A Sky of Spells (Book #9 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (17 page)

“ARGON!” Thor called out,
turning in every direction, looking about.

He stood there, looking,
waiting, watching for hours, until even the first sun touched the sky—but no
matter how long he looked, there came nothing in return but the howling of the
wind.

Gwendolyn sat on her throne in
the rebuilt Council chamber, the early morning light of the first sun streaking
in through the stained-glass windows, painting the room muted colors. She
surveyed the vast number of people who filled the room in wonder. She could
hardly believe how many people filled the chamber—of advisors, council members,
hangers-on, well-wishers, nobles, lords, attendants—and now, on a special day like
today, petitioners, lining up outside the room, down the Hall, and outside the castle.
It was an ancient tradition for rulers to hear petitions on the day after Summer
Solstice, and Gwendolyn, regardless of how exhausted she was, would not let her
people down.

Gwen was also taken aback by
how resplendent this room now looked, since its reconstruction. Hardly six moons
ago she had sat here, the room mostly rubble, freezing cold air gushing in
through the open walls. Now it was a beautiful summer day, temperate breezes
coming in through the open, arched stained-glass windows, and it was the finest
hall in the two kingdoms. She had doubled the size of this famed hall, had
doubled the size of the council table, and had built for them comfortable
seats, so they could wait in dignity.

This hall was where she spent
most of her days now. She wanted to be out there, walking the fields, carefree
as she had been when she was a child—or spending her time with Thor, taking a
stroll through her courtyards and gardens. But alas, the ruling of her kingdom
required so many petty decisions and matters, hearing one person after the
other. Many days she came in here, expecting to leave early, but before she
knew it, the day grew long, and she left here after dark.

Today, she was determined
for it to be different. After all, the Summer Solstice came but once a year,
and today, the day that followed, was Departure Day; so many people would be
departing on this day, embarking for somewhere in the kingdom. It was thought
to bring good luck to depart the day after the Summer Solstice, and her people
took it very seriously.

Nearby stood Thor, Reece, Kendrick,
Godfrey, Erec, Aberthol, Steffen, Alistair and Selese, along with several close
advisors, including all those who had once sat on her father’s council. Gwen
was tired from last night’s festivities, and even more tired from the baby. The
nurses had told her she was due any day, and she could feel it without being
told. Her baby flipped like mad, and with each day, Gwen felt it harder to
catch her breath. She sat there, first thing in the morning, already feeling
like going to sleep, struggling to keep her eyes open.

She forced herself to focus.
It was a big day, after all, one of the most important and auspicious days of
the year, and her council chamber, already packed, was growing ever more
crowded.

Gwen had been receiving
foreign dignitaries and well-wishers since the sun rose, visitors from all
corners of the Ring and of the Empire who had come for her wedding. A corner of
the room was already piled high with wedding gifts for her, and gifts for her
baby. Her wedding was still days away, and yet the gifts poured in: golden
candlesticks, precious jewels, ancient rugs, delicacies of every sort.… There
was already more than she could count, or ever use in a lifetime. She had been
showered with great affection from the masses, and she was quickly becoming
known as the people’s Queen. Perhaps it was because she had suffered, and the
people—all of whom had also suffered in their own way—related to her.

The masses absolutely loved
her—as much as the nobles did—a rare thing in the kingdom. It was something
that even her father had not enjoyed. His nobles had respected him, and the
masses had feared and appreciated him. All had thought he was a fair king. But
none had
loved
him. Her father had kept the people and the nobles at a
distance; Gwendolyn kept her doors open and treated them like part of her
family.

Having finished entertaining
all of her foreign dignitaries, her external affairs were over for the morning,
and it was time to turn to her internal affairs. Aberthol cleared his throat, banged
his staff on the floor and stepped forward, beginning the proceedings. The room
began to quiet.

“We begin with a report from
the tax collector,” Aberthol announced.

Earnan, his father’s old tax
councilor, stepped forward, bowed, and read from a scroll.

“Two thousand casks of wine,”
he announced, his voice dry. “One thousand casks of ale. Eight thousand
chickens; six thousand hens. One thousand cows….”

He lowered the scroll and looked
up, his face grim.

“The royal festivities and
the queen’s wedding, all hosted by us, represent a generosity of a magnitude
never displayed before in the history of the two kingdoms. My lady, you are the
most generous ruler that has ever sat on that throne. But these festivities are
also cause for concern. We have nearly drained whatever was left of our royal
treasury.”

A grim silence blanketed the
room, as all eyes turned to Gwendolyn.

“I am aware of the costs,” she
said. “And yet the people are happy. After all of their hardships, they needed
a cause to rejoice. Every penny was well spent. Without a strong soul and
spirit, there is no will.”

“HEAR HEAR!” cried out the
crowd in the hall, cheering in her defense.

“It may be so, my lady,” he
said, “but my responsibilities as treasurer are our reserves. They must be replenished.
I propose that we raise a new tax on the people.”

There came a boo throughout
the crowd, until Aberthol slammed his cane several times and they quieted down.

Earnan cleared his throat
and continued: “Rebuilding King’s Court has cost us dearly, my lady. The people
benefit. They must also help pay for it.”

The entire room turned and
looked at Gwen. She mulled it over, thinking carefully, until finally she reached
a conclusion.

“I thank you for doing your
duty,” she said to Earnan, “and you do it well. I shall not tax my people, however.
To solve the problem, you can take my own wealth.”

Earnan’s eyes widened in
surprise.

“My lady?” he said.

“All of these gifts I have
been given—all of these jewels and treasures—you may take for our treasury.
Take it all. I would rather you take it from me than from the people.”

Gwendolyn looked to Thorgrin.

“These wedding gifts are
yours, too. This is assuming you agree?”

Thorgrin nodded back without
hesitation.

“Of course, my lady,” he
replied. “These material things mean nothing to me.”

Gwendolyn nodded to Earnan,
satisfied.

“I believe it resolves the
matter,” she said.

Earnan bowed.

“It does. It is a most
satisfactory conclusion, one I had not anticipated. The people are lucky to
have you. I doubt any other ruler would have done the same.”

The room erupted with a cheer
of love and admiration.

“Whatever gifts you give
away, we will give you more in the full again!” a commoner yelled from the
crowd. There came another jubilant cheer.

Gwen was feeling tired, and
she wondered how much longer today’s meeting would go on. Her back was hurting
her from the baby, and she squirmed, no longer able to sit comfortably on the
throne.

Duwayne, her advisor on the
masses, stepped forward.

“My lady, speaking of the
needs of the people,” he said, “our people have come to King’s Court these last
six moons and have helped us rebuild. Now that the work is done, they must
return to their own villages. But they will be returning to homes and villages ravaged
by war. Now it is our time to help
them
rebuild. We must allocate and distribute
badly-needed resources for them: manpower, building materials, supplies, grain,
gold. Now that King’s Court has returned, the rest of the Ring must not be
neglected.”

Gwendolyn nodded, finding
wisdom in his words.

“Agreed,” she said. “I shall
appoint one of my councilmen to oversee this. He will be given the duty of touring
all the villages and towns of the Ring, and deciding which resources to
allocate, on my behalf. Whatever my people need, they will get.

“Steffen!” Gwendolyn called
out.

Steffen hurried over to her,
bowing, looking at her with surprise.

“I appoint you as the new
Lord of the Interior. You will speak with my voice and have all the power and resources
of the royal treasury and royal forces in helping the Ring rebuild. You will
travel town to town, you will meet all the townsfolk, and you will decide who
will get what. Is this a responsibility that you will accept?”

All eyes in the packed hall turned
to Steffen. He shifted and ran his palms on his thighs, clearly caught off
guard, and uncomfortable being in the spotlight.

“My lady,” he said, clearing
his throat. “I am but a simple servant. I am not deserving of such rank and
position. What you describe will be one of the greatest positions of power in
your kingdom. Why should it be given to me? I am not deserving.”

“That is precisely the
reason why it will be given to you,” Gwendolyn said. “Because you act with
humility; because you are not puffed up with pride; because you are a loyal and
devoted and trustworthy advisor; and because I trust you with my life. You also
understand the common people, and you are a fine judge of character. I trust
you to speak with my own voice. The position is yours, and I ask you to accept.”

Steffen bowed his head down
low. As he raised his head, his eyes were watering.

“My lady, I accept with the
greatest humility and gratitude. It is a position that I should hope to be able
to live up to.”

Gwen nodded

“Excellent. On this Departure
Day, you will depart before the sun has set.”

Gwen turned back to Aberthol,
hoping there was no more left on the agenda for this morning; but he stepped
forward and unrolled a long scroll, filled with items, and began to read from
it. Gwendolyn sighed.

“Reports pour in, my lady,
of forts throughout the Ring that were destroyed and need to be rebuilt,
fortified. We also need to reinforce along the canyon bridges. The Silver and
the Legion need to be strengthened, too, after all of their losses. They do not
have the numbers that they did in your father’s day.”

Gwendolyn nodded.

“Kendrick and Erec,” she
announced, “you will be in charge of all matters relating to the Silver. I
trust you to make us the fighting force that we were in our father’s time.”

“Yes, my lady,” they both
said.

“You will also be in charge
of fortifying and securing all of the forts and crossings throughout the Ring.
We need our military and our posts back to their prior strength. Replenish our
Hall of Arms, and fill the Silver’s barracks.”

“Yes, my lady,” they replied.

“Thorgrin,” Gwen said,
turning to him, “You will be in charge of rebuilding the Legion. Fill its ranks
once again, make it the fighting force it once was, so that it will reflect
upon the honor of all those boys who died serving our cause.”

“Yes, my lady,” Thor
replied.

Aberthol held up another
scroll, unraveled it and squinted. Then he began to read.

“Reports have arrived, my
lady, from today’s falcons, of trouble in the Upper Islands.”

Gwen raised her eyebrow,
wondering.

“What sort of trouble?” she
asked.

“A dispatch from your
regent, Srog. He reports of a discontent amongst its people.” Aberthol squinted
at the scroll as he skimmed it. “He speaks of an instability amongst Tirus’ sons,
and its spreading to the people. He warns of a possible revolt. He asks for
reinforcements.”

Gwendolyn leaned back in her
throne and folded her hands across her chest. She had not expected this.

“And how do you interpret
all of this?” she asked, turning to her councilmen. Gwen had learned from her
father that it was always best to hear others’ thoughts before expressing your
own.

“Srog is a wise and capable
leader,” Erec said. “Silesia is a great city. If he’s having difficulty ruling
the Upper Isles, that does not bode well. I trust what he says.”

“The other MacGils are a stubborn,
hard-headed people,” Kendrick volunteered. “Perhaps they cannot be tamed.”

“You could free Tirus,”
Godfrey said. “That would appease them.”

“Or you could abandon the Upper
Isles altogether and consolidate your reign,” Thor offered.

“Your father was never able
to unite the island and the mainland in his lifetime,” Aberthol said. “Nor his
father before him.”

“We must not let any
rebellion flourish in the Upper Isles,” Kendrick said, “or it could easily
spread to the mainland. Perhaps we need to invade.”

 “I disagree, my lady,” Reece
said. “We need the Upper Isles. It is a strategic point in the Tartuvian Sea. And
not all the Upper Islanders are rotten. There are many fine people among them,
including our cousin Matus.”