Heroes' Reward (27 page)

The Commissioner
was the first to leave, the Premier Pair following. Then Firen strode off.

The rest of us
couldn’t imitate their aplomb. My back was too itchy to leave it completely
bare to having something thrown at it. We left the table with a ludicrous
sideways sort of scamper.

Once we were far
enough away to feel less vulnerable, Taro and I ran back to the camp. We needed
to talk to Aryne.

Her tent was, as
expected, surrounded by four sentries, one on each side. “The danger is over,”
Taro said to the sentry guarding the entrance. “You can go now.”

The man didn’t
move. “The Commissioner’s in there with her,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be
disturbed.”

Damn it, he’d
gotten to her first. Not that I wanted to keep him away from Aryne. I had just
wanted to be the one to tell her what had happened, so we could get right to the
part of helping her leave.

“Or overheard,”
the sentry added sharply.

“I can’t
actually hear them well enough to understand what they’re saying,” I said, and
that was true.

“Than it won’t
be a problem for you to keep a greater distance.”

Fine. Do your job
properly. What did I care? We moved a few paces away.

The Commissioner
wasn’t there long. As he left the tent he looked at us with a faint expression
of exasperation, but he didn’t say anything to us as he passed.

We promptly
ducked into the tent, where we found Aryne and Druce sitting on the floor,
looking dejected.

“What did he
tell you?” Taro demanded.

“That I have to
compete for the throne with the code,” Aryne answered in a flat tone.

“Did he tell you
you’ll probably be executed if you lose?”

“Yes.”

Well, the
Commissioner didn’t seem the sort to slide over the harsh details, so I
shouldn’t have been surprised.

I sat beside her
and whispered, “I think you should leave. It won’t be hard. I’ll make you
unseeable.”

She looked
appalled. “You’d have me be a coward?”

She didn’t let
her obvious surprise and her dislike for the idea raise the pitch and volume of
her voice. Good girl. “This is too much to ask of you.”

“You want to let
the crazy woman have the crown?”

“We’ll think of
another way.”

“What other way?
Seems to me that everything’s been tried.”

It seemed so to
me, as well, but that wasn’t the point. “You need to leave.”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere you
want. It’s not as though everyone will recognize you on sight.”

“They’ll know
I’m a Shield.”

“Not if you pass
as a regular.”

“And then how
will I live? And Druce? What’s she supposed to do?”

“I don’t have a
plan right now, but anything is better than being executed.”

“And all the
people who died getting me here? You want me to throw their sacrifice away?”

“No, of course
not, I just – ”

“Do you think I
can’t do it?”

“Of course you
can.” Probably.

“Then why are
you changing the song all of a sudden?”

“Because it’s
right in front of us,” I admitted. “There’s no doubt it’s going to happen. I’m
worried.”

Druce said,
“Aryne is younger and stronger than Green. Smarter, too. Green might have more
experience with manipulating people, but that doesn’t have anything to do with
the code.”

It might. If
this was going to be a competition, there would be people judging it. They
would be Green’s people, unless the Commissioner could bend it otherwise. The
kind of influence each competitor had over the judges would be of enormous
significance.

I didn’t have a
chance to point that out.

“I’m doing it,”
Aryne announced firmly.

And that was the
end of that.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The next three
days weren’t spent just waiting for the code to begin. Suddenly, everyone was
involved in making sure Aryne was made as ready as possible. She was given the
best of our remaining food. No one in the area was allowed to speak or make any
other noise while she slept. Many took turns quizzing her, challenging her,
polishing her.

It wasn’t
anything different from what we’d been doing the whole trip, just more intense
and involving more people.

Which meant more
people knew more parts of the code than they ever had before, but I had the
feeling whoever won was going to be devising a new code, anyway.

We didn’t
completely let down our guard, of course. While I would have been surprised if
Green had actually attacked us – we’d shown our superiority in the clashes, I
believed – an attempt to assassinate Aryne would have been characteristic.
However, no such attempts were made.

On the fourth
day, the whole camp was up an hour before dawn, ready to escort Aryne to the
palace.

Well, most of
them. Some of them had taken off, unprepared to be seen among the Triple S’s
forces in case Aryne lost. We still had more people than Green, unless the
Erstwhile residents decided to take up arms against us, which they didn’t seem
prepared to do. As we walked through the city to the palace, the residents came
out, lining the streets. Many seemed tense, displaying more emotion than anyone
had when we’d come the first time, when they’d had no reason to believe we
wouldn’t be charging into every building and slaughtering everyone we found.

Sometimes I
really didn’t understand people.

Would they
interfere if Aryne lost and we had to get her out?

Would they
interfere with her if she won?

I wished I could
do this for Aryne. I lacked the knowledge, the skill, the endurance she had,
but I just felt like I should be doing it for her. She was too young to carry
such expectations.

Aryne looked
composed, but she’d spent most of her life having to convince people she wasn’t
afraid of anything. Druce, beside her, was wide-eyed with apprehension.
Finally. Someone normal.

She was keeping
herself under control, though, and that was all that mattered.

There were four
Imperial Guards waiting for us at the palace entrance. “Only four can enter with
the contender,” the oldest of them announced.

“That wasn’t the
agreement,” said Sato.

“There’s nothing
you can do about it.”

“Unless you plan
on attacking us right here, you can’t stop us.”

There were far
more of us. We could easily kill them if we didn’t like the way they looked at
us. We just strode in, Aryne, Druce, the Premier Pair, the Commissioner,
Browne, Murdoch, Taro and me, and twenty of our soldiers.

The Guards
scrambled to get ahead of us, but put forward no further resistance.

It was my first
opportunity to see the damage done to the interior of the palace. The floor and
the walls were cracked and buckled, and panes had fallen from many of the
windows.

Still, many in
our number commented on the luxury of the furnishings and art. I’d forgotten
that the average person never saw the inside of the palace. Or even the
outside. Most people couldn’t afford to even visit Erstwhile.

We were taken to
the court room, where nearly every spectator seat was filled. Some of the
spectators were familiar to me, and a few nodded to me when our eyes met, in
sharp contrast to the behaviour they had demonstrated the last time Taro and I
were in Erstwhile. Why the difference?

The throne was
empty, as was the chair beside it. Green was standing on the floor in the centre
of the room. I would wager that infuriated her. It would be perceived by
everyone as a reduction of status.

There were only
three people seated in the rows in which the members of the Council normally
sat. Two, I didn’t know, and one was Ogawa. Who despised Taro and I and
probably, by extension, Aryne. Ogawa was one person who would rule against us,
no matter what Aryne did.

Not that I
should have expected objective arbitrators.

Firen was also
standing on the floor, Natson beside him. “If Lady Aryne’s party would gather
there,” he said, directing us to stand on the floor immediately before where
the spectators sat. “If Lady Aryne would join us here.”

I didn’t like
Aryne getting so close to him.

Firen gestured
at the three abitrators. “This is Lady Ovan, Trader Levor Thax, and Shield Miho
Ogawa. They will assess the quality of the performance of the contenders.”

The thing was,
the original code didn’t require that any part of it be performed well. All
that really mattered was that the heir knew the code and could actually do, to
some extent, each task. This competition had demanded some adjustments.

I suddenly
wondered if the changes had rendered the whole thing illegal.

“This
competition is to determine whether Lady Green or Lady Aryne should ascend to
the throne,” Firen declared.

Ah, gods, was
there going to be a speech?

“Despite a
thorough search, we have been unable to find any documentation in which His
Imperial Majesty named any heir, and no credible witness has come forward to
relay any conversation in which His Imperial Majesty spoke of such matters.”

No credible
witness. Interesting choice of words. It suggested to me that someone had come
forward but had been dismissed. By Firen?

He had somehow
taken control of this whole matter and chosen to give Aryne a chance. Why?

Well, Aryne was
only eighteen. She had no experience in navigating the Imperial court, no
experience with politics or shaping law. He probably thought her uncivilised
and uneducated. He probably assumed that, if she were crowned, she would be
easily managed.

He was in for a
shock.

“We will all
bear witness to this competition, so that the truth will be properly passed on
to all people throughout the world and to the generations who will follow us.”

I found it
interesting, sometimes, how people threw the term
world
around. Half the
world had no idea what was going on in Erstwhile and wouldn’t care if they did.

“The competition
will be executed over the course of the next three days. If one contender
interferes with the other, they forfeit. The contenders are to be granted
access to any materials within the city, with exceptions you are both aware of
if you truly know the code. Failure to perform a task will result in forfeiting
the code. Once the triumphant party is declared, any attempt by the losing
party to harm or displace her will be considered treasonous and appropriate
consequences will be delivered.” He bowed to Aryne. “Lady Aryne, what is the
first task?” Aryne, clearly surprised, hesitated. “You claim to know the code.
Please demonstrate this is true.”

Aryne composed
herself and nodded. “The first task is to prepare soup.”

Aryne’s accent
was perfectly aristocratic, with that slight extra roll to the ‘r’s. It wasn’t
logical, but just that factor would go far in convincing many that she was much
more intelligent than had been assumed.

The act of
preparing soup symbolised the sovereign’s ability to provide sustenance to her
people in times of want. When I’d first heard that, I thought it was funny.
Then I wondered why I thought it was funny. Why shouldn’t a sovereign be able
to cook?

Still, had
Gifford cooked soup? Really? I just couldn’t imagine it.

As enormous as
the royal kitchen was, it couldn’t accommodate everyone. Firen chose ten
witnesses to accompany the rest of us to the long, hot room. Aryne and Green
picked their way through various meats, vegetables, and spices, choosing what
they needed and splitting off to work on separate tables.

Watching people
cook wasn’t diverting, even when the results were so important. It was interesting,
how one could feel bored and anxious at the same time.

Aryne could
cook. She’d been taught for this very reason. Her disadvantage was that she had
a hard time balancing the ingredients most commonly used in our part of the
world. Her palate had been defined by the diet common to Flatwell, a diet very
different from ours.

She just
couldn’t get things quite right.

Maybe the
arbitrators would have more sophisticated tastes than the average resident of
the northern continent.

Aryne looked
comfortable with what she was doing, neatly slicing vegetables, easily
sprinkling in pepper, managing the stove.

Unfortunately,
Aryne’s soup took considerably less time to prepare than the heavy creamy dish
Green was creating with strong spices and thick chunks of beef. This meant
Aryne had to alternate between leaving the soup on the stove to keep it hot and
taking it off the stove to prevent it from being overcooked. The elements of
the soup seemed to separate after a while of this.

I wondered if
Green had suspected this would be the case and had chosen a recipe that
demanded longer preparation just for this reason.

No. I kept
thinking Green was some unnatural genius, that she could predict every
possibility. She couldn’t. I was sure she had never imagined finding herself
performing the code in competition with another potential heir. Cooking soup.

I could predict
the winner of this task, though. The grimace of distaste from each judge after
sampling Aryne’s soup looked instantaneous and genuine. Their pleasure with
Green’s dish was obvious to everyone.

Firen didn’t
even pause before announcing, “Lady Green triumphs.”

Green didn’t
appear surprised. She’d probably been dead certain of her success.

Aryne didn’t
look disheartened by her loss. Good girl.

“Lady Green,”
said Firen. “If you would inform us of the next task.”

Hah. I’d wager
she didn’t like being challenged in that manner.

She didn’t
display any irritation, though. “Shoeing a horse.”

To demonstrate
knowledge of the care needed to protect an asset essential to the management of
the whole Empire, from farming to construction to travel to entertainment.

Firen nodded.
“Thank you, Lady Green. The contenders may go. You are expected at the Flying
Horse smithy.”

The contenders,
the arbitrators, the Commissioner, Browne, Murdoch, the Premier Pair, Taro and
I, and a bunch of Green’s people paraded through the city. On the way, we
joined by many of the soldiers who had been left behind outside the palace as
well as Imperial Guards.

Two poor horses
had been chosen for this test. I’d never shoed a horse but I’d been unfortunate
enough to witness an idiot drive a nail into the frog of a horse’s hoof. It had
been a horrible thing to see, to hear, and I’d never be able to get that event
out of my head.

Green was quick
to choose her horse and lead it to the other end of the structure.

There were a
variety of horse shoes already prepared and displayed on two tables. Different
sizes, different shapes, different weights. Aryne examined the horse that had
been left to her, running her hands over it, taking a look at the feet. “What
does this horse do?” she asked the farrier.

“Hauls stones
for building dikes,” the farrier answered.

Aryne nodded and
picked out a heavy shoe with a reinforced toe, putting it to one side of the
table. She took from pegs on the wall leather trousers, gauntlets, and an
apron, quickly donning them. She picked up a pair of pincers and leaned down to
pull up the horse’s left foreleg.

“That’s the
wrong shoe!” the farrier snapped out.

At first I
thought the farrier was addressing Aryne, but no, she was glaring at Green.

“This is a race
horse,” said Green.

“That shoe is
too small.”

“It’s perfectly
appropriate.”

And then the
farrier
yanked the shoe out of Green’s hand!
“You’re not putting this
shoe on that horse.”

Green looked
floored. It was funny.

Then she snapped
her fingers. “Arrest her,” she ordered.

“We are in the
middle of performing the code,” Firen said calmly.

“She is required
to provide me with what I demand.”

The farrier
clutched the shoe in a tight grip. “I’m not letting anyone destroy one of my
animals,” she told Firen. “She’s supposed to know what she’s doing.”

Good gods.
Another suicidal one.

Or one of those
people who valued animals more than their own lives.

Green didn’t
continue with her protest. She could have the woman executed later. She picked
up another shoe.

And the farrier
snatched that out of her hand, too. “Wrong.”

Aryne chose to
ignore the rest of that fiasco and continue with her own work. She removed the
original shoe and trimmed the hoof. As she tested the lay of her chosen shoe
against the hoof, I heard Green and the farrier arguing.