Magician (117 page)

“My men and Vandros’s are
positioned throughout the palace, while Kasumi’s Tsurani are
outside, at Lyam’s request. The eastern lords don’t like
it, but Lyam is Heir, and they cannot say no. With those who will
stand with us, we can seize the palace and hold it.

“With du Bas-Tyra hiding, and
Richard of Salador dead, the eastern lords have lost their
leadership. But there are enough of them on the island, with enough
of their ‘honor guards’ in and around the city, to turn
this island into a pretty battleground should they flee the palace
before a king is named. No, we’ll hold the palace. No
traitorous easterner will leave to plot treason with Black Guy. Each
one will bend a knee before whichever brother takes the crown.”

Pug was surprised by this. “You’ll
support Martin, then?”

Old Brucal’s voice became harsh,
though he kept it low. “No one will plunge my Kingdom into
civil war, magician. Not while I have a breath left to spend. Arutha
and I have spoken. Neither of us likes the choices, but we are clear
on our course. Should Martin be King, all will bow before him. Should
Lyam take the crown, Martin will swear fealty or not leave the palace
alive. Should the crown be broken, we hold this palace, and no lord
leaves until a congress has named one brother King, even if we’re
a year in that bloody damned hall. We’ve already picked up
several of Guy’s agents in the city. He’s here in
Rillanon, there’s no doubt. If even a handful of nobles can win
free of the palace before a congress is convened, we have civil war.”
He struck his fist into his open hand. “Damn these traditions.
As we speak, the priests walk toward the palace, each step bringing
them closer to the moment of choice. If only Lyam had acted sooner,
given us more time, or not acted at all. Or if we could have caged
Guy. If we could have spoken to Martin, but he’s vanished . .
.”

“I’ve spoken to Martin.”

Brucal’s eyes narrowed. “What
is his mood? What are his plans?”

“He’s a troubled man, as
well you might imagine. To have all this put upon him with scant time
to adjust. He has always known who his father was, and was resigned
to take the secret with him to the grave, I’ll wager, but now
he is suddenly thrust into the heart of the matter. I don’t
know what he will do. I don’t think he’ll know, until the
priests put the crown before him.”

Brucal stroked his chin. “That he
knew and tried not to use that knowledge for his own gain speaks well
of him. But there’s still no time.” He indicated the
group by the main door to the hall. “You’d best be back
to your wife. Keep your wits sharp, magician, for we may have need of
your arts before this day is through.”

They returned to the others, and Brucal
led Vandros and Kasumi inside, speaking with them in low tones.
Before Katala could speak, Laurie said, “What is afoot? When I
took Katala and Kasumi outside to a balcony overlooking the
courtyard, I saw Kasumi’s men everywhere. For a moment I
thought the Empire had won the war. I couldn’t get a thing from
him.”

Pug said, “Brucal knows they can
be trusted to follow Kasumi’s orders without question.”

Katala said, “What is this,
husband? Trouble?”

“There is little time to explain.
There may be more than one claimant to the crown. Stay near Kasumi,
Laurie, and keep your sword loose. If there’s trouble, follow
Arutha’s lead.”

Laurie nodded, his face set in a grim
expression of understanding. He entered the hall, and Katala said,
“William?”

“He is safe. If there is trouble
it will be in the great hall, not in the guest quarters. It will be
afterward the true grief will begin.” Her expression showed she
didn’t understand fully, but she quietly accepted what he said.
“Come, we must take our places inside.”

They hurried into the great hall, to a
place of honor near the front. As they passed by the throng gathered
to see the King crowned, they could hear the buzz of voices as rumor
swept the room. They came up to Kulgan, and the stout magician nodded
greeting. Meecham waited a few paces behind, his back to a wall. His
eyes surveyed the room, marking the positions of all within a sword’s
length of Kulgan. Pug noticed the old, long-bladed hunter’s
knife was loose in its scabbard. He might not know what the problem
was, but he would be instantly ready to protect his old companion.

Kulgan hissed, “What is going on?
Everything was calm until a few minutes ago, now the room is abuzz.”

Pug leaned his head closer to Kulgan’s
and said, “Martin may announce for the crown.”

Kulgan’s eyes widened “Gods
and fishes! That’ll set this court on its ear.” He looked
around and saw most of the Kingdom’s nobles had taken their
places within the hall. With a sigh of regret he said, “It’s
too late to do anything now but wait.”

Amos crashed through the garden,
swearing furiously. “Why the hell does anyone want all these
bloody posies about anyway?”

Martin looked up and barely caught the
crystal goblet thrust at him by Amos Trask. “What—”
he said, as Amos filled it with wine from a crystal decanter he held.

“Thought you might be in need of
a bracer, and a shipmate to share it with.”

Martin’s eyes narrowed. “What
do you mean?”

Amos filled his own goblet and took a
long pull. “It’s all over the palace now, fellow-me-lad.
Lyam’s a good enough sort, but he’s got rocks for ballast
if he thinks he can have a crew of stonecutters put your name on your
father’s tomb, then hush them up with something as petty as a
royal command. Every servant in the palace knew you were the new
first mate within an hour after those boys finished work. It’s
all up in the wind, you can believe me.”

Martin drank the wine and said, “Thank
you, Amos.” He studied the deep red wine in the glass. “Shall
I be King?”

Amos laughed, a good-natured, hearty
sound. “I have two thoughts on that, Martin. First, it’s
always better to be captain than deckhand, which is why I’m a
captain and not a deckhand. Second, there’s some difference
between a ship and a kingdom.”

Martin laughed. “Pirate, you’re
no help at all.”

Amos looked stung. “Blast me, I
got you to laugh, didn’t I?” He leaned over, resting an
elbow on the garden wall while he poured more wine into his cup. “See
here, there’s this pretty little three-master in the royal
harbor. I’ve not had much time, but with the King’s
pardon being declared, there’s plenty of good lads fresh from
the brig who’d jump to sail with Captain Trenchard. Why don’t
we cast off from here and go a’roving?”

Martin shook his head. “That
sounds fine. I’ve been on a ship three times in my life, and
with you I nearly got killed all three times.”

Amos looked injured. “The first
two times were Arutha’s fault, and the third time wasn’t
my fault I didn’t send those Ceresian pirates to chase us from
Salador to Rillanon. Besides, if you sign aboard with me, we’ll
do the chasing. The Kingdom Sea’s a whole new sea for Trenchard
to sail. What do you say?”

Martin’s voice turned somber.
“No, Amos, though I’d almost as soon sail with you as
return to the forest. But what I must decide cannot be run from. For
good or ill, I am the eldest son, and I have the first claim to the
crown.” Martin looked hard at Amos. “Do you think Lyam
can be King?”

Amos shook his head. “Of course,
but that’s not the question, is it? What you want to know is,
can Lyam be a good King? I don’t know, Martin. But I’ll
tell you one thing. I’ve seen many a sailor gone pale with fear
in battle, yet fight without hesitation. Sometimes you can’t
know what a man’s capable of until the time comes for him to
act.” Amos paused for a moment, considering his words. “Lyam’s
a good enough sort, as I said. He’s scared silly of becoming
King, and I don’t blame him. But once upon the throne . . . I
think he could be a good enough King.”

“I wish I could know you were
right.”

A chime sounded, then great bells began
to ring. “Well,” said Amos, “you don’t have
much time left to decide. The Priests of Ishap are at the outer
gates, and when they reach the throne room, there’s no cutting
grapples and sailing away. Your course will be set.”

Martin turned away from the wall.
“Thank you for your company, Amos, and the wine. Shall we go
change the fate of the Kingdom?”

Amos drank the last of the wine from
the crystal decanter. He tossed it aside and over the sound of
shattering glass said, “You go decide the fate of the Kingdom,
Martin. I’ll come along later, perhaps, if I can’t
arrange for that little ship I spoke of. Maybe we’ll sail
together again. If you change your mind about being King, or decide
you’re in need of quick transportation from Rillanon, fetch
yourself down to the docks before sundown. I’ll be about
somewhere, and you’ll always be welcome in my crew.”

Martin gripped his hand tightly.
“Always fare well, pirate.”

Amos left and Martin stood alone,
ordering his thoughts as best he could, then, making his decision, he
began his journey to the throne room.

By craning his neck, Pug could see
those entering the great hall. Duke Caldric escorted Erland’s
widow, Princess Alicia, down the long isle toward the throne. Anita
and Carline followed. From Kulgan came the observation, “By
those grim expressions and pale complexions, I wager Arutha has told
them what may come.”

Pug noticed how Anita held tightly to
Carline’s hand when they reached their appointed places. “What
a thing, to discover you’ve an elder brother in these
circumstances.”

Kulgan whispered, “They all seem
to be taking it well enough.”

Gongs announced the Ishapian priests
had entered the anteroom, and Arutha and Lyam entered. Both wore the
red mantles of Princes of the Realm and walked quickly to the front
of the hall. Arutha’s eyes darted around the room, as if trying
to judge the temper of those on all sides. Lyam looked calm, as if
somehow resigned to accept whatever fate brought.

Pug saw Arutha whisper a short word to
Fannon, and the old Swordmaster in turn spoke to Sergeant Gardan.
Both looked about tensely, hands near sword hilts, watching everyone
in the room.

Pug could see no sign of Martin. He
whispered to Kulgan, “Perhaps Martin has decided to avoid the
issue.”

Kulgan looked about. “No, there
he is.”

Pug saw where Kulgan indicated with a
bob of his head. By the far wall, near a corner, a giant column rose
Standing deep within its shadow was Martin. His features were hidden,
but his stance was unmistakable.

Bells began to chime, and Pug looked to
see the first of the Ishapian priests entering the great hall.
Behind, others followed, all walking in unison at the same measured
pace. From the side doors came the sound of bolts being driven into
place, for the hall traditionally was sealed from the start of the
ceremony to its end.

When sixteen priests had entered the
room, the great doors were closed behind. The last priest paused
before the door, a heavy wooden staff in one hand and a large wax
seal in the other. Quickly he affixed the seal to the doors. Pug
could see that the seal bore the seven-sided device of Ishap
inscribed upon it, and he felt the presence of magic within it. He
knew the doors could not be opened save by the one who affixed the
seal, or by another of high arts, and then at great risk.

When the doors were sealed, the priest
with the staff walked forward between the lines of his brother
priests, who waited, incanting soft prayers. One held the new crown,
fashioned by the priests, resting upon a cushion of purple velvet.
Rodric’s crown had been destroyed by the blow that had ended
his life, but had it survived, according to custom it would have been
interred with him. Should no new King be crowned today, this new
crown would be smashed upon the stones of the floor, and no new one
made until the Congress of Lords informed the priests they had
elected a new king. Pug marveled how much importance could be
attached to such a simple circlet of gold.

The priests moved forward, to stand
before the throne, where other priests of the lesser orders were
already waiting. As was the custom, Lyam had been asked if he wished
his family priest to officiate at the investiture, and he had agreed.
Father Tully stood at the head of the delegation from the Temple of
Astalon. Pug knew the old priest would be quick to take charge of
things without question, regardless of which of Borric’s sons
took the crown, and counted it a wise choice.

The chief Ishapian priest struck his
staff upon the floor, sixteen even, measured blows. The sound rang
through the hall, and when he was done, the throne room was silent.

“We come to crown the King!”
exclaimed the head priest.

“Ishap bless the King!”
answered the other priests.

“In the name of Ishap, the one
god over all, and in the name of the four greater and twelve lesser
gods, let all who have claim to the crown come forth.”

Pug found himself holding his breath as
he saw Lyam and Arutha come to stand before the priests. A moment
later Martin stepped from the shadows and walked forward.

As Martin came into view, there was a
hissing of intaken breath, for many in the hall had either not heard
the rumor or not believed it.

When all three were before the priest,
he struck the floor with the heavy staff. “Now is the hour and
here is the place.” He then touched Martin upon the shoulder
with his staff, resting it there as he said, “By what right do
you come before us?”

Martin spoke in a clear, strong voice.
“By right of birth.” Pug could feel the presence of
magic. The priests were not leaving the claims to the throne subject
to honor and tradition alone. Touched by the staff, no one could bear
false witness.

The same procedure was repeated and the
same answer given by Lyam and Arutha.