Haydn of Mars (4 page)

“Are we breaking camp?” I asked Jamie, who appeared next to me like a shadow.
 
The cook fires had been started, and the succulent odor of roasting poultry filled the air.
 
I suddenly realized how long it had been since I had eaten.

“No.
 
The camp is splitting.
 
You and I will stay here for one more day at least.”

At my table Jamie seated me and then moved off, making way for Xarr, who seemed to rise out of the twilight like a fat spirit.

He sat down opposite me, a little unsteadily.

“Tasting your wares again, general?” I asked, with amusement, and a great deal more respect than I had previously shown when I thought he was just a drunken vintner.

He grinned.
 
“My lady, I am properly potted most hours of most days.
 
Occupational hazard, I'm afraid.”
 
His face momentarily darkened.
 
“The things I've seen in the last two years...”

A steward appeared with a flagon, and filled Xarr's cup and then attempted to fill mine.

“Is that the same stuff that came out of Xarr's wagon?” I asked.

He bowed slightly.
 
“It is, Ma'am.
 
We've been looking forward to its delivery.”

I kept my paw over my cup.
 
“Having lived with it in such close quarters, I'll forgo.”

“As you wish.”

He bowed again, and started to move off, until Xarr grabbed his arm and removed the flagon from it.

“Leave it with me,” he said, and the steward started to protest.
 
He thought better of it when the general growled loudly at him.

Xarr chuckled hoarsely as the shaken servant made off.

Seriously, I said, “Tell me where you have been, Xarr.”

“Me?” he said, feigning levity.
 
“Why, I've been to the North, the East, the West, just about everywhere, little Haydn.”

I patted my bulging middle.
 
“Certainly not little anymore.”

“You'll always be little Haydn to me,” he said.
 
“When you were just a kit, I remember you never wanted to frolic like the others.
 
Always wanted to learn the sword, or history.”

“I'm afraid we've had too much history lately, Xarr.”

He leaned forward, and I knew for sure now that behind the veil of insobriety the same hard, solid man I had known when young still resided.
 
“Not nearly enough history, you mean.
 
Not by a long shot.”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned back, and tilted his cup to his lips.
 
He belched.
 
His look was hooded and grave.
 
“I've watched you from afar, I have,” he said.
 
“All your machinations and speechifying in Assembly.
 
I watched it and studied it.
 
We all did.”

“While I bought time for you?” I said, recalling my conversation with Kerl and letting some bitterness leak through.

“That's right,” he said.
 
He paused to drink again.
 
“And you made very fine speeches, you did.”
 
He chuckled grimly.
 
“Completely useless, but, yes, very fine.”

My anger rose, but he continued, ignoring it.
 
“Your father, before he was murdered, got what he wanted, as he often did.
 
He was the finest man I ever knew.
 
And, when he abdicated, he made sure that the monarchy was replaced by something better for the people, and without a drop of blood being spilled, except, eventually, his own.

“But he was wrong in thinking that it would work.
 
He had brought it on too soon.
 
We tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen.
  
The clans weren't ready for it, and neither were the common people, who only think in terms of clan, anyway.
  
While he was alive no one dared say anything against him.
 
But after he was butchered, those of us who knew the republic were doomed began to work to see that if the monarchy was reinstated, the legitimate line continued and you were crowned Queen.”

He pointed at my food.
 
“You aren't eating, little Haydn.”

Suddenly, I was no longer hungry.
 
The odor of burnt poultry made me want to vomit again.

“Go on,” I said.

Xarr paused to eat a bit, and drink much.
 
“I see I have your attention.
 
So, where was I?”

“A return to monarchy.
 
Me as Queen.
 
So you knew all along that Frane would usurp?”

He was drinking when I said this, and nearly choked.
 

“
No!
 
We knew the F'rar, and Frane in particular, were a great danger.
 
But we had no idea how strong Frane had become, or how bold she would be.
 
I'm ashamed to say we were caught unawares.
 
But now, little Haydn, we will do what we must to make sure you are returned to the throne.”

I was silent so long that he finally said, “This does not please you, having so many willing to fight and die for you?”

“I've spent my whole life trying to insure that the monarchy never returns,” I answered.
 
“My father taught this to me from the moment I could sit still long enough to listen!
 
He sat me on the throne once, just to show me how horrible a place it is...”

Xarr was staring at me over his cup.
 
He had stopped drinking.

“Oh, don't worry, little Haydn.
 
You need do nothing.
 
They mean for you to be little more than a figurehead, anyhow.”
 
That strange mixture of cunning and a myriad of other emotions had returned to his face.

I was speechless with rage.
 
Xarr continued to look at me in the lowering darkness with his grin.

“I can see your father in you now, little Haydn.
 
Can you imagine someone telling him he would be nothing but a pretty bauble to hold up in front of the people?”

“If I were ever to be crowned Queen,” I said, measuring my words, “it would only be to ensure the restoration of the republic.”

“Ah, I have no doubt.
 
But first you must become queen.
 
Oh, the wheels within wheels, and your friend Jamie always in the middle of them.
 
He was the first to see that the monarchy would return.
 
He saw far ahead of the others that the republic would fail.”

“And Kerl?”

“Kerl is the best fighter I've ever known.
 
But he did as he was told,” he said, giving his hoarse chuckle.
 
“Much the worse for him, since he had always been in love with you as much as you are with him.
 
Or so he's told me many a night over a cup or ten of my wares.
 
Jamie thought your marriage to Kaylan would not save the republic, and he was right.
 
But he was outvoted by others, many of them dead now.
 
And so Kerl's brother, being eldest, had to marry you.
 
For a brief moment there, it was thought that Jamie was wrong, that your union with Kaylan might form the glue to hold the Republic, and the clans, together after all.
 
And then your father was butchered last year...”

He stared off into the lowering sun, which made his savage features shadowed with a kind of sadness and nobility.

When he continued his voice was lower, still gruff, but had lost all of its effects of alcohol.
 
“Everything unraveled after that, little Haydn.
 
And quickly.
 
It had been hoped that if the republic started to fail, then the assembly would turn to you because of your father, and because of your union with Kaylan.
 
You would have been the legitimate choice to mount the restored monarchy.
 
But the F'rar were more treacherous, and had been harder at work, than we knew.
 
We were forced to retreat and regroup, while the F'rar, and Frane in particular, only became stronger.
 
And then there, suddenly, was nothing we could do but run like dogs...”

He turned his face on me in the near darkness.
 
“We failed you, Haydn.
 
We knew nearly a month ago of Frane's plans.”
 
He laughed bitterly, reached for his cup and then drew his hand away.
 
“We still had a few spies worthy of the name.
 
One of them was my son.”

I held my breath.
 
“Your son...”

He nodded, staring now at his cup.
 
“I did not drink so much a month ago.
 
He was a page, like young Jamie, and just as good if not better at being a spy.
 
An aide to Senator Paterine.”

“I remember him,” I said.
 
“But I never knew him as your son.”

Xarr nodded, and toyed with the stem of his cup.
 
Abruptly he drew it to his lips and swallowed what was within in one gulp.
 
“My only son and heir.
 
And we had to leave him in Wells City.”

“Why wasn't I told any of this?” I asked.
 
Anger was beginning to build in me, gently, as the first swell of a storm.

He slammed the cup down and nearly hissed: “
Because it was necessary
.”

I tried to overtake his anger with my own.
 
“How dare–”

Again he slammed the cup down, and this time it shattered in his hand.

“No, Madam, how dare
you
presume to know what you could not know!
 
Do you know how many women and men have died in your name already?
 
How many will yet die–”

He held himself back, but I caught him.

“Tell me everything you know,” I said.

“I cannot.”

“And if I order you to?”

He laughed, pulled my own cup across the table and put it to his lips.
 
“You have not been crowned yet, little Haydn.”

My rage was held in check by the strange timber of his words.
 
“Xarr–”

He swept his paw out in dismissal, and I saw that it was bleeding from the cut glass of his goblet.

“There's blood–” I began.

“There will be much blood,” he whispered.
 
“I apologize, Haydn, I have already said too much.”

He reached for the wine flask, and it was evident now that he was very drunk indeed.

“Let me help you,” I said, reaching for his bloody paw.

Another gesture of dismissal.
 
“You've already done enough.”
 
He put both paws on the table and started to push himself unsteadily up.
 
Then he abruptly let himself down again.

“Remember this,” he said, his voice a slur now.
 
“And remember this always.
 
I would die for you.
 
I would die for you this minute.
 
But I think you are too young. You may have your father in you, but it has not roared forth yet.
 
All your sword play and history as a kit did not prepare you for this.
 
You have not lived, little Haydn.
 
Your father kept you too safe.
 
We all did.
 
And now, I'm afraid, it was a disservice.
 
I'm sorry.
 
You are not ready...”

His head lowered slowly to the table, and in a few moments he was snoring, his massive ugly head resting on his paws in the midst of broken glass.

As if on cue, Jamie was there.

“Did you hear any of that?” I asked.

“Enough.”

“We must talk, Jamie.”

“Yes, we must.”

“Help me with him.”
 
I rose and went around the table, lifting Xarr's head gently away from the table while Jamie cleared the debris away.

“Help me carry him to his bed.”

“Lay his head back down on the table,” Jamie said.

“It is cruel.”

“It is what he would wish.
 
He will be ashamed if he finds himself in a bed of cushions that he did not stagger to himself.
 
In the morning he will awake and find his wine nearby.
 
It is what he would want.
 
Ever since his son was killed he has been like this.”