The Palace (Bell Mountain Series #6) (37 page)

“They’re not at their posts.”

The man could not explain the absence of his fellows. Goryk ordered him and the other to get dressed and come out. Rather than wait for them, he hurried to Jayce’s door and tried it: locked. One of the missing sentries had the key. Goryk hammered on the door.

“Jayce! Jayce! Wake up! Come out!” But no one answered. “Find someone to unlock this door,” he snapped at the Dahai who came running to join him.

By the time a palace servant arrived with a key, Zo had discarded his embroidered sleeping-robe and followed Goryk to the door. The servant unlocked it. Goryk shoved him out of the way and rushed into the room.

“So he’s gone, too! I’ll have his guts for this,” Goryk said. “I never should have trusted him.”

“Too late for that now,” Zo said. “I want to know what happened to the guards.”

The other two Dahai swore they knew nothing about it.

“He’s bribed them, I suppose—the dirty knave,” Goryk said. “First the crown, then the boy, now this. We’ve been very neatly played for fools.”

“I trusted him, too,” said Zo. “I thought he was a man like you. But there is still the king to be crowned today.”

Goryk turned to the mardar and spoke to him in Tribe-talk, in case the palace servant should be listening.

“And you’ll be ready with our master’s weapon,” he said, “to strike the whole city blind if anything goes wrong—anything! Can you do that, Mardar?”

Zo nodded. “There is no defense against it.”

“But unless and until we need it,” Goryk said, “it’s only a rare coronation gift for the king—a peace offering from our master. The rest of this day may yet go well for us.”

“Of course, First Prester. There’s no reason to expect any more trouble.”

Prester Jod stayed up all night. Later, after all the rest of his household had gone to bed, he received a visitor.

He’d sent a message earlier to Constan at the seminary, bidding him to come to his house at midnight, if he could.

“There’s going to be a surprise at the coronation tomorrow,” Jod said, when they’d made themselves comfortable in his parlor, “and I felt very strongly that you ought to be warned.” Constan nodded, not wasting words.

“The boy in my house has informed me that he is not the king, but only a double. Gurun and Uduqu the Abnak confirm it, and I believe them. Tomorrow, at the coronation ceremony, we will proclaim this truth to all Obann. The false king will not let the false First Prester crown him.”

Constan permitted himself a slow smile. Had he known the crown was false, too, he might have laughed out loud.

“I think there might be an uproar over that,” he said.

“Have you any word from Lord Orth?”

“Oh, he’s safe. I suspect he’s well on his way to Lintum Forest. His safety is in the hands of an extremely capable person whom I trust. More than that, I haven’t asked to know.”

“That must mean King Ryons is in Lintum Forest, too—the real King Ryons, if he lives,” Jod said. “Ah, me! Life ought to be simpler than this. But you, Constan, must take steps to protect the seminary. Gurun has offered to send her bodyguard, her Blays, to protect it. Because tomorrow there’s bound to be trouble.”

Constan considered the matter, slowly. Jod waited on him.

“The Blays are welcome,” he said at last, “although I think there will be more trouble tomorrow than all Obann can handle. I hope you’ve seen to the safekeeping of Ozias’ scrolls.”

“I’ve left them as safe as they can be in Durmurot. If I’m unable to return, Preceptor Rhonaby will carry on the work. I believe you know him.”

“He would have been my choice, Lord Jod. As First Prester Orth would say, our only care should be to see that the Scriptures get into every chamber house in Obann. Our mission is to set free God’s word for everyone to hear.”

“King or no king,” added Jod.

Ryons slept cuddled with Cavall, his arm around the dog. A few feet away Obst was on his knees, oblivious to his surroundings, deep in prayer. Helki stood looking at him, wondering if God was speaking to him. “He does,” Obst always said, “but not in words.”

The chiefs and their warriors had dispersed to get what rest they could before the fight tomorrow. They hadn’t been able to devise any better plan than to allow the Abnaks and the Fazzan to storm the weak spot in the wall, while the Hosa assaulted the gate. If they could make a breach anywhere, Shaffur’s Wallekki would charge into the city.

The Hosa had neither scaling ladders nor a ram. “There’s no time to chop down trees and trim the trunks,” Xhama said. “If they see us preparing, then they’ll prepare for us.”

“We can get up without ladders,” Chief Hawk said. “It’s not a very high wall. Let the Attakotts protect us with their archery added to our spears. We’ll get to the top by standing on our tallest men’s shoulders. We’ll be up before they realize how we’ve done it.”

Helki knew nothing of the art of war, but he knew a daft plan when he saw it. What was the use of stone walls, if they couldn’t keep out an army that had no siege equipment? But every chieftain in the army had more experience of war than he, so who was he to speak against any plan they favored?

“Helki the Rod, the Flail of the Lord—that’s rich!” he said under his breath. “More than likely we’re the ones who are going to get flailed tomorrow, but good. And there’s not much I can do about it.”

“Helki!”

He almost dropped his staff when Obst spoke.

“Your heart is troubled,” the old man said. “Mine, too. But the Lord sent us here, and we’ve obeyed. He’ll give us victory tomorrow. I don’t know how, but He wishes us to trust Him.”

“Is He going to open up that wall for us?” asked Helki.

“The Lord will fight for us,” said Obst. “You’ll see.”

A trick of torchlight showed Helki the red streak in Ryons’ hair: the mark of King Ozias, the Lord’s anointed.

“Then I guess I’ll try and get some sleep,” Helki said.

CHAPTER 41

Coronation Morning

Encamped on the plain between Obann City and Lintum Forest, Orth woke suddenly.

The armed men escorting him to the forest, Gallgoid’s men, slept on. The campfire had gone out. Stars still shone in the sky; it was yet two hours before dawn.

Now he discovered what had awakened him: the horses were uneasy. Hobbled, and tethered to stakes in the ground, they fidgeted and snorted softly, as if they were afraid to snort any louder. Orth used to have fine horses of his own; he knew these horses were more upset than they sounded.

Twice on this journey Orth and his companions had spotted gigantic flightless birds stalking the plain as the day drew to a close. They’d heard of these creatures; now they’d seen them. Both times, happily, the birds were at a distance and never tried to come any closer. Maybe they saw that two of the riders carried spears: not the kind of prey a bird would choose to tackle. But if the men were sleeping, that might be a different story.

He didn’t like to disturb them, but in the interests of sane prudence, Orth woke the men.

“What is it, First Prester?”

“Something’s frightening the horses.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Nor do I. It doesn’t take much to make these horses skittish, though. Maybe they’ve scented a fox.”

But then the first man said, “Over there,” and pointed with his spear. “Better get behind us, my lord,” he said to Orth.

Only then did Orth perceive a dark, massive shape stirring in the grass, perhaps as close as fifty yards. With the moon having set, he couldn’t make out what kind of animal it was.

But it was big—almost as tall as a horse, but longer, with a long head held close to the ground. And then it raised its head and seemed to sniff the air. It uttered a low, rumbling growl. “This is going to be bad,” one of the men said.

The other yelled, “Hi-yi!” and brandished his spear. “Yi, yi!” They both yelled and threatened. Orth’s heart fluttered. But the beast, whatever it was, turned and galloped off into the night.

“Whew! What was it?”

“Burned if I know. Something that growls like a bear and gallops like a horse. I’d rather not have a closer look at it.”

“Let’s get the fire going. Are you all right, First Prester?”

“Just mildly terrified!” Orth said. But truly, it was only mildly. He remembered an incident from his journey to the mountains with Lord Reesh, in which the sight of such a creature, in broad daylight, had pushed him over the brink of madness. But this time he could endure it. “God has changed me,” he thought. “I’m not the man I was.” For which he gave thanks.

Soon Gallgoid’s men had the campfire burning again, crackling reassuringly, and the horses had stopped fidgeting and were going back to sleep. After taking a moment to pet the horses, Orth sat down with the men.

“There never used to be animals like that,” one said. “Why do we have them now? Where do they come from?”

“Any ideas, my lord?”

“Not really,” Orth said. “All I know is that God has shaken the earth, as all the prophets said He would. I suppose these beasts are a sign of it.”

“I saw that beast King Ryons rode when he rescued the city. Big as a mountain! Scattered the Heathen like chaff!” The man shuddered. “I still have dreams about it sometimes.”

“The world has changed,” said Orth.

Just before sunrise, Merffin Mord sent a messenger to Prester Jod’s house. The man, when he was let in, was sopping wet.

“On account of the accursed weather,” he said, “High Councilor Merffin Mord has been forced to move the coronation to the palace steps, facing Government Plaza. He begs to inquire whether King Ryons will be well enough to attend—or must we postpone it until tomorrow?”

Despite the early hour, the prester’s whole household was awake. Over their protests, Gurun had already sent her Blays to guard the seminary.

“We belong with you, O Queen,” said Shingis, their chief.

“We’ll join you at the seminary,” Gurun said. “Very soon, I am sure, we will all have to leave the city. And there may be fighting.”

“We fight for you, and for the Obann God.”

“Our God, Shingis. We all belong to Him.”

Jod answered the messenger. “Tell His Excellency Merffin Mord that His Majesty King Ryons has quite recovered and that I’ll escort him and Queen Gurun to the palace at noon today, rain or no rain.”