's the closest thing to a father she has. But she's been spending quite a bit of time in her chamber reading over your letters. And”—Merlin's sapphire eyes gleamed—“she's been spending quite a bit of time looking at that painting of you we sent along, too.”

“Oh, God!” Cayleb rolled his eyes. “I
knew
I should never have let you and Rayjhis talk me into sending her that thing! If she thinks that absolutely vacuous expression is an accurate reflection of my mental processes, she's going to run the other way as quickly as she can—probably screaming as she goes!”

“Nonsense!” Merlin said bracingly. “I think it's a very good likeness, myself. Of course, I'm not a young and beautiful princess.”

Not anymore, at least
, he added mentally.
But trust me, Cayleb. You're obviously not the best judge of how any female is going to react to
that
portrait. And it's not even particularly prettied-up
.

“Are you saying
she
is?” Despite Cayleb's light tone, Merlin knew the question was more serious than the youthful king wanted to admit, and he decided to take pity upon the young man.

“To be completely honest, I wouldn't say she's ‘beautiful,' Cayleb. She's an extraordinarily handsome young woman, though, and I very much doubt any man could fault her figure, or the way she carries herself. And if she isn't beautiful, she has something far more important than that: character and intelligence. This is no pretty little doll you're talking about, believe me. I strongly suspect that most people forget she
isn't
beautiful when they spend much time in her company … and that's going to be as true when she's an old woman as it is right now.”

“Really?” Something in Merlin's voice told Cayleb he was being completely candid, and the king let down his own guard, accordingly. “Is that really true, Merlin? You're not just trying to make me feel better about this?”

“It's true, Cayleb. In fact, from what I've seen of Sharleyan, she's almost certainly the best possible match you could make. Oh, I think Rayjhis is probably right when he says there's no
need
for you to marry her to pull Chisholm into alliance with Charis. The truth of the matter is that neither of you has anywhere else to go, and I'm sure the logic of that will be just as compelling to Sharleyan and her councilors as it is to you and Rayjhis.

“Where I think he's wrong is in his argument that you shouldn't hurry to commit yourself because your … marital availability, let's say, is such a valuable diplomatic card. That might be true in the normal course of politics, but in this case, and completely ignoring the fact that you need to produce an heir of your own as quickly as possible, who would you marry? Hektor's daughter Irys? She'd make a formidable Queen of Charis, and she's probably as smart as Sharleyan, but there's no way you'd be able to keep the poison out of your wine cup eventually. So, what about Nahrmahn's older daughter, Princess Mahrya? She's smart, too, although not as smart as Sharleyan or Irys, but she's also extremely attached to her father. If he winds up getting a head or so shorter, she's not going to forgive you for that. And, frankly, I don't think you're going to need a dynastic marriage to keep Emerald in line after the conquest.”

“‘After the conquest,'” Cayleb repeated. “I like the sound of that, even if I do suspect that everyone's showing just a little too much blithe confidence in our ability to hammer Nahrmahn anytime we feel like it. But getting back to Sharleyan—?”

“I'm simply saying you need to realize that this young woman has an enormous amount to offer you if you're smart enough to make her your
partner
, not just your wife. From the handful of things your father ever said to me about your mother, I think they probably had the sort of marriage
you
need to forge if she does say yes. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking of this as a simple transaction to formalize an alliance, Cayleb.
Listen
to this woman. Despite her birth, no one handed her
her
throne, and from all I can see, no one expected her to keep it, either. But she's still here, and the men who thought they could control her or usurp her throne aren't. She's a formidable force in her own right, even if the Group of Four has made the mistake of taking her and her entire kingdom far too lightly, and I think your enemies will find the two of you together will be a far more dangerous combination than both of you would be separately.”

“That's exactly what I'm hoping for,” Cayleb said quietly.

“Well, I can't say for certain, obviously, but if I were an odds-maker, I'd say the odds are good that she's going to accept. It makes so much sense in so many ways, and it does, indeed, answer the question of whether or not Charis and Chisholm will both be seriously committed to the alliance between them.”

“And to squashing the sand maggot that
lies
between us.” Cayleb's voice was considerably harsher than it had been. “I want that, too, Merlin. I want it so badly I can
taste
it.”

“More than you want Emerald?” Merlin challenged in a neutral tone, and Cayleb barked a laugh.

“I want Emerald, all right. For a lot of reasons. I haven't forgotten who helped Kahlvyn hire the assassins who tried to kill me. And, looking at it logically, Emerald is far more valuable to us … and a far more dangerous jumping-off point for future attacks
on
us. Not to mention the fact that Emerald, unlike Corisande, falls very naturally and neatly into our sphere of trade and development. But, from everything you've said, everything Bynzhamyn's spies have told us, Hektor's always been the moving force against us.”

“I wouldn't go quite
that
far,” Merlin said. “I'll admit he's a far more cold-blooded and ambitious sort than Nahrmahn is, though. He's an odd sort of fellow in a lot of ways, actually. At home, he's what you might think of as a benign tyrant; he won't suffer any challenge to his authority, and he's not at all averse to making that point … firmly, but he gives his people genuinely good government. Don't make the mistake of thinking that he's not truly popular with his own people, either, Cayleb. But when it comes to foreign policy, he's a totally different man, one who's driven by ambition and sees absolutely no reason to worry about little things like morality.

“To be honest, I think a lot of
Nahrmahn's
hostility towards Charis has always been due to the fact that he's a student of history. He knows Charis has been steadily expanding in his direction for centuries, and he doesn't want to be one more swallowed-up territory. But don't ever underestimate that man. I don't think he's as naturally cold-blooded as Hektor, and his ‘ambitions' have always been more modest and pragmatic—and, probably, more defensive, in a lot of ways—than Hektor's. But he's capable of being as ruthlessly cold-blooded as they come, whether it's natural for him or not, and he's also a much, much more intelligent man than most people—including your father, I think—have ever given him credit for. In fact, I think in many ways, he's been gaming and manipulating Hektor from the outset. I told you about that conversation he had with Pine Hollow about his post-war territorial ambitions. That was as clear—and accurate—an analysis of the Group of Four's actual objectives as I've ever heard. That man knew
exactly
what he was doing, and the fact that he didn't
want
to be doing it—or not, at least, with Hektor in charge—didn't keep him from playing every angle he could find.”