JUDGMENT
Laren’s guard sputtered and cursed as he tried to
keep up with her. He was not the youngest of soldiers and limped
with a bad knee. Too bad, she thought. Confined to a room too long,
no matter how spacious and comfortable, it felt good to be on the
move, uncaged and stretching her legs to full stride, the blood
pumping through her veins, even if she feared what may lie at the
end.
She halted before
the throne room doors to catch her breath and straighten her
shortcoat, her guard stumbling up behind her. She recognized the
Sergeant of Doors standing before her, with his vast ring of keys
hanging from his belt. She nodded to him, and he nodded in return.
To her guard he ordered, “Dismissed.” Then he and an underling
opened the throne room doors for her to enter. She did so without
looking back.
She strode down the
runner as fast as decorum permitted, passing through columns of
sunlight slanting through the tall windows that alternated with
shadow. The light, the dark; the warm, the cool. She saw others
there waiting for her, Castellan Sperren leaning on his staff of
office, General Harborough whose blocky form was unmistakable,
Master Destarion with his mender’s satchel slouched at his feet,
and Colin Dovekey, whose black garb made him sink into
shadow.
Estora sat upon her
throne chair very still, seemingly turned to stone, her expression
blank. Laren could not help but feel for her, placed as she was in
so complicated a position.
Laren had taken in
the assembled in mere moments as she walked, but her attention fell
mainly on him. Zachary slumped in his
chair next to Estora, his head bowed into his hand. Joy quickened
her stride. He was awake! Out of bed even! It took great restraint
for her not to run to him and hug him, but protocol did not allow
it. Right now he was the king, and she his servant.
Her joy was also
tempered by concern for the way his shoulders sagged, his thinness
and pallor. He’d always been robust and strong and it was difficult
to see him looking, to her eye, almost fragile.
When she reached the
dais, she dropped to her knee with head bowed. “Your Highness . . .
es.” She bit her lip at almost forgetting there were two
now.
“Rise, Captain
Mapstone,” Zachary said, his voice as she remembered, though the
tone somehow quieter. “Rise and stand beside me as you are
accustomed.”
When she stood and
looked upon him, he smiled warmly at her and her eyes blurred with
emotion. When she moved to his side of the dais, he added, “You are
looking well. I had been told,” and now his tone was acerbic,
“you’d been indisposed.”
“I am well now that
I see you up and about, my lord. I had not heard . . .” She
swallowed and thought she had better stop. It was not her time to
speak, and she was not sure she could manage it without loosing a
torrent of tears. All of her fear for his life—what could have
been—was so raw and near the surface.
“Yes,” the king
mused, stroking his beard. “One hears and does not hear many
interesting things. I’ve assembled you all, my closest, my most
trustworthy advisors, because of these
things I’ve heard, and judgment must be rendered.”
The tiredness came
out in his voice with these words, but his countenance was fierce
as he looked down on the others. They, in turn, cast their gazes to
the floor, their expressions sober, even strained.
“Castellan
Sperren.”
The old man stepped
forward. Laren thought he might crumble to dust right in front of
them. “Your Highness?”
“I understand you
did not initiate or conspire anything while I recovered from my
so-called riding accident. You were laid up yourself. However, it
is my understanding you did not voice opposition to the
proceedings, either, which is personally distressing, but not a
crime. You have been dutiful in your service to the realm since the
days of my grandfather, and you gladly came out of retirement to be
my castellan when the one that had been serving me turned out to be
a traitor. It seems to me I have asked too much of you by keeping
you here much longer than we originally agreed upon, and so I now
commend you to your retirement, to which you may return with honor
intact. Find ease and pleasure, old friend.”
Sperren trembled
visibly, a sheen of tears on his wrinkled cheeks. He bowed and
backed away. To Laren’s mind, it was very much past time. Sperren
slept through more meetings than he was awake for, and his sharp
mind had dulled considerably in recent years. He’d once been
indispensible in his wisdom and advice, but no longer, and with all
the challenges Sacoridia faced, Zachary needed the ablest, sharpest
minds around him he could muster.
“I have been made
aware of what went on around me while I lay unconscious,” Zachary
said. “It saddens me that my own advisors, who knew me best, save
one, had no confidence in my judgment, did not wish to take a
chance in what I had or had not placed in the Royal Trust as far as
a successor is concerned. I thought they knew me better than that.
I had planned, in the event of my premature death, that a
transition would occur as smoothly as possible. However, my
advisors would not wait for the opening of the Royal Trust as law
decrees must be done. Instead, they took matters into their own
hands and moved up my wedding. A wedding I was not even conscious
of.
“Meanwhile, my one
advisor who did exhibit trust in me was dosed and bundled away
under house arrest so she could not interfere with the plans of you
gentlemen. Yes, I have heard all the reasons why you chose the
course you did, listened to each of you by turn, but it all comes
down to trust. I cannot have people around me who disrespect my
wishes, disregard royal law, and who do not trust me. Master Mender
Destarion.”
The mender stepped
forward and swallowed hard. “Your Majesty.”
“You, like Sperren,
have a long history of good service to the realm. In all but this
you have attended me faithfully. As you know, such actions as you
took should provoke the severest of penalties. Disabling one of my
officers, my own messenger, in the course of her duties is enough
for the ultimate punishment.”
“Yes, my lord,”
Destarion whispered. “I am aware.”
“Yet I hesitate,”
Zachary continued, “to condemn to death a learned man who has done
more good in his service than bad. Therefore, I shall strip you of
your status as chief of the menders, and reassign you to the River
Unit, where they’ve an outpost in the far north by the headwaters
of the Terrygood. They’ve been long without a proper mender, and I
expect the settlers and lumbermen in the region will find your
skills useful.”
Destarion looked
humbled by the king’s mercy, but frightened as well. He was not a
young man and he’d find conditions far more rugged up north than he
did in the castle’s civilized, and warm, mending wing.
“General
Harborough.”
The general clicked
his heels together and bowed.
“You thought to
support the conspiracy with the backing of the military. You, one
of my best strategists.” Zachary shook his head. “That is a crime
that requires the death penalty. However, I shall leave your fate
in the hands of a military tribunal. In the meantime, you are
stripped of all command, office, and insignia, and shall remain in
prison until the tribunal comes to me with its
recommendations.”
Zachary gestured and
a pair of guards came to escort the former general away. He hung
his head like a whipped dog as he left the throne
room.
“Colin
Dovekey.”
Colin stepped before
the dais looking older than ever, his movements stiff.
“If there is
something that makes me more angry than the conspiracy you
organized, it’s being forced to sit here and pass judgment on good
men. You led them into it.”
Colin fell to both
knees. “I beg of you, Your Majesty, to condemn me to Saverill’s
fate.”
“I will not be so
merciful,” Zachary replied.
Merciful? The
histories spoke of a traitor among the Weapons named Saverill who’d
undergone weeks of torture for his crimes, only to be chained to
the castle roof for the vultures to feed on. He’d still been
alive.
“You are stripped of
your authority over the Weapons, and I’m sending you to Breaker
Island. You will never leave that island again, and your peers will
decide what to do with you. Perhaps they will choose Saverill’s
fate for you, or perhaps not, but they will ensure you never have a
voice in the affairs of the realm again.”
A pair of Weapons
led Colin from the throne room, followed by a dismissed Sperren and
Destarion.
Laren could not
believe they were let off so easily.
“Speak, Captain,”
Zachary said. “You look . . . concerned.”
“They all could have
received the death penalty. Easily. But you did not choose that for
them.”
“It may be that I
have. Destarion will find the north perilous, and I expect those
judging Harborough and Colin to be very harsh. Condemning them to
death all at once—men who were known to be very close to me—would
raise questions I’d rather avoid regarding my close call with death
and the validity of my marriage, among other things. I also took
into consideration that they’re essentially good men who thought
they were doing what was best for the realm, and depending on how
things go for them, I may yet call on them. You can not simply
replace all those years of experience, and I believe we’ve a trying
time ahead of us.
“Now, to my Lady
Estora . . .”
Estora stiffened,
her knuckles whitening as she gripped the armrests of her chair. “I
understand,” she said, “if you wish to invalidate the marriage
contract.”
He gazed hard at
her. “That could be easily done under the circumstances. My lady,
you were placed in an untenable position, and it was your cousin
who set these events in motion. You were made a victim in this.
However, I find it grievous you saw fit to relieve Captain Mapstone
of duty and place her under house arrest.”
“My lord,” Laren
said.
He ignored her.
“Laren Mapstone is closer to me than any blood relation has ever
been. She practically raised me.”
“Zachary,” Laren
tried again.
“Furthermore, she is
apparently the only one who trusts my judgment.”
“Moonling!” That caught his attention. “Queen
Estora placed me under house arrest for my
protection.”
“Say
again?”
“She knew my
opposition to the conspiracy placed me in danger from Lord Spane
and the others, so she placed me out of reach. It certainly made
them happy I was not out there
contradicting them and turning the whole messenger service against
them. You know what a disaster that would have been.”
He nodded slowly.
Messengers on the loose carrying the truth to all corners of the
realm—it would have caused problems on a grand scale for the
conspirators.
“She also,” Laren
continued, “wished to protect me from you.”
“What?”
“I offered her my
fealty, to help her, but she believed I’d be better off away from
the turmoil because we all knew you’d be angry if—when—you
recovered, and she did not want you finding fault with my
conduct.”
“I would know
better,” he reflected, “or at least I hope I would.”
“You do have a
temper,” Laren said. “Though you don’t show it often.”
He raised an eyebrow
at her, then turned back to Estora, gazing at her with new respect.
“I thank you then, for looking out for Laren, who supports me even
if I apparently have a temper.”
Laren
smiled.
“I know how much you
value her,” Estora replied. “And I thought perhaps I should need
her in the coming years, as well.”
He nodded gravely.
“Though this has not been an auspicious start to our marriage, I am
not inclined to invalidate the contract. I can’t imagine the havoc
that would produce, and we’ve enough to worry about between
Blackveil and Second Empire without adding to it.
“Also, between
confessing to me and updating me on the realm’s affairs, Colin told
me you came up with a clever strategy to trap Birch and his forces.
With the loss of some very able advisors, it looks like I’ll be
making use of your keen thinking.”
“Karigan is the
clever one,” Estora said, gazing at her knees. Laren sensed a
subtle intensification in Zachary’s regard. “I just used her
example.”
Laren learned that
Estora had been inspired by Karigan’s actions in the fall when the
Rider had rescued her from kidnappers. Karigan had disguised
herself as Estora, then created a diversion that led the kidnappers
away on a merry chase, allowing the real Estora to escape without
harm. It had been a dangerous plan on Karigan’s part, but it had
worked.
Estora modified the
plan to fit the situation in the north. Birch used trained soldiers
to raid small, underprotected civilian settlements. She ordered the
settlers of a few villages to evacuate and replaced them with
Sacoridian troops—well trained and well armed—but had the soldiers
disguise themselves as civilians in such a way that they appeared
to be yet another underprotected settlement ripe for the plucking.
Their watchers would alert them to Birch’s movements so they
wouldn’t be taken by surprise, and they were instructed to carry on
like settlers so all would appear normal to Birch’s
scouts.
A trap meant that
Sacoridia’s troops didn’t have to chase Birch’s all over the north,
although there was a troop that continued to do so to maintain the
illusion so Birch would not suspect anything. Estora was
apprehensive, but anticipated positive results.
While Estora
explained the plan, Zachary, who had already heard the details,
nodded off where he sat. Laren called over Fastion and Willis to
assist the king to his apartments.
“I will walk on my
own,” Zachary protested when they lifted him from his chair. When
they set him down, he did leave under his own power, pausing only
to kiss Laren’s cheek. She hugged him fiercely, but carefully so as
not to hurt his healing wound.
When he was gone,
Laren turned to Estora. “My lady, I wish to thank you for your
protection, though I did not know ultimately what might have become
of me had things gone poorly for Zachary.”
Estora smiled. “I
know what it is to be a game piece on an Intrigue board, Captain.
One has to move carefully. I would not have allowed you to come to
any harm.”
Laren bowed her
head. “That is what I hoped, but I could not be sure.”
“You’ve my full
confidence, Captain.”
“Thank you, and
you’ve mine.”
Estora sighed. “I
fear your Riders may not think much of me, however.”
“If that is the
case,” Laren replied, “it shall be remedied.”
Estora nodded her
acknowledgment. “There is one Rider I inadvertently placed in
additional danger.”
Laren then heard
about the loyal Coutre forester Lord Spane had insisted join the
company Zachary sent into Blackveil.
“I gave him my
blessing,” Estora said, “not knowing what his true purpose was in
going.”
Laren vaguely
remembered the man. Very ordinary, rather humble. “Which Rider was
his target?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Karigan. Richmont
wanted nothing to threaten the marriage contract. If Ard kept
Karigan from returning home, it eliminated one of those
threats.”
“You know about . .
.”
“Zachary’s feelings
for Karigan? I do. It explains much.”
Laren nodded, not
sure what to say. “I tried to keep them apart.”
“I do not believe it
worked.” Estora said it without irony, but with acceptance. Often
state marriages were just that—a legal union to produce heirs and
solidify alliances, not unions of love. Estora would know this.
“For a moment, I . . . I wished Karigan would not come back. Only
for a tiny moment,” she added hastily, and she cast her gaze down
at her feet.
“You love him,”
Laren said.
Estora nodded. “But
Karigan is my friend, and I allowed an assassin to follow her into
Blackveil.”
“You did not know,”
Laren replied quietly. “And though she is beyond our help, she is
resourceful, and the other two Riders in the company will watch out
for her.”
“I pray it is so,”
Estora said, and Laren believed her.
Laren hesitated,
then recalling something Ben had said earlier, she asked, “My lady,
did you, by any chance read to Zachary while he lay
unconscious?”
“I did. Tales of the Sea Kings. It allowed me, in a way, to
speak to him, give him comfort, while taking more dire matters off
my mind.”
It pleased Laren
that Estora had cared for Zachary in such an intimate way. “May I
make a recommendation?”
Estora looked
curious. “You may.”
“Go to him. Go to
Zachary and spend time with him. You are his wife. He may claim to
be busy, but he is always busy, and always will be. You must
insinuate yourself into his private world. I think reading to him
is a very fine idea.”
“But he is tired . .
.”
“A perfect time to
read to him, when he is too exhausted to do anything else but sleep
or listen to your voice.”
Estora nodded,
taking in the advice. “Yes, I shall do this. I shall go to him
now.”
Laren smiled, much
pleased. “He is very partial to the poetry of Tervalt. It’s full of
manly deeds of slaying dragons, hunting the highlands of Hillander,
admiring fair maidens, and going to sea.”
“Excellent. I shall
have Tervalt’s poems brought to me from the library.” Then Estora
returned her smile. “Though I myself prefer the nature poetry of
Annaliese of Greywood.” Her smile deepened. “I can see, Captain,
that you have already become my essential counselor.”
Laren took her leave
of the queen. She would do what she could to encourage a strong
union between Zachary and Estora, to bring them closer together.
The fate of the realm did not require the two get along, just that
they produce heirs. Laren, however, loved Zachary too much to not
wish for his happiness and promote it in anyway she
could.
Now that her
interview with the queen was over, Laren was confronted with the
fact she would no longer be kept under guard and confined to her
luxurious prison. The first thing she would do was seek out Connly
and Elgin and get updated on the doings of her Riders, then she’d
visit her beloved Bluebird.
However, when she
stepped through the throne room doors, she found herself faced with
two columns of green clad messengers standing at attention in the
corridor. Elgin stood to the side with a grin on his face.
Overcome, she could not find her voice at first. Word that she was
released had reached them fast.
“At ease, Riders,”
she said finally.
They broke out in
cheers and clapping, and Laren’s cheeks practically hurt from
smiling so hard.
Connly came to her
and shook her hand. “Captain, I’ve never been so glad to see you. I
gladly relinquish all responsibilities back into your
keeping.”
“Not so fast,
Lieutenant,” she said. “Some while ago I received an invitation to
visit a friend in Corsa. Do you know it’s been years since last I
took leave?”
Connly’s expression
fell. He looked absolutely horrified. “But . . . but, all those
meetings, those brain-deadening meetings . . .”
Laren smiled at him,
and left him so she could greet each of her Riders individually.
Yes, some leave time would be marvelous and she did not think
Zachary would deny her.
Her smile faltered,
however, when she realized that when she reached Corsa, she’d have
to explain to her friend, who happened to be a certain merchant,
why his daughter had been sent into Blackveil. He would not, she
thought, ever forgive her for that, especially if Karigan did not
return.