Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (27 page)

“Why aren’t you down there with Dolan?” Ferrin wondered.

Copernum pulled his mantle more snugly about his narrow shoulders. “I do not crave public attention. There are circumstances when such appearances are necessary. Otherwise, I prefer to exert influence quietly.” Copernum turned to Rachel. “Why do you suppose Prince Galloran elected to keep you out of the procession?”

Rachel shrugged as if she didn’t care. Galloran had told her she would be safer and more comfortable in the castle. It had bothered her a little to be left out, but this was his kingdom, and she figured he knew best.

“I expect he wants to keep you shrouded in mystery,” Copernum answered. “Ostensibly for your protection. Mostly because you’re
too young. He doesn’t feel you look the part—the abnormally gifted Edomic adept. Your wholesome appearance does not match the rumors currently circulating. To be honest, despite the whispers that had reached me, I had dismissed your worth myself until you put me on the floor.”

Rachel combed her fingers along her temple, tucking some hair back. “Whatever his reasons, I’m happy to do what Galloran wants.”

“Such flagrant loyalty,” Copernum murmured. “Would that I had so devoted a servant.”

“I trust him,” Rachel said.

“Evidently,” Copernum replied. His gaze strayed to Ferrin, then returned to Rachel. “Surely you realize that an adept of your talents needn’t take orders from anyone. At this point in history you’re invaluable, more precious than orantium. Utterly unique.”

“I try to help out,” Rachel said, the flattery making her self-conscious.

Copernum looked to Ferrin. “Is she truly so innocent?”

“She’s not weak,” Ferrin assured him. “Nor is she foolish. What are you playing at, Copernum?”

“Nothing,” he said, holding up his long hands. “I just wonder if Rachel appreciates that entire kingdoms would rally around a gift like hers. Maldor would trade all but Felrook to have her, either to slay her or to train her.”

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Rachel said, hoping the hotness in her cheeks was not visible as a blush.

“Which is why I label you innocent,” Copernum replied with a small bow. “The prince has entered the castle. Today accomplished everything he had hoped. The two of you should go greet your friends and celebrate.”

Ferrin inclined his head a fraction. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“At your service,” Copernum replied. “I should like to become better acquainted with both of you.”

Ferrin led Rachel away from the balcony and out of the luxurious residence. On the way down a stairway he leaned close to her. “What did you take from that?” he whispered.

“Be wary of Copernum,” she replied softly.

“Could you feel him cuddling up to us like a snake?” Ferrin asked. “Like a constrictor maneuvering for a deadly hold before the squeezing begins.”

“He tried to kill Jason,” Rachel said. “He tried to kill you. He tortured Nedwin for years. He’s only acting nice until he has another option.”

“Exactly right. He suspects we might be valuable. Did you notice how he tried to plant doubts and build trust? During such conversations, I like to imagine flattering words as a noose being tied round my neck. He gently tried to make you feel he appreciated your worth more than Galloran does. He tried to portray himself as a wise confidant. Nothing too drastic. He settled for patiently nudging our minds toward certain conclusions.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll never trust him.”

Ferrin walked beside her in silence for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“Not completely.”

“Good.”

*  *  *

Rachel didn’t get to talk to Galloran on the day of his procession until the companions who had set out together from Mianamon gathered for a private evening meal in the royal chambers. After the parade Galloran had met with a variety of nobles, merchants, scholars, artists, and other influential members of society. Everyone seemed desperate for his attention, and he had patiently
greeted the endless flood of well-wishers, giving each as much personal interaction as circumstances permitted.

Galloran had saved Rachel a seat immediately beside him. For the first time that day he put on his blindfold. “We can speak freely here,” he said. “I won’t chance spies reading your lips through my eyes.”

“Did anyone ask about your eyes?” Nollin inquired.

“Not a soul,” Galloran replied. “Everyone noticed. Nobody spoke of it. The lack of commentary suggests they assume I’m ashamed, which I probably should be.”

“No reason to feel shame,” Nedwin said. “You did what was necessary to stay in the fight.”

“I’ll address the matter after my coronation,” Galloran said.

“The coronation will proceed on schedule?” Nollin asked.

“Day after tomorrow,” Galloran replied. “Dolan has already announced my legitimacy. The grand duke will do the honors.”

“This has been a long time coming,” Nollin said. “How do you feel?”

“Like a stranger in my own home. Most of the people I once admired are gone. Many honorable men could once be found among the nobility of Trensicourt. Not so anymore. Those who remain are cautious and compromising at best, plotters and backstabbers at worst. But the kingdom will be mine, and with it a substantial host of soldiers, and that is what we most need at present.”

“Good food,” Io commented.

Rachel had been so attentive to the conversation that she had neglected to start eating. The table was burdened with crispy fowl, peppery venison, delicate fillets of trout, pots of soup, baskets of bread, platters of fruit, and trays of vegetables. A feast fit for a king, which Rachel supposed made sense under the circumstances.

“I’ll agree,” Ferrin said, spreading soft white cheese on a dark
hunk of bread. “The road has its charms, but meals like this are scarce. The pleasure of city food prepared by experts nearly excuses the exhausting politics.”

“You had it easy today, displacer,” Kerick grunted. “The sun was hot during the procession, and the progress slow.”

“At least you benefited from better company,” Ferrin countered.

“Am I that boring?” Rachel complained.

“Not you,” Ferrin clarified.

Galloran leaned toward Rachel. “I have meant to ask how you enjoyed the companionship of the acting chancellor.”

Rachel swallowed a bite of bread. “Ferrin compared him to a snake.”

Ferrin bobbed his head. “Copernum was everything you expected, Galloran. He has a definite fixation on Rachel.”

“Unsurprising,” Galloran replied. “His master has shown uncommon interest in her. I don’t want Rachel ever left alone with him. Or anyone, really. Trensicourt is infested with treacherous manipulators. The sooner we’re off to war the better.”

“Agreed,” Io seconded heartily.

“It’s fine with me,” Rachel inserted. “I’d much rather avoid guys like Copernum.” She at least wanted the appearance of having some say in the matter.

“Will the more prominent schemers let you mount a war?” Nollin asked.

“I spent the day investigating attitudes on the subject,” Galloran said. “Some won’t want to make it easy. If I intended to wait a month to start a campaign, it might not be possible. But riding the current tide of high emotion, I expect to succeed. My most cunning enemies will rejoice to find Trensicourt mobilizing for war. The cleverest among them will gladly hurry me out of
town. They will find many opportunities in having me away on a doomed offensive.”

“How do you intend to counter them?” Nedwin asked.

“I’ll do what I can,” Galloran replied. “Who knows how the war will progress? Who can say how long it will last? Many options close to us if Trensicourt falls. I’ll leave a trusted steward in command, along with a reliable aide or two. Apart from that I’ll have to lay aside my concerns about the politics of Trensicourt for a season. According to the prophecy, an assault on Felrook is the key to dethroning Maldor. Until that goal is achieved, all other matters are secondary.”

Looking around the table, Rachel wondered who Galloran might leave behind. Hopefully, none of the group who had set out together from Mianamon. She had already said good-bye to too many friends.

“I will grant you one thing,” Nollin said, wadding a napkin and tossing it aside. “You are not asking your allies to assume the greatest risk. Your present course will leave Trensicourt quite vulnerable.”

“This offensive is our last hope,” Galloran said. “I intend to pursue it with every resource I can muster. Sacrifices are inevitable.”

After Rachel finished her meal, she noticed Tark sitting alone at a small table away from the others. She went to him. “How did you enjoy the parade?”

“Not much,” he replied in his deep, raspy voice. “I would have been happier blowing a sousalax than trotting astride an overgrown pony. I disliked leaving you alone with Copernum and Ferrin, but it didn’t seem my place to protest.”

“Copernum wouldn’t have done anything to me with Galloran around,” Rachel said.

Tark lowered his voice. “Isn’t just Copernum I worry about.”

Rachel gave a small grin. “I’m not totally defenseless. I know a few tricks.”

“I’ve seen you knock people flat with a word,” Tark said. “And I saw you set the walking dead aflame. But I vowed to Lord Jason that I would protect you, and I mean to keep my oath. I did that duty poorly today.”

“Today was unusual,” Rachel said.

“Aye, and if I let unusual conditions stop me, I won’t be any help until this whole affair is over. I’m happy to admit that I’m in way over my head. I never expected to get involved with the high matters of great men. But I made two promises to Lord Jason: to help Galloran fight his war, and to watch over you.”

“You’ve done great so far,” Rachel assured him. “The war is on schedule and I’m doing fine.”

“Keep me near, if you can,” Tark urged. “I want to be of service.”

“I’m glad to know I can count on you,” Rachel replied, a hand on his arm.

Tark sniffed uncomfortably and looked away. “Now, don’t go relying on me too much. I’ll give you my best, but don’t forget to keep practicing that Edomic of yours.”

“Deal.”

*  *  *

The coronation featured even more pageantry than the procession into the city. Simply to stand at the back of the throne room for the ceremony cost no less than a hundred drooma.

Trensicourt had celebrated nonstop ever since the procession. For two days the streets had remained mobbed by revelers, regardless of the hour. Citizens thronged the plaza outside the castle to hear heralds recite the words spoken within.

Rachel sat in the throne room at the front of the elevated gallery.
Tark was seated on one hand, Io on the other. Galloran had appointed the two men as her personal bodyguards for the duration of their stay at Trensicourt. Io looked handsome and dignified in his finery. Strange how much he had matured in half a year. Not just in appearance—his attitude had become more serious, although he remained very considerate. She tried not to think ahead to his hair going gray by winter.

While waiting for the ceremony to begin, Tark and Io kept stealing sidelong glances at her—as if she didn’t already feel conspicuous enough! Yesterday Rachel had been fitted for a special outfit: a fine, dark robe with a veiled, broad-brimmed hat and black lace gloves. Nollin had come up with the idea. The goal was to make her appear mysterious, and the tailors had succeeded. The ensemble looked like an eccentric, stylish funeral outfit. Her attire attracted much attention, but at least the veil enabled her to avoid eye contact. When she turned her head toward the onlookers gazing her way, all eyes wandered elsewhere. Nobody wanted to get caught staring.

A hush fell over the room as a herald announced Galloran, complete with a dozen titles such as Protector of the Realm, High Commander of the Army, and Crown Prince of Trensicourt. Regal and tall, Galloran strode into the room, the train of his robe dragging behind like a cape designed for a giant. Three young attendants followed, holding the trailing ends of the purple garment.

Silence reigned as Galloran ascended the dais, shed his robe, and sat on a small, ornate chair before the Grand Duke of Edgemont, a husky man with a forked beard and costly attire. Dolan sat on the dais as well, as did Copernum and several other high lords of Trensicourt.

Rachel felt happy for Galloran. He looked very regal, and he had certainly earned this moment of glory.

Dolan arose and spoke to the assemblage. The speech struck Rachel as long-winded, as if he were trying to exhaust every possible way to express his joy at the return of the heir to the throne, all the while missing no opportunity to compliment the job he had done as regent in preserving the realm through the kingless years.

Next, Copernum stepped forward and spoke of his support for Galloran and his relief that the kingdom was whole again. Thankfully, his speech was shorter.

At last the Grand Duke of Edgemont issued a long ceremonial proclamation. Rachel was glad for the veil, because it allowed her to secretly yawn during the plodding recitation. Toward the end of the pronouncement a boy in a fancy doublet brought the crown to the Grand Duke of Edgemont on a silk pillow. Still reciting ceremonial words, the grand duke lifted the crown from the cushion, held it high, then deposited it on Galloran’s head. A flourish of trumpets followed as Galloran accepted his royal scepter.

The Grand Duke of Edgemont retreated, and Galloran arose. The room erupted with cheers. Rachel hooted and hollered as loudly as anyone. The jubilation maintained a deafening volume for at least thirty seconds. Galloran raised both hands. As the applause subsided, Rachel could hear the sustained murmur of distant cheering from outside the castle. Word had traveled quickly.

“Fellow citizens of Trensicourt,” Galloran began, raising his voice as best he could. A hush fell over the room. “I come to the throne more than a decade too late. Most of you are aware that I am no friend of the emperor, Maldor. I have spent the past years in active defiance of his ambition to dominate Lyrian. Some of those years were spent actively fighting him, some in the dungeons of Felrook, and the most recent years were spent gathering intelligence in preparation for a final stand against his bid for absolute power.