The Godspeaker Trilogy (130 page)

He moved to the antechamber's other empty chair and sat, his heart pounding. He so mistrusted the thoughts shifting behind her eyes. “Why?”

“Oh, Alasdair. When I said I had no choice but to fight the dukes, what do you think I meant?”

She can't. She can't. She's barely left her girlhood behind . “You mean to challenge them to judicial combat.”

She smiled. “I should've known you'd guess.”

Dear God, judicial combat. No quarter, no mercy. No verdict without a death…

“Rhian—”

Pushing out of her chair she dropped to one knee on the floor before him and took his suddenly cold hands in hers. “My love, I must. If it comes to it, I must. There is still some little hope that Helfred's stern warnings will bring Kyrin and Damwin to their senses, but…”

“Helfred's not his uncle,” he said. “He lacks Marlan's natural intimidation.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled again, wryly. “Although I think Helfred might surprise. Would God have chosen him if he weren't more than he seems?”

He let his thumb rub the back of her hand. “Rhian, I'm not comfortable with so much talk of God. Ethrea has managed well enough these past centuries without such heady divine interventions. I mistrust these signs and omens now.”

“Don't let Helfred hear you say so,” she told him. “I doubt he'd take it kindly, especially from a king. Besides, how can you doubt what happened? Like it or not, Alasdair, you were there. You saw Dexterity burn, the child return to life. Marlan. You heard Helfred chosen prolate.”

He pulled his hands free of her. “What I saw and heard, Rhian, and what those events mean have yet to be reconciled. All this talk of men chosen by God…you of all people should see where lies the danger! Let a man believe himself chosen of God and it seems to me all common sense flies out the window. Yes, and goodness too. Marlan—”

“Revealed himself Godless in the end,” she said sharply, standing. “He was a wicked man, and was harshly punished for his sins.”

“Rhian…” He stood too and did take her by the shoulders, not to shake her but to move her aside so he could pace out his fear and temper round the confines of the antechamber. “I never knew you to be so pious.”

“I'm not pious ,” she protested. “But I can't deny what I've seen! I can't turn my back on what I've been told!”

“You've been told you're God's chosen,” he said, and felt his guts tighten with fright. “That's a heady brew, Rhian. Men thrice your age might well be thrown off stride.” He stopped pacing and faced her, let her see his fear for her writ plain in his eyes. “Do you think you're invincible? Do you think that because it seems you've been chosen to—”

“ Seems? ” Her chin came up and her eyes glinted, dangerously. “Are you doubting my part in this now, Alasdair?”

No. But I'm wishing some other princess had been chosen . “What I'm trying to say, my love, is that if you're not careful this choosing could lull you into over-confidence. Could beguile you into believing you're more than flesh and blood, that no harm can come to you no matter how you risk yourself. That you'd even think of fighting Damwin and Kyrin…Rollin's mercy, can you believe I'll stand by and watch you throw yourself onto their swords?”

Slowly she walked to him, and slowly she framed his face with her hands. Hands that were callused from the hilt of her knife and the hour upon hour she spent dancing Zandakar's hotas. Hands that only last night had—

“I believe you know I must end their defiance,” she said softly, distracting him. “Every day that passes without they bend their knee to my authority is a day that lends weight to the muttering of the ambassadors.”

He took her wrists and loosened her clasping hands. There was a dried bloodstain on the cuff of her silk shirt. Zandakar's oath. A pity he hadn't sworn it in heart's blood. “You can't make decisions based upon opinions held by men who have no sway here.”

“But they do have sway, Alasdair,” she insisted. “They talk amongst themselves, they strike bargains, sign treaties, shift alliances as their masters dictate. They have lives and purposes beyond our influence. They are men of power. And somehow I must convince them to defer to me. To follow my leadership against Mijak. What hope do I have of that if they see I can't discipline two errant dukes? And if Emperor Han suspects I'm not strong enough to do this…”

“Han,” he spat, and turned away. “I don't trust him. I don't trust his witch-men. I am not a pious man and even I see there is the stench of unsavoury practice upon them.”

“It's true,” Rhian said after a moment. “The witch-men of Tzhung-tzhungchai aren't…comfortable. They dabble in things we don't understand. But I have to trust there's a purpose to their presence, Alasdair. I have to trust I can trust Tzhung's emperor, at least for now.”

“And I think you place too much trust in trust,” he retorted, turning back. “And not enough in the world we see and touch without miracles.”

“Alasdair…” Rhian folded her arms, growing impatient. “I'm not talking of miracles now. I'm talking of cold hard reality, of consequences that will follow if I don't face the truth. A horde of brutal warriors is poised to sweep across Ethrea – and after Ethrea, the rest of the world. Perhaps Arbenia and Harbisland and the others already suspect trouble stirs in the east, or it could be that Han and I are the only rulers who know. But even if we are, Mijak won't stay secret forever. And when the trading nations' ambassadors learn the truth, they must believe I can stand against the coming darkness. If they don't, if they see me weak against two mere dukes, I fear they'll join together and wrest Ethrea from my grasp, all in the name of self-preservation.”

“I understand that,” he said, his throat tight. “What I don't understand is why you must be the one to risk your life against Damwin and Kyrin. I'm your king consort, Rhian. There's no shame in sending me against them in your stead. Not even Emperor Han fights with his own blade. He has warriors who shed blood in his name. Let me be your warrior. Don't risk Ethrea for your pride.”

“Alasdair, Alasdair…” Again Rhian approached him. “That's unfair. When was I ever a prideful woman?”

He couldn't help it: he laughed. “Rhian!”

“All right,” she conceded with a reluctant smile. “I'm proud, but not in that way. This has nothing to do with wanting to prove myself a dashing hero, it's about proving myself more than an upstart miss. And—”

“What?” he said, when she didn't finish the thought. “Rhian, what?”

She laid a palm flat to his velvet-covered chest, frowning. “I'll prick your pride if I say it,” she murmured. “Haven't we enough strife between us?”

She didn't have to say more. He knew what she meant. “You think I can't defeat the dukes, where you can.”

“Alasdair…” She sighed. “If it were a public jousting, a play to entertain and amuse, with blunted swords and padding aplenty I have no doubt you'd trounce the pair of them handily. No doubt. But this bout will be to the death.”

“And I've never drawn a sword in anger, or in the need to defend my life.” I've never killed . “Still, neither have the dukes, Rhian. They and I are evenly matched on that score.”

“Perhaps. But they've had more years to play with swords than you,” she said. “And I know for a fact both Damwin and Kyrin take their swordplay most serious. Papa could never best them in the annual joustings. But even if you're right and you're their equal, and more than their equal, here's the bitter truth. You and Damwin and Kyrin have had fencing masters to school you. Your form may be perfect, your touch with a blade a thing of beauty…but you only ever danced for show. Whereas I have had a warrior train me, a man steeped in blood from the moment of his birth. Every time I dance with him it is to make of myself a better killing queen. And if I'm to win the ambassadors to my cause I must show them my cold, killing face. Mine, Alasdair. For it's my lead they must follow in the fight against Mijak.”

Her eyes were devoid of light and warmth and even the smallest hint of love. She was gone far away from him, to a dark place he didn't envy, to the dark place where Zandakar lived…and she lived with him.

“I'll not dissuade you, then?” he said. To his own ears his voice sounded dry and defeated. “Nothing I say can turn you from this path?”

She laid two fingers across his lips. “If anyone could, Alasdair, it would be you. I swear it. And only because I love you, and know you love me, and know you understand what's at stake here, do I dare spurn your offer.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him, the lightest touch of lips to lips. “Don't think for a moment I don't know what this costs you. Don't think I don't live forever in your debt.”

He stepped back. “If you wish to insult me continue this talk of debts, Rhian. I wasn't blind when I wed you. I wasn't ignorant when Helfred crowned me King Consort of Ethrea. From that moment I was destined to live in your shadow. I know that, and accept it. But you must accept that at times, though shouldered willingly, the burden is cruel…and I won't always spare you its cost to me.”

“That's fair,” she whispered. “And more than fair. It's right.”

“Yes. It is.” He ran an unsteady hand over his face. “So this is why you've released Zandakar? So he can help you prepare to fight the dukes?”

She nodded. “They'll use their longswords. I'm used to dancing with a dagger. I must find a bigger blade and learn how to dance with it and I haven't much time. He's the only one who can school me, Alasdair. This isn't a matter of want, but of need.”

“I grant you that,” he said, grudging. “But can't he school you out of his cell? Must he be housed in the castle like an honoured guest? Like a friend?”

“You know?” Her eyebrows pinched. “It seems my royal servants haven't enough work, so much time is spared to them for tattling and gossip.”

He snorted. “Don't change the subject.”

“Zandakar will remain on the top floor of the east wing,” she said. “One corridor leads to his chamber, and a full skein of guards will keep him snugly within. He'll not tread a foot anywhere without an armed escort. He's still a prisoner, Alasdair. A gilded cage is still a cage. But since he'll be helping to keep me alive it would be churlish not to remove him from the dungeons.”

Yet again she was right, though it seared him to admit it. “I see you've thought it all to a careful conclusion.”

“I think I have,” she agreed. “And I'd be happier about it if I thought you were with me. I know you'll say you are with your public face but between us, in private…” Her voice caught a little. “Alasdair, we can't always be at odds.”

“We're not,” he said, and kissed her forehead. “That I don't like a thing isn't the same as saying I can't see the right of it. Do you have a date in mind for this judicial confrontation?”

“I thought Tassifer's Feastday,” she said, trying to smile. “Given it celebrates a triumph of justice over persecution.”

“And that gives you time enough to learn from Zandakar what you must learn, to prevail?”

She shrugged. “It'll have to.”

Rollin's mercy, how it galled him that he couldn't take this burden from her shoulders. “Very well. You'll dictate the dukes' letters to Ven'Cedwin now?”

“As soon as he's done in the buttery, yes.”

“Then I might leave you to that,” he said. “You don't need me to put words in your mouth. I have business of my own to truck with. Do we dine alone or on state business tonight?”

“I'd rather we dined alone,” she said, pulling a face. Diverted from protest, as he'd intended. “But I think Edward, Rudi and Adric would feel better if they broke bread at our table.”

Adric . “Our new duke of Kingseat makes me nervous, Rhian. He lacks…polish.”

She shrugged. “I know. I've been thinking the same thing.” Her eyes lit with sudden mischief. “In fact, I've been thinking he'd benefit greatly from a mentor. A personage with gentility and self-control, who well understands how to be a man of power without forever shouting about it to everyone within earshot. Can you suggest a candidate?”

As ever, he was warmed and softened by her compliment. “If I can think of one I'll be sure to steer them together.” He kissed her again, on the lips this time, with enough passion to reassure her – and himself – that disaster hadn't claimed them yet.

Rhian returned his kiss eagerly. “I think we must make sure of an early supper,” she whispered against him. “After all, Edward and Rudi are senior in their years. Late nights can hardly be good for them.”

“I agree,” he said, grinning, then withdrew before she could think to ask him what business he had and where he would go next.

As he stepped into the corridor beyond the antechamber he saw Ven'Cedwin approaching, prayer beads swinging from his belt and a well-fed look upon his plump face. The venerable stopped and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“The queen awaits you, Ven'Cedwin. Make sure to draft these letters in your most elegant hand,” he said. “The dukes must not find fault in the manner of their chiding.”

Ven'Cedwin's lips quirked in a discreet smile. “Indeed they must not, Your Majesty. I take your excellent advice to heart.”

Leaving the venerable and Rhian to their exacting duty, Alasdair headed to the east wing and Zandakar, his gilded prisoner.

The skein of guards lined the corridor end to end, as Rhian had promised. Each man's hand held a pikestaff, each man's side was graced with a sword. The senior officer, his name was…was Rigert, bowed when he reached them.

“Your Majesty.”

He nodded at the closed chamber door. “Zandakar's within?”

“Majesty, he is.”

“And you know his life is forfeit should he behave untoward?”

Rigert's eyes flickered. “Her Majesty has not said so.”

“You may take it I speak for the queen in this, Sergeant. Should Zandakar give you any cause to doubt him, stab first and question after. He's not a man to be taken lightly, is that clear?”

“Majesty,” said Rigert. “I know enough of him to know he's a feisty one, right enough. My half-brother Ansard's in the pay of Duke Edward. Ansard was one picked by this Zandakar to help guard the queen on the road from Linfoi. You can trust I'll not blink if it comes to putting him down.”

Alasdair clapped the man's shoulder. “Trust I'll hold you to that, Rigert.” And make you sorry if you fail . But that thought he kept to himself. It was the kind of blustering thing Adric would say.