Ironcrown Moon (23 page)

“Mmm.” The monster was thinking. “It is necessary that I stay close enough to the surface to keep you in sight at all times. And I—not you—will give directions to the Salka haulers.”

Beynor tipped him an ironic salute. “It’s your decision, Eminent Ugu. But once we get into crowded waters, you’ll have to look sharp to avoid dangerous mistakes. If I ram another vessel because your warriors ignore my orders, the Harbor Patrol will be on us like stink on a swamp-fitch. They’ll arrest me and confiscate the boat to pay for the damage. Do you understand what I’m saying? Once we start up the river, it would be best if you let me sail completely unencumbered—”

Ugusawnn gave a furious growl. “I think you hope to trick me, human excrement! It will not work. Abandon any thought of escaping my vigilance.”

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Beynor gave a shrug. “I want this scheme to succeed. So should you. I’ve sailed through busy harbors and up crowded rivers before. I

know the kind of problems that can arise.”

An awful smile spread across the countenance of the amphibian. His teeth gleamed like crystal marlinspikes. “I have a solution. We will disconnect all but one harness. I myself will wear it—pulling you as it becomes necessary, and also keeping you secure.”

“Suit yourself.” While the Salka milled about in the marsh, reorganizing themselves and catching fish for a meal, he set about preparing the boat. It took the better part of two hours, and while he worked he sent his windsight in search of the royal barge.

It had left the capital early and made its first overnight stop at the large town of Twicken, where the king and his family received the homage of prosperous local landowners and merchants at a dinner party held aboard. Beynor found the barge tied up at a riverside jetty splendidly decorated for the occasion. It was a handsome craft with a snow-white hull and abundant gilt trim, adorned with banners, bunting, and swags of flowers, designed to be propelled by forty sweeps that could be augmented by sails if the wind was favorable. Its figurehead was a gigantic black bear, emblem of the barbarian nation.

Honigalus Mallburn and his family were plainly visible to Beynor’s wind-sight, resplendent in full regalia and gathered with their guests at a long table under a white-and-gold-striped awning on the poop deck. The king was a stocky man of medium stature and plain features.

His wife Bryse Vandragora, daughter of the greatest of Didion’s timberlords, resembled him so closely that they might have been brother and sister. They were a couple devoted to one another and to their three young children. Crown Prince Onestus, who was seven years of file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/May,%20Julian%20-%20[Bor...0-%20Boreal%20Moon%202%20

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon age, and his brother Bartus, who was five, perched solemnly on high chairs at the feasting board with their parents and the guests from the town. Their little sister Casabarela, who had celebrated her first birthday only two months earlier, lay asleep in the arms of her nurse, who sat behind the queen.

Beynor could hear nothing on the wind, of course, but the occasion was plainly more sedate than jovial, with the worthies of Twicken showing no particular enthusiasm for the royal visitation.

Good to know the king’s still unpopular among the commons, Beynor thought in satisfaction.

Four years was a long time, and he had not entirely trusted the dream-reports periodically given to him by Somarus. It seemed as though the seditious prince had gauged the temperament of the middle class accurately enough, but the nobility might be another kettle of fish. The only important peer who was openly sympathetic to Somarus was Duke Lynus Garal, whose rich tin mines were heavily taxed by King Honigalus. Lynus was a cousin of Somarus’s wife Thylla. He had kept her and her two young children under his protection during the years that Somarus ranged about the wilderness with his rebel army, stirring up trouble.

Over time, Beynor had managed to invade the sleep of Lynus Garal, as well as that of most of Didion’s other landed peers and timberlords; but lacking their explicit cooperation in the intrusion, he had been able to sift only fragmented information from their minds.

It would probably be a good idea to bespeak Fring and attempt to clarify the situation. There was no sign of the archwizard at the royal dinner party, and Beynor presumed he had stayed behind in Holt Mallburn…

The muscle power of the Salka helped Beynor to erect the small boat’s mast. After he had fastened the shrouds and stays that kept it upright, he rested and called out soundlessly on the wind.

“Fring Bulegosset! Respond to a good friend who wishes you well.”

So it’s you. You’re a lot closer to the capital than you were yesterday
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.

“I’m moored in a marsh twenty leagues away from Mallmouth Quay, get-ting my vessel all shipshape before starting up the river. Are you still at home in Holt Mallburn?”

Yes. I’m supposed to be suffering a severe case of griping bowels after dining on suspect shellfish.

“Regrettable.”

Is it still going to happen?

“Of course. Would you like to watch?”

I believe I would.

“There’s a stream called Boar Creek that flows into the Malle just below Boarsden Castle. Be there in late afternoon on the day of the king’s scheduled arrival. It would be useful if any number of impartial observers from the castle accompanied you. Perhaps you and the duke and duchess and some others could ride out to watch the royal barge negotiate the rapids and the deep eddy in that section of the river. Always an exciting spectacle—and apt to be especially memorable this year.”

Ah. Yes, of course.

“Were you able to bespeak one of the wizards in Somarus’s company and pass on my advice?”

I

did so. The prince will be within a day’s ride of Boarsden on the day in question… in case he should be needed

.

“He will be. You have my solemn word on it. Tell me now the mood of Didion’s nobility. If Somarus assumed the throne and declared war on the Sovereignty, how would they react?”

War?!

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

“My dear Fring—do you know so little of your prince’s temperament? Of course there’ll be war!

Which peers will support a call to arms?”

The barons of the outlands will certainly follow Somarus, since they never approved the capitulation of Honigalus to the Sovereignty.

Duke Lynus Garal is no friend of the present monarch, as you already know; he might well favor a war of independence. The Duke of

Karum on the west coast rules his fief like an independent principality. He’d favor any king who turned a blind eye to the marauding forays his cronies mount against shipping in the Western Ocean. If a war enhanced his opportunities for piracy, he’d rally round. Duke Boarsden was a first cousin to the late Queen Siry, Somarus’s mother. He might declare for the new king or he might not. His fief is close to the Cathran border and would be a prime target for attack by the Sovereignty.

“Which lords might balk at accepting Somarus?”

The Lords of Riptides and Highcliffe are solidly for Honigalus. The Sovereignty has brought tremendous prosperity to their traders and shipbuilders, even with the higher taxes imposed by Conrig. They’d resist going to war. So also, I think, would Duke Kefalus Vandragora, the most powerful peer in our nation, whose wealth derives from timber sales. With Conrig continuing to augment Cathra’s navy and trade fleet, Duke Kefalus can only grow richer. War would be disastrous to his fortunes.

“Unless the war were won quickly—by Didion!”

And how might this miracle take place?

“In the same manner that Conrig Wincantor obtained his victory over your nation: through high
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sorcery.”

I—I

am at a loss for words, Beynor. Am I to understand that you yourself intend to give some sort of magical aid to Didion

?

“Yes.”

Forgive me for pointing out the obvious: in the late conflict, your efforts proved wretchedly inadequate. And thanks to your sister

Ullanoth, all Blenholme knows that you have been cursed by the Great Lights and denied use of their sigils. So from what will this new font of high sorcery derive?

“I had intended to impart this news to you later, after Somarus was crowned. But perhaps it’s for the best that I reveal it now. I have gained access to an entirely new collection of moonstone sigils. Their usefulness no longer depends upon the vagaries of the Beaconfolk, nor do the stones exact a toll of crippling pain as the price of their magic.”

Astounding! If true… May I ask how these sigils came into your possession? Did you obtain them from the Dawntide Salka?

“Where they came from is irrelevant. Neither am I prepared to use them until the appropriate time. I told you about the new sigils so that you might help bolster the confidence of Somarus…

and convince him that I’m a worthy friend to him and Didion. You and the prince may well ask what I require in return for my magical assistance. The answer is simple. Help me destroy the Sovereignty and bring down the two people who deprived me of my own kingdom of Moss: Conrig Wincantor and my sister Ullanoth. All I want is to rule my native land, free of vassalage. I presume Somarus and the Sealords of Tarn have the same ambition.”

Tarn? Oh, I see… I see!

“Keep this knowledge secret until the day Somarus becomes king. Then share it with him. Use it, both of you, to convince the lords of

Didion to throw off Conrig’s yoke. I myself will convince Tarn to join us.”

You’ll demonstrate this magical power, I presume.

“When the time is ripe, and only then. I’ve spent four years planning the downfall of Conrig and my sister, and I won’t have my hand forced. Somarus will have to trust me. I’ll give him ample reason to do so—in just a few days. And now farewell. I’ll be preoccupied with other matters until the royal barge approaches Boarsden, so don’t attempt to bespeak me.”

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

Very well. May all transpire as we would wish!

==========

Ugusawnn was nowhere in sight, probably lurking underwater, but the other Salka had hauled out on a mudbank to rest after feeding. A casual observer might have mistaken them for giant sea-lions, save for the green-black color of their bodies and the occasional languid movement of a tentacle.

The deposed young king watched the monstrous creatures without emotion. They’d brought him safely to Blenholme, and he had no doubt that they’d follow his orders from here on, albeit grudgingly. No Salka had ventured up the River Malle for nearly a millennium. In such unfamiliar circumstances, surrounded by humanity and its swarming watercraft, even their brutish self-confidence would falter.

They’d be unlikely to countermand his decisions or quarrel with him out of sheer
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bloody-mindedness.

Beynor gave a great sigh and allowed himself to relax for the first time in many days. He’d travel in more comfort once they reached the river. It would be a huge relief to have some personal control of the boat at last, rather than jouncing about like a bale of inanimate cargo.

He’d still have to rely on Salkan motive power when the wind was insufficient… until the time came when he was ready to escape.

Going into exile, he’d taken a well-filled purse to the Dawntides, not realizing there’d be no way to spend the money. He’d spend it soon, no matter how much the Salka might object—not only on decent clothing, but also on food. A loaf of real bread! A spicy meat pie! A beaker of ale! Fresh strawberries… Beynor choked back a moan of longing and tore off another leather-tough mouthful of salmon. Soon, he told himself. Soon!

nine

Snudge and his companions reached the town of Teme very late on the day following the Solstice. Vra-Mattis had bespoken ahead to the mayor’s windvoice, informing him of the royal warrant they carried, which obliged all subjects humble or exalted to extend the king’s men every possible comfort and assistance.

It had been a hard day’s ride from Gala. The armigers and the novice were taken at once to the kitchen of the mansion for a late supper, while the two young knights dined more formally at a table in the breezy parlor, reluctantly vacated on the warm evening by the lady mayoress and her women.

“I wished us to eat alone for a reason,” Snudge said to his friend, while chewing on a roasted pheasant leg. “I have a confidence to impart and something to show you. I request that you keep these things secret unless grave circumstances dictate otherwise.”

“Say on!” Gavlok heaped a piece of soft manchet bread with thin slices of beef, slathered on mustard, and took a huge bite.

“You would have known about this years ago, had Mero Elwick not taken your place on the expedition to Mallmouth Bridge, during our invasion of Didion.”

“I remember. The bastard convinced Lord Feribor to remove me from the mission at the last minute.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, if

I’d gone along, I’d be dead in battle—like Mero and the other two luckless sods who accompanied you. All heroes, to be sure, but I’d as lief be unheroic and abide among the living.”

“The armigers Saundar and Belamil were not killed in battle, as was said at the time. Mero slew them foully after we secured the bridge for Conrig’s army.”

“No!” Gavlok lowered the bread and meat from his mouth and quenched the fire of the mustard with a gulp of beer.

“Yes. He committed murder because he coveted this.” Snudge wiped his greasy hands on the tablecloth and opened the front of his shirt, extracting a small square carving of milky stone hung on a golden chain. In the shadowed room, it shone with a greenish inner radiance.