Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1) (17 page)

“There is most certainly that also.”

“Careful,” Dist muttered.

Maerlos smiled. “Ah, impudence of youth,” he said, “or is that merely a Thrillseeker conceit?”

Jhareth smiled back. “It is the privilege of friendship, your Majesty. I am eager to put certain matters behind us as well.”

“Then I believe we shall adjourn for the day,” Maerlos said, turning to the gallery. “I trust your eyes have had their fill. Behold, the return of the Thrillseekers. We will celebrate this occasion tonight with a grand feast, but for now I shall retire with my old friends to discuss matters of import.”

The crowd knew a dismissal when they heard one, and filed out of the great hall. Mutters of excitement filled the air as the gallery emptied, and the king waved off several of his cavaliers. Two stood by to escort them from the hall, but one man lifted his visor and approached Nerris.

He recognized the knight’s crooked smile and clasped a gauntleted hand. “Jach,” Nerris said, “still keeping his Majesty safe, I trust?”

“Always,” said Sir Jacey Rainwater. “I cannot believe you three are together again. We hadn’t heard anything from the Thrillseekers in three years, and then Jhareth shows up by himself a few months ago. No one knew what to make of it.”

Sir Jacey was reputed as the greatest knight in the kingdom, and was pretty much in line to take the place of Sir Daswell Borry as Lord Commander once the old knight retired from his duty. Nerris, Dist and Jhareth’s association with the man they referred to as Jach dated all the way back to the Liberation of Agos, when they were still students at Gauntlet.

“We’ll have to catch up later,” Nerris said. “His Majesty looks like he wants to discuss something with us.”

The two cavaliers led the Thrillseekers, King Maerlos, Tarlan, and Len-Ahl through the corridors until they arrived at the king’s chambers. Tarlan showed them in and made sure they were comfortable as Maerlos entered his bedchamber to put on less formal clothing.

Upon his return, he took a seat across from them with a grunt. “I could swear that crown gets heavier with each passing year,” he said. “Maybe my strength is waning.”

“You still look robust to us, your Majesty,” Nerris said.

“You flatter me, Nerris, but I know better. Your coming is like a ray of light peeking through rain clouds. And the clouds have been very dark lately.” He leaned forward. “A fortnight past, my Nelisa passed on.”

Nerris’s eyes widened and Dist gasped, while Jhareth stood in surprise.

“The queen?” Jhareth asked. “How?”

“It was sudden,” Maerlos said with some effort. “One moment she was discussing her bath with one of her handmaidens. The girl left the room, and when she returned, Nelisa was unconscious. By the time a doctor was brought in, she was gone.”

Nerris let out his breath. “I am so sorry, your Majesty. Queen Nelisa was a kind woman.”

Maerlos swallowed. “It has been difficult around here, even more so since you left, Jhareth. After his mother died, Camion became enraged. He believed some conspiracy responsible, and when I could not be persuaded to his side, he packed up and left for Renoa, taking the Ristaff Brothers with him.”

That answered the question of the missing cavaliers. Seymorr and Baramon Ristaff served the royal family, but their ancestral home was in Renoa.

“A conspiracy?” Dist asked.

“Paranoia,” Maerlos said. “Camion has been like that lately. He, and others, are becoming a bit unsettled because of problems we have been having with the Church of Clystam. I am old now, and so was Nelisa. She lived a full life and died with her family around her. Everyone should be so lucky.”

“Trouble with the Church?” Nerris asked. “Would this have anything to do with the lack of priests throughout the kingdom?”

Maerlos nodded. “There is unrest in certain sects of the population, who believe Clystam no longer answers our prayers. Some have even been in favor of finding a new god to pray to, and the Church took steps to curb these ideas. When they began to get violent, I had to step in. Ever since, there has been discord between the royal family and the Dominarch. There are those who believe Nelisa being taken from me was punishment from Clystam for opposing his will.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Nerris said.

“Wait,” Jhareth said. “As exciting as internal politics are, we have some unfinished business, your Majesty.”

“Jhareth, have some respect,” Dist said. “The man lost his wife.”

Maerlos held up his hand. “It is all right, Dist. A king should always keep his word. My family has always held the Stonechaser Prophecy in perpetuity. We were sworn to protect it, and our agreement tied in to the Church as well. After all that strife, I had no wish to antagonize them further. That is why I hastily refused your boon, Jhareth.”

Jhareth sighed. “I see. Well, it seems I’ve hit a stroke of luck, then. You are perfectly within your rights to let me have it now.”

Dist furrowed his brow. “Only members of the royal family can take possession of the scrolls. King Maerlos can’t let you have it. Ancient treaties take precedence over boons asked by scoundrels like you.”

“If I may,” Jhareth said irritably, holding up a hand to Dist’s face. “Your Majesty, your late aunt was the wife of the late Lord Bower, was she not?”

“That is true,” Maerlos said.

“She gave birth to Rienna Bower, your cousin,” Jhareth continued. “Our dear Rienna married a man named Derrin Palada, whose son sits before us.” Jhareth motioned to Nerris. “I believe he qualifies as a member of the royal family.”

“Me?” Nerris asked. “Be serious, Jhareth.”

However, Maerlos stroked his beard in thought. “Do not be too hasty to discount your lineage, Nerris. I do believe Jhareth has found a way to acquire what he desires without asking me to break my word as a Klaidon.”

“I thought that tied it up neatly, myself,” Jhareth said, grinning.

“Very well,” Maerlos said. “I will lend you the Stonechaser Prophecy, for all the good that lot of gibberish will do you.” He stood. “But for now, we celebrate. We have been planning this feast since Enric’s outrider reached us with the news of your reunion. Tonight, we will make merry, toast to the fallen, and pray for the absent. Best make ready.”

The Thrillseekers and Len-Ahl stood and bowed to the king and he dismissed them. Tarlan escorted them to their chambers, winding through the depths of Faerlin Castle. Dist and Jhareth batted around leads on translating the prophecy, but Nerris pondered what the king had said. There could only be trouble afoot if Maerlos was at odds with the Church of Clystam, and the people were taking sides. He had been relieved to come home after carving his way through war torn Yagolhan, but more and more it seemed the peaceful home of his childhood was not so tranquil after all.

Chapter Seventeen

WHILE PREPARING FOR the banquet later that evening, Nerris was graced with a visit from someone he had not seen in years. As he looked himself over in the mirror, making sure the good clothing he had been given was not wrinkled, a knock sounded on the door of his chambers. A good-looking youth with short brown hair entered, dressed in a purple tunic identifying him as a knight.

Nerris grinned and clasped hands with the young man. “Cousin,” he said, “I was wondering when I would see your face.”

“I’ve been away,” Sir Astoren Palada replied. “I got back to the city today.” Astoren was the son of Nerris’s uncle Tettias and heir to the castle of Brookbel back in the Great Oak Forest. He had squired at court, however, and still lived in Faerlin.

“You’re looking well,” Nerris told him. “Last time I saw you, you were squiring under Sir Caros. It seems you’ve changed your raiment since then.”

Astoren presented his tunic. “What can I say? It wasn’t easy, but I fooled them into giving me a knighthood.”

On their way to the banquet hall, they reminisced about the days when the Thrillseekers first appeared at court. Nerris had known nothing about his connection to the nobility back then, and Astoren was the first family he had ever met, aside from his mother. Though separated a good five years, they developed a fond rapport, and Nerris was glad to see his cousin.

“What was so important you almost missed our triumphant return?” Nerris asked.

Astoren stopped in his tracks and lost his smile at once. He beckoned Nerris into the shadows. “Truthfully?”

Nerris nodded. He had meant his question in jest, but Astoren looked almost afraid to speak.

“Strange things have been happening,” he whispered. “I trust you heard about the queen’s death? And maybe about the Church’s part in it? Well, there was a connection, but the Dominarch had nothing to do with it. Prince Camion asked me to help escort him to Renoa, to be under the protection of his mother’s family. He feared those responsible would come after him next in a further attempt to goad King Maerlos into moving against the Church of Clystam.”

“Who would want to put the king at odds with the Church?”

Astoren glanced in the direction of the banquet hall. “You’ll meet him soon. The prince’s information points to the new prime minister, Congir.”

“Congir?” Nerris asked. “I admit I’m not familiar with recent Faerlin politics, but what happened to Lord Bower?”

“Back in Ladstone, relieved of his duties,” Astoren said, “shortly after Congir arrived at court.”

“Who is he?”

“Nobody is sure,” Astoren said. “King Maerlos has always allowed certain commoners on his council, better to keep in touch with the needs of the people. Congir was supposedly leader of the city’s smithy guild, but he has talked little of forges or metalwork since being appointed. I, and others, believe this to be a front. He’s been ingratiating himself with King Maerlos since his first day.”

“Really?” Nerris asked. “Then let us adjourn to the banquet. I’m eager to meet this Congir for myself and take his measure.”

The nobles who permeated the banquet hall wore their best clothes, showing off their individual opulence under the mellow light of many candelabras. Musicians playing various stringed instruments occupied a dais on the east side of the room, with the king’s table to the north. The hall filled with the sound of spirited conversation. Upon his entrance, two trumpeters standing on either side of the door blew a single note.

“Presenting Sir Astoren Palada of Brookbel, and Nerris Palada of the Thrillseekers,” a nearby herald called.

Most in the hall went silent and stared at him as they entered. A few men standing close bowed with respect, and others approached him to clasp hands. Nerris caught the eye of King Maerlos at his table, who raised his wine glass in salute. Nerris acknowledged him with a nod. A fierce-looking man with a white beard and broad shoulders sat beside the king. He eyed Nerris as well, but made no move to welcome him.

“That’s Congir,” Astoren muttered. “He’s not the sort you would call warm.”

“I’ll say.”

Nerris took a closer look at the man. He was of an age with the king, and with his broad shoulders looked like he could be a blacksmith as he claimed. But was he trying to frame the Church for murder? Nerris had been at court before and been privy to all sorts of conspiracy theories. He knew he could not take them at face value, but this one was a bit more serious than the usual petty accusation.

Nerris scanned the room, searching out his friends, but the approach of a young man in a blue doublet interrupted him. Ceder Duchois was fair-faced, his tawny hair parted down the middle with bangs hanging past his eyes. Nerris extended a hand and the young ward took it, though without any warmth.

“Ceder,” Nerris said. “I trust your time in Faerlin is treating you well.”

“Tolerably,” Ceder said. “Though I look forward to the day when the king deems my father trustworthy enough to send me back to Lakeside Keep. I long to once again fish the waters of Lake Zarseille. I have a sister I have not seen since she was an infant, and a mother whose face I have forgotten, thanks to the Liberation.”

“Your father was wise to bow to Owen when King Ullas fell,” Nerris said. “Otherwise, he may have died in battle as well and Zarseille would have been sacked, your family disinherited. Surely a few years away from home is a small price to pay for a family intact. That’s more than I ever had.”

“Nerris!” Astoren said.

He had not meant to speak harshly to Ceder, but the boy’s attitude had always grated on him. Perhaps Nerris still held some resentment for all the friends he had lost in the Liberation of Agos. Lord Duchois had been the principal bannerman supporting the late King Ullas, and his forces put many of Nerris’s comrades to the sword. However, none of that had been the fault of young Ceder, who had been all of six when taken away to a strange kingdom to serve as a glorified hostage.

Nerris smiled. “My apologies. Ceder, I am sure you will return home soon. After all, it has been over ten years and your father has not raised a word in defiance to King Owen. At least, not as far as I’ve heard. You would do well to ask King Maerlos to make a betrothal on your behalf. You are the heir to Lakeside Keep, and a marriage to a pretty noble faermaid would do much to quell any enmities that remain between Zarseille and Faerlin.”

Ceder disregarded the notion with a jut of his chin. “I have no time for such things. I have found a higher calling, and merely wish to return home and spread what I have found to my own people, so they might feel as I do. My regards to the Thrillseekers.” He walked away, hailing Lady Hallsworth.

“That was a little blunt,” Astoren said. “Not even so much as a hello to me. I thought everyone in Tormalia loved the legendary Thrillseekers.”

“No one is that legendary,” Nerris said, wondering what Ceder had meant by a higher calling. Perhaps he meant to join the Church.

They continued into the hall, and Nerris went back to looking for his friends. He spotted Jhareth first, in animated conversation with the king’s brother, Lord Derian. A young woman with blonde hair and a toothy smile gripped Jhareth’s arm as if afraid he might fly away. For Jhareth’s part, he fidgeted as if he wished he could, but for an inability to sprout wings.

Astoren followed his gaze. “Lady Nolota, the king’s niece,” he said.

“That’s Nolota?” Nerris asked. The charming adolescent he had met during his first visit to court had grown into a fully endowed young woman. He realized she had been fourteen the last time he saw her. “Jhareth saved her life, did he?”

“Yes,” Astoren said, “and now the young faermaid is absolutely smitten with him. The whole court knows. All she’s done since he left is stay in her quarters and moon over him. She doesn’t even have the heart to go riding anymore.”

“That may have something to do with almost riding off a cliff the last time,” Nerris said. As he watched Jhareth try his best to ignore Nolota while being gracious to her father, his first instinct was to assert that Nolota could never be with someone as far below her station as Jhareth. But as he had found out four years before, noblemen were practically willing to throw their daughters at the Thrillseekers if they could get a folk hero in the family. If it were his wish to marry, he knew King Maerlos would give Jhareth any title he wished in order to make their union legitimate.

He shook his head. Jhareth would never accept a life like that. Not for long, at least. Poor Lady Nolota was in for some heartache in the near future.

Jhareth received his reprieve when the herald announced the banquet ready to begin. The guests shuffled toward their tables, and Nerris made his way to the king’s dais, joining Jhareth. Dist joined them a few moments later, and Len-Ahl appeared soon after. She took Nerris’s arm and he led her up the steps and pulled her chair out for her. She gave a shy curtsy to the king before sitting.

“My dear faermaid, the sight of you in that dress releases the vestiges of my youth,” King Maerlos said with aplomb. “You must honor us with the tale which led to you sharing the road with the Thrillseekers.”

“Actually, it was Nerris who I fell in with, your Majesty,” she said. “My home was lost to fire. My head was swimming, I did not know what to do. Not until Nerris appeared and offered his aid.”

“Truly the Thrillseekers watch over all of us, together or apart,” the man called Congir said.

“I apologize,” Maerlos said as if remembering Congir’s presence. “The four of you have not met the new prime minister. This is the honorable Congir.”

“A pleasure,” Nerris said as Dist and Jhareth made their bows. Len-Ahl merely looked downward, engrossed in the multitude of silverware presented before her. Congir did not acknowledge the Thrillseekers at all, but stared at Len-Ahl for a few moments with a look Nerris could not quite place. It was as if he could not fathom how someone like her came to be here, seated with the king. Finally, the prime minister averted his eyes and coughed, taking his place next to Maerlos.

“Jhareth, I see my niece finally cornered you,” Maerlos said.

Jhareth emitted a nervous chuckle. “Yes, your Majesty. Your brother has been most gracious in his thanks, and Lady Nolota is a sweetheart. They’ve both made some, ah, interesting proposals to me.”

Dist covered up his snort with a napkin as the banquet’s first course arrived. Choice portions of beef and venison came their way, as well as exotic fruits not native to Faerna, such as oranges and pomegranates. Their wine glasses were filled as well, and Dist attacked the meal with gusto. Nerris helped himself to some venison, as Jhareth took a long draught of Dellish Red.

Len-Ahl stared at the wall of meat before her a bit apprehensively, until a serving girl filled her plate with orange slices, grapes, dates, pistachios, and figs. She looked up at the king, who gave her a knowing wink.

“Sir Enric made a point to mention your unique dining preferences to me,” he said.

Len-Ahl smiled. “I am grateful, your Majesty.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Dist told her. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“You better not let your mother hear you said that,” Jhareth said.

“My mother never had such fine foods to work with.”

The king, Dist, and Jhareth made amicable chatter with the other council members seated with them as the feast wore on, but Nerris’s energies were focused on Congir. The guildmaster had been quiet, even guarded, since laying eyes on Len-Ahl. Nerris decided to acquaint himself with the prime minister.

“Lord Congir, you’ve not said much this evening,” he said. “Are spectacles such as this so common in Faerlin it now bores you?”

Congir smiled. “It is not that, young Nerris. Much like yourself, I grew up common. I am still acclimating myself to the ways of the court.”

“You must learn quickly. I’m told you’ve been on the council a short time, but now you’re prime minister.”

“A bit of an exaggeration,” Congir said. “True, I have not been on the council as long as some, but it has been two years since I came to court. More than enough time to demonstrate my talents to his Majesty.”

“I see.” Congir hid it well, but Nerris had the benefit of extensive travel in Tormalia, and the prime minister definitely had an accent. Perhaps western Agos or northern Yagolhan. Regardless, he got the distinct feeling the man was not from Faerna. What exactly that meant, Nerris could not say. And what was his issue with Len-Ahl? She seemed to be going to equal lengths to ignore Congir’s presence at the table.

Nerris shook his head. None of this was his business. He should let the nobles sort out their own problems. If it were any other kingdom, he would let it be. But this involved his cousin, the king, the prince, people he cared for very much.

Once all the courses had been served the guests ate and drank their fill, the dancing began. Lady Nolota once again sought out Jhareth to coax him onto the floor, and Nerris glanced at Len-Ahl, thinking it would not be the worst thing if she wanted to dance with him again. But she was moving fruit around her plate with her fork, seemingly lost in thought.

When the councilman seated on Nerris’s other side stood and wandered off, Dist walked over and took his chair. “Does anything about this seem off to you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, normally there’s a blessing said in the name of Clystam before a feast like this,” Dist said.

“You’re right,” Nerris said. “Usually the king keeps a few priests around for rites and sermons as needed, but I haven’t seen a single one since we got here. The Church must be angrier with the king than we realized.”

“Something’s going on,” Dist said. “I heard a few guards talking. Apparently the Dominarch is on his way here as we speak, to take a meeting with his Majesty.”

Fresh from a waltz with Nolota, Jhareth sauntered over and put his arms around his friends. “Gentlemen,” he said, “let’s not forget why we’re here. We need to find a way to decipher those scrolls and get away from this place as soon as possible. These royal courts have a way of pulling you in.”