The Eyes of God (31 page)

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Authors: John Marco

BOOK: The Eyes of God
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“We will, my lord,” said Figgis, climbing onto his horse.
Gill led Lukien’s horse out of the stable and into the misty morning. He handed the beast over to the knight. Lukien took a last look at Akeela. Trying to reach across the chasm that now separated them, he said, “Take care of yourself. Don’t let King Mor take advantage of you, and don’t let Baron Glass push you into anything you don’t want to do, all right?”
Akeela’s smile twisted. “Always with the advice.”
The answer stung Lukien. “Yes, well, take care of yourself.” He climbed onto his horse’s back then led Trager and Figgis away from the stable, not looking back.
 
Akeela remained behind at the stable, watching as the mist swallowed Lukien and his party. He was glad to be rid of both his troubles, and the sight of their departing backs eased his mind. Now, with Trager gone, he wouldn’t have to worry about him spewing his poison all around Lionkeep, true though it might be. And Lukien? Akeela would miss him, but it was necessary. He was the Bronze Knight, a hero. He was the perfect man to quest for the amulets.
Akeela glanced around, struck by the quiet. Once, he had loved coming to the stables with Lukien. They would ride together for hours, laughing and exchanging stories, but they hadn’t done that in a very long time, and probably never would again. Even if Lukien returned from Jador, there was still the matter of adultery. Akeela knew he couldn’t forgive it. When Lukien returned—if he returned—he would deal with it.
Just as he would deal with Norvor.
He hadn’t lied when he’d told Lukien he would handle Norvor himself. In fact, he meant every word precisely.
“You’re not the only one that can be a hero, my friend,” he whispered. He would show Cassandra that he could be a hero, too.
“Gill!” he called.
The young man hurried out of the stable, a grooming brush still in hand.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Go find Warden Graig for me. Tell him I want a meeting with Baron Glass and Chancellor Hogon. Tell him it’s very important.”
 
Two hours later, Glass and Hogon arrived at Lionkeep. The sky had lightened considerably since the early morning and the windows of the council chamber were open wide, letting in a needed breeze. Glass sat in his usual seat, next to Chancellor Hogon. Both men wore scowls. Akeela had kept them waiting many days for an answer to their war declarations, and they did nothing to hide their ire. Glass fidgeted with his wine glass but did not drink, occasionally rubbing at the stump of his arm in irritation. Hogon sat back in his chair, watching Warden Graig, who had called them to this important meeting but didn’t know why. Other than those three, the room was empty.
But the door was open and Akeela could see them all as he strode toward the chamber. Surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous at all. He felt exhilarated. Having made his decision had lifted a weight from his shoulders. It didn’t matter now what they thought of him or his bold plan—he was king, and he would command them to follow orders. In his fist he held the latest declaration from the House of Dukes. He held it out before him, making sure it was the first thing the chancellors saw when he entered the council chamber. The three men—Glass, Hogon, and Graig, all stood as the king entered the room. Glass’ gaze fell on the rolled up paper in Akeela’s hand.
“Be seated,” Akeela commanded. He took his place at the end of the table but did not sit. When the men had finally taken their seats, Akeela tossed the roll of paper onto the table.
Baron Glass reached for it hesitantly, looking at Akeela.
“Go on, read it,” Akeela directed.
One-handed, the Baron struggled to unroll the parchment. His eyes immediately darted to the end of the page where Akeela’s signature rambled along the bottom. Hogon leaned over and spied the signature. Together the two lords looked up at Akeela. So did Warden Graig, whose mouth hung open.
“Say something, gentlemen.”
“My lord, I don’t know what to say,” stammered Graig. “This is war!”
“You did the right thing, King Akeela,” pronounced Glass. He held up the paper and shook it in the air. “Now we can move against those Norvan snakes.”
Graig got out of his chair. “My lord,” he sputtered, groping for words. He tried to smile. “Akeela . . .”
Akeela kept his expression cool. “You have something to say, Warden Graig?”
Graig looked at him in disbelief. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“As sure as I’ve been about anything,” said Akeela. “King Mor has left me little choice.”
Chancellor Hogon nodded soberly. “Very well, my lord. Then I will make ready at once.”
“Yes, at once,” agreed Akeela. “I have a plan to deal with the Norvans, and I want to begin quickly. The sooner we make arrangements, the sooner we can leave for the Kryss.”
Hogon blinked, confused. “
We,
my lord?”
“I’m going with you, Hogon. I’m going to lead the attack on Norvor.”
“What?” Baron Glass rose from his seat. “King Akeela, you cannot.”
“I’ve made up my mind,” said Akeela, “and no amount of arguing can change it.”
“Great Fate, no!” snapped Glass. “You’re not a military man. You’re the king! What put this idea into your head?”
Akeela started to respond, but was quickly interrupted by Hogon.
“King Akeela, Baron Glass is right. I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to this folly.” The old man looked genuinely concerned. “This is war, my lord, serious business. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I’m not a child, Chancellor,” said Akeela. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Then explain it, King Akeela, please!” said Glass.
So Akeela explained. First he insisted that Glass and Graig take their seats, and when they did he walked around the table for a moment, composing his thoughts. He told them that he was the King of Liiria, and that his word was law, no matter how much any of them cackled. He told them too that he was not a weakling; that despite the popular opinion that his dreams of peace had made him impotent, he was his father’s son and not afraid of battle.
“And King Mor is like the rest of you,” he said. “He also thinks me a weakling. He thinks I’ll do anything for peace, even bend to his ridiculous demands.”
“My lord,” said Glass, “none of us think you’re a weakling.”
“Please, Baron,” said Akeela. “Don’t lie. You’re too easily discovered. I know what you and the other nobles think of me. And I plan to use that misconception against Mor. He thinks I want peace at any cost. He thinks moving troops against our border will force me to his table. So let him go on believing it. Let’s talk peace with King Mor.” A crafty smile stretched across Akeela’s face. “And when he’s most trusting, we’ll strike.”
Baron Glass contemplated the scheme. “Yes,” he said. “It’s not a bad plan at all . . .”
“It’s treachery, that’s what it is,” protested Graig. “Akeela, how could you consider such a thing? You disappoint me.”
“How do we proceed?” asked Glass, ignoring Graig.
“We send a messenger to Norvor,” said Akeela, “asking for a meeting between Mor and myself. We tell him I want to meet near our border, so I’ll feel safe. Somewhere just outside of Norvor, perhaps near their fortress at Hanging Man. Chancellor Hogon, start mustering your men. Some will accompany me to the meeting. Just a handful of them, so not to worry Mor. The rest will march with you to Reec.”
“Reec?” asked Hogon. “Why Reec?”
“Because that’s where you’ll be attacking from,” said Akeela. “King Karis has been asking what I have planned. He says he wants to help. Well, Reec’s border should hide our troops nicely, don’t you think?”
Baron Glass nodded in understanding. “And then when you’re clear, they attack.”
“Yes,” said Akeela, “and Reecian soldiers with them, if Karis agrees. The rest of the soldiers, the ones with me, will join them, cutting off any escape from Hanging Man. The Norvans won’t have a chance.”
“They’ll be slaughtered,” agreed Hogon. “Quite a plan you have, my lord.”
“Treachery,” said Graig. “My lord, I can’t believe you’d do this. You said yourself you’re known as a man of peace. Is that what it means to be ‘Akeela the Good?’ You’ve hardly been king for a fortnight and already you’ve turned backstabber.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Warden,” sneered Glass. “The king’s showing real mettle! Personally, I’m proud of him.”
The baron smiled, and the smile sickened Akeela. He’d known his plan would disappoint Graig, but he hadn’t counted on Glass’ praise. It sounded horrible to him.
“I want to get moving on this quickly,” he said. “Let’s arrange that meeting with Mor. And send messengers to Reec with all speed. Chancellor Hogon, you’ve got a lot of work to do. Make sure the treasury releases the funds you need. If they argue, tell them to speak to me. And Baron Glass, I have something special for you to do as well.”
“Anything, my lord,” said Glass. “I’m yours to command.”
Akeela wanted to laugh, but instead said, “Liiria will need a ruler while I’m gone. I’m leaving that to you.”
“Me?” Glass flushed. “Forgive me for asking this, King Akeela, but why?”
“I have no regent and no heirs,” said Akeela, “and obviously the queen is in no condition to rule. You, Baron, are my only choice.”
The reasoning deflated Glass, yet still he said, “I’m honored, my lord. And I won’t disappoint you. While you’re gone I’ll rule Liiria as wisely as I can.”
“I should warn you, Baron, there’s a price for this favor,” said Akeela. He walked toward Glass’ seat. “There’s something you must do for me while I’m gone.”
Glass grimaced. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“The library, Baron. I want its construction to continue. You’re to see to it.”
“The library? But . . .”
“No, no arguing,” said Akeela. “That’s my order. Rule Liiria while I’m gone, but see to it that work continues on my library. I want your commitment to this project, Baron.”
“Obviously,” said Glass. “And if I don’t give it to you?”
“Then you’ll have no place in my plans. You won’t rule in my stead, and you won’t accompany us to Norvor, either. Commit to my library or be insignificant—those are your choices, Baron.”
Trapped, Baron Glass nodded. “You have me, King Akeela. Well played.”
“And I have your word? You’ll see to the library in my absence?”
“I will,” said Glass. He smiled sourly. “I was wrong when I said you were nothing like your father, King Akeela. You can be a serpent sometimes, just like him.”
Warden Graig stood up. “You’re all very happy with yourselves, but aren’t you forgetting something? What about the queen, my lord?”
“That’s your duty, Graig,” said Akeela. He turned to his old friend. “I’m trusting her to you. Look after her while I’m gone. Make sure nothing happens to her. She mustn’t die until Lukien returns, do you understand?”
Graig barely hid his anger. “My lord, you’re her husband. You should be looking after her, not me.”
“I would if I could,” said Akeela, “but I have to go. It’s the only way to defeat Norvor.”
“Yes,” said Graig disgustedly. “Trickery.”
“It’s necessary!” Akeela shouted. “Why can’t you see that?”
“All I see is the change in you,” replied Graig. His old face wrinkled crossly. “What happened to that young man of peace? Is he completely dead already?”
Embarrassment colored Akeela’s cheeks. He said to Glass and Hogon, “Would you excuse us, please?”
Without a word the two noblemen left the council chamber, closing the door behind them. Graig remained seated, refusing to look at Akeela, who felt ashamed and hurt by his old mentor’s disappointment.
“Graig, you have to understand,” he implored. “They think me weak. They all think me weak.”
“Who, Akeela?” asked Graig. “Who are you trying to impress with this dangerous game? It’s not just Glass, is it? It’s not even King Mor. It’s someone else.”
Akeela stiffened. In all their years together, Graig could always see the truth in things.

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