Sovereign (26 page)

'Come what may,' Makon said seriously.

Eynon found himself believing him. Nevertheless…

'Until?'

'Until your task is completed.'

'And who decides when that may be?'

'We will decide it together,' Makon said easily.

'In a council it is always good to have an odd number in case there is an equal division.'

'I will bow to your greater experience in such a situation.'

'Yes,' Eynon said, now serious. 'You will.'

It was Makon's turn to laugh. Eynon had laid the rules by which their relationship would work, and he would abide by them. Both of them understood—without it needing to be said—that ultimately Makon's course would be decided by what best served Lynan's interests. As long as Eynon's own interests coincided, there would be no problem. When those interests diverged new rules would have to be established. Until then, Eynon was chief and Makon his underling.

Before evening fell they reached the end of the pass. In the setting sun the plains shone like gold, and the heart of every Chett felt lighter for seeing it. Behind them the Ufero Mountains marked the boundary between their world and the new world they had set out to win for their new king and the glory of their people. Each Chett knew if they survived the coming war against the Saranah they would return to the east to complete the conquest, but even if every province in the east was to fall to the White Wolf's army so that he could claim every city, every town and every farm, for the Chetts there was and always would be only one true home, and that was the Oceans of Grass.

With the sun shining on their eager faces, the column descended from the pass.

CHAPTER 16

He was rescued from drowning. For a long time Olio had felt he was immersed in something like water: seeing the world through a refracted, shimmering light, hearing sounds that were distorted and ponderous, separated from reality by a different kind of space and time.

Then he was pulled out of it, the sea falling away from him. Light as hard as steel pierced his eyes and he blinked back tears. Sharp sounds, almost percussive, assailed his ears. And then he smelled bedclothes and herbs and stone walls and late summer.

How long had he been asleep? What a godawful nightmare. He must have been drinking again. He looked down at himself. The Key of the Heart lay heavy against his chest. He touched it and he heard a single tone, like the sound of a distant bell, and felt his hand tingle. Had this been responsible? He looked around. He was in his bedchamber. Nothing was different.

And yet.

He sniffed the air again. Yes, late summer. Maybe autumn. The smell of ripening fields. But yesterday it had been spring or early summer. He was sure of it. He swung out of bed and stood up. Then fell down, his legs giving way beneath him. Startled, he tried standing up more carefully. He became dizzy and stretched out his fingertips to steady himself against the end of his bed.

I won't ever touch another drop of wine
, he promised himself, and almost immediately realised his condition had nothing to do with alcohol. In fact, he distinctly remembered having already given up wine. He made his way to the south window. Curtains fluttered as they caught the edge of a westerly.

We
don't get westerlies in spring
, he reminded himself. Something was wrong with his view, but he could not put his finger on it right away. There was the harbour, with its forest of masts. There was the old city, and above it the houses of the merchants, and above them… His gaze wandered back to the old city. He rubbed his eyes, thinking sleep was blurring them. But the smudge was still there, like charcoal smeared across a canvas.

Charcoal. Fire.

'Oh God!' he gasped, suddenly smelling the smoke, feeling the heat of flames on his skin and hearing the cries of the dying and wounded. He automatically grasped the Key and fell backwards, collapsing on the edge of his bed, his eyes squeezed shut.

'No!' he shouted, and as quickly as his senses had been assailed he was free again. He opened his eyes and lay on his bed panting for breath, confused and frightened.

His door burst open and two guards rushed in. 'Your Highness, are you alright?' one asked. They looked around the room as if expecting to find an intruder. The second guard loped to the window and peered out.

'Yes,' Olio said, his fear disappearing. He wished the confusion would as well. 'I think so.'

The guards glanced at each other, obviously not convinced.

'Could you get Dr Trion for me?' Olio asked. 'I don't think I'm well.'

The guards bowed and left, closing the door behind them. He heard the lock click, and rather than being angry or upset about it all he could do was wonder why they had done it.

What had happened to him? What was it that had flashed in his memory? Something to do with fire and…

The old city had almost all been burned down. That explained the black smudge across the cityscape he saw from the window. But when had this happened? And what had he to do with it? He rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands, trying to remember, but it made no difference. Had he caused it, God forbid? Or been harmed in it?

The last felt more like it. He thought that if he had caused it nothing would stop him from remembering.

He heard people coming, more than two, and he wondered who else the guard had brought beside the doctor. The door was unlocked then opened, and there stood Areava.

'Good morning, sister,' he said, pleasantly surprised. 'I'm sorry they've disturbed you over this. I just wanted to see Dr Trion. Did you bring him with you?'

She stood aside and another entered, but still not the doctor. 'Edaytor? Did the guard bring anyone else? The cook, maybe? Or a stable groom?'

Areava and Edaytor stared at him. He could not decipher their expressions, which seemed to be a strange combination of awe, curiosity and relief. 'It's just that I seem to be feeling incredibly weak this morning. I don't know what I've done—'

'That would be because you have been asleep for nearly five days,' Areava said.

'Asleep all summer and more,' Edaytor corrected her.

Olio was not sure what to make out of that. 'Well,' he said, 'would one of you care to explain what you mean?' He sat up and waited.

'I don't know where to begin,' Areava replied after a while, and her voice started wavering. If Olio did not know her better, he would have sworn she was about to cry. The possibility disturbed him more than his own disorientation. Areava
never
cried.

She took a slow step towards him, then virtually leaped the remaining distance, gathered him in her arms and hugged him so tightly the breath was squeezed out of his lungs. So startled was he that he did not embrace her in turn, but hung in her grip like a cloth doll. He glanced at the prelate for some kind of explanation, but almost went into shock when he saw that the
prelate
was crying.

When Areava eventually let him go he took a deep breath. Ignoring the pain in his ribs he took his sister's hand and patted it.

'Something has happened, hasn't it?' he ventured.

Dejanus sat at the head of the table. No one asked him to, or offered it to him, but he took the privilege for himself. Similarly, when Marshal Lief, Fleet Admiral Setchmar, Chancellor Gravespear and Duke Holo Amptra finally arrived, without discussion he started the first meeting of the Great Army Committee by calling for order. The others looked at him with mild annoyance since no one actually had been speaking at the time. He nodded to the priest assigned as secretary to the committee and the man distributed a written page to everyone present.

'What's this?' Orkid asked.

'The schedule of equipment and supplies necessary for the creation of the Great Army.'

'This first meeting was supposed to be about discussing the creation of such a schedule,' Lief said.

'I've saved the committee a great deal of time then,' Dejanus answered. 'Now we can move directly to discussions on how to achieve the schedule.'

The other members exchanged wary glances then read the paper in front of them, their eyes widening as they did so.

'You can't be serious,' Orkid said. 'This will bankrupt the Kingdom.'

'Then the queen can raise taxes,' Dejanus countered. 'Better a bankrupt Kingdom than a razed Kingdom.'

'The provinces will never stand for it,' Duke Amptra objected.

'How unexpected to hear a member of the Twenty Houses protest on behalf of the provinces,' Dejanus said.

The duke blushed and started to rise from his seat. The marshal put a hand out to stop him.

'I don't believe the provinces will mind overly,' Dejanus continued, 'considering the fate of Daavis and its ruler.'

'The fate of its ruler? What do we know about the fate of its ruler?'

Dejanus shrugged. 'Well, if the city was destroyed we can assume Charion died while defending it.'

'We don't know that Daavis was destroyed,' the marshal said, 'let alone what happened to
Queen
Charion.'

Orkid put up his hands to stop the discussion turning into an argument. 'Whatever the condition of Hume's capital, I think the constable is right. The other provinces will provide what we ask of them to stop Prince Lynan from reaching Kendra.' Holo and the marshal scowled at him. 'However, I do think the demand on Aman in this instance is excessive.'

Dejanus grinned at the chancellor. 'No more than a fair contribution considering the province's favoured position in court.'

Orkid could not help noticing that Holo and the marshal were now smiling nastily at him. It occurred to him that Dejanus was playing them all with unexpected cunning. Animal cunning, he explained to himself, the way a grass wolf might exploit the weakness of a karak herd.

'Nonetheless, considering the substantial contribution Aman has already made to the first army, I ask the sum be reconsidered.'

Dejanus turned to the secretary. 'Make a note of that,' he said. 'The chancellor believes Aman's contribution is too high.'

'That isn't exactly what I said—'

'And now that we've all seen the schedule,' Dejanus said, speaking over Orkid, 'we can set about finding ways to implement it.'

Again the others exchanged glances, but no one complained or criticised. They were allowing themselves to be boxed in, but were so taken aback by Dejanus's assertiveness they were not sure how to counter it.

'As I understand it, Kendra is already on a war footing,' Dejanus continued.

'It has been for half a year,' Lief said. 'Foundries must give over half their time to the production of war goods. Similarly with lumber mills, weavers, tool makers…'

'And farms, fisheries?'

Lief shook his head. 'No. Until now we have produced enough—'

'It won't feed this proposed Great Army,' Orkid said. 'We will need to divert more of the Kingdom's agricultural production.'

'The Kingdom has never done that,' Holo objected. 'Not even during the Slaver War.'

'Grenda Lear itself was never seriously threatened during the Slaver War,' Dejanus said.
I should know, I was on the other side
. 'Now it is.'

'To meet this schedule we will have to raise the level for industry,' Setchmar said. 'Maybe to six tenths or even seven tenths of their production.'

'That will cause inflation,' Orkid pointed out. 'The common people will suffer.'

'For a short period at least,' Setchmar agreed. 'But it might lower the cost to the Kingdom for buying war goods.'

'Inflation?' Dejanus shook his head. 'Why should it cause inflation?'

'Because there will be less domestic goods produced,' Setchmar explained in a tone that suggested it was obvious.

Dejanus nodded, pretending to understand, something Orkid observed. 'Of course,' the chancellor said quickly, 'we could mint more coins to provide the common people with the money they needed.'

All on the committee stared at him, horrified. All except Dejanus. 'A good idea,' he said, trying to sound wiser than he felt. After all, if goods were going to cost more, what could be simpler than increasing the supply of money? He turned to the secretary. 'Make a note of that.'

The secretary, who had already made a note of it, was not sure what to write.

'Write that I suggest the Kingdom mint more money to help the common people,' Dejanus said brusquely.

The secretary duly noted it. Those committee members who thought the idea a terrible one now understood why Orkid had suggested it.

'These troop contributions you've listed here for the provinces might necessitate conscription,' the marshal said carefully. 'Especially if you want the troops in Chandra by the date you've specified under Item 12.'

There were mumbles of agreement from around the table.

Dejanus glanced at the secretary who now knew how the constable wanted the minutes to be recorded. He wrote down that Dejanus suggested conscription be introduced in the provinces to ensure troop levels were met.

Orkid smiled easily now. The constable may have possessed an animal cunning, but like a hungry grass wolf he was easily led out of his depth. He checked the schedule for any other items he might profitably bring to Dejanus's attention.

Powl stood alone in the tower room. There was an empty bottle, covered in dust, on the floor. The wooden shutters to the only window were open. The round stone walls had a deep inset at about head height, and this was filled with ancient tomes. The books of Colanus, Kendra's first great king. And, if the legends were right, the first magiker.

Powl pulled out one of the books, waving away a cloud of dust, and opened it. The writing was almost unrecognisable. One or two of the signs he knew from the alphabet used all over Grenda Lear, but most of them were unknown to him.

'He gathered the old knowledge before him,' Powl murmured to himself, remembering part of the legend of

Colanus he had read in the church library.
But what old knowledge? And how do I read it
?

He put the book back and took out another. As far as he could tell it used the same script as the first book. He turned a few pages experimentally, felt one of the leaves between his thumb and forefinger. Not paper exactly, but not parchment either. Nor brittle, nor yellow with age. There were no illustrations or diagrams. Just words in this strange writing, and probably in a strange language.