Fire and Sword (15 page)

There was a moment of silence then as even more commoners crowded into the room, all craning forward to get their own glimpse of the majesty they demanded from such state occasions. All the players were perfectly still, waiting for the next act.

Areava gently touched Olio’s hand and he stepped forward.

“Who comes b-b-before Areava Rosetheme, daughter of Usharna Rosetheme, queen of Kendra and so through it queen of Grenda Lear and all its realms?”

“It is Prince Sendarus, son of Marin, king of Aman,” Dejanus replied formally.

“What does P-p-prince Sendarus son of M-m-marin want of Queen Areava?”

“To submit to her will.”

Olio turned to his sister. “And in this m-m-matter, what is Queen Areava’s will?”

Areava stood, and the audience, seeing her full gown for the first time, let out a collective sigh. She let her gaze sweep over all the people in the room, settling finally on Prince Sendarus. She swallowed but dared not hesitate. “To take him to me, body and soul. For he is the most loyal and loving of all my subjects.”

The commoners erupted in an approving roar, cheering and clapping. Sendarus’ face broke into a smile of happiness and relief. At that moment Areava felt as if her own personal sun had appeared over her head, and her cold and dread evaporated as if they had never been.

I have done the right thing,
she knew with certainty.
I have done my duty according to my conscience and my heart.

As was the tradition in Kendra, the wedding ceremony itself was a small and private affair, attended only by Areava with Olio for her guardian, Sendarus with Marin for his, Primate Giros Northam and two witnesses—Harnan and Amemun.

Northam beamed at the couple, and looking a little like a
large,
overprotective vulture, delivered the marriage rites with stately precision and then joined their hands together. The prince kissed the queen’s palm, and with that became her husband, her consort, and her first subject above all others in the kingdom. For a long while the couple stared into each other’s eyes, the others holding back with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, as if they were overstaying their welcome.

Primate Northam coughed politely into his hands. “Your Majesty, your Highness, your people are waiting. They want a celebration.”

Areava nodded, still locked in Sendarus’ gaze. “Yes, of course. Lead the way.”

Northam went to the door, followed by Harnan and Amemun, then Olio and Marin. Areava and Sendarus stayed where they were. Olio returned to the couple, gently touched his sister’s arm, and whispered to them: “If we return to the throne room without you two, your p-p-people will lynch us.”

Dejanus stepped into the throne room, aware that all eyes were on him, if only for that moment. His huge chest swelled with arrogant pride.

“Her Majesty, Areava, queen of Grenda Lear, and his Highness, Sendarus, the royal consort,” he announced.

Applause filled the chamber as he moved aside to let the wedding party return. There were cheers for Northam, the two guardians, two witnesses, then wild cries of joy as the newly married couple made their first public appearance as queen and consort. Dejanus sensed everyone’s gaze settling on Areava, who looked like a goddess in her gown and with her crown of white flowers, and could not help feeling a little jealous. His chest deflated a little.

The constable watched their procession along the causeway with ironic amusement, knowing the last person in his office to perform as herald had been Kumul, and the occasion the wedding between Usharna and her beloved General, Elynd Chisal. At that time Dejanus had been fighting as a mercenary for the slavers, something unknown to any but Orkid Gravespear. And now here he was, respectable and honored. And powerful.

He looked around the crowd with a great deal of smugness. He noted the city mayor, Shant Tenor, and knew as constable he wielded more power. He saw Xella Povis, head of the merchant guild, and knew he was more powerful than she. He saw the heads of other guilds and dismissed them in his mind. He saw the clerics and magickers, and knew he held more power in his hands than any of them. He saw the chancellor and hurried on. Orkid was easily his match, but he was only one of a very few in the court. The queen, of course. Olio, perhaps, although he was hearing things about him that promised a way around him—or through him if need be. And Sendarus? He was a likable fellow, but weak, Dejanus suspected. The new consort would be no threat. And then the nobles of the Twenty Houses, the traditional source of power in the kingdom. He despised them as much as Areava and Orkid did; if anything, it was this that welded him and Orkid to each other, together with the terrible secret of their crime against Berayma.

As constable of the Royal Guard, he might be able to do something about those inbred pigs. They were parasites, and not worth the clothes they wore so ostentatiously. Dejanus smiled to himself. He needed a new challenge. And once the Twenty Houses had been tamed, there was no need for him to maintain an alliance with Orkid.

Duke Holo Amptra felt like a hollow man. He had learned to tolerate Usharna when she was queen. At first they had ensured she married within the Twenty Houses, but his fool brother—her second husband—had thrown away any control the nobles had over Usharna by siding with her enemies during the Slaver War. Usharna had married the General—the slavers’ greatest enemy—and those who thought like Holo believed it was the beginning of the end. But then a glimmer of hope. Berayma, her first-born and successor, had come to them voluntarily, had sought alliance and friendship among his father’s family and clan, and the Twenty Houses believed that Usharna would prove to be the exception, the only black mark, in the long line of rulers controlled by the nobility.

And then tragedy again. Usharna died, and soon after Berayma was murdered by the worm in the court, the half-commoner Prince Lynan, offspring of slaves. Now the kingdom was ruled by Holo’s niece, a woman who hated the Twenty Houses even more than her mother had. And on this day she might once and for all have broken the power of the Kendran nobility by marrying outside of Kendra itself.

He was an old man, and knew the misery of this world would not torment him for much longer, but he had wanted so much to leave the kingdom strong and united for his son Galen. He snorted. Galen himself did not seem to appreciate how much the kingdom had changed since the old days. It was hard to blame him for that, though, since he was born under Usharna, and would likely spend the rest of his life under the reign of another woman, his cousin Areava.

Holo watched Galen talking among the nobles of his own generation. They were all young, warrior-trained, and haughty. They only had thoughts of the coming war with Haxus, anxiously awaiting spring when they might prove themselves on the battlefield.
Don’t be too hard on them,
he told himself.
You were no different at their age.

Galen saw his father and joined him.

“You are so somber, father.”

“This is a somber day.”

“Not so somber, perhaps, as you feared. At least Areava has married another noble.”

“An Amanite.”

“A
noble
Amanite. A good man, too.”

“I have no doubt,” Holo said gruffly. “But I should not complain. This is your time now, not mine. In spring you will win your battle honors and return to Kendra in glory. I do not blame you for thinking of the future instead of the present.”

“We will return from battle with more than honor. We will have gained more power as well.”

“Eh?”

“I told you before that the time would come when Areava would learn to rely on us once more. The coming campaign gives us the perfect opportunity to find favor with our ruler. Who knows, we may even be able to win over her chancellor.”

Holo grimaced. “Nothing will ever convince Orkid Gravespear to view the Twenty Houses with anything but spite.”

“We may work on him through Sendarus. Win over the prince consort, and we may in time win over both the queen and the chancellor. But first we must prove our loyalty.”

Holo looked offended. “No one has ever doubted our loyalty to Kendra!”

“True, but many have doubted our loyalty to Usharna and her family. We must rectify that. What is a kingdom without a throne? And what is a throne without a monarch?” He smiled easily at his father. “And what is a monarch without nobles?”

Father Powl had left his position of honor among the invited guests soon after Areava and Sendarus’ entrance. He strolled among the common people who had made it to the throne room, listening to their excited babbling. They were so proud of their queen, and more than one was already making comparison between Areava and her mother.

The priest could not help feeling a sense of pride at the queen’s popularity. He had been her confessor for a long time and liked to think he had helped her mature into adulthood. Their relationship had been a formal one, but for all that he had learned intimate details about her life, and had a good idea about how her mind worked. He knew she was good at heart, strict with herself and others, disciplined, short-tempered, with few vices. True, her capacity for hatred had been unknown to him until Lynan had killed Berayma, and he was surprised how much her prejudice against her brother had fed that hatred. But he was certain that in her core she was a good woman of noble purpose.

He watched farmers and tanners, cooks and cleaners, carpenters and clothmakers all bustling among one another to get a glimpse of their beautiful monarch and her handsome consort. They liked the idea of her marrying outside of the Twenty Houses, just as they had been overjoyed when Usharna had married a commoner like them. It gave them the feeling that they, too, shared in some of the queen’s power, had some stake in the kingdom.

Father Powl was not so naive to think Areava did not realize the political advantage of courting the commoners, but he knew she also had a deep affection for and pride in them. Theirs was a happy union that not only predated her marriage to Sendarus but one that may ultimately prove more important for her reign.

He stopped his wandering, lost for a moment in his reflections. Power could came from the most unlikely source, but only those with the wisdom and perspicacity to seize it would profit by it. He studied his hands and wished he had endured a harder youth. There was something wrong in such soft palms, such uncallused fingers, holding the influence he knew he now possessed. He should have been raised in a logging camp or in a fishing village or on a farm; perhaps he would have been if his unknown parents had not left him as a swaddling babe at the door of a chapel of the Righteous God. But all his life he had been cloistered from such labor, protected from the toil and danger the common people endured to support the state. He was not feeling guilt, it was deeper than that. He felt undeserving.

Favored by circumstance, once patroned by the Primate himself, made Areava’s confessor, and now with the ear of the chancellor and holder of secrets that placed him near the middle of an intricate political web, he felt utterly undeserving.

Olio refused the wine a servant offered him.

That’s twice this afternoon. I must be doing all right.
His hands shook a little, and he would have done almost anything for a drink, but seeing his sister’s happiness made it easier for him.

Don’t make the effort for yourself. Make it for her.

People said things to him, and he said things in return, but only moments afterward he could not remember what words had been spoken. He hoped he had not promised half the kingdom to some supplicant from Lurisia or Hume. It seemed to him he was drifting through the throne room, walking on air. He wondered if the light-headedness was caused by his deprivation of alcohol or some side effect of the Key of Healing. He fingered the amulet. It rested cold against his skin. Cold and heavy.

At one point the burly King Marin put his arm around him and gave him a bear hug. “If your sister is now my daughter-in-law, does that make you my son-in-law?”

“As m—m—much as the idea appeals to me,” Olio replied gently, “I don’t think it works quite like that.”

“Ah, I think you’re right. Pity. You could have called me ‘father.’ ” Marin laughed suddenly, and Olio pretended to join him. Marin went off, looking for someone else to grin at.

I wonder if he’s had too much to drink?
Olio wondered. He suspected Marin never got drunk, and he felt a twinge of envy.

He saw Areava and Sendarus walking from group to group, thanking them for their wishes. They leaned against each other the whole time, holding hands, giving each other a kiss now and then, their eyes as bright as lamps. A feeling of relief washed through him.

Areava has him now to draw on for strength. My failures are diminished.

The thought made him feel edgy, as if he was giving in too easily to his own demons. Without thinking, he glanced around for the rest of his family; the realization that he and Areava were all that were left sent a ripple of nausea through his stomach.

No, there is still Lynan. Somewhere.

The nausea did not go away.

Afterward, Marin invited Orkid to his rooms. There, with the servants sent away, the two brothers and Amemun sat in deep comfortable chairs with some bottles of fine Storian wine on a small table between them. As soon as they had sat, Orkid and Amemun started talking about the new political situation now that Sendarus was married to the ruler of Grenda Lear. Marin sat silent, pretending to listen, content to gaze quietly at the face of his only brother, a man he had not seen for many, many years. When Orkid asked the king a question without receiving a reply, Amemun told Marin to stop being so maudlin.

“You haven’t lost Sendarus, your Majesty. And soon, if the union is blessed, you will have grandchildren to worry about.”

“I am not feeling maudlin, old friend,” Marin said seriously. He looked around the room. “I do not like this place.”

Orkid glanced up in surprise. “I must be used to it,” he said.

“It is not the palace, brother. It is who lives in and around it. All day I have been feeling the stares of a hundred Kendrans bore into my back. I have an itch I cannot reach right between my shoulder blades.” He leaned forward suddenly and grasped one of Orkid’s hands. “My son will be safe here?”