Thinblade (32 page)

Alexander looked back down at the other two priceless items that Mage Cedric had hidden away to aid him in the fight against Phane. He couldn’t risk losing either of them before he had the chance to use them. They were the tools that Mage Cedric had left him. He tucked them under his arm and walked back through the magical door of the Bloodvault. Once inside, he carefully placed the items on their respective shelves, then pushed his way back out through the door.

Chapter 27

He had Lucky tend to the gash across his hand and suggested that they head back up to the palace. Once everyone left the domed room, Alexander closed the door and locked it, then put the key around his neck. Before they left the little anteroom, Alexander stopped everyone.

“It’s vital that this place and the contents of the Bloodvault remain secret. Do not tell anyone what we found here today. Mason, be extra cautious with the rubbings you took. Until we know what they say, we can’t risk an agent of Phane’s discovering them.”

Once back in the hall, Alexander insisted that they head down the passage in the wrong direction to leave some additional tracks in the dust so it would be that much more difficult for anyone to find the hidden room.

They wound through the catacombs and found their way back up to the main levels of the palace. When they emerged into the light of day, Alexander realized they were all grey with the fine dust of the ages that blanketed the floor of every passage below like a new fallen snow.

They did their best to make themselves look presentable before venturing out into the public areas of the palace. Even after brushing away the majority of the dust, they still drew a few looks from the early guests who were just starting to arrive for the banquet. Hanlon led them back to their quarters so they could wash up and change clothes. It was midafternoon by the time Alexander finally made it back to his room.

Renwold was standing in the center of the sitting room waiting for him to arrive. He had the curtains open, allowing the light of day to stream in through the big glass doors that opened out onto the balcony. The fireplace was filled with a roaring fire that snapped and popped as it threw off a warm orange glow and waves of heat. Sitting on the low table in the center of the room was a covered silver platter next to an ornate silver tea service.

“Your Majesty,” Renwold said as he bowed. Alexander briefly wondered how Renwold knew when he was coming. “May I take your cloak?” the tall, thin, well-dressed valet offered without moving.

Alexander handed it to him and headed for the washroom. He filled the basin with warm water from a kettle that was sitting over a small flame and washed his hands and face. When he emerged, his cloak was nowhere to be seen but Renwold was standing in exactly the same place.

“Your Majesty, would you like some lunch and a cup of tea?”

Alexander was suddenly famished. He wondered idly what was under the cover on the serving tray so he took a seat at the low table and lifted the lid. Renwold looked somewhat uncomfortable at the prospect of Alexander serving himself. The large platter held a selection of sliced ham, turkey, roast beef, venison, sausages, cheeses of three different varieties, a selection of five different types of breads, crackers, biscuits, butter, honey, three types of jam, four types of sauces, and a covered silver tureen filled with a rich-looking hot potato and sausage soup. Alexander looked up at Renwold in surprise.

The tall, lanky valet took his look completely wrong. “Your Majesty, if there is something else that you would prefer, I can have it made and brought up to you with haste. The kitchen is at your disposal.” He actually looked a bit nervous, as if he thought Alexander was dissatisfied with his service.

Alexander laughed, “Renwold, there’s enough food here for half a dozen people. Have a seat and eat something with me. I hate the idea of all this going to waste.”

The color drained from Renwold’s face. “Your Majesty, I’m sure I can’t do such a thing. I am your valet. My duty is to serve you, not dine with you.”

Alexander smiled up at him. “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. Now sit down and help me eat some of this.”

Renwold did as he was commanded but was clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of eating at the same table as his charge. Alexander didn’t care. He questioned him during the entire meal about the workings of the palace and the customs of Glen Morillian. Alexander was out of his element and he knew it. He needed to understand everything he could about the customs and expectations of the mountain community if he was to win the support of the people, not to mention the nobles.

Alexander found Renwold to be very knowledgeable about the traditions of the people and the nobility. Once he got the old valet talking, Renwold became much more comfortable sharing a meal with Alexander and even seemed to enjoy recounting all he knew about the traditions, beliefs, customs, folklore, and values of the people of Glen Morillian. Alexander found he rather liked Renwold once he was able to get through the stiff and proper façade that, no doubt, distinguished him as a valet worthy of a king. During the course of their lunch, Alexander learned a great deal.

Glen Morillian was established by Barnabas Cedric, who was more commonly known as the Rebel Mage. He had cast a spell calling up the impassable mountains from the forest floor to form a protective barrier around the entire valley. The idea was stunning to Alexander. He never imagined that such power could be wielded as to reshape the face of the world itself. Mage Cedric had literally made the mountain range that rose high into the sky all around.

As a result, the people of Glen Morillian felt safe and protected from the dangers of the outside world. Part of the bargain for the safety of the barrier mountain range was the oath of loyalty the nobles were required to take. They were required to swear an oath to uphold the Old Law and to support the Rangers of Glen Morillian before they became the heads of their respective houses. Their power and seat at the council table was contingent upon their fealty to the Old Law and their recognition that Glen Morillian existed for a purpose.

Over the generations, the story had been told over and over of how the one with the mark would one day come to seek the aid of Glen Morillian. The people of this little mountain community understood with the clarity of long tradition that they had enjoyed the protection of the barrier mountain range and the Rangers for the past two thousand years so they would be here to support the Marked One when he called on them. A little of the stiffness and formality returned to Renwold’s demeanor when he stated flatly that Alexander was the subject of their greatest legend and the reason Mage Cedric had established the Rangers.

It all felt so surreal. Alexander had grown up herding cows. He wasn’t a king, at least not in his own mind, and he certainly wasn’t a legend, yet here was a man who saw him as both. Not for anything he’d ever done himself, but for the things a long-dead wizard set in motion thousands of years ago. It was all so much bigger than Alexander. He didn’t have any idea how he was going to measure up to the expectations that had been thrust upon him.

He looked at the heavy gold ring with the nondescript black stone on his hand. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry. Not in a million years would Alexander have chosen to wear such a ring. He’d never been one for finery or jewels. They just got in the way of what needed to be done. So much had changed in such a short time.

“I’ve enjoyed our lunch together, Renwold. I suspect that much of what you’ve told me will be helpful in the coming weeks.”

Renwold stood, drawing a cloak of propriety and decorum around himself like a suit of armor.

“If you’re ready, the tailor is prepared to present your evening attire,” Renwold said.

Alexander grinned with a nod. Renwold was all business again. He cleared the tray and swept out of the room, sending the tailor in as he left.

The tailor was excited to present the set of clothes he’d fashioned for Alexander. He beamed while he opened his case and began removing his wares. Alexander was actually impressed. He was afraid that the tailor would make him a suit of fancy ruffled finery like those he’d seen the nobles wearing. He thought they looked ridiculous all dressed up and frilly. He was pleased to see that the tailor had better sense than that.

The tailor offered him a set of fine charcoal-black trousers with a matching long-sleeved shirt. Both were simple yet well made from the finest blend of woven wool. He presented a tunic made from a finely spun midnight-blue fabric with a fine silver filigree of ancient and arcane symbols sewn into the hem, collar, and cuffs; a set of polished, hard black leather boots that fit surprisingly well; and a wide black leather belt with a well-crafted silver buckle wrought to match the symbol burned into the right side of Alexander’s neck. Finally, he presented a full-length cloak made from the same fabric as the tunic, with similar silver filigree sewn into the hem.

Once Alexander had the entire outfit on and took a look in the mirror, he was surprised at how like a king he actually looked. The outfit wasn’t ostentatious or flashy but instead presented a subtle sense of command authority. In fact, Alexander decided, the lack of flash, frills, or ruffles added considerably to the air of nobility that his new set of clothes cloaked him in. He also noted that the mark on his neck was clearly visible. He thanked the tailor and commended the man on the quality of his work, especially on such short notice. The tailor beamed at his praise.

Renwold entered when the tailor left. “Your Majesty, Master Grace and Master Colton request an audience.”

Alexander blinked. He thought this whole thing was starting to get out of hand. He didn’t need a servant and he certainly didn’t need a doorman.

“Of course, let them in.”

Anatoly was dressed in the traditional dark brown and forest green dress uniform of the Rangers, and Jack was in a black coat and trousers with a fine white linen shirt.

Anatoly took a long look at Alexander and nodded his approval. “You might actually pull this off,” he said, grinning ever so slightly.

His grin turned to a grimace, “If I’d known the ladies were going to press me into escorting them to town for their shopping spree, I would have gladly volunteered to go to that council meeting with you.” The big man-at-arms shook his head. “I tell you what, Alexander, it was undignified. And then, to top it all off, your sister insisted that I accompany her to the banquet.” He threw up his hands in mock dismay. “How am I supposed to slip out of the thing with her on my arm?”

Alexander innocently suggested, “I’m sure Master Colton would be happy to escort Abigail in your stead.”

Jack didn’t miss a beat, “I would indeed, and I’m gratified that you would entrust your sister to my humble care, but I’m afraid that my duties will not permit it.”

“What duties?” Alexander asked.

“I will be announcing your arrival, of course,” Jack replied. “Then there is the matter of recounting the story of your travels to Glen Morillian. I must be seen as an advisor and agent of the throne rather than a guest in order to effectively play my part. In addition to these duties, I will be much better suited to gather information about the results of this morning’s council meeting if I have the freedom of movement expected of a functionary rather than the restriction of remaining at the table as is expected of a guest.”

“I’m glad somebody’s thought this all through. I just thought we were having a fancy dinner,” Alexander said.

Anatoly nodded his agreement.

“Alexander, do you remember how you acted this morning at the council meeting when you delivered your ultimatum to the nobles?” Jack asked.

Alexander nodded with a frown, his mood darkening. The nobles made him want to check his money purse.

“Do that. You are the King of Ruatha. The nobles and their petty power struggles are of no consequence. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Do not request, do not ask—demand with perfect confidence that you will not be denied. Power is about perception. Present yourself as a leader and others will follow.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Alexander motioned for them to sit as he lowered himself into a comfortable chair.

“These people have been waiting for you for two thousand years,” Jack said. “You have the loyalty of the Rangers without question. The people of Glen Morillian have lived their whole lives with the story of your arrival. You are a living legend. The only obstacle before you is the nobility. They are rich and comfortable and don’t like the idea of being called on to give up any of what they have. They will try every way they can to weasel out of supporting your cause, short of open refusal. You must continue to force their hand as you did this morning at council and eventually they will fall in line.”

“This all seems so frivolous and unnecessary. Phane is building his strength as we speak and we’re going to a party. It doesn’t seem quite right,” Alexander said softly, shaking his head.

“Alexander, you
are
building the strength you need to prevail,” Jack said. “This banquet is an important step. Once you have the commitment of the nobles, you can assume command of the Glen Morillian valley and begin assembling your army. Without the nobles, it will be a constant struggle to generate the food, manpower, and resources necessary to supply any military force. This is just a different kind of battlefield. Play the part of a king tonight and the nobles will fall in line by week’s end.” He seemed so certain.