Hidden Warrior (20 page)

That had removed one obstacle from Niryn’s path. Today he would deal with an even greater threat.

T
he isthmus road took Niryn and his riders along the top of the eastern cliffs and from here, through a lowering curtain of drizzle, he saw the royal flagship and her escorts riding at anchor in the little harbor below.

Crossing the Inner Sea so early in the spring was a risky undertaking and the vessels all showed signs of damage. Aboard the king’s ship sailors were swarming busily at their repairs in the sheets.

Riding down the muddy switchback road to the village, Niryn found several men of the King’s Guard waiting for him on the shingle. They rowed him out in a longboat and Lord General Rheynaris was there to greet him as he hoisted himself over the ship’s rail.

“Welcome aboard, Lord Niryn. The king’s waiting for you below.”

Niryn glanced around as he followed Rheynaris. Across the deck a cluster of younger nobles was watching
him with apparent curiosity. One of them made a warding sign when he thought Niryn wasn’t looking.

“Tell me, Rheynaris, who is that young fellow there?”

“With the yellow hair? That’s Solari’s oldest son, Nevus. He’s one of the king’s new equerries.”

Niryn frowned; he’d heard nothing of this. Lord Solari had been one of Rhius’ liegemen.

“How is the king?” Niryn inquired when they were out of earshot of the others.

“Glad to be home, I’d say.” Rheynaris paused as they neared the cabin. “He has been more—changeable since we left Mycena. It’s always worse when he’s away from battle.”

Niryn nodded his thanks for the warning and the general tapped lightly at the door.

“Enter!” a gruff voice called.

Erius reclined on the cabin’s narrow bunk, writing on a lap desk propped across his knees. The wizard waited at respectful attention, listening to the busy scratch of the goose quill. The cabin was unheated; Niryn could see his breath, but Erius had his tunic unbuttoned like a common soldier. His hair and beard were greyer, the wizard noted, and framed a face more careworn.

Finishing with a flourish of the quill, Erius set the desk aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. “Hello, Niryn. You’ve wasted no time. I didn’t expect to see you before tomorrow.”

The wizard bowed. “Welcome home, Majesty.”

Erius pushed a stool his way with one foot. “Sit, and give me news from home.”

Niryn quickly touched on general news, downplaying a recent wave of plague that had decimated several northern towns. “The high priest of the Achis temple is being held for treason,” he went on, moving on to more important business. “He was heard on at least three occasions speaking of that mythical queen they keep seeing in their fever dreams.”

Erius frowned. “You told me that was all done with.”

“They’re only dreams, my king, born of fear and wishful thinking. But, as you know all too well, my liege, a dream can be dangerous if allowed to take root in ignorant minds.”

“That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?” Erius lifted a sheaf of parchments from the desk. “Chancellor Hylus reports more dead of plague, and winter crops failing as far inland as Elio and Gormad. No wonder the people think themselves cursed and dream of queens. I’m beginning to wonder how much of a kingdom I’ll have left to pass on.” The corner of his left eye twitched. “I destroyed the tablet, pulled down the steles, but the words of the Oracle have not faded.”

Niryn’s fingers hardly moved as he cast a soothing spell. “Everyone is speculating on whether the truce will hold. What do you think, Majesty?”

Erius sighed and rubbed a hand over his beard. “It’s a farmers’ truce, at best. As soon as the Plenimarans get a harvest in and replenish their granaries, I expect we’ll find ourselves marching back across Mycena. In the meantime, we’d better do the same. These damn droughts are as much our enemy as the Overlord’s armies. All the same, I’m not sorry for a bit of a rest. I’ll be glad of music and decent food again, and sleeping without an ear cocked for alarms.” He gave the wizard a rueful smile. “I never thought I’d grow weary of war, my friend, but truth is I’m glad for this truce. I don’t suppose my son will be, though. How is Korin?”

“Well, Majesty, very well. But restless, as you say.”

Erius chuckled darkly. “Restless, eh? That’s a nice way of putting it, much nicer than the reports I get from Porion—drinking, whoring, carrying on. Not that I was any better at his age, of course, but I was blooded by then. Who can blame him for itching to fight? You should read the letters he sends me, begging to join me in Mycena. By
the Flame, he doesn’t know how it’s galled me keeping him wrapped in silk for so long.”

“And yet what choice did you have, Majesty, with no other heir but a sickly nephew?” This was an old dance between them.

“Ah, yes, Tobin. But not so sickly, after all, it seems. Orun’s reams of complaints aside, Korin and Porion both give him nothing but praise. What do you make of the boy, now that you’ve seen him for yourself?”

“He’s an odd little fellow, in most respects. Rather sullen from what I’ve seen, but something of an artist. In fact he’s already made a name for himself at court with bits of jewelry and carvings.”

Erius nodded fondly. “He gets that from his mother. But there’s more to him than that, I hear. Korin claims the boy is almost as good with a sword as he is.”

“He does seem skilled, as is that peasant squire of his.”

The instant the words left his lips Niryn knew he’d taken a misstep; the sudden wild glare was in the king’s eyes, presaging a fit.

“Peasant?”

Niryn skittered back off his stool as Erius lurched up, knocking the lap desk to the floor. The lid flew open, scattering wax, parchments, and writing implements in all directions. The sand shaker and a pot of ink burst, spreading a gritty black puddle across the worn boards. “Is that how you refer to a Companion of the royal house?” he roared.

“Forgive me, Majesty!” These passions came on so suddenly, so unpredictably, that even Niryn could not forestall them. As far as he knew, Erius cared nothing for the boy.

“Answer my question, damn you!” Erius shouted as the rage built in him. “Is that how you speak of a Companion, you scullion’s spunk? You limp pizzle of—”

Spittle flew from his lips. Niryn fell to his knees, fighting the urge to wipe his face. “No, Majesty.”

Erius stood over him, still screaming abuse. It began with insults, but soon devolved to incoherent raving, then
to a choked, wheezing snarl. Niryn kept his gaze downcast as one did when faced with a vicious dog, but he watched from the corner of his eye in case the king reached for a weapon. It had happened before.

The outburst ceased abruptly, as they always did, and Niryn slowly raised his head. The king swayed slightly, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were as blank as a doll’s.

Rheynaris looked in at the door.

“It’s over,” Niryn whispered, waving him off. Rising, he took the king gently by the arm. “Please, Your Majesty, sit down. You’re weary.”

Docile as an exhausted child, Erius let himself be guided back into the bunk. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes. Niryn quickly gathered up the desk and its scattered contents, then dragged a small rug over the spilled ink.

By the time he’d finished the king’s eyes were open again, but he was still lost in that strange fog that always followed these fits. Niryn sat down again.

“What—what was I saying?” the king croaked.

“Your nephew’s squire, my king. We were speaking of how some at court have been unkind about the boy’s upbringing. They call him a ‘grass knight,’ I believe. Prince Korin has always been very passionate in his defense.”

“What? Passionate, you say?” The king blinked at him, struggling to regain his composure. Poor man, he still believed that the fits were momentary, that no one noticed. “Yes, passionate, like his dear mother. Poor Ariani, they tell me she’s killed herself …”

No wonder General Rheynaris had sounded so relieved when he’d reported the king’s departure from the field. Over the past year his secret missives had been full of these episodes. The report of Orun’s death had sent the king into a rage so fierce it had required a drysian’s draught to calm him. Strange, since his regard for the man had cooled markedly over the past few years. Niryn had worked carefully
at that, finally convincing Erius to relieve him of his guardianship. Orun’s influence over the boy had been easily construed as treason. Why would the man’s death upset him?

Erius rubbed at his eyes. When he looked up, they were clear and shrewd again. “I’ve sent word to the boys to meet us at Atyion.” He chuckled. “My son wrote me quite a letter a while back, chastising me for not letting his cousin see his estates.”

“That was Orun’s doing, of course,” Niryn told him. “He replaced the steward with his own man and had already begun to line his pockets.”

“The greedy fool saved me the trouble of executing him.” He sat up and clapped Niryn on the shoulder. “Seems you were right about him. He finally overreached. I should have listened to you sooner, I know, but he was a good friend during my mother’s dark times.”

“Your loyalty is legend, Majesty. His death has left certain complications, however. Atyion cannot be left without a Protector.”

“Of course not. I’ve given the post to Solari.”

“Lord Solari, my king?” Niryn’s heart sank as he recalled the young man he’d seen on deck.

“Duke Solari, now. I’ve made him Protector of Atyion.”

Niryn clenched his fists in the folds of his robe, struggling to hide his disappointment. He’d expected Erius to consult him on the decision of a successor. Now the greatest plum in the kingdom had fallen beyond his reach.

“Yes, he’s a much better choice than Orun. He was one of Rhius’ generals, you know; loyal enough, but ambitious, too.” Erius’ mouth tightened into a humorless smile. “The garrison at Atyion trusts him. So does Tobin. I’ve sent Solari ahead to settle in.”

“I see the wisdom in your choice, but I wonder what Tharin will have to say? Perhaps he had hopes in that direction, as well.”

Erius shook his head. “Tharin’s a good man, but he never did have any ambition. If it weren’t for Rhius, he’d still
be a landless third son, breeding horses at Atyion. I don’t think we need concern ourselves with what he thinks.”

“He is very protective of the prince, however. He won’t be parted from him.”

“Poor fellow. All he ever cared for was Rhius. I suppose he’ll end his days hovering around the boy, nursing old memories.”

“And is Solari as loyal to the prince?”

The hard smile returned. “He’s loyal to me. He’ll protect the prince as long as it preserves my favor. Should that favor change for some reason, I daresay we’ll find him a man ready to serve his king. Now, what’s all this about Korin knocking up some chambermaid? Do you know anything of it?”

“Why—yes, Majesty, it’s true, but I hadn’t thought to trouble you with it until you returned.” For once, Niryn was caught completely off guard. He’d only learned of it a few weeks before, thanks to one of his more observant spies among the Old Palace servants. Korin didn’t know; the girl had been too wise to brag of the child’s paternity. “She’s of low birth, as you say. Kalar, I think the name is.”

Erius was still watching him closely, no doubt wondering why his chief wizard had sent no word.

“May I speak candidly, Majesty?” Niryn’s mind raced, already turning the situation to his advantage.

“You know I depend on your counsel.”

“I’m neither a father nor a warrior, so forgive me if I misspeak out of ignorance, but I’m increasingly concerned for Prince Korin. You’ve been gone for so long, you hardly know the young man he’s become. These girls he beds, and the drinking—”

He paused, watching for warning signs, but Erius merely nodded for him to continue.

“For he is a man now, strong and well trained. I’ve heard Master Porion say more than once that young warriors are like fine coursing hounds; if you keep them from the field, they either grow fat and lose their spirit, or turn
vicious. Let him be the warrior you’ve made him to be, and all the rest will fall by the wayside. He lives to please you.

“But more than that, my king, the people must see him as a worthy successor. His excesses are already common gossip around the city and without the strength of deeds to balance them?” He paused meaningfully. “And now he’s throwing bastards. Surely you see where this could lead? With no legitimate heir, even a by-blow might gather supporters. Especially if the child should be a girl.”

Erius’ knuckles went white, but Niryn knew how to play this tune. “The thought of your ancient line tainted with such common blood—”

“You’re quite right, of course. Kill the bitch before she whelps.”

“I will see to it personally.” He would have in any event; his Nalia needed no competitors, even a servant’s brat with royal blood in her veins.

“Ah, Korin, Korin, what am I to do with you?” Erius shook his head. “He’s all I have, Niryn. I’ve lived in fear of losing him since his poor mother and the other children died. I haven’t been able to get another child on any woman since. Every one has been stillborn, or a monstrous thing that couldn’t live. This bastard, now—”

Niryn did not have to touch the king’s mind to know his heart, and the words he could not bring himself to say.
What if my son’s children are monsters
, too? That would be the final proof of Illior’s curse on his line.

“He’ll soon be old enough to marry, Majesty. Pair him with a healthy wife of good family and he’ll give you fine, strong grandchildren.”

“You’re right, as always.” The king let out a long sigh. “What would I do without you, eh? I thank the Four that wizards live so long. You’re a young man now, Niryn. The knowledge that you’ll still be standing by the throne of Skala generations from now is a great comfort to me.”

Niryn bowed deeply. “I live for nothing else, Majesty.”

T
he country north of Ero was a rolling mix of forest and open farmland that stretched from the sea’s edge to the mountains just visible in the west. The trees were just beginning to bud, Ki noted, but crocus and blue cockscomb brightened the muddy fields and ditches. In the villages they passed, the temples and roadside shrines were decorated with garlands of them for the Dalna feasts.