Sovereign (12 page)

'No. Here. Right here.' He tapped the Book of Days lying on its rest. 'Right here.'

Orkid was busy rushing between his office and that of the queen's secretary, Harnan Beresard, organising the first council meeting since the disasters that had visited Grenda Lear. He had been able to put it off for a while, but pressure from Kendra's great families and commercial interests to resume the regular meetings was growing daily: they wanted to know Areava was healthy and still able to rule the Kingdom and they wanted to see her for themselves. It had taken him a full week of cajoling and arguing to bring Areava around, but in the end she had agreed. He now had a workable agenda that Areava had approved and was on his way to instruct Harnan to send out the summonses to the council members. His way was blocked by the imposing figure of Dejanus. Orkid glanced up from his notes, nodded curtly, and went to move around him.

Dejanus held out a hand to block his way.

Orkid stopped. 'What is the meaning of this, Constable?'

'I need a word,' Dejanus said. Orkid could smell the wine on his breath. This was a bad sign, and something to worry about.

'Of course, but can't it wait? I have to see Harnan Beresard about sending out the queen's summonses to a council meeting.'

'About time,' Dejanus said gruffly. 'In part, that's what I want to talk to you about. The summonses can wait a short while.'

'You want to talk here? In the hallway?'

Dejanus looked around him. 'No one roundabout to overhear us. Safer here than in your office or mine, where secretaries and guards can interrupt at any moment.'

Orkid breathed deeply. 'Very well. What is it about?'

'Like I said, it's part to do with the next council meeting.'

'What about it?'

'We'll be discussing the raising of a new army to send north against Prince Lynan.' It was a statement, not a question.

'Of course.' Orkid frowned, guessing where Dejanus was heading.

'I want its command.'

Orkid shrugged. 'Such decisions, naturally, are the queen's prerogative—'

'It's only that I should have had command of the last one instead of that miserable Amanite husband of the queen's.'

'Careful what you say about Sendarus, you oaf. He was my nephew as well as Areava's beloved—'

'Don't tell me what I can and cannot say!' Dejanus shouted.

'For God's sake!' Orkid hissed. 'Keep your voice down!'

Dejanus looked as if he was going to shout again, but common sense seemed to calm him. 'We have a pact, you and I, Orkid Gravespear, a pact sealed in King Berayma's own blood. You held the king's hands when I drove my blade through his neck. I can say what I bloody well like about Sendarus, or the queen for that matter.' He jabbed Orkid on the chest with one huge, blunt finger. 'I want command of the next army. It's owed me.'

Orkid did not answer, but his mind was racing. Dejanus was getting out of control. For the first time in a long time, Orkid was afraid for his own personal safety.

'When it comes up in council, I want your support.' Orkid nodded. 'I will see what I can do for you.' Dejanus grunted. 'You'll do it, Chancellor. You've more at stake here than I have. If Areava learned what we did to her brother, we'd both lose our lives, but Aman would lose everything.'

Again, Orkid said nothing, but Dejanus could see the colour drain from the chancellor's face. He smiled grimly. 'Nice to have that little chat,' he said, patting Orkid on the shoulder. He walked away, leaving Orkid as still as a rock.

As had become the norm, Edaytor Fanhow visited Prince Olio on the south gallery with its magnificent views of Kendra and its harbour. Often they would just stand side by side, silent, aware of each other's company but not enforcing it. When they did talk it could be about anything, but eventually Edaytor would bring the conversation around to the Key of the Heart. Olio sometimes got angry at this, but usually it seemed as if he was aware there was something important—something
very
important—about the subject, and he would try and answer any question Edaytor put to him, and try and think of some questions in return.

On this occasion Edaytor started the discussion by raising the matter of his mother, another of his favourite subjects.

'Have you seen her?'

Olio sighed. 'Oh, no. She is far too busy. Grenda Lear is a very big Kingdom, and she is in charge of everything.' He looked at Edaytor sideways. 'Did you know Mother has a navy?'

Edaytor feigned surprise. 'With ships?'

'Of course with ships. That's what a navy is. Warships. Lots of them. You can see some of them from up here.' He pointed down to the military quays in the harbour. 'Well, when they're in dock you can see them,' he added a little flatly.

'I have not seen your mother for a long time, either. A year or more.'

'Well, why would she want to see you?'

'Because I am Prelate of the Theurgia.'

'Ah, yes. I remember. You are an important official.'

'Yes, I like to think so.'

'Not as important as a prince, though.'

'Oh, no. Only a queen is more important than a prince.'

Olio nodded. 'I'm going to ask Mother to make me admiral of the navy.'

'Admiral?'

'Yes, then she will give me the Key of the Sword.'

'Is that your favourite Key?'

Olio frowned in thought. 'I think so.' He rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands. 'Sometimes…' His voice trailed off.

'Sometimes?'

'Sometimes I think it isn't my favourite. Sometimes I think…' Again, his voice faded.

'The Key of the Heart.'

Olio looked up in surprise. 'Yes. How did you know?'

'We have talked about it before.'

Suddenly Olio looked very wise. 'And we are going to talk about it again, aren't we?'

'Only if you want to,' Edaytor said gently.

'You like to talk about it.'

'Yes.'

'Do you talk to others about it?'

Edaytor almost said 'constantly', but how would he explain to Olio that he had the finest minds in the theurgia trying to discover how the Key of the Heart had sent Olio back to his childhood, had apparently wiped clean the man Olio had once been? 'Yes, now and then.'

Instead of wise, Olio now looked shrewd. 'Why are
you
so interested in the Key?'

Edaytor thought about how to answer, and eventually said, 'For your sake.'

'Oh,' Olio said, accepting the answer. He was a prince, after all, and a lot of people did a lot of things for his sake. Except his mother. He wished she could do more for his sake. He had not seen her for so long he sometimes cried when he thought about it, but only when he was alone. He did not want anyone to know that he cried. Princes should not cry. Especially princes who wanted to be admiral of the navy. And then a question came to him, one that surprised him because he was not sure he understood its implications. 'Why for my sake?' he said quickly before he forgot it.

'Because I care for you.'

Olio waved his hands impatiently. 'No, no, that is not what I mean.' He put his hands over his temples again. Why was thinking so hard sometimes? 'I meant… I meant…' The question was still there, but it was so hard to force it out. Slowly, emphasising each word, he said: 'Why—is—it—for—my—sake?'

Edaytor was taken unawares. In some ways it was the question he had been waiting for, the question that showed some glimmer of the old Olio. He licked his lips and said slowly: 'Because the Key hurt you once.'

Olio blinked in surprise and stepped back from the prelate. 'Hurt me? One of the Keys? My mother used it to hurt me?' His voice started rising in panic.

'No!' Edaytor said quickly. 'No! Your mother would never, never hurt you. You used it!'

Olio froze. 'I used it?'

Edaytor could only nod. He felt—he
knew
—he was close to something important, close to reestablishing a connection with the old Olio, but at the same time knew he had lost control of the discussion and did not know what to say next.

'I used it,' Olio said, and although he was still looking at Edaytor he was seeing something else entirely. 'I used it,' he repeated. He bowed his head as if overcome by exhaustion.

Edaytor rested a hand on his shoulder. 'Your Highness?'

Olio shook his head. 'How could I have used one of the Keys? I am not a magiker.' He looked sharply up at Edaytor and grabbed his hand. 'But I remember. I remember having it.'

At that moment the old Olio was back. Edaytor could see it in the prince's expression, in the sudden strength in his voice. But just as quickly it was gone again, and it was a lost, confused boy holding his hand.

Olio blinked, stood straighten He pointed out to the harbour. 'See? There is a warship returning to harbour. Isn't she fine?'

Edaytor did not know whether to laugh or cry. Olio had come so close to throwing off his sickness, but in the end simply had not had the strength needed. And as time went on he was increasingly convinced that there was nothing he nor anyone else could do to help Olio find that strength.

And then it was his turn to blink and stand straighter. No
human has the strength Olio needs
, he told himself.
Which means
…

'Oh, God. Of course,' he said aloud.

'Of course what?' Olio asked.

Edaytor shook his head. 'Nothing, your Highness. I have to go now.'

'Really? Now?'

Edaytor patted the prince on the arm. 'But I will be back. Soon. I promise.'

Olio shrugged. 'Where are you going?'

'To see the queen,' Edaytor said absently. He was already thinking of how to propose to Areava what he was sure she would be reluctant to do.

'The queen? She will see you? I think she should see me before she sees you.'

Edaytor realised what he had said so casually and saw the hurt again in Olio's face. 'Oh no. I'm not important enough to ever see the queen. I meant I will speak to one of her officials.'

'Ah,' Olio said, mollified, and turned back to view the harbour.

Edaytor bowed and left the south gallery. He stopped for a moment to orient himself, then hurried towards Areava's chambers. When he got there he was stopped by two guards. He demanded to see the queen and one of the guards left to pass on the message. When he returned it was in the company of Harnan Beresard.

'Prelate Fanhow? How can I help?'

'You can't, Harnan. I need to see the queen urgently.'

'Her Majesty is very busy with important matters—'

'—of state,' Edaytor finished for the secretary. 'Yes, I'm sure. But I need to see her about Olio.' He shook his head. 'Umm, Prince Olio.'

Harnan looked at him dubiously. 'I see. Relating to what, specifically?'

'I think that should be between me and the queen.'

Harnan noticeably stiffened. 'I see,' he said through a straight mouth. 'I will pass on your message.'

'I will wait here for her reply,' Edaytor said, trying to look like someone who would not brook
delay
.

'Suit yourself,' Harnan said and left.

The two guards blocking Edaytor's way looked at him as if he was an unnecessary and unpleasant distraction, and his natural timidity took over. He avoided their gaze and pretended to look at the ceiling, at his shoes, at his fingernails. As time went on he became increasingly uncomfortable and was starting to wish he had never come. But then all doubts disappeared when Areava herself, with Harnan in tow, appeared behind the guards and ordered them to let the prelate through. The guards snapped to attention and Edaytor sidled past them. He bowed deeply to Areava and threw a smug look at Harnan. Areava looped her arm through his and drew him away from all other ears.

'What about my brother?' she demanded, her voice a strange mixture of hope and threat.

'I think I know a way we can help him—'

'How?' she interrupted.

'—but it is risky, and may possibly make his Highness's illness worse.'

Areava caught his gaze. Edaytor thought her eyes were as cold as ice, and he could not help a shiver down his spine.

'What sort of risk? Is this some new kind of magik the Theurgia have dreamed up?'

Edaytor shook his head. 'No, your Majesty.' He pointed to the Key of Hearts around her neck. 'It is by using that.'

'You should know I have already tried that.'

'I guessed you would have. But you felt nothing at all when you tried.'

'How did you know that?' she asked sharply, and tugged painfully at his arm.

'Because the Key has become attuned to Olio. Only he can use it now, unless someone is prepared to sacrifice themselves as he has to gain control over it.'

Areava went white. 'I must do that to save him?'

Edaytor looked at Areava in horror. 'You, your Majesty? No, never! That price would be too high, even for Olio's sake.'

'Then you're suggesting someone else sacrifice themselves?' She regarded him with new respect. 'You're suggesting yourself? You love my brother that much?'

'If it would make him better, then yes, I would,' he said without thinking, then paused, surprised by the admission. 'But I do not think the Key would let me.'

'Then what exactly do you have in mind?' she asked impatiently.

'We let Olio use it,' he said.

Areava stood back from Edaytor and looked at him as she might an idiot. 'It was the Key that caused this blight afflicting him!'

'There are moments when we are talking—your brother and I—when I see flashes of the old prince. It's as if he is a prisoner in his own mind, but no matter how hard he tries he has not the strength to break free. The Key has the strength he needs.'

'But you don't know that, Prelate Fanhow. It might just as easily make him worse, or even kill him.'

'It may, your Majesty,' he admitted. 'But I think not. I believe because he is so attuned to the Key he will be able to use it to heal himself.'

'Then why did he not do so when he first became ill?'

'Because he overused the Key. He became subservient to it. Now that he has been without it for a long while, he may be able to reassert his mastery over it.'

Areava took Edaytor's arm again and drew him close. 'But you are not sure, are you?'