The Bastard King (27 page)

When he and Estrilda walked into Sosia's chamber, he found his daughter embroidering a unicorn on a square of linen. He thought unicorns were imaginary beasts, but wasn't quite sure. After the Chernagors had brought those moncats to the city of Avornis, he wasn't so positive what could be real and what couldn't.

He wasted no time on preliminaries, but asked Sosia, "What do you think of being betrothed to Lanius?"

Sosia only shrugged; she seemed less worried about it than her mother.
That's something, anyhow,
Grus thought. Then his daughter answered, "I think it will be all right. He's not ugly, and I don't think he's mean."

She looked around after she said that. So, automatically, did Grus and Estrilda. But Ortalis, wherever he was, wasn't in earshot. Grus said, "I'm sorry I didn't talk more with you about the match before I went and made it." He was willing to throw Estrilda a sop if he could. Why not? Sosia seemed willing to marry Lanius, if not bursting with enthusiasm at the prospect.

And then she answered, "It really is all right, Father. I expected you to do something like this. How else are we going to make sure Lanius stays loyal to us?"

Grus' mouth fell open. What he'd told Lanius proved true after all. He didn't bother looking over at his wife. Estrilda couldn't have been more surprised than he was. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure, Mother," Sosia said. "I'm going to marry
someone,
and better Lanius than some count three times my age who gets drunk all the time and sings songs about sheep when he's feeling jolly."

Now Grus did catch Estrilda's eye. She wouldn't meet his, not for long. Throwing her hands in the air, she said, "All right. I give up. Let the match go forward. I only wanted what was best for you, sweetheart, and to be sure you knew your own mind."

"I usually do," Sosia said.

"Well." Even Grus sounded a little dazed. He tried to make the best of it. "As long as that's settled."

"Yes, Father. Yes, Mother. Is there anything else?" Sosia waited while Grus and Estrilda both shook their heads. Estrilda looked as dazed as Grus felt. Not Sosia. Sosia knew her own mind perfectly well. Grus wondered if she'd decided she was going to marry Lanius before Grus came to the same conclusion. As he retreated in what he hoped was well-concealed disorder, he decided he wouldn't have been a bit surprised.

Lanius found himself looking forward to his wedding day. That surprised him. No matter what Grus said, Lanius remained convinced he could have more fun with a string of compliant, pretty serving girls than with a single, solitary wife. A wife - especially a wife who was also the daughter of the man who'd usurped his power, if not all of his throne - seemed more likely to prove an encumbrance than an advantage.

And yet... However much Lanius resented Grus, he had trouble resenting Sosia. Whenever he saw her in the palace, she was unfailingly polite and pleasant. She never had a great deal to say, but what she did say proved she had a head on her shoulders. Things could, he decided, have been worse.

And wedding Sosia would settle his life. Up till then, he'd known nothing but disruption since his father died. King Scolopax had despised him. Arch-Hallow Bucco had reckoned him - still did reckon him - a bastard. His own mother had coddled and patronized him. And then Queen Certhia, too, was whisked from the palace, and Grus took her place. Lanius didn't know exactly what Grus thought of him. He suspected Grus wanted to think of him as little as possible.

He minded less than he'd thought he would. At fifteen, he was content - even eager - to be left alone. He had his books. Now he had the moncats. If he had a wife, too, he wouldn't need to worry about chasing the maidservants - not that some of them required much chasing.

Besides, he couldn't do anything about getting married. However little Grus had to do with him, the former commodore who'd promoted himself to king made that very clear. Lanius decided to make the best of it.

His wedding day - appointed by King Lanius - dawned cool and rainy. Servants decked him in the snow-white shirt and midnight breeches bridegrooms wore. He being king, his wedding shirt was of silk, and shot through with silver threads. His breeches were spun from the finest, softest wool in Avornis. A grinning young man fastened to them a codpiece whose extravagance was likelier to frighten a new bride than intrigue her.

"Too much," Lanius said. "Take out some of the padding."

But the servant shook his head. In some matters, not even kings were masters of their fate. The man said, "Not today, Your Majesty. Today you've got to show yourself off."

"That's not me," Lanius said. "By the gods, the stallions who go out to stud would have trouble matching what you've put in there."

"It's custom," the servant declared. Against custom, the gods themselves protested in vain.

Sosia was dressed all in red, to symbolize the loss of her maidenhead that would follow the wedding ceremony - would, in fact, for all practical purposes be a part of it. Lanius got a glimpse of her as she climbed into one carriage and he into another for the short journey to the cathedral.

One of Lanius' earliest memories was of priests lined up shoulder to shoulder behind Arch-Hallow Bucco to keep his father and mother and him from worshiping at the cathedral. Now soldiers - or were they Grus' marines? - surrounded the place to make sure nothing happened to him. Lanius would have been happier about that had the men been there to obey his orders and not his fellow king's.

He couldn't do anything about it, though. He got out of the carriage in the square in front of the cathedral. The square was the second largest in the city of Avornis, smaller only than the one in front of the royal palace. He'd come through it more times than he could count, once Bucco finally condescended to let him pay his respects to the gods. It seemed different now. He needed a moment to figure out why - no ordinary worshipers streaming into the cathedral. The wedding party would have the place to itself.

Even so, royal bodyguards formed up around Lanius. At their head marched Lepturus. "Congratulations, Your Majesty," he said in tones likelier to be used for condolences.

"It won't be so bad," Lanius said. They walked on for a few paces before he added, "And it could be a lot worse." He laid a hand on the back of his neck to show what he meant. To Lepturus, if to no one else left in the palace these days, he could say what he meant.

"Yes, Your Majesty, that's so," Lepturus allowed. "You could have gone to the block. For that matter, so could I. I'm still a little surprised I haven't."

"If you suggest it to Grus, I'm sure he could make the necessary arrangements," Lanius murmured.

"Heh," Lepturus said. But Lanius noticed that he didn't disagree.

When they came to the entrance into the cathedral, one of Grus' henchmen - a river-galley captain named Nicator - strode up with enough marines to outnumber Lanius' bodyguards about two to one. He nodded to Grus and said, "We'll take care of him from here on out."

Lepturus bristled. "Who says? Nobody told me about that."

"Not my worry," Nicator replied with a shrug. "Your boys can clear out now." The warning behind his words was,
If they don't clear out, we'II clear them.

No less than Lepturus himself, the bodyguards looked furious. More than a few of them had served not just Lanius but his father, King Mergus. By their expressions, they feared Nicator's men were getting them out of the way as a first step toward putting Lanius out of the way. Lanius didn't believe that. Grus had too many other simpler, less public ways of disposing of him; he didn't need to do it in a setting like this. "It's all right, boys," Lanius said.

Lepturus' scowl said he didn't think it was all right. He glared at Nicator and said, "I'm coming with His Majesty."
And you'll have to kill me to stop me,
the forward thrust of his body warned.

"I want Lepturus with me," Lanius said.

He waited for Nicator to argue. But the naval officer only nodded and said, "That's fine, Your Majesty. He's on my list. Even if he wasn't, we'd fix things. I know he's been guarding you since you were tiny." Nicator nodded again, this time to Lepturus. "Come right ahead, Marshal."

Anticlimax. Maybe Lepturus really had been worrying over nothing. Maybe. Any which way, he and Lanius went forward, escorted by Grus' marines and by this fellow who'd been at Grus' side longer than Lanius had been alive.

Incense filled the inside of the cathedral. The sweet smoke made Lanius' eyes water even as it tickled his nose. Olor, king of the gods, peered down from the dome at the King of Avornis. Quelea, Olor's Queen, stood behind her husband in the vast fresco that must have taken years to paint.

Neither the divine king nor his queen looked directly at their puny human worshipers in the cedarwood seats below. Instead, their gaze was on the Banished One, whom the painters had shown at the edge of the dome, tumbling endlessly down from the heavens after the other gods cast him out. By the satisfied, almost smug look on Olor's face, he was pleased with himself at solving a problem.

Olor had solved his own problem. The Banished One would trouble him and his domain no more. But the king of the gods had given mortal men an altogether different problem. Maybe Olor had thought the Banished One would smash to pieces when he struck the surface of the material world. If he had, he'd been wrong. More likely, he simply hadn't cared one way or the other. Ever since that fateful day, the Banished One had been mankind's worry, not the gods'.

Lanius, at the moment, had more immediate worries than the Banished One. King Grus came up the aisle toward him. Grus bowed. "Welcome, Your Majesty," he said. "You do my family great honor."

Returning the bow, Lanius answered, "I am glad we join our families together." He wasn't sure he was glad of any such thing, but those words had to be spoken. His father couldn't say them - King Mergus was dead. His mother couldn't say them, either - Queen Certhia was exiled to the Maze. With no one else to speak the required words, Lanius had to say them himself.

Grus held out his hand. Lanius clasped it. That too needed doing. "Come with me, then, Your Majesty," Grus said. "Your bride awaits."

Sure enough, Sosia stood in front of Olor's golden altar, between Arch-Hallow Bucco and Queen Estrilda. Lanius gathered himself, almost as though he were going into combat. Licking his lips, he said, "Thank you, my father-in-law to be. I go to her with all my heart."

What a liar I am.

Sosia's brother, Ortalis, sat in the very first row of seats. He was part of the bride's family, yes, but had no role to play in the ceremony, as her father and mother did.
He's been shoved into the background,
Lanius thought,
just like me.
That gave him a sudden burst of sympathy for Sosia's brother.

Ortalis promptly made him regret it. As though by accident, he stuck his leg out into the aisle just as Lanius went by. If Lanius hadn't seen it, he would have tripped and fallen on his face. As things were, he sidestepped. Ortalis sent him a horrible look.

Grus sent Ortalis a horrible look. Nobody said a word.
And so I join my new family,
Lanius thought.

But he hadn't joined it yet, not officially. There stood Arch-Hallow Bucco, robed in a shade of red different from Sosia's, waiting to bind Lanius to Grus' daughter and, through her, to Grus himself.
And to Ortalis.
Lanius wished that hadn't crossed his mind.

Sosia smiled at Lanius as he approached. Bucco bowed as low as his old bones would let him. "Your Majesty," he murmured.

Lanius dipped his head to the arch-hallow, thinking,
You miserable hypocrite. You never thought I should be King of Avornis, and you're tying me to Sosia to make sure I don't get the chance to do anything on my own.

Bucco raised his hands in a gesture of benediction. The nobles and courtiers in the cedarwood seats fell silent... more or less. "A wedding is always a new hope," Bucco said. His voice was twenty, maybe thirty, years younger than the rest of him, a subtle, supple instrument that remained his greatest tool - and his greatest weapon. He went on, "That being so, a wedding between king and princess is a new hope not just for the groom and bride but also for the Kingdom of Avornis."

He was a man who thought of himself first, Avornis distinctly afterward, and King Lanius last of all, but that didn't make him wrong. Up till then, Lanius hadn't been nervous. Now the magnitude of what he was doing pressed down on his shoulders like a great weight.

"To the great and ancient dynasty of which King Lanius is the scion, we add now the vigor and courage that come from King Grus' line," Bucco intoned.
Does that mean I've got no vigor or courage of my own?
Lanius wondered. Bucco probably thought it did.
Well, a pestilence on Bucco and what he thinks.
But then the arch-hallow said, "Your Majesty, be so kind as to take Her Highness' hand."

Lanius had been king since he was a little boy. Sosia had been a princess for only a few weeks. She needed a moment to remember that "Her Highness" meant her. Then she held out her hand. Lanius took it. It was the first time he'd ever touched her.

Her flesh was warm and smooth. He suspected fear made his own grip cold and clammy.

"Before the eyes of the gods, Your Majesty, do you take Princess Sosia for your wife, to have her bear your legitimate children?" Bucco said. "Do you pledge not to exceed great Olor's example?"

The arch-hallow looked pointedly at him. He himself sprang from his father's exceeding of Olor's example and taking his mother as seventh wife rather than concubine. But all he could say was, "I do." The marriage oath, as his work in the archives had proved, was as old as Avornis.

"Do you reject, now and forever, all blandishments of the Banished One? Do you swear to do all you can to return the Scepter of Mercy to the city of Avornis, its one true and proper home?"

"I do," Lanius repeated. The last question was reserved for Kings of Avornis alone, and had been added to the oath after the Menteshe carried the Scepter into captivity. Lanius made the pledge, but wondered how much all he could do would be. The Scepter of Mercy, after all, had lain captive in Yozgat for four hundred years. Every one of his predecessors had sworn he'd do all he could to redeem it. Every one of them hadn't done enough.