The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition) (68 page)

"There is as yet no trouble in Arpesh," said Lord Dean, "and there would be no trouble in the future if the Chara chose to unite himself with the last descendent of the Arpeshian royal line."
There was a silence of less than a heartbeat before I replied, my eyes still fixed on the tapestry, "Has the princess shown any interest in marrying the Chara?"
"The princess is too well trained to voice her thoughts publicly, but the council has learned from various sources that she would be agreeable to such a union, both for the good of her land and also from a personal point of view. She has not forgotten the Chara's kindness to her on her last visit."
"And the Chara?"
"Agreed to invite the princess here. She is scheduled to arrive here in three months' time."
I tore my gaze away from the tapestry and looked over at Lord Dean. I could not read his face, but neither, I was sure, could he read mine. I said coolly, "Then I fail to see where the problem lies, Lord Dean. If the Chara has taken the trouble to invite the princess here, I imagine that he will agree to the marriage. I do not see how I can help him."
"The Chara—" Lord Dean's voice rose in an unaccustomed manner before he mastered himself and said in his usual restrained tone, "I met the Chara in the corridor earlier today. He asked me to send a message to Arpesh immediately, cancelling the princess's visit. He said that he would have to meet with the princess at some other time."
"Well," I said, treading carefully around the edges of my conversation with Peter, "it may be that he is worried about the crisis in Koretia and feels that he needs to devote his time to that matter. After he has done that, no doubt he will be able to meet with the princess."
"I am sure that the Chara will have some good explanation for cancelling the visit," Lord Dean said dryly. "I doubt, however, that he will ever meet with the princess. This is the third marital alliance that the council has proposed to him, the third time that he has agreed to meet with the noblewoman in question, and the third time that he has cancelled the visit at the last minute. It is clear that, in the Chara's mind, there is no good time for him to arrange a marriage."
Outside the windows, the silver trumpets of the Chara announced the end of the court's day. Lord Dean took no notice. He was at most times the least perturbed lord on a council of composed lords, but now he was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.
Keeping my voice neutral, I said, "I suppose that the Chara must believe there is plenty of time for marriage in the future, since he is still young."
"He is not too young to die," said Lord Dean bluntly. "His father was hardly the first Chara to die at a relatively young age from sheer overwork – it is a curse that seems to come with the title. And leaving that possibility aside, there is always the danger brought by war in the dominions. Even with the Chara supervising the fighting from a safe distance, there is always the danger of assassins. If the Chara should lead a force into Koretia some months from now and be cut down, you know what will happen to Emor."
I was silent before saying, "It is not clear who the Chara's heir is, as I understand it."
"He has no heir, according to the law; the council found the Chara's nearest kinsman to be unsuitable for the throne. The Chara has no other relatives close enough within the royal line to qualify for inheritance. So if the Chara dies, this land will erupt into a war as terrible as those in Koretia, a war to determine who should take the Chara's place."
"If a peaceful solution should be found . . ."
The High Lord shook his head. "I doubt that even a successor selected by peaceful means would prove an adequate substitute. The duties of the Chara are handed down father to son; it is a role that the Chara Peter spent his life preparing for, and it is not a role that even I could walk into unprepared. With no Chara, there would be no High Judge, and with no high judgment, Emor would be destroyed."
Lord Dean's words contained an unusual passion, but my own voice, when it spoke, was stripped of all emotion. "I am sure that the Chara has thought of all that you have said. If he has decided that his current duties prevent him from producing an immediate heir, it is not my place to dispute the matter with him."
"Now, Andrew," said Lord Dean mildly, "that is a disingenuous statement. You know quite well that, as the Chara's friend, you have disputed with him on far more controversial topics. Some of these topics you have raised with him on my suggestion – though only, I know, when my opinion on the subjects happened to coincide with your own. So let us have less talk of how you are the Chara's humble servant and more talk about what you and I can do to aid him in this difficult matter."
His eyes shifted to mine suddenly, in the manner of a soldier who is trying to judge how to slice his blade through his enemy's guard. I did not move, but I let my eyes drift once more toward the tapestry. "I am not sure how it is that I can help, Lord Dean. Friend or not, I surely do not have the right to lead the Chara to his marriage-bed. He knows that I will help him in any way I can when the time comes."
"Ah, but will you?" The tone of Lord Dean's question was like cold metal on my skin, but a moment later he said amiably, "I know, of course, that you are always ready with help – you may be the most loyal subject the Chara has in this land. It is natural that, whenever the Chara is in need of advice or companionship, he should turn to you. But perhaps that is a danger in itself. It may be that the Chara finds it difficult to consult with one companion about a union with another companion."
I said nothing, but let my eyes drift blindly over the colors of the tapestry: red and gold, silver and black, green and blue and brown. Lord Dean's voice grew even more gentle as he said, "I remember how, when I was young, it was hard to watch my friends part and take wives. It was like a betrayal of our friendships. I think that the only thing that made it bearable was knowing that some day I too would find a mate. But of course I'm sure that, like any other man, you understand the desire to raise a family."
My roving eye settled for a moment on the man roping the stallion. "Yes."
"Well, then." Having found his way past my guard and delivered his blow, Lord Dean settled back into a more comfortable position. His voice grew matter-of-fact again. "I'm therefore sure you appreciate the conflict of loyalties that the Chara must be feeling at this moment. That is why I suggested earlier that you might want to spend some time apart in Koretia: in order to give the Chara a chance to work out on his own what is best for himself and for Emor. So you see, I'm not asking you to mediate on my behalf as I have in the past, though I'm sure that you will discuss this matter with the Chara. Instead – I speak without formality here, since we share the Chara's friendship – Peter may have less need this time of your advice than of your actions. I think that you ought to put much thought to this."
I rose slowly, my limbs feeling as heavy as though Lord Dean had transferred his aging body to mine. I bowed to the High Lord and said, "I appreciate your bringing this matter to my attention. I assure you that I will indeed give thought to the matter."
Lord Dean rose also, and as we walked toward the library door, he smiled at me. "I know that I can count on your loyalty to the Chara to help you in making the right decision. There is no one else in the palace who knows the Chara as well as you do, or has the ability to demonstrate to him more clearly the importance of fathering an heir."
He left me standing beside a window that, like the window in the Map Room, looked out upon the southern view. Twelve years had passed since I had been in the city surrounding the Chara's palace, and fifteen years since I had been there in daylight, yet still I could find in a moment's glance the market beside the river, with its stalls and tents and the high, windy platform where the slaves were sold.
 
CHAPTER FOUR
Fifteen years before, I had stood hand-bound on that platform, my back to the black border mountains, and my gaze fixed firmly on the Chara's palace.
Summer still held sway in Koretia, but the autumn winds had begun to bite at us even before the slave-seller's pack-train passed through the mountains. I was dressed in a bare-backed Emorian slave's tunic, trying not to shiver as the wind scurried up my spine, and trying even harder not to waver my gaze and chance meeting the eyes of a free-man. The slave-seller called me stubborn and senseless, but I had at least learned that lesson in my struggle to survive during the past ten weeks.
The subdued noises of the Emorian marketplace sounded strange to my ear: the fish-sellers did not shout out their wares, nor did the man running the fruit-cart burst into curses when a small girl tried to make off with an apple. Rather than handle the matter himself, as a Koretian would have done, he summoned the soldiers patrolling the market – though, to my relief, the soldiers seemed more amused than angered by the child's actions. All of the sounds in the market were orderly and exact, like the neat stone walls and tidy fields surrounding the city.
I could not see the fields from where I stood. Towering over me was the palace of the Chara, its hard, white-marble face appearing cold to me in contrast with the warm glow of Koretia's Council Hall. The hilltop palace was encircled by a double layer of walls, as high as the city wall we had passed beyond that morning. On the towers of the inner palace wall, soldiers drilled in uniform motion.
"There he is!"
The voice caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the slave-seller's assistant was standing nearby, pointing to me. The genial slave-seller who had bought me from the previous seller had given his young assistant the day off after our hard, winding journey. From the looks of it, the assistant was spending his time with his girl.
"That's the one who tried to kill me," he was telling her now. "Nearly choked me with his bare hands when I was adjusting his hand-bindings."
"But he's just a boy!" cried the girl. She was dressed in a gown which, except for its heavy material, might have been Koretian, but her hair was a color that seemed to me startling in its lightness.
"That's what I thought, and it was nearly the death of me. My master said that I should have known better. We bought this slave off of Ogier, who was selling him cheap because Ogier was nearly knocked over the head one night after he bought the boy from a soldier. Ogier said he wasn't the sort of slave that it would be easy to find a buyer for; he was quite honest about it. My master, though, said that he knew a lord who would pay good money for him. I'm not sure it was worth it, myself, what with us having to watch him every moment to make sure he wouldn't escape or try to kill the lot of us."
"It must take great bravery to work with these Koretian barbarians," said the girl, drawing herself closer to the assistant.
She was very pretty, and I nearly made the mistake of staring at her with open admiration. Then I heard a sound to the right of me and froze. It was the slave-seller, puffing his way up the platform steps as he led a customer toward me.
"Here he is, Lord Carle," said the seller, laying his hands on his broad belly as he caught his breath. "I tell you frankly, if it were some lords, I would keep my mouth shut about this slave until they had bought him and found out for themselves what he is like. And to other lords I might feel an obligation to give a friendly warning. But when I saw this boy, I knew that he was just the slave for you."
"Hmm." The Emorian lord stood slightly to the side. I could just see his moss-green eyes examining me. He had a ruddy face, and his reddish-brown beard was sprinkled with silver. The forehead over his thick eyebrows was knotted with concentration. "He came from their capital, you say?"
"What is left of the Koretian capital, at any rate. Now that the wars are over, the new governor has been wondering whether the city is worth the bother to rebuild. But you would know more about that than I do."
Lord Carle said nothing, but circled round me until he reached my other side. I kept my eyes fixed at a point beyond him as he passed.
"He looks stubborn enough," said Lord Carle finally. "What is his name?"
The slave-seller appeared confused. "I'm not sure," he said. "I don't know the Koretian tongue myself. Hugh!" He shouted this down to his assistant, who was watching the proceedings with interest. "You know their language. Does he have a name?"
"Can't say as I've ever wanted to get well enough acquainted with him to find out, sir," the assistant cried out boldly, perhaps for the benefit of the giggling girl.
The slave-seller frowned at his assistant behind Lord Carle's back, and then asked the nobleman, "Shall I bring my boy up to interpret, Lord Carle?"
"Don't bother. I was forced by our unremitting troubles with Koretia to learn that primitive tongue myself. —What is your name?" he asked me in flawless Koretian.
He had moved again so that he was facing me straight on. I had my chin up high enough that I could have seen his face, but I took care to keep my gaze fixed on his chest. I said nothing.
Lord Carle moved back slightly so that my gaze now fell on his neck. I did not move my body or eyes. He said reflectively, "I hope that you are not trying to sell me a deaf-mute, Robert."
"The laws forbid that I should, Lord Carle!" the slave-seller protested. "He is simply a mulish rascal – you see how difficult he is to train." He paused, judging his customer, and then added, "Would you like to take on the challenge yourself?"
"That depends, as always, on the price. The last time I was here, you tried to sell me a half-dead Daxion for twice my inheritance."
The slave-seller chuckled. "Then I will see whether I can make up for it this time. To be perfectly honest, Lord Carle, if you fail to buy the boy, I don't know what I will do with him. Not many free-men in this city have the courage to try to tame a savage Koretian like this. I will let you have him for forty gold pieces."
Lord Carle moved again, this time so that his eyes would meet mine. I waited until the moment he blinked, and then shifted my gaze ever so slightly away from him.
"A fair price for once," said Lord Carle, still looking at me rather than the slave-seller. "Which makes me suspicious. What sort of wounds does he have hidden under that tunic?"
"Do you think I would try to sell a defective slave to a council lord? I've no wish to be summoned to the city court on the charge of selling bad goods. I assure you, he is entirely whole in body. You may inspect him yourself, if you wish."