Heir Of Novron: The Riyria Revelations (96 page)

Royce sat back against the table leg, his eyes on Mercy as she giggled at something Allie whispered in her ear.

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Hadrian asked.

Royce shrugged, his brow creased with worry.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Royce stood up. “It’s a little warm in here for me.”

They watched him gingerly step around those on the floor and slip back out. Hadrian looked at Arista.

“Go ahead,” she told him.

“You sure?”

“Of course I am. Go.”

He smiled, gave her a kiss, and then stood to chase after Royce.

Arista sat for a moment looking around her at all the friendly, rosy faces, talking, laughing, smiling. The bowls of steaming pottage were coming off the open hearth and making their rounds. Abelard, seated on an overturned bucket, was rosining his bow and plucking strings on his fiddle while he waited for Danny, who sat beside him finishing up a plate of lamb. The place was filling up and sitting room was getting scarce. Despite the crowd, a wide berth was maintained
around Modina, who planted herself in the corner across from the door, smiling more brightly than Arista had ever seen her. Only the girls dared come within an arm’s length, but every eye in the room repeatedly glanced her way.

Arista stood up and found Arbor throwing a round loaf in the oven. She leaned against the counter and wiped her head with the back of her flour-covered hands. “That’s the last of it,” she said, and smiled at her. “I was worried about you,” she told Arista. “We both were.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes! The way you left that night, and then when the soldiers came—we were afraid for you. The village was in turmoil that whole week. Men came through here four times spilling the flour and searching. I didn’t know what they wanted you for—I still don’t.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Arista said. “That’s all over and everything is going to be different from now on.”

Arbor’s expression showed she did not know what to make of that.

“Say, do you still have that dress I gave you?”

“Oh yes!” She looked down at Arista’s robe. “You’ll be wanting it back, of course.” She started to leave and Arista took her hand.

“No, that’s not why I was asking.”

“But it’s okay. I took real fine care with it—never wore it once. I just looked at it a few times, you know.”

“I was just thinking you should try it on, because I think you’re going to be needing it.”

“Oh no, I’ll never need a dress that fine. Like I told you before, there’s no chance of me going to a fancy ball or anything like that.”

“That’s just it,” Arista told her. “I think you will—that is, if you accept.”

“Accept what?”

“I’d like you to be the maid of honor at my wedding.”

Arbor looked back at her, confused. “But, Erma, you’re already married to Vince.”

It was Arista’s turn to look puzzled and then she laughed aloud.

Hadrian caught up with Royce at the footbridge. It was dark, but the moon was bright and he spotted his friend’s dark figure leaning over the rail, staring into the dark waters trickling below.

“Crowd getting to you?” Hadrian asked. Royce did not reply. He did not even look up. “So what will you do now?”

“I don’t know,” Royce said softly.

“You realize that being the real descendant of Novron makes you not only the King of Erivan but Emperor of Apeladorn as well. Have you spoken with Modina?”

“She already told me she would step down.”

“Emperor Royce?” Hadrian said.

“Doesn’t really sound right, does it?”

Hadrian shrugged and leaned against the same rail. “It could in time.”

Except for the bakery, the street was dark, although there were some lights on at the manor house. They were tiny dots from where they stood, like bright yellow stars at the top of the hill.

“I hear you’re going to marry Arista.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Myron mentioned something about doing the honors.”

“Ah—right. Well, I thought he’d do a good job, and nei
ther of us are real thrilled with the idea of a Church of Nyphron ceremony.”

“I think it’s a good idea.” Royce looked back at the water below. “And don’t wait. Marry her right away and start being happy.”

The breeze rustled the bare limbs of the nearby trees and blew a faint hiss as it passed under the bridge. Hadrian pulled his collar tight and looked over the edge. He stared down at the dark waters below.

“So are you going to look for who killed her?” Hadrian asked. “You know, don’t you? Do you want me to come?”

“No,” Royce replied. “He’s already dead.”

“Really? How do you feel about that?”

Royce shrugged.

“I knew it wasn’t Merrick,” Royce said, tearing a leaf and throwing it over the edge of the bridge. “I still remember his face, looking up at me. Telling me it wasn’t him. Explaining how it couldn’t have been him. He was confounded by it. Merrick confounded—that was my first clue. Today I got the final clue.”

“What clue?”

“Emperor Royce—he was terrified of that possibility. Royce Melborn on the throne—could there be a more frightening thing? That’s why he never told us. He brought us together hoping you would change me, but he couldn’t fix me. I’d spent too many years learning to hate. I’d lost the value of life. Then he learned about Mercedes. I’d lost my humanity, but she was clean. He could educate her, make her into the perfect ruler.”

“Arcadius? But why would he kill Gwen?”

“That’s my fault as well. I told him that she had agreed to marry me. He knew we would come for Mercedes and all that he invested in her would be lost. He never thought in his
wildest dreams that I would ever take that step with Gwen, and when he found out, he had to kill her before she had the chance to tell me about my daughter.”

He looked up at the stars and ran a hand across his face. When he spoke, his voice quavered. “I told Arcadius she was at the Winds Abbey. He hired Merrick to take her and bring her to Colnora. He was there before the meeting, hiding with a crossbow.”

Royce turned to Hadrian and his eyes were moist. “But what I can’t understand is that he loved her too. So how could he pull that trigger? How could he watch her scream and fall? How frightened must he have been to do that? How much of a horror am I?”

“Royce.” Hadrian placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not like that anymore. You’ve changed. I’ve seen it. Arista and Myron, they’ve mentioned it as well.”

Royce laughed at him. “I killed Merrick, didn’t I? I never even gave him a chance. And if it wasn’t for Arista, Modina would have died in the fire I set. I can’t be a father, Hadrian. I can’t raise… I’m evil.”

“You didn’t kill Magnus. Even after he told you his plans to double-cross you again, you let him go—you
forgave
him. The old Royce didn’t know what forgiveness was. You aren’t him anymore. It’s as if—I don’t know—it’s like some part of Gwen came to you when she died. She’s still alive in there somewhere, still literally your better half.”

Royce wiped his eyes. “I loved her so much—I miss her so much. I can’t help feeling it’s my fault, my punishment for the life I’ve led.”

“And Mercedes?”

“What about her?”

“Is she a punishment? She’s your daughter. A part of Gwen that still lives. She has her eyes, you know… and that smile.
The gods don’t give a gift that precious to someone so undeserving.”

“Are you my priest now?”

Hadrian stared at him.

Royce looked back down at the stream below. “She doesn’t even know me. What if she doesn’t like me? Few people do.”

“She might not at first. Maribor knows I didn’t. But you have a way of growing on a person.” He smiled. “You know, like lichen or mold.”

Royce looked up and scowled. “Okay, forget what I said. Definitely steer clear of the priesthood.” He paused, then said, “She does look like Gwen, though, doesn’t she? And her laugh—have you heard it?”

“She told me that her mother said her father would make her a fairy princess and that they would live in a beautiful place where she would be a queen of the forest.”

“Did she?”

Hadrian nodded. “Seems a shame to disappoint her, and if Gwen told her that, it must be true.”

Royce sighed.

“So will you take the throne from Modina?”

“Emperor Royce? I don’t think so. But I’m stuck with the job of elven king, aren’t I?”

“How’s that going, by the way?”

“Funny as it sounds, I think they’re terrified of me.”

“A lot of people are terrified of you, Royce.”

He laughed. “I feel like one of those guys in the circus that train bears with just a chair and a whip. They destroyed half of Apeladorn without a single loss of life on their side and the only thing stopping them from finishing the job is me and their crazy religion. They really hate humans but are convinced I was chosen by Ferrol to be their ruler. To disobey me is to disobey their god. To kill me is unthinkable. So here they
are, ruled by a human who they must obey and can’t kill. You know they’ve got to be panicking.”

“Only you aren’t human.”

“No—I’m neither.”

“Maybe that will help.”

“Perhaps.”

“So you still haven’t told me. What do you plan to do?”

Royce shrugged. “I don’t know yet. How could I? I don’t know anything about them, really. I do know that I’ve seen cruelty from both sides. After seeing how Saldur’s empire treated people like me, I can understand the elves’ hatred. The old me certainly remembers that feeling, the certitude of justice, the purity of unquestioned purpose.”

“And the new you?”

Royce shook his head. “I forgave Magnus, for Maribor’s sake.”

“Why did you?”

“Tired, I guess. Tired of killing—no, that’s not really it. The real reason, I think, is that part of me wondered what Gwen would think. I can’t imagine her wanting me to kill Magnus any more than she would want me to punish the elves for what they did. She was such a better person than I am, and now that she’s gone, I…”

Hadrian squeezed his shoulder. “Trust me—she’s proud of you, pal.” He gave him a second, then in a bright tone said, “How is it we never had
king
and
emperor
on our list of potential careers? When you think about it, it beats the heck out of winemakers, actors, and fishermen.”

“You always think everything is so easy,” Royce replied, wiping his eyes.

“I’m just a glass-half-full kinda guy. How’s your glass looking these days?”

“I have no idea. I’m still trying to get over the sheer size of it.”

Hadrian nodded. “Speaking of glasses…” He lifted his head when he heard the sound of a fiddle and pipe. He put his arm around Royce’s shoulder and led him off the bridge. “How about a nice pint of Armigil’s brew?”

“You know I hate beer.”

“Well, I’m not sure you can really call what she brews beer. Think of it more as… an experience.”

A
surprising number of people survived the attack on Aquesta and came out of their underground bunkers to find a different world. The elves were gone and so was the city. All that remained were the bodies of the dead and the shattered rubble of the once-strong walls. In the weeks that followed, the weather grew warm, the snow melted, and people took to the roads. Many dispersed south or east to Colnora, which had managed to survive unscathed. Some, those originally from there, ventured north to find a ravaged land, which they vowed to rebuild. A few remained in Aquesta, picking up the stones and brushing away the dirt.

The empress took up residence at the unlikely estate of Lord Baldwin. It took several weeks before the full contingent of the imperial government was reestablished, but soon messengers in imperial uniforms were racing across the roads bearing news and orders from the empress.

Much to the dismay of the Aquestians, the empress decided not to return. She announced plans to build a new city at Amberton Lee, which would be named New Percepliquis, after the ancient imperial capital. She called on all artisans, engineers, mapmakers, stone workers, wood carvers, road lay
ers, and a host of others to come. With many out of work and, in many cases, homeless, they came in droves. Among this assortment of workers came a surprisingly large number of dwarves, the largest assembly of little folk seen in centuries. No one knew from where they came, but once they arrived, the work began in earnest and those passing near the Lee remarked at the sounds of hammers in the dark of night.

Rumors spread along with the people. One story maintained that it was not the elves who had destroyed Aquesta, but Nationalists who invented the lies about them to strike fear across the countryside. These stories told that Degan Gaunt fought in single combat against the empress’s champion, Sir Hadrian, to decide the fate of the empire. Another bit of gossip held that Rufus’s Bane had risen from the dead and laid waste to the countryside, hunting the empress. When it found her in Aquesta, she led it away to save her people and single-handedly slew it once again on a hilltop. They said it remained there in a secret place guarded by priests, who watched over it to make certain that it did not rise again.

The most outlandishly incredible—and therefore most popular—tale was one replete with amazing adventures, monsters, heroes, and villains. It was a story about how the elves invaded, and nothing could stand against them. In this version the empress in her wisdom sent ten heroes into the bowels of Elan to seek the Rhelacan from the tomb of Novron. Among them were the Teshlor Sir Hadrian, a dwarven prince who they befriended in the depths, a pious monk, the last giant to walk the world, and the good wizardess Arista—whose evil twin sister was the Witch of Melengar. The story told of how this courageous band fought through caves, sailed across underground seas of glowing water, battled hordes of goblins, and slew a Gilarabrywn. It told how three of them fell in battle, but the remainder emerged victorious.
According to this story, Sir Hadrian, armed with the Rhelacan, defeated the king of the elves and saved the empire. The tale grew with each passing tinker and new characters were added, including a thief, a sailor, and a master swordsman.

All that really mattered was that the empress was alive and well and that Amilia the Beloved was with her. Not all the news was welcome, however, as edicts declared dwarves and half-elves were to be recognized as full citizens of the empire. This touched off the Spring Riots in Colnora and Vernes, which Sir Breckton squelched with a contingent of imperial troops.

In the north, the realm of Melengar all but vanished. What the imperial invasion had not destroyed, the elves had. The young king Alric, who never married and had no heirs, did not return, nor did his sister. After more than seven hundred years, the line of Essendon ended, and it was Count Mauvin Pickering, now Imperial Governor Pickering, who returned to administrate the province of Melengar. By all accounts, he was a good and just man, and before long rumors of his marriage to Lady Alenda Lanaklin circulated.

The death of Archibald Ballentyne left the province of Chadwick vacant of a lord. The seat was replaced when the empress appointed Degan Gaunt earl. In her announcement speech, she said that the appointment was not only deserved but appropriate.

By Summersrule, heralds were crossing the empire shouting in every village about the news from New Percepliquis. The first buildings were standing on the mount at Amberton Lee, just enough to allow the empress to move her court, and she was using the holiday to celebrate the move and commemorate those who had given their lives to save the empire.

The games where held in the newborn city, which was little more than chalk and string outlines. Thousands came hoping to glimpse Sir Hadrian or Sir Breckton on the field, but neither
entered the competition. Sir Renwick won top honors, unhorsing Sir Elgar in the final tilt.

The highlight of the celebration, however, was the marriage of Sir Breckton to Lady Amilia in a moonlight ceremony performed by Patriarch Merton. On the last day of the celebrations, Empress Modina made the startling announcement that she had adopted, as daughter and heir, the half-elf child Allie, henceforth to be known as the imperial crown princess Alliena Novronian.

The celebration lasted a full two weeks, and when it was over, the roads were filled with carts and wagons of soon-to-be-footsore travelers on their long journeys home. The hilltop at Amberton Lee, now officially renamed New Percepliquis, was once more filled with the sounds of hammers, chisels, and saws. Sheep grazed on the southern slope, and milk cows on the north.

As the sun began to set, lights appeared in the windows of the “palace”—a simple thirty-room blockhouse. It was the first of the dwarven constructions and designed to be servants’ quarters for stable hands and groundskeepers. For now it housed the whole of the imperial government.

On the front steps, which were broad and afforded a fine view from the hilltop, a small group gathered to watch the sunset and the approach of the imperial carriage.

“It really is coming along nicely,” Hadrian told the dwarf as he sat with his arm around Arista. He was dressed in a soft tunic and she in a comfortable blue linen dress. “It’s hard to imagine this is where I fought only four months ago.”

The now leveled land revealed tiers where buildings would be constructed partially into the sides of the hill. Huge blocks of stone marked corners that anchored string lines held in place with stakes that designated future walls, roads, and pathways. Most were rectangular, but some were octagonal
or completely circular. Still others defied any description, looking haphazard and bewildering from their footprints in string.

“It’s beautiful,” Arista said.

“Bah! You can’t tell a thing yet!” Magnus scoffed. He tapped his temple. “If you could see what’s in here, then you could really appreciate it. This city will make the old one below us an embarrassment.” He looked out across the hill. “But it will take time—years—decades, really—but yes, it
will be
beautiful.”

The laughter of children blew in with the evening summer breeze as down the slope Allie and Mercy chased fireflies, where a holly tree stood and five boys once spent days in a tent they called the Hovel.

The carriage pulled to a stop, and when the door opened, the white-wigged chancellor Nimbus stepped out. He was dressed in his usual outlandish colors, and on his chest was the massive gold chain of his office. He smiled at Modina and Amilia and greeted them all with a sweep of his hand and a lavish bow.

“It’s about time you arrived,” Modina said, rising to meet him.

“Forgive me, Your Eminence,” he said, dusting himself off. “But there was a great deal to be done before blowing out the last candle in Aquesta.”

“How long will you be staying?” Amilia asked.

“I’m afraid not long. I’ve really only come to see what you’ve started here and to say goodbye.”

“I can’t believe you won’t stay. I don’t know how I will get along without you.”

“Alas, as I told Your Eminence in our correspondence, it really is time for me to move on. You have matters well in
hand. New Percepliquis is coming along nicely. When I accepted this chain of office, we both knew it was temporary. I will be leaving in the morning.”

“Really?” Amilia asked. “So soon? I thought we’d have a few days at least.”

“I am afraid so, my lady. I’ve had many farewells and found that they are best kept short.”

“You’ve been wonderful,” Modina told him, squeezing his hand. “This empire wouldn’t have survived without you. Every citizen owes you a debt of gratitude.”

Nimbus addressed Amilia while gesturing toward the empress. “We did all right with her, didn’t we? I think that board really helped.”

“Yes,” Amilia agreed, and raced down the steps and hugged him tight. She kissed his cheek, startling the chancellor. “Thank you—thank you for everything.”

Modina motioned for Nimbus to come closer and briefly whispered in his ear.

“Oh yes, the new couple,” Nimbus said, looking at Hadrian and Arista. “Congratulations on your wedding. What will you do now?”

“Yes,” Modina said. “Now that the honeymoon is over and you’ve been duly knighted, Sir Hadrian, what are your plans?”

“Don’t look at me. Arista is running this show. I thought we’d be back in Medford by now.”

“Oh right.” She rolled her eyes. “I could just see you as king in the royal court, listening to the earls and barons griping about who has the right to water cattle on the north bank of the Galewyr, or settling a dispute with the clergy over their refusal to pay a tax on the vast tracks of church-owned land. No, I know how it would turn out. I would be the one left
alone in the throne room sorting through the tangled string of a dozen petitions while you’re off hunting or jousting. I’m sorry but I’ve had more than my share of ruling and it would only make us both miserable. That’s why I gave Melengar to Mauvin. It also made it easier to admit Melengar to the empire, as he didn’t have any problem with accepting a governorship as opposed to a crown.

“Do you know what our good knight here has actually been doing with his time? During our honeymoon?” Arista bumped Hadrian with her shoulder. “Why he was too busy to take part in the joust?”

Everyone looked slightly uneasy, wondering what she might say next.

Arista paused a suitable moment to let their minds wander, then said, “He’s been working as the smithy in Hintindar.”

Magnus chuckled, Modina modestly smiled, but Russell Bothwick roared. He slapped his thigh until his wife, Lena, laid a calming hand on his leg. “You’re a romantic, you are,” he said through laughter-invoked tears. “Stoking a forge instead of—”

“
Russell!
” Lena burst out.

“What?” he asked, looking at his wife, bewildered. “I’m just saying that the man has got his priorities all wrong.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m there
all
day and night,” Hadrian said, defending himself. “The fact is they don’t have one. Grimbald left over a year ago and they have all this work. They’re desperate. I hate seeing my father’s forge lying cold. It was taking twice as long to till the fields with dull hoes and spades.”

“But it hardly seems the best use of time for the last living Teshlor Knight,” Nimbus remarked. “And you.” He looked at Arista. “The last master of the Art… what have
you
been doing?”

“I learned to bake bread really well.” She too received many surprised looks, not the least of which came from Modina, Amilia, and Lena. “No, seriously, I’ve gotten good. Arbor says I’m ready to marble rye and wheat together.”

Nimbus glanced at Modina, who nodded.

The empress leaned forward. “I would like to ask you both something. The lord chancellor and I have been corresponding on this matter and I think he is right. There is so much that needs to be done. There will be warlords, more uprisings like the riots this spring. With the elves back across the river, goblins have begun raiding again. And of course something must be done about Tur Del Fur.”

“I’ll second that,” Magnus grumbled. “It was bad enough when humans controlled Drumindor; now there’s Ghazel wandering its halls.”

“The empire needs people of good character to guide and protect the people, good arms, strong arms, wise arms. I can only do so much.” She gestured at those in her court. “We can only do so much. The realm is vast and we can’t be everywhere. Plus, there is the matter of stability. While I am alive, the empire will be strong, but even small kingdoms have fractured at the passing of a monarch. The larger the empire, the greater the threat. With no structure in place, no solid tradition to hold us together, the empire could break into civil wars.”