Sovereign (58 page)

Orkid walked around him to leave his office. 'I am going to see the queen,' he said to his secretary. 'Call Sergeant Arad. General Dejanus is to be arrested.' He walked into the hallway, stopped and came back, tapping his lips with a finger. 'In fact, tell Arad that the general is unwell; the defeat at Lynan's hand has dislodged his mind. He is not to talk to anyone.'

Orkid turned to leave again when Areava herself appeared, her face twisted in fury. 'I have been told Dejanus came here. Where is he?'

Dejanus heard her voice, heard the anger and the hate underneath it. It was not fair. He did not deserve this. He did not deserve to be hated. It was
Orkid's
fault.

'And he will pay,' Dejanus whispered. His hand seemed to fall of its own accord on the hilt of his dagger. He looked down, slowly lifted his hand, then rested it again, but this time on the hilt of his sword.

'He is unbalanced, your Majesty,' Orkid said quickly. 'And dangerous. I would not advise—'

'I'm not asking for your advice, Chancellor,' Areava said darkly. 'I want to ask the general what he has done with my army…' Her voice faded when Dejanus appeared from Orkid's office. The first thing she noticed was the hollowness of his eyes, as if they had sunk into his skull. The second thing was the sword he carried in his right hand.

Orkid saw her gaze shift from him, and he turned quickly on his heel. 'Now, man!' he said to his secretary. 'Get Constable Arad!'

'Stop there!' Dejanus ordered, and there was enough authority in his voice to make the secretary hesitate. 'I am constable. I have returned, your Majesty, to take up my proper duties.'

'My… army…' she said hesitantly.

Dejanus shrugged. 'Badly trained, your Majesty. Badly equipped. Badly supplied.' He smiled. 'Brilliantly led. But what was that against so much?'

'There is none left of it?'

'You still have me,' he said. He absently scratched his beard with his free hand. 'Oh, and my escort. Thirty medium cavalry. Storians all; alas, not very good cavalry as it turns out.'

'I will have your head, Dejanus,' she said evenly. 'Insane or not, I will have your head.'

It was then, for the first time in his whole life, that Dejanus realised he was no longer afraid. 'If you are going to take my head, your Majesty, it should be for a greater cause than the loss of your straw army.'

'Your Majesty,' Orkid said quickly, his voice rising, 'you should leave now. Dejanus is insane. There is no telling what he might do.' Again he turned to his secretary. 'For God's sake, man, get Arad!'

The man scurried off, terrified Dejanus would try and stop him, but the general, still smiling, simply watched him go. Areava, however, stood her ground.

'Well, here we are, the three of us,' Dejanus said. 'Fitting. Will you tell her, Orkid, or will I?'

Areava looked at Orkid. 'What's he talking about?'

Orkid, keeping his gaze locked on Dejanus, said, 'I tell you, your Majesty, he is not himself. I have no idea what he is talking about—'

'I am talking about the murder of Berayma. I am talking about a plot to put you on the throne, Areava, and to blame your brother for the crime of regicide.'

'Olio?' Areava asked. 'Why Olio…' Then she realised what Dejanus meant. 'No.'

'But yes!' Dejanus said. 'And it worked so well! You hated Lynan so much you would believe anything about him so long as it was bad.'

'No, that isn't true,' she said. 'I didn't hate him—'

'Of course you hated him!' Dejanus roared. Orkid moved forward towards Dejanus, but the general raised his sword to keep him away. 'Everyone in Kendra knew how much you hated Lynan, no matter how much you protested otherwise. You detested him because his father was a commoner. He sullied your precious Rosetheme bloodline. If it hadn't been for your pride and hate, none of Orkid's plan would have been possible.'

Areava saw Orkid's shoulders slump. Her heart felt like ice. 'Orkid?'

'It is not true,' the chancellor said, but his voice was weak. 'None of this is true.'

Dejanus rolled his eyes. 'Such protestation! That will convince her!' His smile slipped away, replaced by a sneer. 'Of course it is true! He and his brother had it planned ten years before your mother died. Berayma could not be allowed to live because he was too close to the Twenty Houses, and everyone knew how much the Twenty Houses hated anyone from the provinces. How could Aman increase its influence if Berayma was king? More importantly, since Marin had only one child, and that a son, how could Aman marry into imperial power if Berayma was king?'

'Sendarus?' Areava's hands gripped the Key of the Sceptre hanging from her neck. 'He married me because of a
plan
?'

Orkid spun around to face her. 'No! No, never! Sendarus never knew! He wasn't a part of it…' Orkid stopped when he realised what he had said, what he had admitted. 'God, Areava, I'm sorry…'

'Too late, Amanite,' Dejanus said, his voice filled with scorn. 'Now tell her the whole truth, how you pinned down Berayma's hands while I drove my dagger straight through his royal neck.'

Orkid was still looking at Areava, but his gaze was focused on something else, on a distant point in time when everyone he cared for was still alive, when the plan had seemed to go right and his life's work had come to fruition. All gone now, all destroyed, and no hope of ever getting it back.

Yet there was one more task to perform, one more duty to fulfil. Orkid swung around, knocking aside the blade still pointing at his chest, stepped forward, grasped the dagger from Dejanus's belt and with all his strength thrust the blade into the general's neck.

Dejanus opened his mouth to scream but could only cough on the red tide pouring out of his mouth. Orkid pulled out the dagger and stepped back, and Dejanus went down like a hammered calf, his blood spurting high into the air.

Orkid looked down, and instead of seeing Dejanus's face, he saw Berayma's. All the bile and all the guilt he had been carrying since that terrible night he had slain the king welled up inside him. He gagged, vomited, could not stop it. When the retching finally passed he hung his head back and cried: 'Oh, Lord of the Mountain, what have I done?'

But it was Areava, not his god, who answered. 'You have betrayed me,' she said.

He turned to face her, wiping his mouth and beard on his sleeves. 'No, Areava, no. I love you.' He held out the bloody hand still holding the dagger. 'All of this was for Grenda Lear. For your mother. For
you.''

Areava went to him quickly. At that moment he thought, crazily, she was coming into his arms, and could not resist when she took the dagger from his hand and plunged it deep into his chest. He folded over her like a broken tree, his arms flopping on her shoulders, his head resting against her cheek. 'I love you,' he repeated with his last breath, as Areava twisted the knife and screamed her hate for him.

That night she dressed in her armour and swore not to take it off until her brother Lynan was dead at her feet. She told no one what she had learned about his innocence regarding Berayma's death; that was no longer important. After all, it was Lynan who had invaded his own home with barbarians from the Oceans of Grass, Lynan who had slaughtered Grenda Lear's finest regiments, Lynan who had so cruelly slain her husband and—by that action—slain her birthing daughter. Lynan was the greatest enemy of all, and if only he could be cut down the Kingdom might yet be made whole.

That night she also ordered a huge pyre to be made in the courtyard, and on that she had thrown the bodies of Orkid and Dejanus. No priest was asked to say a prayer over them. That night she also ordered Lingdar to leave Kendra; she did not care where Lingdar went, so long as it was not to remain within the borders of her Kingdom. That night she also was among the first to see above Ebrius Ridge the long line of torches she knew was the advance troops of Lynan's invading army. Within a day, two at the most, Kendra would be under siege.

'Come, my brother,' she said into the night, tightly grasping her Key of Power. 'Come to me so we can finish this.'

Later she noticed her hands were all bloody. She stared at them, mystified, for she had bathed her whole body after killing Orkid; then she noticed the marks were in the shape of the Key. It was the amulet that was stained, but it was old blood, wine red and brittle, as if it had been on the Key for a year or more.

'It is Berayma's,' she said aloud, and found she could finally cry.

CHAPTER 35

Lynan arrived on the outskirts of Kendra at midmorning. From his vantage point on the Ebrius Ridge it seemed absurdly at peace. The city lay like a complex quilt on the gentle slope from the foot of the ridge down to the sea. The sun sparkled on the harbour and above the waters wheeled kestrels and seagulls. Then he noticed how empty the place looked. Except for one or two fishing vessels and a trader in dry dock, there were no ships, and all the streets were virtually empty. Here and there figures scurried along streets, ducking from one doorway to another. It was as if the whole city had been depopulated by some terrible plague.

That would be me
, he said to himself.
Lynan the plague, never Lynan the conqueror. And never Lynan the king
.

'They will learn,' he said aloud. He turned to Ager. 'When we left, my friend, did you ever think we would return with an army at our back?'

Ager shrugged. 'At the time I thought the exile was permanent. Truly, I did not think we would ever return, with or without an army.'

'This city is not built for a siege.'

'No. Only the foot of the ridge is fortified. Once past that, even the palace is open to us. Kendra always relied on the provinces to buffer it from any attack, that and the strength of its navy.'

'I will change that,' Lynan said. 'I will make this city impregnable.'

Ager glanced sideways at Lynan. 'Impregnable against what? Once you take Kendra you will have the whole Kingdom. Those provinces in the north most likely to oppose you—Hume and Chandra—you now control, and we learned from Eynon's messenger last night that Aman—the only province in the south that could oppose you—is held for you. Even the Kingdom's traditional enemy, Haxus, is in your hands.'

'If I can do all of this, someone else can,' Lynan said. He sat straighter in the saddle, and put a hand over his side. The wound had been cleaned and bandaged tightly, but it still throbbed with pain. The Chetts had draughts that could ease the pain, but they also dulled the senses and he could not afford that today. He nodded to the wall immediately below them; along its length were finely garbed soldiers, their armour flashing in the sun. 'Royal Guards. The best troops in Theare.'

Ager snorted. 'I once thought so. Before our exile I trained them for a while. But now I have fought with the Chetts, and seen what they can do with some close-order discipline and a short sword in their hands. The Royal Guards will not stop us.'

'I would not see the city too damaged,' Lynan said.

Ager did not answer.

'I do not want its citizens to hate me.'

'As soon as you attack their city they will hate you,' Ager said. 'Don't spoil it for the Chetts, your Majesty. They have come a long way for this. Give them a day. After that you can call them off. But give them a day.'

Lynan swallowed. 'I wonder if the people in Kendra have any idea what is about to happen to them?'

'They think they do, but except for veterans from the Slaver War, no one in this city has seen a battle up close.'

They were joined by Korigan. 'Your army is in place, your Majesty,' she said formally.

'Then start the descent.'

Areava stood on the south gallery. From here she could not see Ebrius Ridge and the fluttering pennants of her brother's army. She thought it obscene that his flag carried the Key of Union as its symbol. Before her spread her beautiful city, sacred Kendra, capital of a Kingdom that had turned out to be more dream than reality. She tried to imprint what she could see on her mind so that whatever happened in the next few hours she would never forget what it was she was fighting for.

It is not between me and Lynan. It is between order and chaos, between civilisation and barbarity, between the natural order and usurpation by ambition
. With a terrible sadness she realised that whether or not Berayma had been murdered, Lynan inevitably would have become the enemy of Grenda Lear. She wondered if her mother had seen that, and perhaps had given him the Key of Union in the vain hope it would show him what would be lost in a civil war.

There was a polite cough behind her.

'Olio.'

'Sister. You look more than formidable in your armour.'

She turned to face him. He was dressed in armour too. 'You look strange kitted up for war.'

'I feel strange. I think I am too small for the breastplate—'

'No, I mean you are destined for other things. Usharna showed great prescience in giving you the Key of the Heart. Where is it, by the way?'

Olio tapped the breastplate. 'Underneath. It did not seem right, resting on armour.'

She left the south gallery, hooking one arm through his. As they walked they listened for a moment to the strange sound of their armour clanking in the empty hallways.

'I'm sorry about Orkid,' Olio said, and felt his sister's grip tighten. 'I know how close you two were. Imagine Dejanus killing him like that. I knew they were rivals, but I was sure they had been friends once. And then for you to have to save your own life by killing Dejanus! The whole world seems to be upside down.'

'Are the hospices ready?' she asked, changing the subject. 'I fear we'll be needing them soon.'

'We have two ready and fully equipped.'

They emerged into the courtyard. Waiting for them there were the knights of the Twenty Houses; some were mounted, but most were on foot: there would be little use for cavalry in a street-by-street fight for the city, the one fact that gave them hope against the Chetts, who traditionally fought on horseback. Among the knights was Duke Holo Amptra, his son Galen and Queen Charion. Areava felt a pang of jealousy that their armour was so obviously dull and battle scarred and hers as shiny as a new coin.