Dragonfly (2 page)

Happier with himself, he slung the grooming equipment into a bucket, gave Leap a final stroke on the nose, and headed back to his rooms. As he entered the dark archway leading into the keep, he was intercepted by one of his father's servants.

"Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence in the council chamber immediately," intoned the elderly man with great self-importance.

Ramil sniffed at his sweaty hunting clothes, muddy brown breeches, and leather jerkin.

"Not like this, surely?"

"Immediately, Your Highness; those were his very words."

With a mild curse, Ramil retraced his steps, crossed the courtyard separating the keep from the feasting hall and entered a long, low building to the right of the grand entrance. His feet echoed in the cloister, disturbing the scribes at their desks in the administrative heart of the kingdom. Seeing who was passing, they all stood and bowed. So used to this treatment, Ramil did not notice them bend, no more than he questioned the breeze through long grass.

11

King Lagan ac Burinholt was sitting at the head of the table in the White Stone Council Chamber when his son clattered into the room. And he was not alone. Ramil saw at once that most of his ministers and three foreigners were with him. King Lagan frowned when he noticed the state of his offspring, covered in mud and distinctly windblown, wearing clothes that little distinguished him from the stable boys. A well-built man with brown hair silvering at the temples, Lagan always appeared in simple but impressive robes when meeting foreign dignitaries. He did not want them to forget that Gerfal, with its riches of mines and forests, was amongst the most prosperous of the known nations. Today's robes of green velvet were edged with gold. Underneath he wore a loose fitting black tunic and completed the ensemble with a circlet of gold in the shape of intertwining branches.

Ramil did not need to be told that the servant had been overly eager to hurry him into the royal presence. A stop at the palace baths would have been advisable. But, a prince to the core, he decided it was best to pretend nothing was the matter.

"Father, I came as soon as your message reached me," he said, going down onto one knee on the white paved floor.

"So we can see," the King said dryly. "Ambassadors, may I present His Royal Highness, Ramil ac Burinholt." Ramil bowed to the three ladies at his father's right hand, all from the Blue Crescent Islands from the look of their elaborate embroidered robes, veils and

12

white-painted faces. They stood in unison and folded in the low bow due to royalty, even mud-stained young princes.

"Ambassadors, your presence does our court great honor," Ramil acknowledged them, wondering secretly what on earth had brought these envoys from the other end of the known world. The Islands lay far to the west, a long sea voyage around the lands of the Spearthrower's empire. A dangerous journey not to be undertaken lightly, thanks to the depredations of the warlord's imperial Pirate Fleet.

The King rose, giving the signal for all to do likewise.

"Ladies, now you have seen my son, let us reconvene this time tomorrow, giving you a chance to recover from your arduous voyage."

The ambassadors bowed again, this time a shade lower as fitting for a monarch.

"Ramil, come with me." Lagan beckoned his son to follow him into the retiring room behind the king's dais.

Perplexed, Ramil trailed after his father. Lagan dismissed the servants, threw a log on the fire, and sat down in an armchair with a grunt of contentment. Compared to the White Stone Chamber, it was a comfortable room, much like an old slipper after the pinch of formal footwear. Ramil felt more at ease in his muddy clothes and slumped in his favorite chair.

"Wine? Kava?" Lagan offered his son a drink from a tray set ready on a low table. Ramil accepted a cup of the dark, bitter kava that had been his mother's preference.

13

"Sorry about that," Ramil said awkwardly, gesturing to himself and then into the hall. "The messenger made it sound as if I had to come at once."

"A wise king never hurries without knowing to what he goes," said Lagan, quoting from the
Book of Monarchs,
one of Ramil's least favorite texts from his days in the schoolroom.

"Yes, but the wise son jumps when his father whistles," Ramil countered.

Lagan laughed. "How true. Never mind all that now: I have something very serious to discuss with you."

"Would it have to do with the ambassadors, by any chance?"

Lagan nodded and sipped his wine. "You won't have failed to notice that Holt has been regarding us with less than friendly eyes of late."

Ramil nodded. The coast had been raided by so-called pirates--really privateers working for the warlord of Holt, Fergox Spearthrower. There had been several skirmishes along the border between Gerfalian troops and men from Holt's latest conquest, Brigard. War had not yet been declared but it was already being fought.

"The Blue Crescent Islands have also had their fair share of attention from the warlord. In our different ways, we represent the next logical conquests for Holt."

"But that'll never happen," Ramil objected. "Gerfalians will never let Spearthrower invade. We'll fight his armies street by street, field by field--"

Lagan held up his hand. "I know, Ram, I know. But I also know that the Brigardians had a brave army, as

14

well equipped and trained as ours. They did not give in easily, but yet they fell."

"They were starved into submission. Fergox cut them off by sea--that's what broke them."

Lagan sipped his wine. "I'm glad to see you've been paying attention at council. I will never again say that your glazed look is because you are daydreaming. But you are right. Fergox exerts his power by both land and sea. We might be able to match him with our armies, but we will never be the equal of the Pirate Fleet. That's why we need an alliance with the Blue Crescent."

Ramil nodded. It made perfect sense. The Crescent navy was famed

throughout the known world for its strength as a fighting force. Used mainly to defend the waters of the Sapphire Ocean, the four Crown Princesses could call on at least a thousand ships with highly skilled crews who also trained as land-based fighters. These marines were a remarkably versatile force, even more surprising in Ramil's view because half of them were female. Women did not train for combat in Gerfal. But the Islands were a long way away and though Gerfal and the Blue Crescent were not enemies, neither were they exactly friends. Their cultures were worlds apart.

"So how are we going to make this alliance? I can see we will benefit from their navy. What do they get from us?"

"Initially, raw materials and promise of military support in the event they are attacked. We do not know

15

which country Fergox is going to strike first, but we both have an interest in seeing the other survive. And there's something else too."

"Oh?" Ramil was feeling tired after his long morning of riding. He yawned.

For all the threats to Gerfal, his father appeared to be on top of everything.

He had little to do but approve the sound preparations for their defense.

"What else?"

"A royal alliance."

"What?"

"In short, you."

All tiredness vanished. "No! I'm not marrying one of their matriarchs. I don't want a white-painted she-witch as a wife."

Lagan frowned. He had expected his son to react like this, which was why he was holding this meeting in private. Prejudice against the strange people of the Blue Crescent ran deep in Gerfal--indeed the King was not too keen on them himself.

"Not a matriarch. The match is to be with one of the Crown Princesses."

"But that's no better," thundered Ramil. "She could be anyone--the most recent one was dragged from the gutter if the stories are to be believed."

Lagan sucked his teeth, waiting for his son to finish his outburst.

"There's no royal bloodline--just a series of nobodies dressed up in stupid costumes! Heaven's sake, Father, they prize poetry and paper-folding over swordsmanship. I doubt a native of the Blue Crescent Islands has

16

ever sat on a horse. They're all for boats and canals, not roads and carriages like a civilized country!"

"You're being ridiculous, Ramil. The waterways of Rama are among the wonders of the world."

Ramil was annoyed with himself, recognizing he'd gone completely off the point with his sweeping attack on Crescent culture.

"Look, Father, put yourself in my shoes. You know as well as I do that marriage to one of them would be a living death. They are so formal they have sixty things to do before and after belching. God knows what you have to do before kissing a Crown Princess!" Ramil shuddered at the thought.

"Don't do this."

"We have no choice. It is the only way our two countries can be brought to trust each other--we need the Blue Crescent if there's to be a throne for you to inherit."

Ramil tried a different tack. "I thought the Crown Princesses didn't marry."

"This one does."

"Which one? They're all near ninety, aren't they?"

"You exaggerate, Ramil."

"So I'm to marry one of four but I'm to have no say in the choice, not even to say which I'd prefer?"

"Correct. This is a marriage of state, not a farm boy picking a milkmaid at a barn dance."

Ramil bunched his fists. "I'm not going to do it, Father."

"You will do it for Gerfal. You will do it to show that you take your responsibilities seriously."

17

Ramil stood up abruptly, with half a mind to storm out. "You can talk. You always said you married Mother for love."

Lagan threw another log on the fire. "I married selfishly. I weakened Gerfal by choosing your mother."

"She was a princess--"

"Of a people that counted for very little here in the north. If I hadn't met her at the Great Horse Fair, I would've been married to Fergox's sister, did you know that?"

Ramil shook his head.

"I ducked out of the match, I admit. Junis was not the woman of my dreams. I knew my father was planning the wedding so I took the decision out of his hands and married in a ceremony in the desert before he could stop me."

Ramil suddenly understood. "So is this why you have not told me any of this before? You were afraid I'd bolt and hitch up to the first likely looking woman?"

"Yes. You are very much like me, Ramil. I was afraid you'd make the same mistake."

"But your marriage to Mother was not a mistake. You were happy--you had me and Briony--"

"We were happy, yes, but Gerfal was not. Think what might have been if I had allied us to Fergox by marriage: we wouldn't now be fearing for our future. But if you do your duty, you give Gerfal a good chance of surviving free of the warlord. Indeed, even better: you stand to expand our own power westwards--we could see Burinholts on two thrones."

18

Ramil seethed with anger--he felt like a sheep herded into the shearing shed, about to lose the comfortable fleece of dreams and pleasures that had so far made up his life. "But you forget the elections they've got there."

Lagan waved his hand airily. "Practices can change. Those elections are open to abuse and have been manipulated by Fergox. Why do you think an insignificant girl was chosen as the new Crown Princess? He's bribed some of the priesthood--he's weakening the rulers. When the Crescent Islanders realize this, they will want to put a stop to it, drag the Islands away from the vagaries of elections into the modern age of strong hereditary leaders. To men."

Ramil considered his father's words carefully before replying. "So what you are really asking me to do is to marry this crone to cement an alliance while all along we're planning to take over?"

"Not a crone. I have already said we will only accept a woman of child-bearing years. And yes, we can offer the Crescent Islands strong leadership when the time is ripe."

"Can I refuse?"

"If you refuse, I will open negotiations with Fergox for a suitable match for you. I understand his sister is still unwed. The Inkar Yellowtooth will no doubt accept a fresh young man like you in her bed."

"You are joking!"

"Sadly, I am not. I wish to spare my people a war we cannot win. Without the Blue Crescent, the only future

19

is as a vassal state of Fergox. He would ask just such a sacrifice of us--a pledge of our loyalty."

Ramil was overwhelmed by a desire to start the day again; go back to the forest but this time forget to come home.

"So I have no choice?"

"No, I'm sorry, but you don't."

"The wedding--when, where?" Ramil snapped.

"The details are yet to be decided. Go and take a bath."

Lagan dismissed his son with a sigh. Ramil stalked out with his shoulders hunched. It grieved the King to know that he had just shattered his relationship with his only son. He remembered exactly what it had felt like to have his father behave as king rather than loving parent. His father had never treated him the same after his marriage to Ramil's mother, and his beloved wife had barely been received at court until the old king died. He feared Ramil would now hold a similar grudge against him.

Once the Prince had gone, the King rang a bell. The chief of his guard came in.

"See that Prince Ramil does not leave the castle until further notice," ordered Lagan. "Make sure he does not visit the stables on any pretext."

If the guard thought the order strange, he did not say. He bowed and left quickly to organize a twenty-four hour close watch on the young heir to the throne.

20

ashi was the last to arrive at the Hall of the Floating Lily, the seat of government in the four isles and one of her favorite places in the palace. The roof opened out from a central dome in the shape of an inverted water lily, petals becoming cream-colored pillars turning blush-pink where they joined the mosaic floor. The patterns on the ground reflected the rich culture of the Blue Crescent: the ever-present motif of the water lily, perfect beauty floating on the water like the Islands themselves in the Sapphire Sea; the dragon of eternity chasing its tail; the leaping dolphin, legendary friend of the first Mother; the dragonfly, the herald of the Great Goddess herself, catching fire with a fragment of her glory.