The Godspeaker Trilogy (119 page)

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Authors: Karen Miller

Tags: #Fiction / Fantasy / Epic, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction

BOOK: The Godspeaker Trilogy
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“Your men stand ready?”

“Prolate, they do.”

“The runners on the road between here and Old Scooton. They stand ready?”

“Prolate, we will know when she makes her move towards us.”

He turned his back on failed Ven’Martin. “She will avoid facing me for as long as she can. Instead she’ll lead her misguided followers down into the city in the hopes of whipping up further support.”

Idson scowled. “She’ll not get that far. We’ll cut off her access before she even—”

“No,” said Marlan. “Let her come. I will be waiting for her with the Court Ecclesiastica. Her defiance has been public, Idson. Let her defeat be public also.” He smiled. “Keep your men well out of sight. Once she and her rabble have set foot on Kingsway, close the army of Kingseat behind her. She’ll not escape my judgement twice.”

“Yes, Your Eminence,” said Idson. “And if she should offer any resistance?”

That would be too much to hope for … “What do you think, Commander?”

Idson was pale, but he seemed resolute. “Princess Rhian is in defiance of the King’s Council. She has not been crowned, she cannot call herself queen. If she offers my men violence they will draw their swords.”

Marlan nodded. “Precisely. Without hesitation or regret. One last thing, Commander. The ambassadors’ residences?”

“Secured, Eminence,” said Idson. “I have men at their gates and in the streets of the ambassadorial district. Every ambassador is reported in his home. Not one will set foot past his door until your permission is given.”

“Well done, Idson. You may go.”

Alone with Ven’Martin, that bitter disappointment, Marlan considered his final move, his containment of the trading nations’ ambassadors.

They would protest, vehemently. There would be angry words. Lofty letters. Threats of hot air. It would all come to nothing. They needed Ethrea to live.

They think they have power here. Tzhung-tzhungchai thinks it has power. Tzhung-tzhungchai is mistaken, as are they all. Rhian is mistaken. I am the power in the kingdom of Ethrea. The sooner they accept that, the happier they’ll be.

Marlan swept from the stableyard, leaving Ven’Martin to rot.

Slowly, carefully, Rhian smoothed the creases from the note she and her council had just received, telling them of the soldiers massed along the duchy Kingseat borders with Hartshorn and Meercheq. More soldiers were stationed at the river-stations, halting every barge. All travellers attempting to cross out of Kingseat were being turned away. Travellers trying to get from Hartshorn and Meercheq into Kingseat were turned away too, after being told they could blame Rhian and her stubborn rebels. Families sundered … businesses put at risk …

She wondered if the men watching her could hear her heart beating. Beyond the chamber’s windows, dusk was fading fast. It was almost time for dinner. Her last council meeting before Kingseat capital would need to conclude soon.

She looked up, her face schooled to confidence. “It doesn’t matter. We were never going to turn tail and run back north. Let Damwin and Kyrin sit on their arses at the borders. Better there than nipping at our heels.”

Edward glared at her. “Except with one word from Marlan they’ll not be at our heels, they’ll be looking to rip out our throats . And not even you and your Zandakar can dance your knives through two ducal armies!”

“He’s not my Zandakar,” she told Edward, coldly. “Mind how you address me, Edward. Fear is no excuse for bad manners.”

Edward leapt to his feet. “ Fear? Are you calling me a coward ?”

She sighed. “Oh, sit down, Edward. Don’t be tiresome.”

“He has a point, Rhian,” said Alasdair, as Edward resumed his chair in affronted silence. “If Marlan decides interdict isn’t enough …”

“He knows already it’s not enough, but I don’t believe he’ll resort to open violence.”

“Rhian!” said Alasdair, exasperated. “He sent a venerable to kill you!”

“In secret! Which is very different from sending an army,” she retorted. “He’s trying to intimidate me with a show of force. And he hopes to turn the people’s hearts against me by interfering with their daily lives. It’s a desperate move, gentlemen. One that’s doomed to fail.”

“You hope it’s doomed,” said Rudi. “But hope never sharpened a sword, Your Majesty. You hope Marlan will leave Damwin and Kyrin stationed at their borders, and maybe he will, but even if he does—the fact remains they stand between us and the soldiers of Arbat, Morvell and Linfoi, who could be rallied to your cause if it proves they’re needed. Leaving you and Zandakar aside, all we have is our small combined escort and it’s woefully insufficient to protect us or force Kyrin’s and Damwin’s armies to stand down. Which means the people of this duchy are penned like sheep. And it won’t take long for the sheep to start complaining. You will look powerless, Your Majesty … and so will start the beginning of the end.”

Not if I can help it . She folded and refolded the wretched note. “There’s still Kingseat’s garrison. Every last man of them approved by my father and loyal to him. Loyal to my House.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alasdair. “I don’t think we can count on them. You’ve not been crowned yet and you’re a woman. These are soldiers, not scholars or lawyers. They see the world simply. Even if some of them do support you, Rhian, we can’t assume they’ll draw swords on their fellow guards.”

She tossed the note on the table before it shredded in her fingers. “You’re probably right. But as I said, it doesn’t matter . Because even if I could gather more soldiers to my banner I tell you plainly, gentlemen, I wouldn’t . I will not have a pitched battle between ducal armies. Ethrean against Ethrean? It’s unthinkable. A civil war in my name would only prove every wicked thing Marlan says to destroy me. I might as well hand him my knife and invite him to stab me himself.”

Her words made them flinch, as she intended.

Beside her, Alasdair jabbed his quill-point into the sheet of paper before him. Adric kept his gaze on the table but she could tell he was in wild disagreement. He was such a hothead. His father and Edward exchanged looks.

“Well?” she said, challenging them. “You’re my council. Counsel me. Am I wrong ?”

“No,” sighed Rudi. “Your Majesty, you’re not wrong. If we must be at war we need to ensure it’s a war of words, not swords and pikestaffs. Our best weapon is the people’s love for you and their belief that you are God’s choice for the crown.”

“What would seal this for us is another miracle,” said Adric. “Maybe two. Or three. In the right place, at the right ti—”

“No,” she said. “It’s out of the question. Mr Jones is not well enough for any more miracles.”

“He’s been resting for days now,” said Adric, undaunted. “Physicked round the clock. Surely—”

She banged her fist on the table. “Are you deaf all of a sudden, Adric? Or so lost to your duty you would argue beyond your place? Have I erred in your elevation? Are you too green to be a duke?”

“He’s only saying what the rest of us are thinking!” said Rudi, defensive. “Jones might be our only hope of—”

“And what about me?” she said. “I thought I was our hope. Mr Jones has been invaluable but I am Ethrea’s queen. If I can’t rule without a toymaker as my court fool, bursting into flames to amuse the crowds and distract them from the fact I’m a lowly inadequate woman, then clearly I don’t deserve to wear the crown!”

“That’s not what we’re saying, Your Majesty,” Edward murmured.

“Yes it is, Edward.” Rhian slumped in her chair. “And I’m saying it too. Once this is over, if the crown is still mine, it must be mine. I must have earned it. It’s not enough to be Eberg’s daughter. It’s not enough that Mr Jones bursts into flame. I have to prove I’m worthy of ruling. I have to prove I deserve to be queen. So. Tomorrow morning I’m going home to Kingseat capital and I will prove exactly that. And when I am in my castle, with my standard flying over its battlements, the soldiers and the people will know their queen is on her throne. They will know there is peace in Ethrea. They will know their world is safe once more. Then shall I entertain the ambassadors and they too will know they have nothing to fear.”

“And what about Marlan?” said Alasdair, his arms folded. “If you think he’ll meekly hand you the crown without a word of objection—”

“You don’t know he won’t!” she said. “I have faith in Helfred. He may yet find a way to persuade his uncle that the time has come to stand aside. God knows he’s persuasive. He persuaded me not to kill him any number of times!”

The look he gave her smouldered. “Letting Helfred go back to the capital was foolish and short-sighted. Either he’ll convert to his uncle’s cause or his uncle will find some way of exploiting him to harm you and I fear you are so tender you’ll throw yourself away for—”

“Gentlemen,” she said, standing. “His Majesty and I have private matters to discuss. Be so good as to withdraw. We will leave for Kingseat capital at dawn.”

The dukes filed out in silence, their faces averted. The door closed behind them.

She turned on him. “Alasdair, are you trying to destroy their confidence in me?”

“Of course not,” he said, and shoved out of his chair. “I just want you to think before—”

“Think? My God, I do nothing but think! I have so many thoughts chasing round in my head I’m in danger of losing my mind altogether!”

“Then perhaps instead of thinking you should talk!” he retorted. “Talk to me. Your husband. The man you made king.”

“Would there be any purpose? You disagree with every choice I make! We don’t have conversations, we have running arguments!” She clutched the back of her chair and watched him stamp around the room. “Nothing I do is right as far as you’re concerned. Every decision I make is wrong . I was wrong to trust Zandakar, I was wrong to learn the hotas, I was wrong to send Helfred home, I was—”

“God save me!” shouted Alasdair. “You stupid wench! Can’t you see I’m scared for you?”

“Well,” she said, unsteadily. “That was a tender declaration.”

He crossed the carpet in three swift steps, seized her arms and dragged her out from behind the table. In his eyes, behind the anger, something frantic struggled for release.

“I’m scared for you, Rhian,” he said, his voice close to breaking. “We’ve been married scant weeks. I’ve made love to you twice. You’re my wife and you won’t let me protect you. What kind of a husband doesn’t protect his wife? What kind of a king doesn’t keep his queen safe?”

“Oh, Alasdair. Tell me, truthfully. If our positions were reversed. If you were the lawful ruling king of Ethrea, and you had married me and made me your queen, and somebody tried to take your crown away. Would you let me protect you ? Would you hide behind my skirts?”

“But Rhian, that’s—”

“ No . It’s not different. The crown is neither male nor female, Alasdair. The crown is itself—and whoever wears it must stand alone. By blood and birthright I am Ethrea’s queen. You are king by marriage. You will always stand behind me. Accept that now, once and for all, or walk away from me… and I’ll rule alone.”

“You’d do that?” he whispered. “You’d let me go?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’d have no choice.”

A harsh, heart-pounding silence. Alasdair walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. “I wouldn’t let you.”

“ You’d have no choice.”

He let his head rest against the casement and stared into the darkness beyond the glass. “Do you suppose Henrik’s still alive?”

“I hope so.”

“And Helfred?”

“I can’t imagine Marlan would murder his own sister’s son.”

“And I’m afraid there’s little our good prolate wouldn’t do, now he’s had a taste of power.”

He sounded … defeated. Softly she walked to him and pressed her cheek against his back. She could feel his heart, racing too fast. “You’re forgetting something important, my love. Marlan may be the prolate but I have God on my side.”

He tensed. “Rhian—”

“Alasdair, I’m serious!” She stepped back, and tugged him round to face her. “From the beginning I’ve been sent signs, given portents. I was given Dexterity, and his miracles. I was given Zandakar, who’s twice saved my life. I have to believe God wants me to be queen.”

“Maybe God does want it,” said Alasdair. “But God doesn’t always get everything he wants. Sin exists, Rhian. Terrible crimes are committed. God can’t want that, but…” He shrugged. “Still, they happen.”

“And when I am crowned queen, and we are happy in our castle, I will devote my life to righting those wrongs. But first I must reach my castle, Alasdair, and to do that I need you. I need you to trust me. If my own husband won’t trust me, why should my kingdom?”

So gently, he kissed her. “I do. I trust you.”

She met his gaze steadily, though her belly churned. “Words are easily come by, Alasdair. I’ll believe it when you show me. Speak to me in another council meeting as you did here tonight and I’ll ban you from attending for the rest of your life. Do I make myself clear?”

For the longest time he looked at her. She was no longer able to read his eyes. They were blank, like shuttered windows. Oh God. Oh Papa . Then he kissed her again, and her own heart resumed beating.

“As you say, Your Majesty,” he said, faintly smiling. “Now shall we find some supper? Or would you rather go straight to bed?”

They were ready to leave Old Scooton just after dawn. It was an anxious Edward who came to fetch her from the dining room. He was a bluff man, but a good one. Never since pledging his loyalty had he spoken of his brother Harley, paying Marlan’s price for his support of a queen. Nor had he once treated her like a wayward child, even though he was old enough to be her father.

“All’s done, Majesty,” he said, standing in the doorway. “We can ride out at your pleasure.”

“Good, Edward. Thank you.” She looked down at herself, at her worn boy’s clothing. “I wonder if I should change into a dress?” she mused. “Marlan might fall down in a spasm if he sees me attired like a king.”

The thinnest of smiles curved Edward’s lips. “We can only hope.”

That made her laugh … and all of a sudden, she felt a lot better. I wanted this, after all. I wanted it. I fought for it. God help me, I killed for it. Am I going to shy away from it now?

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