“It’s all the fault of that woman the Princess insisted on bringing with us from Barinash!” Salentor burst out. “She managed this all, somehow!”
“If you are referring to Amberglas, my information is that she is a sorceress,” Jermain said in bored tones.
Salentor looked at him, visibly startled. “Terrel did manage to warn you! What does Carachel intend to do about her?”
“That is for him to tell you, if he sees fit,” Jermain said with an outward show of polite firmness. Inwardly, he was shaken. Carachel was in league with Terrel? How long had that been true? He smiled and said, “But perhaps you have some suggestion in the matter?”
Salentor reddened. “I am not the one who should deal with sorcerers.”
“You deal with Carachel.”
“Yes, and see what it’s brought me! For eighteen years, I’ve helped him, since he first visited Barinash, and he thinks more of Terrel Lassond than—But that is hardly important now.”
“I hadn’t realized you had served Carachel so long,” Jermain said mildly. He wondered briefly whether Salentor was always so clumsy or whether it was exhaustion and lack of sleep that made him so careless of what he was saying. “Then you’ve worked with him since before he became King of Tar-Alem.”
“Yes, and he knew how to value a favor then! When he and the Queen were—” Salentor stopped short, as though he had just realized he was being indiscreet. He looked at Jermain uncertainly. “You will forget you heard that?”
“You need have no fear; I have no interest in old scandals,” Jermain said. It sounded as though Carachel had tried to gain power in Barinash the same way he had eventually done in Tar-Alem—through the country’s queen. Of course, Anna-wan of Barinash had been King Urhelds’s wife, not his daughter, so the parallel was not exact.
“I admire your discretion.” Salentor made an awkward half bow without rising.
“Thank you. But I fear I distract you from your tale. Perhaps you would begin with your arrival in Sevairn?”
“I thought Terrel had already reported all that,” Salentor said suspiciously.
“Of course, but I would like to hear your version. I have no great reason to trust Terrel Lassond, for all he serves the same ruler as we.”
Salentor looked at him sharply, and for a moment Jermain thought he had gone too far. Then Salentor began to speak, and in a matter of moments Jermain realized the reason for his reluctance. No matter how he tried to hide it, Salentor’s performance in Leshiya was little short of incompetent. He had begun by trying to undermine Terrel’s position with Carachel, but he had reckoned without Marreth’s uncertain temperament and Terrel’s deviousness. By the time he arrived in Leshiya, Terrel had already taken full credit for arranging the wedding that would bring Sevairn into alliance with Barinash and, through Barinash, with the Wizard-King of Tar-Alem. Salentor’s efforts to regain Carachel’s favor by persuading Marreth to send troops to join Carachel’s army had backfired. Apparently, Marreth did not trust Salentor any more than Jermain did, and the fact that he was receiving similar counsel from his own advisers only made him more suspicious.
Foiled in his initial attempts, Salentor had begun prowling the back channels of the Sevairn court, looking for information. He had found a good deal of it, and he repeated nearly every piece of gossip in detail. Jermain listened carefully, though only three items were of any real interest to him: the rumors surrounding Eltiron’s role in Jermain’s exiling, the reports of Eltiron’s sojourns in the Tower of Judgment with Amberglas, and the vague hints—hardly more than guesses—that Terrel Lassond was playing his own game in addition to Carachel’s.
“You are certain of this?” Jermain said. “Carachel is unlikely to accept such accusations without proof.”
“I didn’t have time to get proof,” Salentor said, turning red. “I only heard of it the day the King died, and that was when everything fell apart.”
This time Jermain was not quite successful in hiding his reaction. Marreth, dead? “I’m sure that confused matters,” he said after a moment. Salentor looked at him suspiciously, and Jermain forced a bland smile. “But please continue.”
“It was at the wedding festival, four days ago. Marreth was trying to outshine that sister of his in the sword games, and Terrel spent most of the day clinging to him like a wet cloak. That made me suspicious, but I wasn’t sure what it was about until the feast, when Marreth announced Terrel’s betrothal to Vandaris.”
“Vandaris consented to that?”
“Apparently Marreth didn’t ask her; he and Terrel arranged it between themselves.”
Jermain stared for a long moment, then bust into laughter as a picture of Terrel married to Vandaris rose irresistibly in his mind. “That would be a wedding to remember, certainly!”
“Maybe, but I doubt it was part of any plan of Carachel’s to put Terrel Lassond in the line of succession to the throne of Sevairn!” Salentor snapped.
“Marriage to Vandaris would hardly do that; even if Marreth and Eltiron were both dead, she’d never let her husband rule in her place. Anyone who’s met her could guess that.”
“There are ways to arrange such things,” Salentor said evasively. “Fortunately, it came to nothing because Vandaris is already married—at least she claims she is, and I’m certainly willing to believe her brat of a sword squire is her daughter.”
“Vandaris, married?” Jermain made no attempt to hide his surprise.
“I didn’t think Terrel would have mentioned that,” Salentor said with some satisfaction. “Her announcement was what set Marreth off, and when he collapsed so suddenly she took over and ordered everyone out. Terrel tried to stop her and nearly ruined everything, accusing her of poisoning Marreth.”
“King Marreth was poisoned? Terrel said nothing of that!”
“
Terrel
said nothing? But it was Carachel who—” Salentor stopped, and his suspicious look returned. “I thought you said Carachel trusted you with his plans.”
“What is spoken is but a shadow of truth of the heart, and shadows dance to whatever flame is nearest.” Ranlyn spoke for the first time, and Salentor jumped. Ranlyn leaned forward, and the firelight made his face a mask. “The one you speak of owes a debt of life and truth and honor to him who sits before you, and this is truth. Yet beware lest the truth be lost by your own understanding of it. For men see what they wish, but truth changes not for their desires.”
Salentor looked at Ranlyn uncertainly. Jermain leaned forward and stared coldly at the former Barinash ambassador. “I think you had better go on, Salentor,” he said in a tone of command. “Unless you wish to accuse me of something?”
Salentor’s eyes jerked from Ranlyn to Jermain, and he swallowed hard. “No, of course not,” he said hastily. He launched into a confused explanation, though he continued to dart distrustful looks at Jermain from time to time. Jermain gathered that Carachel had given Salentor some sort of drug to give to the King of Sevairn, that Salentor had been able to give Marreth only one of the doses he had been told to administer, and that Terrel had ruined everything with his accusations, which resulted in Amberglas discovering that someone had actually been giving Marreth poison.
“Not that
I
believed her; there was no way she could have known, and she said it had been going on for months, which is ridiculous. Besides, he obviously died of some sort of seizure. Then Terrel and I were hauled off to our rooms by the guards and confined without the slightest reason! Of course, I tried to get in touch with Carachel at once, but he didn’t respond to the amulet at all.”
Jermain frowned. Clearly, Carachel had provided his henchman with some spell so that he could relay information such as Marreth’s death. Slowly, Jermain nodded. Four nights before, he and Ranlyn had made their precipitous departure from Carachel’s camp, taking with them the serpent ring and leaving the wizard in no condition to work magic. No wonder Salentor had gotten no reply!
“They kept us locked in all the next day,” Salentor continued. “I would probably still be there if one of Terrel’s men hadn’t returned to Leshiya and helped us escape. He was the one who told us that Amberglas was a sorceress. He’s a Border Guard, a captain named Morenar.”
“Morenar is one of
Terrel’s
men?” Jermain said in surprise. “I thought his loyalty was to the King!”
“I’m sure Carachel thinks so, too,” Salentor replied with satisfaction. “But it was quite clear from some of the things they said that Morenar’s been following Terrel’s orders first for some time. He wouldn’t talk much about it, but I think he found out about Amberglas on one of his jobs for Terrel.”
“I’m sure Carachel will be very interested to hear about that,” Jermain said thoughtfully. So it was Terrel, not Marreth, who had been responsible for that attempt to kill him! Jermain looked at Salentor. “So Morenar helped you escape?”
“Yes, and we could have gotten away with no one the wise if Terrel hadn’t insisted on going up the Tower of Judgment to contact Carachel. He hadn’t been able to do it from inside the castle, either.”
“The Tower of Judgment? Why in Arlayne’s name would he do that?”
“He
said
it was easier to work the spell from there. He went up with Morenar and some servant of his, and I stayed in the courtyard. Terrel was gone for some time, and then there was some sort of red light from the top of the tower, which of course attracted everyone’s attention. I had to slip away in the confusion before I was noticed; I’m afraid the others didn’t get away. That was two days ago; I’ve been riding south ever since, to make certain Carachel was warned.”
Or rather because he’d had no choice left, Jermain thought. It occurred to him that two nights ago Carachel’s ring had become hot, and he and Ranlyn had seen the Matholych in its glow. There was almost certainly a connection. Jermain leaned forward. “And have you attempted to reach Carachel again since you left Leshiya?”
“Uh, yes, I did try once or twice, but he never replied. The spell didn’t seem to be working very well; I think the medallion may have been damaged.”
“I am not surprised, after what you have been through,” Jermain said diplomatically. Salentor’s manner made him certain that the man was lying. “If there is some other problem, no doubt Carachel will explain in more detail when he arrives. For now, I suggest you rest; Ranlyn and I will split the watches tonight, as you are clearly exhausted.”
Salentor nodded, apparently pleased by this consideration. Jermain smiled inwardly; he did not trust Salentor to stand watch. Salentor settled himself by the fire, and in a few moments was, to all appearances, fast asleep.
Ranlyn looked at Jermain. “And now what wish is yours?”
“None. You sleep; I’ll take the first watch. Lord Parel has given me much to think on.”
Ranlyn nodded, smiling slightly, and his eyes rested briefly on Salentor’s recumbent form. Jermain needed no further hint to be certain that Ranlyn believed no more than he that Salentor slept. “Ponder well, then,” Ranlyn said. He crossed to the shadows on the opposite side of the fire from Salentor, rolled himself in his cloak, and lay down.
Jermain felt a momentary twinge of conscience as he realized that Ranlyn still carried the serpent ring somewhere in the folds of his robes. Still, they certainly could not leave the package out where Salentor might see it. Finally Jermain put the matter out of his mind. He had more than enough to think about without worrying over what he could not change.
Salentor’s information had shaken Jermain thoroughly. He coldly reviewed everything he had learned, acknowledging his mistakes and trying to fit more of the puzzle in place. It was a humbling exercise. Very few things, apparently, were as he had believed them to be. He seemed to have done Marreth an injustice, believing that it was the King who wished to be rid of a troublesome ex-adviser, and he had badly underestimated Terrel’s influence and ability. From what Salentor had said, Terrel had been working for Carachel for nearly a year. It was therefore fairly likely that Carachel had been involved in Jermain’s dismissal from the Sevairn court, though he probably had not ordered the subsequent attempt to kill him. For one thing, the Wizard-King had taken Jermain into his service barely five days after the attack, which was not the action of a man who wanted to be rid of him. Besides, it was fairly clear that Terrel had his own plans; murdering Jermain could easily be one of them.
Slowly, Jermain worked his way down a mental list of the notables of the Sevairn court, trying to decide which of them were in league with Terrel and Carachel and which were not. Several times he thought of Eltiron, but each time he shoved the thought away. It kept returning, and finally he grew uncomfortable enough to face it squarely. Had he misjudged Eltiron as he had so many others?
Reluctantly, Jermain forced his memory back to his last day in Leshiya, the day of his trial and exile.
The Tower of Judgment loomed above him as the guards escorted him across the courtyard. There was no one else in sight, and Jermain felt a twinge of misgiving. Surely Marreth had realized by now how ridiculous the charges really were? But the courtyard would not be empty at this hour of the morning unless Marreth had ordered it, and such orders were given only when the most dangerous of criminals were being brought to trial.
His fears were confirmed when he reached the second floor of the tower. There were only three people waiting in the trial room: Marreth, Acrol Corteslan, and Terrel Lassond. It would be a private trial, then, the sort given when the accused was clearly guilty of treason. But how could Marreth truly believe that? Terrel might have fabricated some “proof” to support his claims, but Marreth was unlikely to accept it without support from some other quarter.
Jermain bowed deeply to the King. He wondered briefly why Eltiron was not present; as prince, the boy had the right to attend even a private trial if he wished, and Jermain would have expected him to come, if only to show support for a friend. But perhaps Marreth had deliberately not informed his son of the time.