The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy (6 page)

Aran shook his
head in wary amazement. The richness, and dark magnificence of the
royal rooms seemed to bring home to him how very far he had risen
in the world. In his wildest dreams he never thought that he would
ever see such wonderful rooms, let alone live in them.

“Next to this
chamber is the latrine,” Maran blithely told him, “And the last
chamber is the Solar.”

“What’s a
Solar?” asked Aran.

Maran smiled,
“It is a bright and sunny room where the Queen and her ladies like
to sit to sew and gossip. That room was much favoured by my mother
as I recall. It’s still to be dusted and cleaned, so we won’t
inspect it until tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’m finding
it hard to believe that I will live here…” Aran admitted quietly as
he stared about him. He sank down on one of the carved stools and
shook his head in bemusement, “I just can’t believe it.”

Suddenly there
was a low knock on the door to the royal rooms. At the sound Aran
started up but Maran held out his hand, indicating that he would
see who required entrance.

For a moment
Aran was left alone then the Archmage put his head around the
corner and smiled at Aran.

“Prince
Arantur, meet your household staff.”

Nervously he
sidled into the hall, all the while wondering how he was going to
deal with staff of his own. Maran indicated three men and two women
dressed in sober blue tunics and gowns. As soon as they saw him
they knelt, bowing their heads in supplication.

“My Lord
Prince Arantur,” said the Archmage formally, “May I present to you
your household staff.”

Brushing a
hand nervously through his hair, Aran stepped forward and smiled
guardedly at the five kneeling people.

“Get up…” he
said, his nervousness coming out as slight abruptness. “You are my
freeborn staff—not servants or slaves.”

He watched as
they self-consciously stood.

Aran turned to
the Archmage and frowned, “Surely they have names. Can you
introduce them to me?”

Maran nodded
and indicated the first man, a tall clean shaven man with long dark
grey hair.

“This is
Master Sular—he is your Marshall. His duties are to organise any
journeys, make certain the Keep is defensible and to coordinate any
repair work or renovations. He also liaises with the Captain of the
Andurian Guard about the castle’s defenses.”

Sular bowed to
Aran.

Aran nodded
then remembering his conversation with Darven quickly asked,
“Sular, I would like you and Captain Taran to talk to the
Earthmages to see about checking that the Keep’s defenses are able
to withstand a protracted siege or battlement.” He saw the older
man frown slightly and hastened to explain, “If the war comes this
far east, then the Keep may end up being one of our last defenses.
We need it strong!”

Sular nodded
whilst stepping away—his eyes already considering defenses and
bricks and mortar.

“The next
member of your staff is Mistress Aliane, she is your Steward,” said
Maran dryly. “Her job is to make certain the Keep is fully
provisioned, and to organise the food and entertainment for feasts,
and to make certain that the wells and latrines are kept clean and
clear.” A stout, dark headed woman stepped up and bowed.

Aran also
smiled and nodded to her.

Maran
indicated a short fat man with head of red and grey curls.

“This is
Munroe; he is your Treasury Clerk. His job is to keep a close
account of the royal treasury, collect moneys owing and pay staff
wages.” Munroe stepped forward and bowed deeply.

Aran nodded
and smiled.

“This is
Mistress Thaley,” Maran said introducing a blond haired woman in
her late thirties

“Her job is to
make certain meals are brought to the royal rooms, that all these
chambers are kept clean and aired, and to provide, mend and clean
the garments of the Andurian line.” Aran, who had no talent with
needle and thread gave the woman a relieved smile and nodded.

Maran
indicated the final man, a blond haired and bearded man in his
early forties. “This is Alem, he is your Clerk. His duties are to
provide you with books, to write any letters for you, and keep
written accounts of all meetings and moots. Additionally he is your
Bondsman. This entails helping you dress, arm, bathe and generally
be your right-hand man.”

Aran’s
eyebrows lifted at the idea of needing help to dress or bathe, but
recognising custom and tradition, said nothing except smile and nod
at the other man. “Dinner will be brought up to you directly, my
lord,” Thaley stated bowing, “If you will excuse me I will see
about the arrangements.”

Aran nodded,
and then quickly asked, “Thaley, while you are doing that could you
ask Alissa and Darven to join me here in the king’s hall after
dinner.”

She smiled
gently, and hurried from the room.

“We will leave
you also my lord,” Alem stated. ”I will return at eight bells to
prepare your wash water and bed.”

Aran nodded
his understanding and watched silently as they left and closed the
door behind them. Aran turned and shook his head in astonishment,
“
This
is going to take
some
getting used to!”

Maran smiled,
“It is a benefit of being King. However it is worth your while
getting involved in the daily running of the Keep. My father Andur
was always investigating every aspect of Keep life. It helps keep
the staff on their toes and I think they will appreciate your
interest in their work.”

Aran grinned,
“Especially the finances. I am not certain if I want just one man
in charge of the monies. My sums may be atrocious but I have learnt
enough from Master Cody to know how to manage a successful
business.”

Maran nodded
in agreement, “I believe Master Cody’s lessons will come in handy
for the new King of Andur.” He stared at the unlit fire, “Now
whilst we have a few minutes alone I think we should resume your
interrupted lessons involving the uses of the magepower. Lesson
number one will be lighting an unlit fire using an application of
magepower…”

*

“Do you
understand me?”

Aran nodded,
and held out his hand to the logs in the fireplace. It all seemed
so simple, just an extension of his will but this was the third
time he had attempted to light the fire without success.

“You must have
a block…” Maran mused. “I see tension in the set of your shoulders
and arms. Try to relax the magepower will not flow whilst you are
tight and tense.”

Aran gnawed
his lip; this tension always seemed to be his stumbling block to
easy and immediate access to the power. It wasn’t his fault, the
day had been unbelievably eventful and now at the end of such a
momentous day he was crouched in the semi-darkness with the
Archmage, trying to light a fire by will alone.

‘Soon he would
be king.’ The thought flowed unbidden to his mind as his brain yet
again tried to wrestle with the unfamiliar concept—trying
unsuccessfully to pin it down and attribute it some degree of
normalcy, order. As his mind wrestled with the strange concept of
kingship, Aran was alarmed to notice a thin line of blinding blue
light extending from his outstretched hand into the logs in the
fireplace. As he watched in puzzlement, the blue light faded from
his hand to gather around the larger of the logs in the hearth. As
it gathered, it grew brighter and brighter until it was a searing
white light, then it faded to a rosy red and within seconds flames
were licking the outside of the log.

“Well I’ve
never seen it done that way before!” Maran stated in some surprise,
“Mind you I’ve never seen a Warriormage handle the power before. It
must be peculiar to that Ability.”

Aran sat back
on his heels and regarded first his hand, and then the brightly
burning fire.

“What was that
light?” he asked shocked.

Maran gazed at
him levelly, “I assume it was a physical manifestation of the
magepower. A manifestation of the like I’ve never seen before.”

“What usually
happens when a mage lights a fire?” asked Aran.

Maran’s
eyebrows met in a considering frown, “As I explained before, in
order to light a fire a mage pulls all the energy and heat out of
the inanimate objects around him, and directs that stored energy
into the log, and it bursts into flame. I felt you searching for
the energy—it came, but not from around you.” Maran frowned again,
“You seemed to draw the energy out of yourself, yet you yourself
were not depleted—almost as if you were the conduit through which
the magepower flowed from the land itself.”

Aran shrugged,
he did not understand the mechanics of it however he did now
understand his block. In order to access the power he had to move
his thoughts away from the act and concentrate on other things. He
sighed, perhaps in time he may not have to go such a round-about
way of accessing the magepower. Yet now it seemed to be the only
way…

The moment was
broken by a quiet knock on the door of the king’s hall and Maran
was up like a shot, his quickness giving lie to his age.

“Dinner,
Lords.”

Mistress
Thaley, flanked by two other serving men came in bearing platters
of hot apple pies, roasts and fresh garden vegetables.

Aran met
Maran’s eye, “You’ll stay for dinner Archmage Maran?”

Maran nodded
with pleasure.

*

The remains of
dinner was cleared away, and Aran had completed the small task of
putting away his personal items in the chests, and on the small
table in the bedchamber, when there was another quiet knock on the
door. Aran got up from his comfortable chair in front of the fire,
and opened the heavy oaken door. Outside Alissa and Darven were
waiting and when they saw him they smiled.

“When Thaley
sent for us and told us that the Prince required our presence, we
weren’t absolutely sure what to expect,” Darven said with a grin.
“Especially since not being used to getting royal summons.”

Aran pulled a
face, and shut the door behind them, “I really hate the title
‘Prince’,” he sighed “They heard it from Archmage Maran so I guess
it’s going to stick now.”

“By Andur!”
Darven turned around whilst admiring the room, “This is a
marvellous room. Are these your private chambers?”

“Haven’t you
been here before?” Aran asked the Wolf Leader curiously, “I thought
you’ve been right through this place?”

Darven shook
his head as he took in the royal magnificence. “No, everything
connected with the Andurian kings was locked up after Sen went
mad.” He gaped in wonder, “So all this is yours?”

Aran nodded,
“Believe me it takes a bit of getting used to. Would you believe I
have a personal staff of five…” He laughed cheerlessly, “Seems I
can’t take a bath now without someone hanging around or lending a
hand.”

Darven
grinned, “You’ll get used to it.” Then he pursed his lips, “You are
soon to be the King. I guess when after that happens you can pretty
well make your own rules and regulations here.”

Aran nodded
again, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve been looking after myself for
years now, I really don’t feel the need to delegate too many of
those personal tasks to others.”

Alissa sat
down on one of the window seats and stared out through the clear
pane of the windows at the brooding bulk of the Keep below. The
darkness showed little details, so she turned back to where the two
men had seated themselves before the fire. “I used to come
exploring in here as a child,” she remarked suddenly. “It was a
very long time ago, but it’s not changed much in all those years.”
She stared about her, “Mind you it certainly looks a lot better
since the rooms have been swept, dusted and the drapes changed and
cleaned.”

“I don’t know
what I’ll do with all this space,” Aran said shaking his head in
wonder. “I mean back in Leigh I used to share a tiny room with
Sed—and I thought at the time that I was pretty well off. Now look
at me.”

“So what
happens now?” Darven asked at last. “How soon do we ride to
war?”

Aran shrugged,
“I believe it will be soon after I am crowned. That is in a
fortnight’s time, give or take a few days.”

Darven nodded,
“Good, I will speak to Kiaia about getting the horses fully
prepared for the upcoming journey. I will need to remind Captain
Taran to speak to Palor about stocks of replacement horse shoes,
and Drek to stockpile any spare weapons he may have made.”

“What about
bows and crossbows?” Aran asked, remembering his futile hours out
in the fields around Leigh with Sed.

Darven
frowned, “The Guard normally doesn’t handle those weapons. All of
the crossbowmen and archers come from within the ranks of the
southern legions and garrisons. I assume they will be providing
their own arrows and quarrels. However I must enquire at Leigh
about employing good fletchers for the duration of the war.”

Aran looked
up, “Master Solur is a fine fletcher, and I know that Sed gets all
his arrows made by him. I’ve never heard any complaints about their
quality or accuracy and Sed is considered one of the best shots in
Leigh.”

“Sed? That’s
your foster brother?” Alissa was thinking hard. “I wonder...”

“Don’t be
thinking of drafting him into the Legions,” Aran grinned. “He may
be deadly with a light bow, but he’d run a mile if he ever
suspected that we wanted him to join the army.” Aran was adamant,
“He has a disinclination to work, and does not tolerate any kind of
authority…”

Alissa shook
her head, “I wasn’t thinking of the Legions, I just had an idea
that’s all.”

Darven leant
forward, deeply interested, “What sort of idea?”

Alissa gnawed
her lower lip, “I think there are a lot of men like Sed out in the
towns and small villages. I’d really like to find them and combine
them into a small company, and put them under the leadership of the
Guard.”