Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) (12 page)

“Not as much as Fintha, but some. A few Marshals don’t want to obey my prohibition against punishing children for it; they seem to think I’ve influenced the Marshal-Judicar and even the Marshal-General. Clearly they don’t know Oktar … or the Marshal-General. High Marshal Seklis mutters about their attitude but hasn’t been able to change it yet. Have you heard about Gird’s Cow?”

“Gird’s Cow? What cow?”

Mikeli chuckled. “It seems some Girdish farmer in Fintha got the idea that a stuffed cow would convince those most angry at magery to change their minds. So he draped a cowhide over a framework of wood, put it on a cart, and dragged it all the way to Fin Panir, gathering some followers—and many hecklers—along the way.” His expression hardened. “It’s not funny, really. The situation worsens with every tale I hear; Fintha is coming apart, and I don’t know what to do. We’ve had people coming in—mostly to escape the mage-hunters, but a few hunting mages here. I sent those packing with a stern warning. Marrakai’s taking the brunt of that, but all the barons on the border north of the river have had some incursions. They’re letting the fugitives stay, with my permission. I can’t see sending children back to be killed.”

“I should talk to those barons,” Arcolin said. “I’m not even sure of my western border … and I didn’t give the gnomes a map. I didn’t think …”

“Dortlin’s domain would border the southern third of yours. Masagar’s,
north of that, but he doesn’t claim all the way to horse nomad country. How far did you tell the gnomes they could have?”

“The hills west of the stronghold—but I didn’t tell them who owned beyond that. I need maps, sir king—”

“Indeed you do. I’ll tell the librarian to have them copied for you. I’m surprised Kieri didn’t have some. But on another topic … I need your advice and Duke Verrakai’s on how best to secure our west border. We’ve had no serious trouble there since Gird’s War, but I fear that with trouble in the South, we might also face more trouble there.”

“We might indeed,” Arcolin said. “I’m certain the Marshal-General won’t mount an attack as long as she’s in control, but if the Fellowship in Fintha splits or if the other faction takes control, then Tsaia’s stand on magery will be seen as a threat.”

“And we could be attacked on two fronts.”

“We could … but I don’t see any alliance between our southern enemies and the Finthans.”

“Does it matter whether they’re allied or not? Either way, it splits our forces, doesn’t it?”

“You’re right, sir king, though I have trouble believing that Fintha will attack—that the unrest will go that far. A few border skirmishes, maybe, but—”

“You have not heard the latest news,” the king said. “Yesterday’s courier—so you could not have heard it. The Marshal-General was badly wounded in an attempt to unseat a Marshal who had supported killing any and all with mage talent, and they believe the weapon used was of kuaknom manufacture. Cursed to kill slowly while infecting the mind, like Paksenarrion’s wounds in Kolobia.”

“Kuaknomi—” Arcolin’s mind raced. “We had a band of them not three hands of days past, up near the border of nomad country. It was a shock; I thought they had been driven out long since.”

“So I was told as a child.” The king sighed and pushed papers around. “Many changes have come upon us, upsetting what I was told then—and you, too, I have no doubt. Magery manifesting in those who never had it before, a dragon seen in these lands—even in Gird’s day no one had seen a dragon—treachery in the heart of every
one of the Eight Kingdoms whose stories we know, treachery even among elves.”

“And gnomes,” Arcolin said before he could stop himself, remembering Dattur’s story. “But that was corruption spread by Achrya, or so I believe.”

“And Achrya, too, is supposed to be vanquished, by the dragon, but the treachery did not disappear with one evil power. King Kieri has informed me that an elf of the far west has demanded that he wake the sleeping magelords Paksenarrion told of—a tale confirmed from Fintha. Supposedly that is necessary to stem a great evil arising from Luap’s Stronghold. The Marshal-General had a similar visit seasons before, with the same demand, but insisted she lacked the ability to do so. It makes no sense to me: Why would enchanted magelords spawn evil? But that, King Kieri tells me, is supposed to be the origin of the kuaknomi’s return to these lands.”

“Are the western baronies seeing them?”

“There are suggestions—night-walkers, poisoned wells, dead trees. But few sightings that I’m sure are kuaknomi. People—including the worst of Fintha—are moving, some begging refuge from the mage-haters and some threatening to test children. That we cannot allow. I wanted to ask your advice about moving some of the Royal Guard west to assist the smaller domains. Marrakai assures me he has troops enough to guard his.”

“Yes,” Arcolin said. “There are enough troops—mine included—in the northwest of Aarenis to slow down any attack that might head over the pass, and I have the Aldonfulk prince’s assurance that a large force will not be able to penetrate the gnome rockways. You—or Duke Verrakai—would have ample time to move troops back to this side of the pass from the Finthan border if Immer’s troops invade from the south.”

“Duke Verrakai.” Mikeli tapped the pen on his desk. “I do not doubt her loyalty, but … the regalia still troubles me. I almost wish—she would take it home with her. Get it out of here.”

“Have you told her that?”

“No. Do you think she would?”

“Sir king, I think she will do whatever you command. But although
I know Immer wants that crown, I don’t think sending it away will keep him from attempting the north. From what Andressat wrote me, I believe he is inhabited—the way some Verrakaien took over others, including that groom at your coronation. And the ambitions of whoever inhabits him seem fixed on the North. Kieri has had warning from Kostandan.”

“I wish you were not leaving the realm this season. If anything happens—if she must leave—I have no experienced military commander for our defense.”

Arcolin bit his tongue. He knew Dorrin had tried to push the peers to do better training—and to improve their own skills in warfare. But not even the king’s uncle had done more than individual weapons practice. The peers with an interest in military matters still studied the battles Kieri had been involved in a generation before without really understanding them. Most thought they were doing well if they led a few hands of yeomen up and down a road twice a year and ended with a mock battle between—at most—eight hands of them.

“I suppose you must go …” the king said.

“I must, yes, but I will be near enough the pass to return quickly if you need me. Having my force there ensures at least a delaying action, with time to send word to you. Dorrin—”

“Will be here in the meantime. Yes. There’s something else. I have a letter from the king of Kostandan, speaking of a relative of his in Aarenis.”

Arcolin frowned. “Kostandanyans … that would be Count Vladiorhynsich? Or Sofi Ganarrion?”

“You know them?”

“Both have mercenary companies; both fought with us against Siniava. Vladi said once they’d both come from Kostandan.”

“It’s Ganarrion he speaks of. A cousin, if I understand the term he uses, and his daughter married down there.”

“Married the Duke of Fall’s son, sir king. This is widely known in the South.” Arcolin saw in memory the rich farmlands of Fallo, north and east of the once-ruined fortress of Cortes Immer that Alured now occupied. If the old rumors about Sofi Ganarrion were true, then of
course the Kostandanyan king would be watching events over the mountains.

“He is concerned, the king of Kostandan, that they may fall into the hands of that Alured the Black you told me of, and he asks passage for troops under one of his sagons across Tsaia, to the pass at Valdaire, to go aid his cousin. Where is the Duke of Fall’s domain? I thought all Aarenis was Guild League cities.”

“Not all, sir king.” Arcolin explained. “We should send for maps or go to the library—Alured’s ignored Fallo so far, but if he took it, it would protect his rear as he moved west.”

“Then … the Kostandanyans could get to Fallo by crossing Lyonya or Prealíth and go straight over the mountains there, I’d think. This request must be a ruse, because I have not accepted his suggestion of taking Ganlin as my wife and he would bring force—”

“No, sir king. There are no passes over the Dwarfmounts where an army and supplies might cross other than Valdaire. That’s why Lord Halveric traveled through Tsaia on the South Trade Road to bring new recruits from Lyonya in years past. That was before you were crowned; did your regency council not tell you?” Arcolin saw from Mikeli’s expression that they had not.

“But Kostandanyans are Seafolk,” Mikeli said. “They trade by ship with the Immerhoft ports; surely they could take troops south that way—”

“They could not land an army at the Immer ports,” Arcolin said. “And if they did, they’d be fighting Alured’s forces all the way upriver from the coast; Alured commands all that country. The east coast—they might be able to outface pirates and the scum of Slavers’ Bay, but that’s a dangerous coast even without pirates.” Even as he said it, he wondered … had the Kostandanyans ever traded there? Kieri had written that the Sea-Prince of Prealíth reminded him a little of Alured, but without the cruelty. Yet if they were moving troops by sea, why would they ask permission to bring them to Tsaia?

The idea came to him in a flash: to confuse Alured’s spies, lead him to think it was safe to attack Fallo—because the Kostandanyans are taking the long road. He explained that quickly to the king.

“So, sir king, a cohort or two of Kostandanyan pikes marching
through Tsaia would be enough to prove to spies that they’re allied with you, and rumors about the princess make that even more believable.”

“But I’m not marrying Ganlin. Roth, maybe …”

“And he’s still in the succession, right? As good a reason, or near it. Their king won’t tell you if he’s sending troops by sea, but at the least I would advise agreeing to some coming through here. Or if it’s quicker and King Kieri agrees, it would be simple for them to go through Lyonya to pick up the South Trade Road as Halveric Company did. From Valdaire they could move east along the northern route. And that would help us if Alured moves faster than expected. If they’re anything like Vladi’s pikes … well, I’d be glad of them.”

“But how can I be sure they don’t really intend an invasion?”

“Kostandan’s never been as aggressive as Pargun,” Arcolin said. “Besides—they don’t know the terrain, and we can protect against them.”

Mikeli finally agreed and called in the Kostandanyan ambassador. The ambassador nodded on hearing Arcolin’s suggestion that they seek King Kieri’s approval for troops to march across Lyonya and use the South Trade Road. Arcolin did not mention his suspicion that some Kostandanyan troops were also being sent by sea to Slavers’ Bay.

“Looks like trying to hide plans,” the man said, grinning. “March along river, obvious. This, not so. King will like. King Kieri called Fox for good reason; he will like, too. Must be force big enough. Rumor say advance of more.”

“Have you already talked to King Kieri?” Mikeli asked.

The ambassador raised his brows. “Is not me. With pardon, lord King, is considering our beloved and admired Princess Ganlin still?”

Mikeli turned red. Arcolin intervened.

“The Royal Council has concerns, milord. Not about the lady but about other factors concerning our traditions here. For instance, she is with the Company of Falk, quite honorable, yes, but untutored in the Company of Gird and the Code of Gird.”

The man scowled. “What matters what wife knows or does not know other than obedience and pleasing king? It is not wife who rules.”

Arcolin shook his head. “Tradition here, milord, is that wives be capable of taking on a husband’s duties if necessary. King Mikeli’s mother was his regent after his father died, until she also died. She had been schooled here; she grew up with our laws, our customs. The Council feels that the king’s wife, the mother and guide of his children to be, should be familiar with the Code of Gird and be herself Girdish. The matter is still under discussion.”

“There is no more princesses. That Pargunese one will never marry.”

“We have no tradition of the king marrying princesses,” Arcolin said.

“There is another factor,” Mikeli said, having recovered himself. “My cousin Rothlin, who met the princess in Lyonya, is much taken with her. Should I come to agree with my Council, he may well seek your king’s permission to wed her.”

The ambassador pressed his lips together and then nodded. “He is in succession to you, is right? What number? Is mage or not?”

“Not a mage,” Mikeli said. “And presently third, after my brother and my uncle.”

The ambassador nodded again and then turned to Arcolin. “But would Council object, so close to throne?”

“I suspect not,” Arcolin said. “I would not object. Rothlin will not be so close to the throne when the king begins his own family, and that would give time for the princess to learn more in case …” He stopped there. One did not discuss a king’s possible death or failure to sire children in front of him. “At any rate, the important thing is to ensure that Alured—the Duke of Immer—does not succeed in his plans.”

“Yes.” The ambassador bowed to both of them. “If the lord King will send a short word over his hand, I will send courier to my king at once.”

Mikeli looked at Arcolin, then nodded. “I will do so.” He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an inkstick, the mixing bowl, and other writing materials. In less than a half-glass, he handed the ambassador the letter, sealed with the Tsaian Rose, tied with the formal rose and white ribbons, enclosed in its tube, also tied with formal
ribbons and then in a small rose velvet pouch. “Duke Arcolin already has his company on the march south; I suppose your king will send his quickly.”

“Very quickly,” the ambassador said. He bowed and withdrew.

“I hope that was wise,” Mikeli said. “And now—we shall go look at those maps in the library and settle the issues with your gnomes.” He led the way out of his office, and two of the guards fell in behind them. “Tell me, do you have to speak gnomish to them?”