Carlich shaded his eyes against the glare of the early morning sun and studied the approaching rider. He turned to Tennelan. “Voerell’s sent a herald to answer me. Give the men a rest break while I confer with him.”
Tennelan saluted and wheeled his horse. He rode back toward the ranks of troops, calling orders. Men thronged the road as far as Maryn could see, professional soldiers in disciplined straight lines interspersed with peasant levies in ragged blocks. There had to be thousands of them.
Carlich kicked his steed into a trot, and the rest of his immediate company followed. Maryn clutched Barilan and clung to the pommel of her saddle as her palfrey stretched its legs to keep up with her guard’s mount.
The herald reined in his horse as Carlich drew close. “Your Highness!” he called. “Regent Voerell has sent me to inform you that she accepts your request for a parley.” He dismounted and dropped to one knee.
Maryn’s horse slowed to a walk and halted close behind the prince’s steed. Carlich swung down and took the roll of parchment the herald offered, gesturing for the man to rise. Maryn strained to hear what they said. The more she knew of what would happen when they reached Loempno, the better prepared she’d be.
Carlich unrolled the parchment and scanned it. “Hmm. Looks like she’s offering the standard terms. I wouldn’t have thought my little sister familiar enough with military matters to know what they were.”
The herald ignored the insult to his mistress. “Your Highness, the regent instructed me to emphasize that she will only consent to meet if King Barilan accompanies you, alive and unharmed.”
Carlich waved expansively toward Maryn. “There he is. I’m happy to agree to her demand. You can tell her you saw Barilan yourself, fat and happy.”
The herald walked toward Maryn’s horse. Maryn held Barilan up. He was in a good mood, waving his arms around and making cheerful noises. The jewels on his gown sparkled in the sunlight.
The herald studied him gravely for a long moment before nodding. “I will convey your agreement to the regent.”
Carlich held up a hand. “Wait. This section is not acceptable.” He jabbed a finger at the parchment. “My men must be able to see me and hear what I say. There’s no need for a bowshot of clear space around us. I’ll ward the area against weapons, and Voerell can have Rogelan do the same. That was always standard practice when we met with the Hampsians.”
The herald inclined his head. “The regent agreed to negotiate any terms save the one I specified.”
“And here. What’s she thinking, putting us down in a hollow? There’s a nice little hill about a quarter mile from the gates. From there we can each address our troops. Vinhor, fetch your clerk so he can write all this down.”
Vinhor came forward with his brown;-;robed clerk, who set to work transcribing Carlich’s counter-proposal. Vinhor leaned close to Carlich and murmured in his ear too quietly for Maryn to hear. Carlich listened, then nodded. “Good point.” He turned back to the herald. “I require at least ten guards be allowed to accompany me inside the wards. Of course I’ll agree to Voerell bringing a similar number if she wishes…”
Maryn shifted in the saddle. The negotiations over minor details seemed likely to go on for some time. She cleared her throat to get the attention of the guard holding her mount’s lead rein. “Excuse me, but Barilan’s diaper needs changing. May I dismount so I can take care of it?”
The guard looked at Carlich, who remained deep in conversation with Vinhor and the herald. “I suppose,” he said, scowling. Though Maryn had done her best to make friendly overtures, the man had remained curt and hostile during the whole journey. He displayed greater impatience every time he was required to keep watch over Maryn as she tended Barilan’s needs. Maryn hadn’t even been able to learn his name.
The guard glanced around. Suddenly his scowl was replaced by a broad grin. “Hey, Tior! Get over here. I’ve got a job for you.”
Tior bounced up on the back of a horse as short and round as he was. “Yes, sir?”
“Take the nurse over there and help her with the king’s diaper.” He sniggered, then opened his eyes wide and gave his voice a broadly exaggerated tone of solicitude. “Oh, dear. I forgot all about your little—
problem
. A stinky diaper might make you lose your breakfast. Should I get someone else to do it?”
Tior kept his face and voice expressionless, though Maryn saw his fingers tighten on the reins. “No, sir.”
“Get to it, then.” The guard settled back in his saddle, a mocking smile returning to his features.
Tior swung down from his horse and tossed the reins to the guard. He held Barilan while Maryn dismounted and grabbed her saddlebag. Together they hurried off the road. Maryn went as far as she dared, aware of the guard’s watchful eyes on her back. She found a level patch of grass and kicked at it to make sure no rocks or sticks lurked, then knelt, spread out her skirts, and laid Barilan down on them.
Tior cleared his throat. “Should I get out my handkerchief?” He nearly succeeded in keeping his voice light.
“No, he’s not messy, just wet.” Maryn busied herself unfastening the cloth and digging in her bag for a clean one. She spoke quietly. “Any chance to run, do you think?” If she could bring Barilan to Voerell and let the princess know he still held the Kingship, she could weaken Carlich and gain a refuge for herself and Barilan at the same time.
Tior looked across the rolling fields to where the rooftops of Loempno were visible in the distance. “We’d never get there before they caught us, even if I could get my horse. He’s slow.”
“I didn’t think so.” Maryn’s voice shook. “I guess I’ll just have to go through with my plan. Listen, Tior. I need you to help me. I’m going to denounce Carlich, as loud as I can. When I do, he’ll try to stop me. I worked magic so he can’t hurt me himself, but Vinhor can, or anyone else. If you could stop them, if you get the chance, or at least slow them down…” She swallowed.
“Of course,” he assured her. “I’ll be ready. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Maryn bent to her task.
Tior scuffed at the dirt with his foot as Maryn finished fastening Barilan’s diaper. She scooped the baby up and straightened. Before she could head back, Tior put out a hand and touched her arm. “Maryn…Did you really tell me the whole truth? Because everyone around camp is saying you saw Priest Vinhor work a spell to remove an illusion from Barilan. That he never inherited the Kingship after all, and it was all a trick by Princess Voerell. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t trust me. If you thought you had to lie to get my cooperation. But I can help you better if I know the truth.”
Maryn grabbed his hand. “Of course I told you the truth.” She couldn’t help but respond to the lost, hurt look in his eyes with compassion. But at the same time, impatience flared. How many times was she going to have to coddle him through another crisis of confidence? He was her only ally; she had no choice but to depend on him. But what if he lost heart at a crucial moment?
She shook her head and pulled her hand free to rub her temple. “I tried to start a rumor that Vinhor had created an illusion to hide Barilan’s Kingship, but that stupid girl got it all wrong. Everybody’s saying it? That means they’ll all be ready to believe Carlich when he tells them Barilan isn’t really king.” She fought back tears. “What if I can’t stop them, Tior? What if no matter what I say, they acclaim Carlich anyway? Will they even realize when Vinhor’s spell doesn’t work to give Carlich the Kingship? It won’t take a glowing crown over his head to make them willing to fight for him. It will be all my fault when he defeats Voerell.”
Tior stared at her. “Wait—you think Carlich’s going to try to take the Kingship for himself, by acclaim?”
“I’m sure of it. He told me so himself. He wants me to start the shouting when it’s time.” Maryn shuddered. “He promised to protect me and Barilan, if I do. But I won’t! Even if I can’t stop him, I won’t help him!
“But Barilan is really still king, right?”
“Of course. Carlich thinks he’s not, because he believes I worked the magic to switch his soul for Frilan’s. I did magic to hide the crown when they scried for it. But the Kingship is still his.”
Maryn didn’t understand the excitement that lit Tior’s face. “But that’s perfect!”
“What?”
“Don’t you know? If Carlich tries to make himself king while Barilan still holds the Kingship, the magic—it will kill him.” Fearful awe tinged Tior’s words.
Maryn gaped at him. “Kill him? How? Are you sure?”
“That’s part of the magic of the Kingship. It protects itself from being stolen. They taught the recruits all about it when I joined the army.”
“Carlich knows?” Even as she asked, Maryn realized that he must. That was why he and Vinhor had been so determined to make sure Barilan was no longer king before setting their plans in motion.
“He would have to. So all we need to do is keep quiet. Or you can even start the shouting, just like he wants. Then when he tries to take the crown—”
Maryn’s breath quickened. “He’ll die.”
Tior nodded.
Maryn pressed her face into Barilan’s hair, breathing deeply, trying to come to terms with the rush of conflicting emotions this new information triggered. Carlich would fail. She wouldn’t have to do anything else, persuade anyone to believe her, work any more magic. What she’d already accomplished was enough. One cry of “King Carlich,” and she and Barilan would be safe. Milecha would be saved. She had worked so hard and so long for that—could it really be so easy?
She should be overjoyed, and joy was certainly a part of what she was feeling. But she’d never dreamed, when she’d worked the magic to hide Barilan’s Kingship, that her actions would result in Carlich’s death. She’d never imagined that she would be in a position to kill anyone. Even Carlich. Especially Carlich. Even if he deserved it, even if it was his own greedy ambition that would doom him, not her choice. Could she begin the shout that would invoke that magic, knowing what it would do?
She’d have to. This was the opportunity she’d prayed for. “Come on.” Maryn set off back toward the cluster of horses and people. “It’s more important than ever that we don’t do anything to arouse suspicion. Can you stay close?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Tior trotted to keep up with her. “I’ll ask to guard Carlich during the negotiations. Everybody will want to be picked for that, but Captain Tennelan is good about rewarding people who’ve been willing to take the dull jobs.”
“Good.” Maryn glanced at him, doing her best to smile, though it was shaky. “Thank the Holy One you told me. I was determined to do whatever I could to
stop
people from acclaiming him.”
“I didn’t realize you didn’t know, or I would have told you before.”
“Anything else I should know?” Maryn shivered to think that everything might turn on some bit of information about magic or the Kingship that she’d never had the chance to learn.
Tior shrugged. “Not that I can think of. It’s not like I know much either. I’d never heard of most of the history they taught the recruits. There’s not much chance for a merchant’s youngest son to learn those things.”
“Even less for a serf’s daughter.” If somehow she lived through this, that would change, Maryn promised herself. It was too dangerous to live among the powerful without arming herself with all the information she could.
They arrived just as Carlich was concluding the negotiations. The herald saluted and cantered off toward the city. Tior helped Maryn mount. He shot her an anxious look as he swung back onto his steed and went to join the other guards.
The sun had risen halfway up the sky when they arrived at the appointed place outside the walls of the city. Voerell’s troops blanketed the surrounding countryside, their indigo uniforms bright as bluebells against the golden fields. Archers crowded the tops of the walls, and spears bristled among the ranks on the ground. They appeared more disciplined than the majority of Carlich’s forces, but even Maryn could tell there were fewer of them.
The hill Carlich had chosen as the meeting place rose not far from the road, a smooth green swell broken only by a few outcroppings of rock, bare of any trees or bushes, its peak flat. Four white flags marked off a large square area at the top. Voerell’s forces thronged the far side, crowding right up to the foot of the rise, but the open meadow away from the city was empty, awaiting Carlich’s troops.
Maryn fretted while the preparations went forward. It took at least an hour for Carlich to get everyone in place to his satisfaction. Maryn watched him surreptitiously as she waited with her guard off to one side, trying to keep Barilan quiet. Carlich rode back and forth, erect in the saddle, arms waving in grand dramatic gestures as he called directions to the various officers. He never lost his patience, even when many of the peasant levies wandered into the wrong places or ignored their superiors’ orders while they gaped at the soaring walls of the city and the towers within. Instead, he kept after them with the skill and persistence of a dog herding sheep, until they covered the fields like a great patched quilt. At last he nodded his approval and sent a herald to notify Voerell that he was ready.
The delegation gathered at the base of the hill. Carlich called Maryn to stand next to him. Vinhor waited on his other side. Captain Tennelan set his ten chosen soldiers in order. Maryn scanned them. Yes, there was Tior. He flashed a grin at Maryn as he unbuckled his sword and laid it in a pile with all the others. Maryn managed a wan smile back. Her heart was beating so hard she could scarcely breathe.
Carlich led them up the hill. Just outside the square of flags, Carlich stopped. For a moment he studied the area. Two heralds, one of Carlich’s and one of Voerell’s, faced each other motionless in the center, long trumpets at their sides. Carlich turned in a slow circle, taking in the troops gathered all around like an audience awaiting a traveling players’ show.
He gave a sharp nod, then turned to Maryn. “Stay close to me, and be ready to present Barilan when I call for him.” Carlich stared searchingly into Maryn’s eyes as she nodded obedience to his order. He must have been satisfied by what he saw, for he squared his shoulders and strode between the flags. Maryn clutched Barilan and followed, the others crowding close behind.