Treason Keep (9 page)

Karien was a vast country, full of tall evergreens, rugged valleys and steep, but distant, snow-capped mountains to the east. With autumn approaching the weather grew colder as they sailed north. Adrina found herself shivering each morning when she took her daily exercise on deck.

The Ironbrook was a heavily populated waterway. They sailed past numerous villages, some large and prosperous, some mean and depressing, some barely deserving of the name at all. They seemed dirty and crowded to a princess raised in the spacious, pink-walled cities of Fardohnya. In fact, Karien seemed a nation lacking in colour. The villages were drab, the people even more so, and the frequently overcast weather leeched the remaining pigment from the world. She was not looking forward to spending her life among these people, not even as their queen.

Adrina was easily bored and the seemingly endless journey up the Ironbrook River toward Yarnarrow offered little in the way of entertainment. She had exhausted most of the opportunities for distraction available to her. She had admired all the scenery she
could bear and waved at so many ragged peasants lining the riverbank that her arm felt ready to drop off. When she wasn’t being hounded by Madren regarding the proper way to behave in a Karien court, Vonulus dogged her heels with his instruction in the unbelievably demanding laws of the Karien Church. Adrina was beginning to think the reason so many people sinned was because it wasn’t humanly possible to remember everything that would lead one into temptation.

The only other activity Adrina had to while away the long days on the river was socialising with her ladies-in-waiting. She was not certain what a lady-in-waiting was supposed to do. They hovered around her like flies around a corpse, and seemed anxious to perform small, meaningless tasks for her, but they were offended if she treated them as servants and too sheltered to serve as entertaining companions.

Adrina was unusually cautious in dealing with them. It would not do for these young women (virgins one and all) to learn that for her sixteenth birthday her father had given her a handsome young
court’esa
. Nor would it do to disillusion the Ladies Hope, Pacifica, Grace and Chastity regarding her virtue. As far as Adrina could tell, every one of them had been raised in finest Karien tradition, which meant they could read (barely), sing (acceptably), play a musical instrument (tolerably well) and discuss such riveting topics as needlework, banquet menus and the convoluted family bloodlines of the Karien nobility. All of these topics left Adrina cold, so she listened and smiled and pretended she didn’t
understand them when the conversation became unbearable.

Today was proving particularly trying. Tall, dour, Pacifica had taken it upon herself to enlighten Adrina regarding the long and incredibly dull history of her family, the Gullwings of Mount Pike. She had only got as far as Lord Gullwing the Pious, who lived three centuries past, when Vonulus disturbed them. Adrina welcomed him into the crowded cabin. Even a lesson in the complex duties of a woman according to the Church of Xaphista was preferable to another three hundred years of
Dullwings.

“Vonulus! Have you come to instruct me?” she asked. “Or perhaps another discussion about the definition of sin?”

“You would do well to heed both, your Highness,” Pacifica advised, a little put out at Adrina’s shift in attention.

“We may discuss whatever you wish, your Highness.”

Adrina glanced at Pacifica and her companions thoughtfully. “Sin shall be the topic today, I think. I am interested in your definition of adultery.”

Predictably, the Ladies Hope, Pacifica, Grace and Chastity gasped at the suggestion. Vonulus, however, was not so easily rattled.

“Certainly, your Highness. What were you planning?”

Adrina’s eyes widened innocently. “Planning? Why nothing, sir. I simply seek to avoid pitfalls. I have no wish to do or say something that in my country would be considered perfectly normal, but in yours would see me stoned.”

“A reasonable precaution,” he noted with a look that said he didn’t believe her for a minute. “What exactly did you want to know?”

“Define adultery. The Karien definition.”

“It is not the Karien definition, your Highness. It is the Overlord’s definition, and therefore, the only acceptable definition.”

Adrina chose not to pursue that particular argument. “As you wish, define it for me.”

“Adultery, according to the Overlord, is any thought or deed that causes a man to lust after another man’s wife, or a woman to lust after another woman’s husband.”

Adrina’s brow furrowed. “So, let me see if I understand you. If I lust after an unmarried man, then I have not committed adultery, but if I lust after a married man, I have? Is that right?”

“I think you take my meaning too literally, your Highness,” Vonulus began with a shake of his head, but Adrina didn’t allow him time to continue.

“So that would work the other way, too, I suppose?” she asked. “If my husband…well, for argument’s sake, let’s pretend Cretin falls madly in love with one of my ladies…” she glanced around at the four rather appalled young women, before fixing her eyes on Chastity. “Say…the Lady Chastity here…”

“Your Highness!” Chastity cried in horror.

Adrina smiled sweetly. “Oh never mind, Chastity, I only use you to demonstrate my point. With a name like yours, how could you be anything
but
pure? Anyway, let’s pretend that Cretin and Chastity…indulge in a bit of…sin…then by your definition, Cretin would get off free as a bird, because Chastity
is unmarried, yet my poor Lady would be stoned, because Cretin is married to me. Is that right?”

Vonulus did not look pleased. “That could be regarded as the strictest definition, I suppose, however—”

“I see,” Adrina cut in. “And I can sin merely by
thinking
something lustful?”
Gods! Am I in trouble!
“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“I don’t need to know, your Highness. Xaphista sees all. The Overlord would know.”

“He must be a very busy god, then,” she remarked irreverently.

“It is by resisting such thoughts, that we spare our god the need to constantly watch over us,” Vonulus replied.

“And do you ladies resist temptation?”

The young women nodded quickly in agreement.
Too quickly
, she thought, with a private little smirk.

“The Overlord teaches us that to resist temptation is to ensure a place at His table in the next life,” Pacifica said.

“You mean if you’re a good little girl in this life, you won’t come back as a cockroach in the next?”

Vonulus sighed heavily. “Your Highness, I believe we discussed the matter of reincarnation several days ago. There is no such thing. We are given one life. When we die, our spirit ascends to the Overlord’s table if we have lived according to his rules.”

“And you drown in the Sea of
Despair for eternity, if you don’t,” Adrina replied with a nod. “I remember our discussion. That would mean, that by your definition, every soul who ever lived, who didn’t worship Xaphista, is splashing about in the Sea of Despair, wondering where they went wrong. It must be pretty crowded down there.”

“Your irreverence will lead you into trouble, your Highness,” Vonulus warned. “Have a care when you reach Yarnarrow. Such comments will not sit well at court.”

Adrina met the priest’s gaze evenly. “Can’t your religion stand a bit of scrutiny, Vonulus? You wish me to believe in your god, yet you resent me questioning anything I do not understand. My gods may be numerous, but at least they have a sense of humour.”

“Your Highness, a sense of humour will be of little help to you, should you be out of grace when you die. The Primal Gods you worship are nothing more than natural events to which the unenlightened have attached divinity. You should be thankful that by marrying Prince Cratyn, you have an opportunity to embrace the one true god.”

Adrina smiled apologetically, realising that she had pushed the priest far enough for one day. It didn’t particularly matter to her that they expected her to worship their god. She wasn’t a fool and had every intention of acting as if she had converted. But her own beliefs ran too deep to be overturned by a priest, no matter how clever or articulate.

“I appreciate your advice, sir,” she demurred. “I hope the Overlord will forgive my pagan ignorance.”

Vonulus looked a little suspicious, but he nodded. “The Overlord can see into your heart, your Highness. He will judge you accordingly.”

“Well, I don’t have anything to worry about then, do I?” she asked brightly.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Vonulus agreed warily.

Two days later, they docked at Setenton, the first real city Adrina had seen since coming to Karien. The city boasted a sizeable wharf district and an impressive market, but it was as dirty and crowded as every other town she had sailed past these last few weeks. A bleak, thick-walled castle, built on a rise that gave it a commanding view of the river and the surrounding countryside, dominated the walled city. This was the home of Lord Terbolt, the Duke of Setenton, and coincidentally, Chastity’s father—so Lady Hope informed her. As they waited for the ship to dock, Adrina glanced at the young woman, but she showed no obvious pleasure to be home. Rather, she kept surreptitiously glancing at Cratyn, as if trying to catch his eye. To his credit, the young prince studiously ignored her.

The sight that greeted them as they docked brought a smile to Adrina’s lips. A full guard of honour awaited them—her own Guard, Fardohnyan one and all, in full ceremonial uniform.

Her father held to the notion that vast wealth was only fun when you got to flaunt it, and he had spared no expense equipping her Guard. Five hundred strong, every man was mounted on a sleek black steed stamped with the unmistakable breeding of the Jalanar Plains. The soldiers were dressed in silver and white, from their ornate silver helms and short white capes, trimmed with rare Medalonian snowfox fur, to their white, silver-trimmed, knee-high boots.

According to Fardohnyan legend, the custom of the royal guard wearing white had come about almost a
thousand years ago, when King Waldon the Peaceful seized the throne from his cousin Blagdon the Butcher. His Guard wore white so that the people would know there was no innocent blood on the hands of his soldiers. Whatever the reason, the ceremonial uniforms were gorgeous, and Tristan wore his with the confidence of one born to show-off. He really was much too good-looking for his own good, Adrina decided. She had worried that Cassandra might cause trouble in Karien. It occurred to her that Tristan was just as likely to get into mischief. All that repressed emotion at court, mixed with her brother, was a recipe for disaster.

Impressed by the sight of her Guard, Cratyn offered her his hand as they walked down the treacherous gangplank, followed by their retinue. Tristan met them at the bottom and bowed ostentatiously.

“Your Serene Highness, your Royal Highness, the Fardohnyan Princess’s Guard awaits the honour of escorting you to Setenton Castle,” he announced, rather dramatically, in Fardohnyan. “Which, I might add, is as draughty and flea ridden as every other building in this godforsaken country and I would very much like to go home,” he added, without changing his smile or tone.

Adrina turned to Cratyn. “My brother welcomes us, and pledges his life to see us safely to the castle,” she translated calmly, grateful that Vonulus was still back on the ship. Tristan really should learn to be more careful.

Cratyn frowned. “Your brother?”

“Half-brother,” she amended. “Tristan is one of my father’s bastards.”

A shocked gasp escaped Pacifica’s lips at Adrina’s casual remark, a fact that was not lost on Tristan,
who was not supposed to understand Karien. He bit back a grin as Cratyn, predictably, blushed crimson.

“Ah, please tell your…captain…that we are honoured,” Cratyn stammered. “Although I hardly think the ride from here to the castle will be life threatening.”

“His Highness appears to be having some difficulty coping with your baseborn status,” she translated.

“His Highness looks like he’s about to burst something. I’ll bet you can’t wait for the wedding. Shall we?” He offered Adrina his arm, which she accepted gracefully, with a smile over her shoulder for her fiancé.

They rode in an open carriage up the steep, cobbled streets of Setenton toward the castle. Crowds lined the route to catch a glimpse of the foreigner who would one day be their queen. Adrina smiled and waved. She was born to this, and the Kariens seemed to appreciate her acknowledgment of them. At least the townsfolk did.

After a while, Lady Madren leaned over with a frown. “You must not encourage them, your Highness.”

“Encourage them, my Lady? These are to be my people, are they not? I want them to like me.”

“It doesn’t matter that they like you, your Highness,” Madren said. “Only that they respect and obey you.”

“In Fardohnya we have a saying, my Lady: ‘A king who has the love of his people is harder to kill than one who has their enmity’. Being pleasant costs nothing.”

“It is unseemly, your Highness,” Madren insisted.

“And what of you, Prince Cretin? Don’t you care that the people love you?”

“The people love the Overlord, your Highness. It is His blessing that gives my family the right to rule. What they feel for me is irrelevant.”

“Well, you trust in the Overlord,” she told him. “I’ll just keep smiling and waving. I’m not actually a member of your divinely sanctioned family yet.”

Adrina turned back to the peasants, ignoring Madren’s frown and Cratyn’s despairing look. Tristan glanced back over his shoulder from his position at the head of the Guard and she rolled her eyes at him. He laughed and spurred his horse forward. Adrina had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.

Fardohnya was a nation ruled by a single line of monarchs for a millennium. A thousand years of Fardohnyan kings governed on the principal that a nation that prospered was a nation relatively free of internal unrest. It had proved a sound theory and consequently, little Fardohnyan architecture was designed with defence in mind. Aesthetics was the overriding concern. Besides, if one was wealthy enough, one could hire the best architects to construct fortifications that didn’t constantly remind one of their true purpose.