27
“Lord Tayron, I hardly think it is appropriate for you to nominate your future wife for the post of Speaker for the Commons,” Terilon Jaksen said hotly, as he and Tayron were both standing from their seats on the platform.
“This court doesn’t have much contact with the commons, and few commoners are as accustomed to court life as Anni. As for future wife, Lord Jaksen, I think you’re a bit ahead of our relationship.”
“Please, Tayron, don’t kid us. Your relationship with her has rapidly come to constitute the bulk of court gossip. I dare say that many courtiers are prepared to beg you to finally marry her so they can be freed to discuss something else for a change.”
“We’re busy people, Lord Jaksen,” Tayron said chidingly, “I’m sure you understand.”
“In any case, Tayron, while she is undoubtedly suited to this duty, don’t you think the common people might see this as a betrayal? A lord councilor nominating his future wife is hardly what they would have expected.”
“Except for the fact that they know her from the articles she writes, Jaksen. Those who are at all interested in court politics read her work constantly. And she has opposed the court on many issues, giving her legitimacy in the public eye. She is also popular among the village leaders, so she will not be seen as the choice of wealthy merchants. I can assure you, too, that we will not be marrying within the next year, so she will be able to finish her term.”
“But what good is that? Don’t the people of this land deserve someone who can maintain the position, so that there is a sense of stability in the position and the new constitution?”
“No. The people deserve someone who enters the role already competent at defying the court and willing to speak her mind. They deserve someone who will set the standard for those who follow. Also, they deserve to learn that they have a voice, and need not be trapped by having the same voice time and time again, while that voice becomes more like a courtier and less in touch with the common people.”
“And do you fear this transformation will happen to Anni as well, Tayron?”
Tayron smiled. The argument was his. “As you have pointed out, Lord Jaksen, she is destined to be my wife. That will make her a noble in fact. However, the answer is no, I don’t think she’s the type to lose touch. That’s exactly why she makes a good first speaker. The people need to know that they don’t have to put up with representatives of the other sort.”
Jaksen and a few other councilors raised a few concerns, but when the vote of the court was taken, Anni was confirmed as the nominee for speaker, pending the vote of the people. To avoid the urge to speak out on her own behalf, Anni had not attended, but a messenger was sent to her as soon as the decision was made.
“Any other matters?” the king said, amused by the way Tayron had instinctively taken up the role of opposition to Jaksen. The new lord’s defense of village councils in his first days on the council had been very impressive, and had established Tayron’s willingness to argue against the man he once guarded. For Tayron’s part, he still felt a bit awkward and lacked the eloquence of the rest of the court. He learned quickly, but every gaff rattled his confidence a bit. Afterwards, though, he noticed that the court was impressed by him and seemed to ignore his less astute moments. He was reinvigorated daily with his increasing popularity among the courtiers. The final reinforcement came when his parents finally arrived in court in utter awe of his luck. They were offered permanent quarters, but decided to return to their house in the backwaters, where they could remain grounded. They didn’t leave before getting lists of clients from other nobles, though, ensuring a boom to their business. Tayron fixed the look on their faces in his mind, and that was enough to take care of any queasiness.
“Sire, the mage Havelin would like to address the court,” a door guard said.
“When has he ever asked to address us?”
“Should I let him in, then, highness?”
The king only had to raise an eyebrow, indicating that the guard was a breath away from getting sent to the front lines, and the man shuffled out to usher in Havelin.
“We meet again, highness,” the mage said pointedly.
“And I apologize, Havelin. I suppose that the least I can do for you is to fulfill your prophecy.”
“It is the least, my king, but I doubt I can expect more. One thing – I want an agreement from this court concerning mages. They are not to be compelled to participate in war again.”
“But they can participate if they choose to?”
The mage answered simply, “they have the right to choose, of course.”
“Done. That represents no great change I think. Anything else?”
“If I think of something, I will return to request it. I’m afraid it is far too late to return to a time when mages got any respect, and I expect that most of my peers will soon become the pets of the government or the merchants. Any agreement between the two of us that biomagery will not be used won’t be worth the time it takes to write it. So, I go back to my wanderings, and let you get on with this dishonesty known as politics. There’s too much of it for me to tackle – I’m much more suited to dealing with the amateur charlatans. With the trickster knight in your number now, perhaps he will balance out your lies, or maybe he’ll give them divine potency. Either way, I just wanted the satisfaction of hearing you apologize. Good luck in trying to rule this land.”
Havelin left without explicit permission from the king, but the court had expected the lack of respect from the start.
“Well,” the king commented, “those were relatively kind words. Nice to know his best wishes are with us, even if he thinks we are uniquely incapable of satisfying them. Does anyone else seek an audience?”
There was a pause as a discussion outside the door could be heard, then the door guard announced “there is an urgent message from the estate of Lord Jaksen.”
“Send the message in,” the king said, concerned. Since the end of the rebellion, the court had become increasingly aware of the ailing elder Jaksen’s health. He had been told of his son’s victory, but could not leave his bed. His illness was still unidentified, but had been too many symptoms to allow the illusion that it wasn’t serious. The explanation in the palace had already grown into a legend – the old Lord Jaksen was so intimately part of the court, that his separation from it had caused this disease. Tayron himself suspected that the old lord had felt something wrong long before leaving, and had realized that he would soon lack the energy to do what Terilon eventually did. That was the only reasoning that made sense to him. In either case, the news of late had been dire, and nothing good could be expected from an urgent message.
The messenger’s distraught visage prepared the court for the worst, and he wasted no time delivering it. “Sire, the elder Lord Jaksen died this morning in bed.” Terilon kept himself from any emotion, and the court lapsed into a natural moment of silence. After a suitable time, the messenger continued, “he had written a letter to his son and the court a few days before and ordered it to be read here as his last words. Permission to read the letter, your highness?”
“Permission granted.”
The messenger broke the seal on a letter and read. “To the king, my son, and the nobles of this land. In these, my last words to you, let me say how glad I am that you have brought this land out of the troubles that filled the first year of the king’s reign. And while there will certainly be civil war and rebellions in the future, let them always improve us and educate us as these have. Through the pain and suffering, let the king’s justice always be a beacon. I cannot say why I left you when I did, except that I felt that the time was right and I have never ignored my instincts. This decision was not made lightly, though, and I apologize to Lord Tayron for a scene I made in the pits of my depression in the wake of my choice. It pleases me that he does well, and my thanks go to him for his service.
“My son has faced a great ordeal, and I think he has proved more than a match for the difficult times in which he entered court life. I regret having left the duties to him so abruptly, but all has turned out for the best. To him, and to the rest of the court, I give this one piece of advice: do not rely on the gods to justify your actions, for by doing so you only cheapen their greatness. Do what is right, and only as a last resort should you call upon that power which had been entrusted to you. It is only advice, and will no doubt be discarded when convenient, but it must be said.
“Gods bless the king and the country. Goodbye.”
As soon as the messenger finished, the king said, “let the Lord Jaksen’s words be recorded in the book of final words, where they will sit beside the last letters of all the great lords of the past century and their golden advice.”
“My king,” Terilon said, “permission to leave immediately to my estate?”
“Permission granted. Send your mother the king’s condolences.”
Terilon smiled weakly at that. “No need. She’ll hear you sent them before I arrive.”
“It is best that we adjourn here for the day, so that the Lord Jaksen’s words are not followed by trivial matters. That will be all.”
As they exited, Tayron heard the murmurs of the courtiers, most of whom discussed how great the old lord was, but some commented that his last words had been rather bland, lacking his well-known eloquence, and attributed it to his illness. Tayron didn’t mind the callousness so much because it was both quintessentially noble and essentially accurate. At least they weren’t spreading vicious gossip about the lord right after his death. Tayron joined his bodyguard outside the chamber, and they made their way to his quarters.
“So, Tayron, another day,” Karitan said. “You intend to mourn the loss of the elder Jaksen?”
Tayron shook his head. “We’ve been prepared for it. Besides, I didn’t really know him. Most of the time, all I saw of him was the legendary councilor, the act that he put on when he was in full form. The only times he broke out of that were in battle and when he left the court. From those times I know there was more to him than I ever saw.”
Karitan nodded. “Makes sense. I haven’t asked before now, mainly because I was just glad not to be imprisoned for helping Quenari, but why did you choose me to be your bodyguard?”
“You beat me in battle,” Tayron shrugged. “It’d be silly for me to have someone weaker than me be my bodyguard.”
“You’re not afraid that I’d betray you?”
“You didn’t betray Quenari, and I hope I give you less reason to betray me than he gave you. That’s why I didn’t choose Yunas, though. He’s a better fighter than either one of us, but I can almost expect to face him again in a fight. He’ll probably make sure of it somehow.”
“What about Bathis, the last member this merry troupe?” Karitan said with uncharacteristic whimsicalness. He had never quite forgiven Bathis.
“I could take him,” Tayron said simply. “Also, he wants to become a courtier in his own right, and I don’t want to know what he’ll be willing to do to get there.”
Amused, Karitan asked, “have you said all this to Jaksen?”
“I told him. But Terilon trusts them because they helped him out during the trouble. Maybe he doesn’t know them like I do, or maybe they’ve changed since I made my opinions of them. Bathis became quieter and more respectful. He didn’t even insult anybody in the last battle. There was a time when he wouldn’t even attack a person without first insulting him. Yunas just has that haunted look.”
They reached the quarters, and Tayron shoved a key in, whispered the code to the lock, then turned to open it. Remembering what Havelin had said about magic in the palace, Tayron had insisted on a combination of magic and a conventional lock on his door, instead of just the normal magical security. Inside, Anni was waiting for him in a celebratory full black dress. From the scents wafting from the dining table, Tayron guessed that she had ordered a special dinner from the cook ahead of time.
“Confident that you were going to be the nominee?” Tayron noted.
“Well, if I wasn’t chosen, then we’d need the food to cheer us up, wouldn’t we?”
“Fair enough.”
They sat at the dining table, both more interested in getting lunch out of the way than enjoying it, despite the good food.
“So,” Anni said, “it’ll be a year before we get married.”
Tayron grinned. “I didn’t think you’d be trapped by anything traditional.”
“No. But I like to make things official, you know. It’s tough when I have to keep a major topic of court gossip out of my reports – people notice.”
“Don’t pretend that it’ll end when we get married. We’re one of the few couples that live together in the palace, and we’re not one of these established families. The way I got to power is closely tied to the most interesting times this land will ever know. Some of the court will be trying to bring us back down, some will like to see us do well, and both sides will have something to say about us. And I don’t suppose that you would want me to keep you at our estate once we get married, like all the male heads of houses do with their wives?”
“If you so much as think about it . . .”
Tayron held his hands up in submission. “We represent the modern for the court. When they see us, they see what people who aren’t weaned on court life are like. That’s what they think they see, at least. I think they’d get a shock if a farmer from the Northern Reaches was suddenly made a lord. Anyway, do you think the people will vote for you? It’s tough to tell what millions of people are thinking when they haven’t done anything quite like this before.”
“Which is why I’m going to find out. I’ll be heading out for a month on a tour of the countryside and the other cities to see what they’re thinking, and to let them get to know me. I’ll talk to them a bit, especially about the rebellion. There’s still plenty of unrest out there. I want them to know that voting for me would be the best way to annoy the nobility.”
“Nice of you to tell me beforehand,” Tayron mumbled.
“That’s what I’m doing now,” she retorted briskly. “I’ll probably leave tomorrow. I’ll go by train, since breka will seem too lordly.”
“Maybe you should take Karitan with you . . .”
She shook her head firmly. “I’ve already sent word to a few trusted friends who’ll come along. Karitan is too conspicuous and can’t avoid looking like a bodyguard, and I don’t want the people to feel that there’s a bodyguard between them and me. I know I don’t trust people with bodyguards. It’s like they know they’ve done something that’ll make you want to kill them.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No offense, of course.”
Tayron noticed that Karitan was grinning too, now. The knight always got a laugh at the mealtime banter between the two, and avoided eating at the same time lest he break the atmosphere. “I hate wondering if you’re safe.”
“Same here. And let me remind you . . .”
“Fine. You’re right,” Tayron surrendered, “anything else you want to tell me?”
“Nope, I threw it all out as fast as I could. Busy tonight?”
Tayron had to think it over. “No. I’m free from here on out unless the normal stuff happens.”
Anni looked at him suggestively and he replied, “are you going to insist that we wait until after dinner?”
Karitan leaned back in the couch, musing at his luck and the odd friends he had made along the way. He could not help but wonder whether Lord Quenari had some right ideas that the court now lacked but, in all honesty, he slept better guarding Tayron. Having fought on the wrong side of two wars, and still managing to keep his head, Karitan felt satisfied that he had done well. That did not stop him from thinking about what would have happened if he had not fallen for Tayron’s trick, and had instead killed the trickster knight.