First Rider's Call (77 page)

In their isolation, they had almost become a law unto themselves, but through the strong leadership of Lord Coutre, they managed to retain loyalty to the crown. Singly, they were formidable. As a group, their support or lack thereof could make or break a monarch’s rule.

Arey, Bairdly, Coutre.

All three watched Zachary expectantly. Lord Coutre, bent and elderly, his face beaten by sun and sea, was nevertheless a commanding figure with his heavy white brows and unsettling scowl.

Laren knew about Lord Coutre’s ultimatum. Zachary must agree to marry his daughter, Lady Estora, or lose the support of the east. Though it made all the sense in the world that Zachary marry Estora, the coercion infuriated him, and he refused to give Lord Coutre the satisfaction of an answer.

They were doomed.

There was always the chance, Laren supposed, that the support of the other lord-governors would weigh in Zachary’s favor, but it was only a chance. The lord-governors were a fractious and self-interested lot at best.

Zachary obviously hoped D’Ivary’s appalling behavior would be enough to sway the others, but as appalling as his acts had been, it was hard to say whether or not the lord-governors would support or go against one of their own. They might try to force Zachary’s hand so that he’d have to make an unpopular decision without their backing.

How could Zachary afford to offend Lord Coutre at this time?

Laren thought she knew the answer. Someone else had his heart and he couldn’t bring himself to do what was best for his country and commit to marrying Lady Estora. This, despite the fact he had known all his life he would one day marry for political expediency, not for love.

Laren had her suspicions about who captivated him, and that was the most unsettling part of all.

She shifted her stance in the shadow of his chair. Sperren and Colin winged him at the head of the table. They looked just as unhappy as she felt.

“I have called you to this council meeting in regards to actions taken by Lord-Governor Hedric D’Ivary,” Zachary said. “You have been briefed on his breaches of king’s law and the charges I place against him. He used the power of his office against his very own people, subjects of Sacoridia.”

“Those border scum aren’t ‘subjects’,” Lord Oldbury retorted. “They refuse to acknowledge our laws and sovereignty.”

Zachary’s demeanor remained pleasant and calm. “They live within Sacoridia’s borders, and therefore they fall under my protection.” He paused, waiting for more disagreement, but amazingly, none came. “I wish to present to you the actions committed by Lord D’Ivary, personally or by his command, and you may judge him as you will.”

He then gazed pointedly at Lord Coutre. “I should hope you would judge Lord D’Ivary without bias, and not condemn him or free him of charges because of some personal ambition or favor you seek of me. This is too important a matter to trivialize with political schemes and goals.”

Lord Coutre’s scowl deepened.

“I shall not present the case on my own,” Zachary said.

Laren raised an eyebrow. Now what was he up to?

“My words,” he continued, “are inadequate to convey the suffering of border folk in D’Ivary Province. Therefore, I have brought some witnesses to speak before you.”

Sperren and Colin were clearly as surprised as she. When had Zachary arranged this? How? Why hadn’t he informed them?

On the king’s word, witnesses were ushered into the council chamber one at a time. Lynx came in and told of all he witnessed, swearing an oath it was true. Next, a captain of the Sacoridian militia spoke of finding mass graves filled with border folk. Two of his men dragged in a mercenary commander.

“It’s true,” the mercenary said. “Lord D’Ivary paid us to impersonate Sacoridian troops. Wanted to make it look bad for your king.”

Even some of D’Ivary’s own subjects came to speak. “Don’t like squatters on my land,” said a taciturn farmer, “but them squatters didn’t deserve what they got.”

Lord D’Ivary grew paler and paler as witness after witness filed in. The other lords questioned them as they wished.

Then border people themselves came in, telling all they had endured, of their flight from groundmite raids, of seeking refuge in D’Ivary Province where the former lady-governor would have provided them succor, only to find things had changed.

Several spoke of loved ones dead or missing, of women raped. One mother spoke of her twin daughters being borne away by mercenaries for their amusement. The girls were only eight.

Zachary’s expression did not change. He merely gazed upon his lord-governors, watching them with interest. Lord Coutre’s scowl crumbled. He was the father of three daughters, the youngest of whom was eight years old. He rose from his chair to comfort the weeping mother.

Laren, who had known about some of the atrocities, was rocked by these personal accounts, and now knew Zachary had been right not to bend to any of Coutre’s demands just to gain his support. The case deserved to be heard on its own terms, and to speak to the hearts of each provincial lord sitting in the chamber.

Zachary had surprised her, and everyone else, once again. He was as formidable and brilliant as his grandmother, Queen Isen, had been, and Laren should have known better than to doubt him.

The testimony of the witnesses was not only damning, but emotionally draining, and when the last left the chamber, a heavy pall fell over them all.

Presently Zachary said, “I welcome your debate.”

No one offered any. D’Ivary searched the faces of his peers for any sign of reprieve.

“Those—those people lied!”

“All of them?” Lord Adolind asked quietly. “The king’s soldiers, the mercenary, your own subjects?”

“You betrayed your trust to the subjects of Sacoridia,” Lady Bairdly said, “and to all of us.”

D’Ivary’s face drained of all color. “But I didn’t do all those things! I—”

“You caused or allowed them to happen,” young Lord Penburn said, disgust plain in his voice. “You allowed those things to happen, and you
participated.
”

“A terrible misuse of power and trust,” Lady Bairdly added.

D’Ivary’s voice quavered. “B-but . . . I can fix things. I’ll help them.”

“Too late for that,” Lord Adolind said.

He had welcomed the refugees into his lands, Laren knew, and well understood the hardships they faced on the borders. She had watched the disbelief on his face as he listened to the horrors the witnesses had fled from.

“Is there anyone here,” Zachary asked, “who doubts Lord D’Ivary’s guilt?”

Lord Oldbury seemed to struggle within himself, but did not voice dissent.

“Very well,” Zachary said.

“Please,” D’Ivary said, “please have mercy. I’ve a family.”

“Having a family did not prevent what you did to the refugees,” Lord Coutre said.

D’Ivary, his color ghastly, stared at the tabletop.

Zachary folded his hands before him. “Usually it is my decision as to how justice should be meted out. This time, however, I wish to defer that decision.”

Upon his word, one of the border folk was brought in. Laren recognized him. Lynx had brought him in that day to report the atrocities in D’Ivary Province.

“This is Durgan Atkins,” Zachary said. “He lost much due to Lord D’Ivary’s actions. I have asked him to confer with his people and come up with an appropriate punishment.”

D’Ivary suddenly lost control and sobbed. No one offered him their pity. No doubt he had thought his worst punishment would be some sort of comfortable confinement suited to his station, but instead he would face the enmity and revenge of the very people he had hurt.

Laren had to applaud Zachary. Certainly his lords would see the justice in the border folk deciding the punishment. By removing the burden from himself, Zachary did not have to make a decision the lord-governors could use against him at some later time.

“Your decision?” Zachary asked Atkins.

“We’ve talked long and hard. We’d like D’Ivary stripped of his lands, wealth, rank, and title. And we want him exiled.”

D’Ivary loosed a sigh of relief. There would be no execution, and banishment wasn’t always so bad.

“To where would you have him exiled?” Zachary asked.

Atkins turned and glared at D’Ivary. “To the northern border, with only the clothes on his back and a day’s rations. We’ll see to it he doesn’t sneak back south.”

“Done,” Zachary said.

D’Ivary let out a heart-rending cry, but soldiers entered to haul him away. Laren wanted to wilt in relief that the whole affair was over. Zachary had done well. Better than well, in her estimation. The lord-governors looked relieved themselves.

No major plays for power,
she thought. But it didn’t mean there wasn’t more to come.

“Shall we continue with business?” Zachary asked.

The resurgence of magic was discussed at length, Zachary alluding now and then to a conversation he and Laren had had with Karigan about events that took place down at the wall. Laren recalled how they met with her only after Destarion had given his leave. Karigan, though weak and easily fatigued, insisted they meet someplace other than the mending wing, of which she was heartily weary. The king recommended his sunshine-filled study, and Karigan made her painstaking way through castle corridors, batting away poor Ben’s assistance.

The account she gave them of conveying Mornhavon to the future naturally astonished them, and when she revealed she had no way of knowing how
far
he’d been taken, they set to planning immediately. Laren and Zachary did, anyway. Overcome by fatigue, Karigan had fallen asleep in her chair. When Laren rose to send for Ben, Zachary urged her to let the slumbering Rider be, and produced a throw to drape on Karigan’s lap. They then resumed their strategizing session with Karigan’s light snoring in the background.

In discussing with the lord-governors how the power of Blackveil had been thwarted, Zachary skirted the issue of the Green Riders’ use of magic. It would not do to release too much information about the special abilities of his Riders. Doing so would undermine his ability to seek information, and possibly endanger them. Few would trust them.

Instead of focusing on what had happened, he turned to preparations for the threat to come.

The meeting went on for some time, with no clear course of action in the offing. Zachary ended the meeting on a positive note, with the confirmation ceremony of young Hendry Penburn to the rank of lord-governor. The pomp and ritual seemed to quell any ill residue left over from the D’Ivary proceedings.

Finally, Zachary dismissed the lord-governors for a well-deserved feast. As they filed out, he asked Lord Coutre to hold back.

He said, “I thank you for judging D’Ivary on the merits of his case, and not basing your decision on whether or not I had agreed to some contract.”

The scowl emerged on Coutre’s face again. “Let us just say D’Ivary’s guilt spoke for itself. The ingrate deserves what he got. And don’t think I was doing
you
any favor.”

“Of course not,” Zachary said, his tone cool but respectful. “I am glad you are frank with me, my lord, for I shall always know where you stand.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Indeed.”

What was Zachary playing at now? Laren wondered in alarm. Angering Lord Coutre wasn’t going to prove anything.

Zachary removed some rolled documents from beneath his mantle of state. “I have here a contract of marriage to which I am tentatively agreeing, with some amendments, of course.”

Coutre was stunned, Laren was stunned, Sperren and Colin were stunned, and even the Weapons standing guard were stunned.

Coutre stared from Zachary to the documents, and back again, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes or ears. “You’re agreeing?”

“Tentatively.” Zachary tossed the documents onto the tabletop. “I require Lady Estora’s consent in the matter.”

“Oh, she’ll consent all right. We’re all—”

Zachary slapped the flat of his hand on the table and Coutre fell silent. “I know what you want, Lord Coutre, and I know that you think you know what Lady Estora wants. I’d like to find out for myself.”

Coutre blinked. “She’ll be willing. No doubt about it.”

“We shall see.” And to everyone in the room, Zachary said, “This matter is not to be spoken of beyond this moment, or beyond these walls, until the contract is finalized and sealed.”

Coutre and his aide left exultant and triumphant. Laren thought the old lord might do cartwheels of joy down the corridor. The image brought a smile to her face.

Zachary, by contrast, brooded. He did not look a man ready to rejoice over his future betrothal.

“There are, I suspect,” he said quietly, “dark and difficult times ahead. I must do what I can to strengthen my position, and lend my people a sense of stability, even if it does mean marrying.”

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