Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles (48 page)

But, too… he had never understood until he had seen the Holy Father misconstruing a Line… there had been the gardeners’ work, patient over centuries, and the servants’ work, and all the people who had laid loving hands on the earth and the walls of the Zeide…

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles all of them had gone on establishing those Lines by their simple acts, daily repeated, and strong as any wizard’s ward.

Were not Masons common Men? And did not they work magic?

And might not gardeners?

He had come here to Rule, and to Defend a land against harm, and within its limits as within this garden, he realized himself defended by all these living hands, all these servants, this people, these guards. And when he wished it safe, strength underlay it as dry, deserted Ynefel had had none of that within it at all but the mice, the pigeons, and Owl. He had not expected to
be
defended, but he was. He breathed it in, he felt it under his feet and around him and he sat down on the stone bench, the Unfolding was that strong. To disguise his confusion he bent and tossed in a pebble from the side of the pond. The fish, chilled as Uwen said, scarcely moved, but the ripples went out. Under the gray-shining surface, even through winter ice, the fish would live and wait, enduring through the death that was around them.

Crissand, he thought. Crissand.
Crissand
.

He will come here, he thought for no reason. Not today, perhaps, but he will come in his own time. He must. He is mine, as no one, even Uwen, even Cefwyn, has ever been… as this place is mine, and all who have their lives here.

The wind, meanwhile, was cold, and riffled the surface of the pond, blew at their cloaks and chilled to the bone.

A wisp of something flew on the wind. It was ash from the kitchen fire, he thought at first as he looked up. But he saw another, and Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles another.

“Snow,” Syllan remarked, looking up at the gray sky. “Here’s snow, m’lord.”

He looked up, too, and saw the snow fly across the dark evergreens.

He saw one snowflake land on his sleeve, and marveled at it, how delicate it was.

Delicate and beautiful, and many, many of them would turn all the land white. He caught them on his glove, jewels of differing structure, and it Unfolded to him that the shapes were numberless and nameless. They melted to nothing, but more kept falling.

He was aware almost at the same instant of a pitching wagon, and a trace of snow across the backs of oxen, and it was gone like a wisp of a thought, with a surly unpleasantness.

Master Emuin, in great discomfort, and at long last, was making an urgent effort to reach Henas’amef and wished him to know it.

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles
CHAPTER 5

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Wisps of white flew on the wind, past windows gone cold and lifeless—two days of spitting snow and bitter wind had done no more than frost the edges of the slates, and the few remaining pigeons walked, disconsolate, on the adjacent roof.

Amazing how a presence never frequent could be so missed in a man’s life or how eerie the lack of pigeons could seem. Perhaps the loss and the omen felt more grievous since the weather had set in cold and gray as it had. But with nothing but that loss outside, Cefwyn avoided looking out the windows, while his restless pacing delivered him to their vicinity every time he set himself on his feet.

He will be at Assurnbrook, Cefwyn had thought on one morning, and on this one, he should be arriving in Henas’amef today, bag and baggage and master Emuin. He’ll be safe now and so will Emuin.

Gods save us all.

“Your Majesty.” Idrys, black shadow that he was, had been absent with some business at the door—servants came and went—or had gone out for a time; Cefwyn had no idea which. Now the Lord Commander intruded, grim and businesslike. “His Grace of Murandys with a petition.”

“Outside?” He almost welcomed distraction.

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles

“In the hall downstairs, whence he hopes to be summoned to your presence, he, with Ryssand’s son, bearing a petition.“

He had rather most men in the kingdom than Murandys, and Murandys before Brugan, Ryssand’s arrant ox of a son. But today even that distraction tempted him. “Regarding?”

Idrys’ eyes darted to a stray page who had ventured into this, the gold room, which had the map tables, and in which the pages were never permitted.

“Out!” Cefwyn said, and the page darted for the door, turned, bowed.

“But Her Grace sent a message,”’ the page blurted out, and bowed again, and ducked about, ready to flee.

“Stay! Give it me!”

“Your Majesty!” the page said, white-faced, and offered the rolled, sealed paper to his hand. Relieved of it, the boy fled, and sped left and right around a priceless orrery.

“Damned boys,” Cefwyn said then. “
That
is a new one. From Panys. They rattle about in this great place and bounce off the walls and furnishings.”

“The consequences of majesty,” Idrys muttered. “Likewise this petition in the downstairs hall.”

“Regarding?” It occurred to him they had just been at that point, before Ninévrisë’s messenger had come to him (a messenger, because neither the consort-to-be nor the lord of Murandys could approach the king uninvited, but a towheaded child could.) He felt constrained, trapped, surrounded. “Sulriggan can’t be here yet. So, Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles pray, what have we? Murandys and his damned salt fish? A petition from young Brugan to be first across the bridges come spring?”

“Murandys on behalf of others, and would it were so pleasant as that.” Idrys’ face was glum. “I have not gotten a copy of this document, which was composed in close secret, I suspect, in the Quinaltine, by elements aside from the Holy Father, notably Ryssand’s priest, and Romynd of Murandys. I pray you, my lord king, not to sign that document nor invite Murandys himself today.

Ask only for the document. What little I do know suggests traps in it. Numerous ones. And priests are behind it.”

When Idrys said so in that tone of voice, it was time to break out the battle gear. “Aiming at what?”

“Ultimately? Your Majesty’s endorsement of the Quinalt over all religious orders.”

“They dare.”

“Not yet, but will dare. One clause, if you please, regards revenues.

The
regularisation
of the Crown’s annual gift to a set sum.”

“Two pence if they press me!”

“More. They wish a Quinalt presence assured
in Her Grace’s
provinces.”

“Kingdom!”

“This is the wording, as best I know. It has a clause…” Idrys hesitated. And that meant it was very objectionable. “… accepting Her Grace as a prince within the Quinalt domain.”

“Sovereign ruler.” They had battled out that phrase in treaty. And now did this petition deny it? “Damn them!”

Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles

“The Holy Father, lately trembling in disfavor, has stayed behind in the Quinaltine and let only a cat’s-paw bring this infamous document. I’m sure His Holiness would wish Your Majesty at least to notice his brave act of loyalty.”

“Oh, aye! Whose lunacy is this?”

“The blunt fact is, His Holiness cannot rein in his priests and I think if he dared write Your Majesty a plea for help, he would. His acceptance of Your Majesty’s terms has weakened his voice where it regards certain elements. That is serious for peace within the Quinaltine.”

“Six days,” Cefwyn said. “Six days, and I am wed and then heads will be in jeopardy, gods blast Murandys and Ryssand!”

“I fear the Holy Father has the orthodoxy sniffing round his money chests, his private library, and his closets. The danger to him is real, Your Majesty. Ryssand has suborned his private priests, and joined those who do not favor the Patriarch. This petition has perched at your door with an importune, pious lord, aching for his sins, concerned for the realm’s descent into wizardous influences, suspicious of the victory at Lewenbrook, and above all Her Grace’s Bryalt priest, if Your Highness wishes to know what’s set the fox into the henyard in the Quinalt. The orthodoxy inside the Quinalt is counting the days, knows your disposition toward them, and they will grasp at any straw. I have not been able to secure a copy of this document; all I have is rumor. But it may even be a petition for a Convocation of the Council. I believe a threat is mounting against the Holy Father, aided by Ryssand and Murandys. In this, gods Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles attend,
Sulriggan
may be Your Majesty’s ally, if weather doesn’t preclude his getting here; he may be a defense to the Patriarch. In the meanwhile I wish to have a look at this petition before Your Majesty contemplates an audience for its bearers and certainly before Your Majesty formally receives it.”

In former days, in his dissolute princehood, he would call for wine and women of the enemy’s ambitious kinship… or their hire. He would sink himself in an unavailability trembling toward an absolute incapacity to do what his besiegers wished, while abed with their precious, perfumed influences… leading them on with such hope, and never performance.

“Sober modesty has many disadvantages,” he remarked to Idrys, who alone of all men but Annas would know precisely what he meant. “So does negotiating with celibate
priests
.”

“Call Luriel to court. That news will discommode her uncle, and distract him. Her presence, even more so. And her acceptance by Your Majesty would certainly distract him.”

Imply a liaison or feign one, on the very eve of his wedding?

Torment Murandys between the hope of influence and the fear of disgrace? Redeem the slight to Luriel, restore her value to her uncle?

He drew a long breath and asked himself whether Ninévrisë would possibly, remotely condone it.

But no, his bride was wise and she was tolerant and she was even canny enough she might agree in complete understanding and for the welfare of her kingdom; but he could not subject her to Guelen scorn, he could not have her pride assaulted by whispers and he Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles could not enter Elwynor in the spring with her people resenting the slight thus done their Lady Regent. Every hint of scandal would come back in bloodshed, Guelen and Elwynim alike. Luriel’s ability to place her uncle in untenable positions had been her delight and his in times past; he was very sure Murandys had not brought that hellion to halter, disgraced as she had made herself. But she and he had had their falling-out, and he could not use her in the old way.

Tempting, though, the very thought of Murandys’ agonized hope…

and consternation.

“I cannot be the wastrel prince any longer.” A deep sigh, and a scowl. “I cannot be Efanor and sink myself in holiness, either.”

“Then you must be the king,” Idrys said with brutal truth.

“That I must.”

“Then make them love you or make them fear you. If you are king, you cannot go by halves of it.”

“Love!”

“Unlikely as it might be.”

“They
love
their own advantage, master crow.”

“And love their wives and sons and daughters, love their comforts, their—”

“Their horses, their hounds and hawks and mistresses, but I can hardly be a horse or a hound, can I, master crow?”

“Nor hawk, nor mistress to Ryssand or these zealots. No more can His Holiness. To have these zealots in the ascendant would be as much a calamity for His Holiness as for you. But point it out to him Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles and you may have his assistance with Corswyndam now that the ledge above his steps is less trafficked. You have accommodated him. Now charge him the fee.”

He laughed, not a pleasant laugh, but pained and boding ill for Ryssand. And thanked the gods Idrys still confronted him when he needed a contrary, disagreeable voice.

“Tristen having left,” Cefwyn said. “Who would have thought it would make such a silence in the town?”

“Why, no gossip, no rumors, no whisper,” Idrys said, hands tucked comfortably behind him as the gray sunlight fell coldly on them both. “The town is still amazed to silence, considering his departure.”

“Would it had been Murandys.”

“The old dog’s whelp hunts no better than the sire, my lord king, or I might suggest a horse might startle this very afternoon with fatal result.”

A fortunate accident. But young Brugan would then succeed Corswyndam to the duchy of Ryssand, and Brugan was a greedy fool.

Maybe, again, and on the other hand, a fool was better, to rule troublesome Ryssand.

He pondered all its advantages, and pondered, too, the folly of a weak king.

“I am not yet my grandfather,” he said with some resolve. And added, in brutal honesty. “And the son being worse than Corswyndam, a young and intemperate fool as well as ambitious, he Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles saves my virtue. I wouldn’t stick at removing the father, if it weren’t for needing Corswyndam’s experience at the river next spring. Brugan would have his contingent slaughtered to a man in the first hour. Gods,
gods
! I fear fools!”

“So will you send for Luriel?”

Idrys’ jokes were frequently grim. And provoked him to short, brittle laughter. “Oh, aye. With trumpets.”

“My lord king has a vast population of fools to draw on. ”

“She is less a fool than her uncle. She was young, she was too confident, too ambitious by half. She will not be queen. But she will not lack for suitors, or for power.
Yes
, send for her. By royal command. I
warned
Murandys, and now he has the result of it.”

“Shall I go down and ask him for the petition, saying I will send it to the clerks to read? That might take a number of days.”

“No! Say I am taken with headache and will retire. I have given no orders, nor permitted my chamberlain nor any officer to accept anything in my name.”

“That will serve for today. There is tomorrow. And I am curious about the content.”

“Tomorrow I see my tailor. I must see my tailor. I find the coat too snug. It’s a calamity. And the day after… I’ll think of it tomorrow.