They continued riding almost until the middle of the night. When they were well past the part of the forest where border patrols were likely, they stopped and tended to their tired horses, then ate a meager dinner of their own from the store of food in Ranlyn’s bags. When they finished, Ranlyn insisted on taking the first watch. After a few moments of fruitless argument, Jermain capitulated. He rolled himself in his cloak and lay down near the horses; in a few minutes, he slept.
CHAPTER 15
E
ltiron sat stunned. Vandaris and Terrel, betrothed? If that was what Terrel had been talking to Marreth about, at least one of them must be mad. In theory, the King had the power to give his sister in marriage to whomever he pleased, but Vandaris would never accept such an order from Marreth, particularly when Marreth had announced his intentions in such an arbitrary way. And why in Arlayne’s name would Terrel want to marry Vandaris?
“I don’t suppose you’d care to explain why you haven’t consulted me about this,” Vandaris said. Her tone was mild but managed to carry to the far end of the hall without difficulty. Eltiron swallowed, wishing he were somewhere else.
“It is the responsibility of a king to provide for the welfare of his house and family,” Marreth said. He looked very pompous and pleased with himself. “It is also a king’s prerogative to reward those who serve him well. This marriage will do both with a single stroke; our most noble and loyal Lord Terrel Lassond will be allied to the royal house through our beloved sister, Vandaris, which—”
“Horse liver. What’s your real reason, frog face?”
Marreth’s composure deserted him. “You’re a disgrace to the royal house of Sevairn. My house! Running around with mercenaries and stirring up trouble—I should have done this years ago! You need someone to keep you under control, and I haven’t got time!”
“You mean, you couldn’t do it if you tried,” Vandaris retorted affably.
“You’ll marry Terrel tomorrow!” Marreth shouted, ignoring the embarrassed stirrings of the nobles and ambassadors. “I have the right, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
Vandaris’s laugh shocked Eltiron almost as much as Marreth’s announcement had. He turned and saw light flash from the hilts of Vandaris’s daggers as she leaned back in her chair. “You’ve really done it this time, Marreth,” she said, shaking her head. “Too bad you didn’t ask me about it before you made a fool of yourself in front of the whole court. You can’t marry off someone who’s already married.”
A ripple of astonishment ran across the crowd and died. Marreth stared at Vandaris in confusion. “You? Married?”
“I sure didn’t mean Lassond, beetle brain.”
“Impossible!” Marreth brought his hands down on the table with a crash. “When could you have gotten married?”
“Oh, it
could
have happened any time in the last twenty years or so. Actually, it was right after the campaign in Tindalen, about sixteen years ago.”
“Some soldier or other, I suppose! Well, I’ll have the marriage declared null, and you’ll marry Terrel Lassond anyway!”
“Don’t be stupid. You don’t want to offend Lisaren Corriel.”
“Ha! What do I care about a mercenary?”
“He’s the Queen of Tindalen’s brother. Besides, even a king can’t declare a marriage null if it has issue.” Vandaris smiled sweetly at Marreth’s rapidly purpling face. “Tarilane, meet your uncle; he’s not much, but he’s the only one you’ve got, so make the best of him.”
There was a brief silence while everyone assimilated this new revelation, then Marreth began cursing incoherently. Vandaris shook her head in mock sadness and reached for her wine goblet. Marreth, infuriated by her composure, bellowed and lunged toward her. He shoved Crystalorn out of his way, chair and all; plates scattered as he bounced off the edge of the table, and the dark-haired woman on his left screamed. Still shouting, Marreth reached for Eltiron, who was the only person still blocking his path to Vandaris.
Eltiron caught a glimpse of Marreth’s face—red, strained, and twisted with rage. Another plate crashed to the floor as the King lurched against the table; then Marreth gasped and clutched at Eltiron’s arm. Eltiron stared in shock as Marreth slid slowly to the floor, half under the table.
For an eternal instant, no one moved. Then Vandaris shoved her chair back and knelt beside her brother. Eltiron watched numbly as she felt at Marreth’s neck for a pulse, shook her head, and closed the eyes that were staring unseeingly past Eltiron’s left shoulder. She hesitated, then gently removed the golden circlet from Marreth’s head and stood up. A whisper ran across the crowd like wind over a field of grass, dying suddenly as Vandaris held up the circlet.
“King Marreth Kenerach is dead,” she said in an expressionless voice, and looked at Eltiron.
Eltiron heard a low wail from the woman who had been Marreth’s dinner partner. Terrel looked white and sick; everyone else seemed simply shocked. Vandaris set the circlet in the center of the table. “The King is dead,” she repeated, still looking at Eltiron. “What orders do you have, Your Majesty?”
“I—” Eltiron swallowed hard. He rose awkwardly to his feet and almost tripped on Marreth’s body. He swallowed again and tried not to think about where he was standing; phrasing a suitable response was difficult enough without that added distraction. “I regret the inconvenience to my guests, but under the circumstances I do not think this a good time or place for feasting. I will order the meal served in the Long Hall for those who wish it.” He glanced at Vandaris, who nodded encouragingly. “For myself, I beg to be excused. Until I have conferred with my . . . advisers, I can make no firm plans. I bid you good eve, my lords and ladies.”
Eltiron bowed and sat down rather quickly, pushing his chair backward as he did, so that he was no longer sitting directly above the body. He wanted to change to another seat, but he was not sure his legs would hold him up long enough.
Vandaris remained standing. “You have heard His Majesty’s commands. Let it be done.” She swept a cold gaze across the room before she turned and stepped down from the platform. Tarilane hesitated, then slipped quietly from her chair and followed.
The nobles stirred, then began slowly moving toward the doors. Most of them pointedly avoided looking in the direction of the royal table; a few, bolder or less tactful, studied the tableau openly. Except for Marreth’s dark-haired woman, who was weeping delicately into her slender hands, no one still remaining at the royal table moved. Eltiron thought of the rumors that would be circulating in another hour and shuddered.
A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned. It was Crystalorn. She seemed a little shaken, and she kept her eyes turned determinedly away from Marreth’s body as she asked, “Well, now what happens?”
“I don’t know,” Eltiron admitted. He looked around. The hall was nearly half empty. “Where’s Amberglas?”
“Isn’t she here?” Crystalorn looked startled.
“I haven’t seen her since the sword games. I suppose I’d better get someone to look for her; we may need her later.”
There was a gentle cough behind him, and Eltiron turned. The castle steward and four footmen stood there, stiffly erect, as if they were waiting for something. Vandaris brought up the rear; as Eltiron looked at her, she jerked her head toward Marreth’s body, which was still lying almost at Eltiron’s feet. Eltiron gulped and gestured to the steward to proceed. The men bowed and stepped forward to lift the body.
“Hold!” cried a voice from the end of the table.
The footmen stopped. Eltiron’s head jerked around. Terrel stood posed dramatically at the far end of the table, with Salentor behind him; he appeared to be completely recovered from the initial shock of Marreth’s death. As Eltiron looked at them, the two men bowed.
“Your Majesty,” Terrel said in a much calmer voice, “I fear you are about to make a grave mistake, and I must advise you against it. The body of His late Majesty should not be given into the hands of the Lady Vandaris until a thorough investigation has been made.”
“What do you mean?” Eltiron demanded. He glanced quickly around the room and breathed an inconspicuous sigh of relief. The hall was now nearly empty; even Marreth’s woman had stopped weeping and was moving slowly toward the door. Whatever mischief Terrel had in mind, very few besides the royal family would hear it.
“Why, only that His Majesty’s demise under such circumstances as these may give rise to unwelcome speculation. Lady Vandaris appears to have sufficient reason to wish King Marreth’s death. It might be best to assure that no further questions can be asked.”
“I think you’re forgetting that you are—you were—my father’s adviser, not mine,” Eltiron said coldly. “And I still don’t see what you’re talking about.”
“His Majesty was clearly in good health; his participation in the sword games this afternoon proves it. Such a sudden death, and such a public one, is certain to raise questions in people’s minds. It seems . . . unnatural.”
“Yes, yes; and people are certain to be upset at such a time,” Salentor put in. Terrel gave him a murderous look, and he stopped speaking.
“Just what are you implying, weasel face?” Vandaris said, ignoring Salentor. “Poison?”
“I would never accuse a member of the royal family of such an unworthy weapon, Your Highness,” Terrel said, bowing.
“That is one of the silliest things I’ve ever heard,” Crystalorn broke in. “You wiggle around until someone else says it, then you say you’d never bring it up yourself and sound virtuous about it! You’re as bad as Salentor.”
“Probably worse,” Vandaris agreed, ignoring Salentor’s somewhat garbled protest. She eyed Terrel critically as she fingered the hilt of one of her daggers. “If I were you, I’d be careful not to start any unfortunate rumors. It might be very dangerous.”
“Besides, I trust Vandaris,” Eltiron said hastily. Much as he would have liked to see Vandaris demolish Terrel in a duel, he did not relish the idea of drawing the ring on the floor of the banquet hall, and Vandaris might well demand it if Terrel kept on with his insinuations. There would be more than enough rumors running through the streets of Leshiya without adding stories of a duel between the late King’s Chief Adviser and his sister.
Terrel bowed. “Then, Your Majesty, I sincerely hope your trust is not misplaced.”
“Do you really?” said a new voice from the rear of the hall. “I don’t think I believe you at all, though of course it would be quite improper for you to say anything else, besides being most unwise, which is most unfortunate for them, though not always for other people.”
“Amberglas! Where have you been?” Crystalorn said. “You won’t believe what’s been happening.”
“That’s extremely unlikely. Of course, a great many things are—unlikely, I mean—snow on Midsummer’s Eve, for instance, and green sunsets, and those extremely improbable headdresses people used to wear in Bar-Zienar, which must have been exceedingly awkward as well as uncomfortable.”
As she spoke, Amberglas came forward to join them. She smiled in Eltiron’s general direction; he thought she looked a little tired. She nodded absently at Vandaris, totally ignoring Terrel and Salentor, and looked at Marreth’s body for a long moment. She turned back to Crystalorn and continued, “Not that this isn’t quite as awkward, though not in precisely the same way, even if it does look nearly as odd. So it’s very difficult to be certain until you’ve told me.”
Crystalorn began giving Amberglas a summary of the events of the evening. Eltiron glanced back at Terrel and Salentor and almost laughed aloud at their bewildered expressions. Eltiron turned away so that they would not notice his amusement and nearly bumped into the castle steward, who was still waiting patiently beside Marreth’s body with the footmen.
“May we continue, Your Majesty?” the steward said, bowing as if he had not noticed Eltiron’s awkward recovery.
“Yes, of course,” Eltiron said. He thought of adding instructions not to speak of Terrel’s hints, but one look at the stiff little nod the steward bestowed on Terrel convinced him that such a warning would be unnecessary. He turned away as the impassive footmen lifted Marreth’s body and carried it out of the hall. After a moment, he heard the doors close behind them with a soft thud, and he let out a long breath just as Crystalorn said, “... and then Lord Lassond started hinting that Vandaris poisoned King Marreth.”
“I must beg to differ with your interpretation, Your Highness,” Terrel put in smoothly. “I would not dream of doing such a thing.”
Crystalorn looked at him. Amberglas smiled in his general direction, looking even vaguer than usual. “Then you must be Terrel Lassond, which certainly explains a number of things, though most of them aren’t particularly useful. But then, a great many people aren’t at all useful, so it’s not in the least unusual, even if it’s not precisely the same thing. Still, it does make for rather a busy evening. What exactly
did
you say?”
Terrel blinked. “I said only that His Majesty’s sudden death might cause unpleasant rumors.”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” Amberglas said. “Though people do occasionally say more than they intend to, which frequently causes a great deal of difficulty for everyone. Like that extremely foolish king who accidentally ordered his daughter dyed blue, which wasn’t at all what he’d meant, besides being quite awkward at court. But then, a great many things are unusually awkward at courts—eating dinner with people who dislike each other, for instance, and wearing formal clothes, and telling the truth, which makes it quite understandable that people misunderstood.”
Terrel looked at Amberglas with a wary expression, as if he were certain she had insulted him but couldn’t untangle exactly how she had done it. Salentor looked from Terrel to Amberglas and back, then cleared his throat uncertainly. Vandaris chuckled, and Terrel turned to look at her speculatively. “I am amazed, Your Highness, that you can find humor at so sad a time.”