Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (88 page)

Robsort inclined his head uneasily to Lucius. “Honoured, sir” he said and turned to incline his head to Jihan. “I already know Jihan of course. I
will
take some wine, thank you, Lady.”

Mathius sat next to Lucius and Robsort took a seat across the room. He was nervous. His eyes kept flicking back to the mages every few moments as if he were afraid they would change him into a toad or something. Julia smiled at the thought of Robsort sitting there croaking. He was a very minor noble, but according to Jihan’s letters, he had one important resource—wood. Robsort owned a large tract of forested land in the south. Wood had always been important, but it was especially so to the foundries in Chulym. Apparently, the master smiths had once used charcoal and clay pots in a special process to make fine steel. Those days were gone now. Chulym was a mere shadow of what it had been, but Athlone had been no fool. He had known, as Julia did, that Chulym would have an important part to play in Deva’s recovery.

Julia handed a glass of wine to Robsort and sat next to Jihan. “I expect you’re wondering why I asked to see you, my dear Robsort.”

Robsort didn’t touch his wine. Maybe he thought it was poisoned. She didn’t need to resort to that kind of thing. If she wanted him dead, he would be ash already, and he should know that. She saw the worry and the fear in his eyes and decided to go easy on him. He wasn’t really her enemy, and he certainly wasn’t the worst lord she had ever met. There was Scalderon and Meagan after all.

“Could I have the letters please, Jihan?”

Jihan sorted through a large leather satchel allowing Robsort to catch glimpses of the other letters until he found those he was looking for. He pulled out a bundle and gave them into her waiting hand.

“Thanks.”

Julia absently flicked through the letters then glanced up. “I have thirteen letters here that you sent to Jihan’s father. I’m sure you already know the contents, so there’s no need to read them out. I hope you will take this as it’s meant, Lord Robsort, but I think you have been very silly. Don’t you?”

Robsort licked his lips. “Wha… what do you want?” he asked desperately.

“Nothing too difficult. I simply want you to be my friend. I’m always looking for new friends. When my good
friend
Gylaren becomes King, I’m sure he will be delighted when I mention your help with the voting to him.”

Robsort glanced at Lucius. “Gylaren you say? He’s a good man. When
our
friend is crowned, we should have a banquet to celebrate his good fortune.” Robsort swallowed and dabbed at his sweaty brow with a piece of lace. He made to drink his wine, but then he hesitated with a look of horror forming upon his face. He lowered the glass untouched.

Julia was feeling dreadfully guilty, but she pushed on. “That would be very nice, Robsort. If it’s all right with you, I’ll look after your letters until after the coronation.”

Robsort made to protest, but Lucius shifted just a little in his seat. He didn’t do anything more, but it was enough to shut Robsort’s mouth with an audible click as his teeth came together.

She smiled. “Drink your wine. It’s a very good vintage. I promise.”

Robsort hesitated, but then he gulped the wine in one go. He carefully placed the empty glass on the table beside his chair and stood to leave. “I have to go… the others… I should go…” he said almost bolting out of the room in his haste to be gone.

Julia sat sadly looking at the closed door for a long brooding moment, and wondered if she would be able to live with herself by the time they reached the bottom of the list. Lucius pushed back the hood of his robe and sat on her other side to sandwiched her between him and Jihan.

Lucius cocked his head at her. “That was hard for you, I know, but it was necessary. The Protectorate will never stop trying to conquer Deva. Without a strong King, and some kind of permanent fighting force that can take on the legions and win, Deva will be just another province in a few years.”

“I know you’re right, Lucius, but I’ve seen the future. Would it really be so bad if the sorcerers won?”

Lucius glanced at Mathius who shrugged letting him answer. “You saw a
possible
future, but that one is bad enough to my mind. Is it right that people steal children and torture them? Is it right they kill some of them and make others into sadists themselves? Is it right a minority suffers to support the majority?”

Julia squirmed with each point Lucius made, but the last one made her sit up straight. “The first two are wrong, I grant you that, but the last one is basically what my guardsmen do isn’t it?”

“No it’s not!” Lucius said hotly. “Soldiers choose to sacrifice themselves, the children do not. That’s the difference. Heroes have a choice to be what they are. Who ever gave me or people like me a choice?”

She took her friend’s hand and squeezed gently. “You’re right,” she said quietly. Then a little louder, “How come you always have the right answer?”

Lucius grinned. “I’m a genius of course. I’m sure I told you.”

She laughed and nudged his shoulder with hers. “What you are is a nice man trying to cheer me up, and it’s working.” She set herself for the task ahead. “Who’s next on the list, Mathius?”

Mathius paced back and forth reading a list of names. “Hmmm, the next lord hasn’t arrived yet. Nor has the next or the next. Ah! Lord Rowton
has
arrived. He’s influential and won’t be as easy as poor Robsort. He’s the Lord of Ascol.”

Julia frowned, thinking back over her time with Keverin. She couldn’t remember Lord Ascol ever coming up in conversation… or did she? Wasn’t he the one who still used peonage?

“Where does Rowton fit within Deva?” Julia asked. Mathius knew everything. Well, he knew everything she had ever thought to ask about anyway.

Mathius didn’t disappoint her. “His castle is to the south of Devarr on the east bank of the Ascoli River. It’s right on the confluence of the Aboso and Ascoli Rivers, which is probably one reason why he’s so heavily into shipping.” Mathius tilted his head. “His boats transport all sorts of things along our rivers. His banner is a little strange for a lord.”

“What’s strange about it?” Lucius asked.

Julia was thinking about boats, and not listening to Mathius as he spoke of the significance of this banner or that. In a world using horses for transport, speed would be something dreamed of but seldom attained. Caravans carrying trade goods would take ages to transport things along poor roads to their destinations. Boats would be cheaper than horses or mules and quicker too. She doubted that Athlone had been thinking of trade when he sent his letters to Rowton. Moving troops quickly could be important in war, perhaps even more important than numbers. That must have been part of Athlone’s thinking.

“Sounds more like a merchant house than a lord. What do you think?” Lucius said.

Jihan shrugged. “I’ve heard of worse banners. I always thought mine better suited to a blacksmith!”

“Why a blacksmith?” Julia asked in puzzlement.

“You know, because of the hammers.”

“Oh right,” she said with a slight nod.

On the journey to Devarr, Jihan and Keverin had flown the Devan banner of white crescent moon on black, as well as their own banners. Jihan’s banner consisted of two crossed war hammers over a black keep. Keverin’s banner had two mailed fists crossed on a solid green circle, just like the pattern on the floor of Athione’s great hall.

Julia shook herself back to important matters. “So lord Ascol is influential, he’s into boats, his banner is a silver fish, and he arrived yesterday. What else do we know?”

Jihan gritted his teeth in anger. “We know he’s a cursed traitor!” Then more calmly, “And his banner is not a Silver Fish. They’re bigger, and look completely different. His banner has a black tailed Barranka leaping on a field of red.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean the
type
of fish, Jihan. I meant the
colour
!”

“Oh, sorry.”

They laughed at Jihan’s embarrassment.

Julia pursed her lips. “You’re right about him being a traitor, but then all the lords on the list could be classed that way couldn’t they? Even poor Robsort?” she said looking to Mathius.

Mathius rocked a hand side to side. “I suppose so, but I wouldn’t call Robsort a traitor. He’s just an idiot. You’re right though, the King’s Law would find them all guilty of treason… if we had one.”

“Well, that’s something we’re going to arrange,” Lucius said stroking a finger along the beard at his jaw. “I think you can forget about executing these lords for treason. They will never vote for Gylaren if they think the first thing he’ll do is behead them.”

She nodded, that made sense. “Robsort didn’t mention law proceedings, or a pardon.”

“That’s because he’s an idiot,” Jihan said with a snort of contempt. “He’ll think of it eventually, you wait and see. Tomorrow he’ll come back here asking for one. I’d lay money on it.”

“How much?” Lucius said.

“How about five coppers?”

“Make it five silvers and you’re on.”

“Done!” Jihan said instantly.

Julia waited for it and wasn’t disappointed.

“Julia,” Lucius said timidly. “You couldn’t lend me five silvers could you?”

She sighed, but she held out her hand to Mathius. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and handed over the purse. She always let Mathius hold her money. Her dresses didn’t have pockets. Hanging it from the girdle at her waist, as was the custom in Deva and elsewhere, was awkward because it pulled the gold chain she used off centre. Gold and silver was heavy, and anyway she’d only spend it all if she carried it. She withdrew five silvers and gave them to Lucius.

“I’ll get it back to you,” Lucius said in thanks.

“Any ideas how we should approach Lord Rowton?” she asked and handed her purse back to Mathius. “He won’t be so easily pushed as poor Robsort.”

There was silence while everyone thought of ways and means. Surely, the lack of trade must have hit his finances hard. Perhaps they could use that in some way.

* * *

Keverin strode through the silent streets boiling with anger. Brian and Udall kept pace a step behind with difficulty, but they managed to keep up by trotting every few paces. Keverin had always prided himself on how well he cared for his own people, but he had blinded himself to the injustice he was doing to the rest of the kingdom. Oh yes, he had big plans,
important
plans to save Deva from the sorcerers, but they hadn’t included the plight of the common folk, and they should have curse it!

“But what could I have done?” Keverin said plaintively.

“Lord?” Brian said.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

If he had come storming into Devarr full of righteous anger to depose the King, he would have started a war all right, but it would have been the wrong one! Deva needed to be strong, not divided by civil war, and that’s exactly what would have happened if he’d tried to force Pergann to act. Athlone, curse his hide, had his rotten fingers into everything. Julia had showed him the evidence on their way here in the form of letters. Athlone had even had contacts in Japura of all places! What by the God was in Japura that any decent man would want?

Ah, but that was the crux of the matter, was it not? Athlone had been many things, but decent was not among them.

Julia had been badgering him to do something about the King ever since the war ended last year. He knew she didn’t blame him for this mess, but she didn’t have to. He blamed himself. He was a lord of Deva, but with the privilege came responsibilities. He had been loyal to the crown, when he should have been loyal to the people first.

At least Devarr had food enough now. Gylaren, bless his foresight, had brought abundant supplies with him, and Ranulf had just the place for distributing it. Ranulf’s inn was on Merchant’s Way. Merchant’s Way was the main street through the city, and his inn was central to it. It had been the best in the city at one time, and although the place had seen better days, it would be so again.

Keverin had always taken pride in his honour. He didn’t feel very proud now. All he felt was anger. Two-thirds of the lords were here now, but they couldn’t begin proceedings to elect a new king until the others arrived. What they
could
do was set the palace and Devarr to rights, but even here, he had met resistance. He didn’t have to ask Purcell, Gylaren, or Jihan for help. They had seen the need for themselves, but the other lords seemed to walk around in blinkers. He had to badger, cajole, and in a few cases, outright threaten them to get co-operation. But get it he had. He had forced the lords to supply him with guardsmen to help patrol the streets, which were dangerous still. Another group comprising of older guardsmen had been set to break into the houses and buildings. That was a bad job and best left to men with strong stomachs. Thankfully, the task was almost complete. Another day should see the unpleasant necessity finished, and the pall of smoke from the cremations would clear. He hoped the memories would fade as quickly. How Devarr had managed to stay free of the pestilence was anyone’s guess, but it had, and he thanked the God for it. The sick were being cared for by volunteers and priests sent by Dugan from Holy Isle. The weakest among the sick had been taken directly to Julia’s Hospital. She spent most days there helping care for them with her magic.

Keverin entered the palace grounds and dismissed his bodyguard. That had taken some getting used to as well. He had never needed a bodyguard to walk a simple street before, but Devarr wasn’t safe even for a heavily armed man. Gangs of young toughs were still roaming the streets. Brian and he had captured a couple of the would-be brigands only yesterday. Del and Tor were completely wild and had fought as if their lives depended upon escape. They hadn’t known that he had no intention of holding them for a judgement. He had given them into Ranulf’s care, but after forcibly washing and feeding them, both boys had run off. He hoped they had the sense to realise it was safer to go to Ranulf for food than to take on the patrols.

He entered the palace and stopped to look around. Everything was as it should be. The broken furniture and ripped tapestries had long been burned. The floors and lamps were clean, and the undamaged furniture and tapestries had been re-distributed. Jessica, with help from her friends among the lord’s consorts, had taken care of that side of things. It was as if nothing had ever disturbed the place, and perhaps that was part of the problem. The illusion created by Jessica and her friends was contributing to the lack of concern shown by the lords. If he could find a way to encourage them out onto the streets, they might then begin to understand how bad things really were. With a little luck, they would be attacked—surely that would show them?