The Crown of the Conqueror (34 page)

  Ullsaard sat on a stool beside the table with the water clock, smiling at something unknown to Lakhyri. The priest sat on the other side and laid his palms on the worn wooden table, achieving a moment of stillness that calmed his racing thoughts.

  "This place, the Brotherhood that inherited it from its founders, is dedicated to a single purpose," said Ullsaard. His eyes were fixed on Lakhyri, never once straying to look at the bound scrolls on the shelves around the walls, nor the cracked mosaic underfoot. "You desire an empire; one that covers all of the lands from dawn to dusk, cold to hot, sea to sea. Our goals are in accord, and there is no reason for us to be enemies."

  Lakhyri thought about this, sitting absolutely still, allowing his mind to swiftly process this new information and gauge a response. On the face of things, Ullsaard spoke the truth. He had not once claimed personal ambition for taking the Crown, but pretended that he had done so for the benefit of Greater Askhor. The priest detected no deception in the king, but self-deception was always a possibility. For the moment, Ullsaard believed the truth of what he said.

  "They are, and there is not," said Lakhyri. "Yet you made an enemy of the Brotherhood. You chose to set yourself against the king that they supported."

  "A king that you supported also," said Ullsaard. "Perhaps I wish to make peace with my enemy. I am king now. Support me."

  The king's tone hovered between request and demand. Never one to take such things at face value, Lakhyri took stock of his options, appraising Ullsaard's intent and sincerity. Taking all the factors into account, the king's offer was an unexpected boon. He was clearly feeling the pressure of two costly and potentially disastrous wars. For a brief moment, Lakhyri was conflicted. If he refused his support, his plan with Erlaan and the Mekhani might bear fruition even sooner than he had calculated. On the negative side, such a victory would still leave the necessary conquest of Salphoria unresolved. The best outcome would be to help Ullsaard defeat the Salphorians whilst leaving him open to being toppled shortly after. Lakhyri had two plans in motion and it was in his best interest to keep them both moving forwards. He made his decision.

  "If you wish to rebuild the Brotherhood, I will assist you in whatever way I can," said the high priest. "Under my guidance and your leadership, the empire will prevail over its current problems. I would see you conquer all of the lands between the seas, as Askhos decreed."

  Again Ullsaard hesitated before speaking, distracted for a moment, a smirk playing across his lips for a moment.

  "Then it is agreed," said the king. "I shall remove the injunction against the Brotherhood, release those under arrest and restore the power of the precincts. You will use the means you have to inform the Brothers that their oaths of allegiance to the empire apply equally to me as they did my predecessor."

  Ullsaard stood and held out his hand. Lakhyri looked at it for a moment, confused, before he remembered that it was a gesture of trust. By accepting it, he would be symbolically sealing the nature of their agreement. His spindly, rune-etched fingers closed around the rough hand of the king and they shook on the deal.

  "The agreement is reached," said Lakhyri, glad that his mask concealed his satisfied smile.

  He moved to withdraw his hand from Ullsaard's grip, but the king's fingers remained tight for a little longer. He pulled Lakhyri slightly closer, the high priest unable to resist the much stronger man.

  "If I have the slightest suspicion, just the smallest whiff of betrayal, yours will be the first head to be separated from its neck," Ullsaard said with a pleasant smile that was not matched by the murderous glint in his eyes.

  Released, Lakhyri took a step back, his smile gone. Such juvenile threats were usually pointless, but there was something about the king's manner that unsettled Lakhyri. He definitely knew more than he had said, and Lakhyri realised the threat had not been idle nor should it be lightly dismissed. There was something oddly familiar about the way Ullsaard acted, the way he carried himself and the things he said, but the high priest could not yet identify exactly what it was. He would have to watch the situation – and this new king – very closely.

 

The docks were thick with ships and boats, the cranes swinging above, loading and unloading the last surge of trade before winter. A grey sky thick with dark clouds hung over Geria, bloated with a coming storm. One wharf was conspicuously empty, and it was to this that the captain of Ullsaard's ship directed the tillermen.

  The king prowled the foredeck and scanned the dockside for any sign of ceremony or other nonsense. He had been clear in his letter to Urikh that his arrival was to be conducted with the minimum of fuss. Ullsaard saw a few companies of legionnaires arranged along the open area beyond the quays; his son's ceremonial guard. Other than this obligatory gesture, it seemed as if the docks were operating as normal, much to Ullsaard's relief.

  As the boat swung towards the quay, Ullsaard watched the labourers going about their work. He saw the distinctive black robes of the Brotherhood amongst the half-naked men. Askhos had told him that Lakhyri's response would be swift, but the king had still been surprised by the speed with which the Brotherhood had resurfaced. Within a few days, long before Ullsaard's letters to the governors had arrived, the Grand Precincts in Askh had been bustling again. For most, Ullsaard's change of policy had been a relief, and he had been inundated with visits and messages of approval from across Askh as the news had spread.

  In part, it was to escape the confines of the palaces that Ullsaard had come to Okhar. He had reason enough to be here; the Mekhani attacks had subsided but had not stopped and it was the king's opinion that they were gathering their strength for some greater move. Urikh had assured him by herald that the extra three legions brought in from other provinces at the king's command were sufficient to contain any threat, but Ullsaard had little faith in his son's military acumen.

  With a grind of wood on wood, the ship slid along the wharf, shaking beneath Ullsaard's feet. As ropes were tossed to the waiting men ashore, Ullsaard headed down to the main deck, impatient to be on dry land again. The deck thudded with feet as his accompanying guard of a hundred legionnaires from the First assembled behind him. As soon as the gangway had been lowered, the king strode from the ship, his bodyguard's captain calling out a hasty order for the soldiers to fall in behind their king.

  Turning along the wharf, Ullsaard saw Urikh stepping out from his own guard. The king could see Luia standing a little behind her son. She seemed to be in conversation with one of the company captains. Judging by the officer's nervousness, the topic was not to his liking with Ullsaard bearing down upon them with a body of armed men. Ullsaard wondered for a moment if Luia was offering some new proposal, or simply making conversation with a current partner. The king dismissed the thoughts; he had more important things on his mind.

  Urikh waited for his father where the quay met the dockside. He looked relaxed and his skin was tanned from the Okhar summer. Forgetting for a moment that he was a king meeting one of his governors, Ullsaard smiled with pride. In his official white robes, the green-and-gold sash of Okhar across his chest, Urikh seemed to have matured by ten years. Gone was the scheming boy who used to trick his brothers into taking the blame for his misadventures; gone was the gambling teen who used to fleece his friends with his wrestling wagers and loaded set of bones; gone was the speculating trader who would risk a fortune on a rumour of a bad harvest or the loss of a cargo ship.

  A sudden thought struck Ullsaard and he stopped in mid-stride. He did not just look at his son as a respected governor of the empire; he looked at the future king.

  Gathering his wits, Ullsaard continued and reached the end of the wharf. Urikh welcomed his king with a short bow. He looked as if he was about to say something, but the words were caught in his throat. Ullsaard was similarly tongue-tied, unsure whether to be formal or not. The two of them suffered an awkward silence before Urikh finally resolved whatever dilemma had plagued him.

  "Geria and all of Okhar greet you," he said. "You have made good time from Askh. May I present my guard of honour?"

  Ullsaard nodded and Urikh turned and gestured to his senior captain. At a shout from their commander, the legionnaires raised their spears with a cry of "Askhor! Ullsaard!" and returned to attention.

  Luia drifted over, her carefully tailored red dress clinging to her shapely body, slits in the woollen gown showing her arms and thighs. She drew up a white shawl from her shoulders as scattered drops of rain began to fall onto the stone of quayside.

  "Greetings, husband," she said with a nod of the head. She directed a look at Ullsaard, which the king found difficult to read for a moment. At first he thought it was anger, but realised it was a look filled with desire, an almost predatory hunger. He found it quite disconcerting coming from a woman who had regularly pronounced her hatred of him and scorned him so vigorously in the past.

  "Greetings, wife," he managed to reply, confused by the unexpected desire her glance had roused in him. "You are well?"

  Unbidden, she turned next to Ullsaard and linked her arm in his. They strolled towards the riverside warehouses as Urikh dismissed his guard with an irritated order and followed behind.

  "I find Geria to be most satisfying," said Luia. "The weather is more favourable than Askh, and the governor's palace, though austere from the outside, has all of the comforts a woman could desire."

  "All of the comforts a
queen
could desire?" Ullsaard asked with a lopsided smile. Her grip on his arm tightened for a moment and the feel of it sent an unusual thrill through the king.

  "Perhaps all a queen desires is her king," said Luia. There it was again, that look of animal need.

  Ullsaard knew that she was trying to manipulate him. He could not remonstrate with her, not in such public view. And there was part of him that enjoyed it. Always she had craved a powerful, important man, and yet sought her physical pleasures from elsewhere. Perhaps on becoming king, Ullsaard had finally managed to make himself a man worthy of Luia. They had copulated before – Urikh was testament to that – but never before had Ullsaard sensed such desire in her. It had been more than half a year since he had last lain with a woman, and Luia's attentions were reminding him of that fact.

  "I know that you do not wish there to be any fuss, but I have organised a formal reception for you tonight," Luia told him. "You presence here would be more widely remarked upon if you were not to have some kind of banquet."

  "You're right," said Ullsaard. "Tongues will wag, whatever I do, so best not give them more than necessary to wag about. The usual merchants, nobles and dignitaries?"

  "Yes, and a few Second Captains from the palace guards. Oh, and Lerissa will be there too." This news brought an instinctive tension to Ullsaard. Luia laughed at his involuntary reaction. "I always thought there was something between the two of you."

  "I've never laid a finger on her," said Ullsaard, pulling his arm free from Luia's.

  "Touchy subject," she said. "You have certainly laid eyes on her, haven't you? There is no shame in it."

  "I love Allenya," said Ullsaard, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

  "And yet you have slept with me and Meliu," answered Luia. "You have a strange sense of loyalty, Ullsaard. You treat a simple physical act as if it was something to be treasured."

  "It is important to me."

  They reached the plaza beneath the concourse leading up to the palaces. Turning up the roadway, Ullsaard again took Luia's arm in his, feeling oddly guilty about his outburst. He remembered that Luia knew nothing of her sisters' predicament in Magilnada. It was time that she did.

  "Have you had any letters recently from Allenya or Meliu?"

  "Just the other day, from Meliu" replied Luia. "They seemed to think you were still in Salphoria. She complained about the lack of news coming to them regarding your war. She said that Anglhan had visited several times, but had not offered any answers to their inquiries. Allenya is in a melancholy state, she informed me. She had been keen to return to Askh, but Anglhan convinced her to remain. Why have you not written to Allenya to tell them that they can leave that wretched city?"

  The thought of his wife's sadness brought an ache to Ullsaard's chest. The moment was lightened only a little by the knowledge that his family did not yet know that they were being held hostage. He stopped and turned Luia to face him, gesturing for Urikh to step forward to join them. He gripped each of them by an arm.

  "You must not let anyone else know what I am about to tell you," he said. They nodded and he continued. "Anglhan wishes to remove Magilnada from the empire. He uses Allenya, Meliu and Noran as bargaining chips for that freedom."

  Luia moved to break his grasp, but Ullsaard held firm, fingers dimpling the soft flesh of her arm.

  "Tell no one!" he snarled.

  "What are you doing about it?" demanded Urikh. "Is this why the news of the campaign is so dubious?"

  Ullsaard ignored the question for the moment, concentrating on Luia. Anger flashed in her eyes and she bared her teeth. The king swayed back, expecting her to strike him, but she simply quivered in his grip, her whole body shaking with rage. This mood lasted for a few moments before her fury gave way to despair. She sagged against Ullsaard, her tears flowing fast, soaking into the weave of his tunic, her fingers clawing at its hem. Taken aback, he let go of her arm and placed it around her shoulders, kissing her on the top of her head.