19
Tayron returned to the palace with a mission that gave him strength and energy that the past days at court had sapped away. Lingering questions still troubled him, though. It was his duty now to discover the reason behind and end the king’s madness. At the same time he had to consider the possibility that he could be king. Clearing that from his mind as best he could, he knew that the first person he wanted to talk to on his return was Anni, as much because he was itching to see her after the time away as for any information she might have.
He wouldn’t be able to see her alone, though, with the little amount of time they had to get organized. His mind turned to consider Terilon. Tayron knew that the new Lord Councilor would not be involved in this conspiracy to save the king, as the knight had begun to think of it, without some convincing. Terilon could hinder their attempts in the mean time, though, if he felt the conspiracy was too dangerous, or if he did not give his bodyguards the kind of freedom they needed. Jaksen’s son would not feel insecure without bodyguards – not if he had any of his father in him – but the thought of investigating the king would make anyone squirm. If it hadn’t been in part his own idea, Tayron would never have signed on to something so ludicrous. Yunas was always eager to fight for a hopeless cause, so it required no effort to persuade him. Bathis might respond unfavorably, but Tayron doubted it. Best not to rely on him too much, though, just in case he had secretly joined the opposition. However, none of them would be able to act if Terilon held them back.
The new high councilor didn’t say a single word to his two bodyguards on the way back to the palace, and even Yunas’ face showed some doubt. The youthful knight cast Tayron a worried glance, but a nod of reassurance was returned to him. They would try and find a way around Terilon if he presented an obstacle. The elder Jaksen had already given them his blessing, after all.
Landing outside the palace’s breka lair and walking their mounts in, the knights looked to the lord for orders. Terilon waited until his father’s new breka, now his, was placed into the care of the keeper before addressing them. When he turned to speak, his eyes made clear that he neither expected a response nor desired one.
“I know what you two have been thinking so let me make myself perfectly clear: you are not to act on anything without my leave. You are bodyguards. My father’s advisement ends now – he is not here. I am. He’s left me with shambles, and I won’t have a conspiracy jeopardizing my chance to pick up the pieces. Perhaps when I feel that my position is established, or if the peasant situation gets out of hand, I will take measures to see if the king needs aid or is being manipulated, and you will naturally help me in that cause. Until then, I expect the obedience you would have given to my father.”
Tayron couldn’t help himself, and said through gritted teeth, “What about your father’s wishes?”
“Between drunkenness, retirement, and a failure of his judgment that might have cost my family its noble title? Forgive me if I don’t think the course he chose for you is flawless. By the way, I don’t mind you giving your opinion Tayron, and I will take it into advisement, but you must obey my final decision.”
Tayron nodded wordlessly as he led the way to the Jaksen residence area. He knew very well that Terilon was only being diplomatic – he had to acknowledge the elevated responsibility Tayron had been given, and made a concession, a peace offering, accordingly. While part of the knight sympathized with the new lord and resented the way the elder Jaksen left his post, most of him was angered by Terilon’s attitude. For a more respectable superior, he might have held back, but Terilon had given him no reason to do so. There was no clear way his own mission would hinder the efforts of his lord. As a noble himself, his actions could not be made to reflect on his fellow peer – since accusations based on the responsibility of superiors within the nobility would always ultimately be an attack on the king.
Terilon himself realized, a few words too late, that his orders had been pointless except to convey contempt for Tayron. He had no way of undoing his words without losing face. The knight would, of course, disobey him since the orders made no sense – as councilor, he would have to remember to keep his agitation in check to prevent any more missteps. Now, Tayron would not be updating him about the situation, nor be seeking his guidance.
“Lord Jaksen!” came a shout from deep in the darkness of the corridor in front of them. It strained against its failing breath, running towards them. The knights were immediately on guard, clutching the hilts at their sides. The voice was speaking hurriedly as its bearer came into view. “We were informed by your wife that you would be arriving. The council is in the audience chamber. The city’s preparing for the worst, sir. I . . .” His eyes finally informed his brain who they were seeing. “Oh, but you’re not . . .” The messenger’s mind, slow but accurate, delivered its conclusion. “Then you’re Lord Jaksen’s son . . . I mean, you’re Lord Jaksen then. I’ve been ordered to bring you to the king’s audience.”
“Why?” Terilon said sharply. His suspicions were shared by his guards – the king was prepared to move against the Jaksen family.
A marathon runner by necessity, the young messenger knight had recovered from his sprint through the palace, and was now processing at full speed. “You must have seen . . . but no, you would have come in flying from the wrong direction. The peasant army is approaching the capital. Our army’s ready to defend the city, but we’ll have to massacre them. Reports say it’s at least a hundred thousand converging on the city. Some of them have guns, but most are unarmed, unless you consider daggers battle weapons. They even took over a breka breeder and now they have at least three-dozen battle-class breka. Everything had been thrown into the fire and the king is wrathful. Half the nobles just want to see the rebellion crushed. The other half, forgive me for saying so, sir, aren’t entirely sure what they want – a few’re even giving off hints that they’d like . . . to see it succeed, sir. Just what I overheard, sir, you understand. Might have been out of . . . out of context. You’ll have to see the rest for yourself.”
“All right,” said Terilon, not sure whether to be relieved. “We’ll head there. Tell the people who’ll be handling my baggage – they should be following us in this corridor – that I won’t be able to open my door for them, and that they should just leave everything outside the door. There isn’t anything sensitive in the lot, so it’ll be safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
They redoubled their pace, this time with Terilon leading them toward the audience chamber. He had a clearer idea of the layout of the palace than Tayron had guessed. On the way, the councilor decided that he had been given a chance to make amends, and took it, saying, “it seems like the peasant situation has gotten out of hand. Please ignore what I said earlier. I was not aware things had advanced this far.”
Impressed by this reversal, Tayron said, “neither were we” as his own peace offering. He prepared himself to pay close attention to the manner of the king, and any hints that would help the clandestine investigation.
“Now we remember all the textbook catch-phrases about awareness, eh?” Yunas mused. “With all the politics going on, trying to figure out what’s wrong with the picture at the king’s court’ll probably more difficult than picking out a camouflaged riflemen on the day you’re not expecting him.”
“Right,” responded Tayron, already sensing the impossibility of their task. Maybe if they had a dozen chances to see the king, to pick out every little detail of his manner to see if it gave a clue, they would be able to figure something out. But as it was, the knight wished he had been more attentive to the king’s actions the past few weeks, instead of just being numbly surprised by the odd behavior.
The hallways at the center of the palace, normally bustling with activity, were deserted. Since he had rarely been outside while the king was holding audience in the chamber, Tayron couldn’t say whether this was unusual. But, given the hundred reasons people now had to stay in their rooms, he decided to ignore it.
Blasts of furious talk could be heard from the chamber in the hall where the knights left their weapons. The new councilor stopped short, and for a few moments thought about saying something to his bodyguards. For a moment he decided against it. Then, a step away from the door to enter the chamber, he turned to Tayron and said, “I don’t know what to expect, so I’ll be playing it conservative this time around. When you give your advice afterward, just remember that. Also remember that you are a peer – you have the right to speak. If you think it’s appropriate, I’ll back you as much as I can. I don’t think I need to tell you to be careful.”
“N . . . no problem.”
Entering the firestorm, they had to struggle to keep their fingers from instinctively plugging their ears. The king was pacing up and down the center of the room, shouting at the council on the stage. From the way minor arguments had developed around the other corners of the room, Tayron guessed that the king’s fury had actually subsided. The courtiers wouldn’t have dared to speak while the king was in full stride.
Pacing toward the council when they entered, the king didn’t see his new high councilor immediately. In the midst of saying “there is no way other than to crush them” he turned to see Terilon and, smiling, menacingly, said, “well, if it isn’t the new Jaksen. Welcome!”
“I am at your service, sire,” Terilon greeted, bowing.
Touched for a moment, as if formalities woke him from a dream, the king responded, “and your service is accepted wholeheartedly. With the king being a part of the new generation, living in the midst of industry all his life, it is only fitting that his councilor is of the same age. We are of this time, unlike so many in this room.”
Speaking in normal tones, they had barely been able to hear each other in the din created by the other conversations in the room. The king called out to the room, “Quiet! Welcome the new high councilor with some respect!”
With schooled decorum, the court was silenced. The king continued in a calm tone. “Lord Jaksen, please take your seat, and your king will take his. It is time we brought this court into order and perhaps the new high councilor will inject some level-headed sense into the proceedings. Certainly, young Jaksen, your father always had that role in the court of the previous king.”
“I would be honored to do what I can, highness.”
The two took their seats – Terilon a blink of an eye after the king – and the rest of the room followed in suit.
“Permission to speak, high king?” Terilon requested.
“Permision granted.”
Terilon cleared his throat and wiped his forehead. “My father, fearing that his presence at court was not producing the good it once did, and heeding a number of signals that it was time to pass on the inheritance, had handed the family legacy to me. I will serve to the best of my ability, but I fear that I am ill prepared for the current crisis. I beg your highness and the rest of this court to tell me what has happened to cause this uproar, though it might seem a waste of time when events demand immediate action.”
“Certainly, certainly,” the king said with good humor. “Lord Haradr, you’ve been itching to say your fill. Go ahead and explain the situation.”
Haradr stood up from his seat. He hadn’t looked comfortable in it anyway, as if itching to stand firm on his feet. His face was pained, marred by some tragic news. His voice said that he blamed the king for the tragedy.
“After placidly waiting for the rebellion to come to our doors, we can now be satisfied that, within a day’s walk, we can meet the front line. The peasants seemed to be attacking erratically, but then suddenly they started making a straight line for this city, moving at a speed unheard of for an army. They will face some resistance, but they will have the capital under siege within five days. My own estate is now totally destroyed . . . but that is a drop in the ocean of pain awaiting this kingdom, and need not be felt by anyone except for myself. Small losses should not force us to take the irrational and malevolent measures that his highness is prepared to take. Just because a few drops have made our feet wet is no cause to rush headlong into the ocean, especially since we have spared the need, for thousands of years, to learn how to swim. I have lost . . . much, but even I can’t stomach his highness’ proposed solution. I will leave him to explain it to you.”
Even the king was surprised by Haradr’s bitterness. “Perhaps the plan was a bit extreme. Yes, it definitely bears thinking now. Because the peasants have only a slight disadvantage in weaponry and a great advantage in numbers, it seemed logical that we employ the only real advantage we have: magery. The mages have, since the second battle against Lord Damial, taken a new interest in the magic of war, much to the dismay of some of the traditionalists in their number. What really shook Lord Haradr was the description of some of the biomagery that seemed the most promising addition to our arsenal. To be sure, the peasants will have among their number unregistered mages, and they have no rules holding them back, so giving our own mages free rein in battle is not unreasonable. And they are much better than untrained peasants would be.”
“Stooping to such depths! They’ll never forgive us for it,” Haradr blasted.
“Please, Jaksen, tell us your views on this.”
Terilon looked as if he had tasted something bitter. He was the type who studied the description of historical battles, learning all the intricacies of strategy and tactics. It was one of the few areas in which he was inflexibly traditional. “It is still early for me to assert my opinion, highness,” he started, more to remind himself than anything else, “but since you ask, I will try to carve out an opinion from the little that I know. If this biomagery aggravates Lord Haradr, it will likely inflame opposition to your rule further, and it can no longer be claimed that these rebels are an insignificant minority of rabble-rousers.”
The king called his servant for a glass of water, as if preparing for a diatribe, and Terilon continued his reasoning. “So while there is certainly no reason for not involving mages since the precedent is set, we cannot risk using biomagery if it will give rise to more unrest. That, I am sure, is what Lord Haradr was considering when he objected. Given how much he has lost – more than many of us have – I doubt anyone can accuse him of being too merciful.”
“But these villains are laying siege to the capital,” the king shouted harshly, the balance that had momentarily marked his mood now lost. “By all rights they should all be executed for treason. Why shouldn’t we try to save as many lives in the loyal forces?”
Terilon knew what he wanted to say and what he had to say. He tried to let what he had to say part his lips as convincingly as possible. “Your majesty, you are more informed on this issue than I am. I made my best attempt to advise, but must, of course, defer to you. When I learn more, perhaps I will have more to say. All I know is that we must act quickly, and decisively. If there is more than one major battle, the rebels will be less likely to voluntarily disband.”
“Voluntarily disband!” the king mocked, standing again to force the rest of the courtiers to their feet. “There will be no chance of that when we use biomagery. Ill informed indeed – you show it when you speak like that. Be assured that no one attacked by our biomages will survive. And, with luck, everyone who sees the strike will run in horror. That would be voluntarily disbanding perhaps, after a fashion. It’s too bad only a handful of mages pursued this area of study.”
Terilon wanted to note that the king would not be pleased if his own troops ran in horror as well, but instead said, “if that is what you wish, my lord, your justice shall be done. I will not mourn rebels.”
“Right, absolutely right.” The king sat back down on the throne and addressed the high councilor directly. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, very sensible. You know your place, and show to the rest of the court, by example, how they should act.”
“Thank you, highness.”
Smugly, the king asked the court, “any other objections to the king’s plan?”
Without Lord Jaksen raising an argument, the room was silent. They would argue it out privately, where the king’s fury could not destroy them.
“Very well, then. Lord Jaksen had succeeded in quieting this court. If there is no other business . . .”
The doors of the hall were flung open roughly and, walking right past the objections of the door guards without heeding them, Havelin the mage stomped in. Dirt-stained traveling robes billowing behind him, defying the manicured atmosphere of the chamber, he took a second to gauge the state of each individual in the room before speaking to the king. Tayron sensed a glance of acknowledgement when their eyes met. He also saw some fear that Havelin was careful not to show anyone else.
“Lord high king,” Havelin addressed mocking the very ostentation of the title, “I have heard some very disturbing things, and have returned from my wanderings to deal with them.”
“You have not been allowed an audience. Are you here to pledge your support for your king?” the king said wryly.
“I pledge support to no man, but continue my fight against the dishonorable and its evils.”
Dutifully, the court murmured at that controversial answer. The king did not silence them. He wanted a reason to raise his voice.
“And do you say that there is dishonor and evil here?”
“I say that I have heard that you have taken an interest in biomagery, which has been a forbidden topic in the orders of mages since time immemorial, and unlike some who feel safer when barred from all freedom, we did not forbid ourselves needlessly. And not from ignorance, either, for we have occasionally studied it, though the knowledge was never allowed to pass beyond the labs. It is a compromise to the inquisitive nature of our species, but only that. What insanity had brought you to consider using it on anyone, much less your own people? I fear that the insanity had infected the fragile minds in the school of magery, always treading precariously on the line between thirst for knowledge and thirst for power. This place, of course, is only devoted to the latter, so I imagine you didn’t even think twice.”
Havelin had a good look at the ashamed faces of the council, including that of Terilon, but the king ignored the accusatory stare. “How dare you speak in such a manner to this court! What right have you, who are neither a lord nor have the backing of one?”
“I have the right of one who shows mercy when faced with aggression, offers education in face of ignorance, and firm resolve in the face of uncertainty. I could wipe all of you from the face of this world, and yet I do not. It may elude your understanding that, whatever the unarmed skill of your knights, they are no match for a high mage, unlimited by the restriction on weapons in this chamber. I choose to speak to you instead of the leaders of magery since I know where the decisions are made. But do not suppose that simply because I don’t flaunt power, don’t use it at every opportunity, that I don’t have it.”
“You . . .”
“I’m not finished,” Havelin roared. “I don’t know what magic has caused it, but you, my king, are the source of this insanity. If you cannot control it, and the court is too meek to risk its own power to stem the tide, then I refuse to let you turn the magic of this world to dark purpose. Even in the bowels of industry, magery can at least claim that it is spreading light in dark places . . .”
“You are not among the leaders of mages, Havelin. You have no say in this matter. Go back to your wanderings and leave this land to those schooled in the responsibility of keeping it in order.”
In an even, sarcastic tone, Havelin responded, “Oh! Is that what you were doing? Keeping this land in order? Well, you’ve done a great job. Maybe you should study up again. Are you sure this school of yours was accredited?”
“You ridicule your monarch?”
“You ignore the cries of your people?”
“Get out of my sight!”
Showing some satisfaction in his smile, Havelin said, bowing, “as you wish, my lord. Perhaps next time we speak, you will apologize to me. Between then and now, I foresee great pain and suffering.”
“You will not oppose the will of this court?”
Havelin’s smile broadened. “I will get out of your sight.” He left the stunned chamber.