The Palace (Bell Mountain Series #6) (18 page)

Before he entered Silvertown, Martis spoke to Wytt. He couldn’t be sure that Wytt would understand him. He hoped it was true, what Jack and Ellayne said—that Wytt did understand most of what was said to him.

“I have to go down there to that city,” Martis said. “Jack is there, somewhere, and I have to find him. It may take a while—and even longer, to find some way to get him out of there.

“I want you to stay close to the city and keep watch. If we can get out, we’ll need your help to get back to Ninneburky without being caught. Keep a close watch, Wytt!”

The Omah looked at him, unblinking. Was there a mind behind those little eyes, Martis wondered—a real mind that could understand what needed to be done, and do it? As well as he knew Wytt, he didn’t know the answer to that question. He could only hope that Wytt would understand. Then he strode down the hill to the gate.

Wytt did understand, but in his own way.

By the time Martis was introduced to Jack as Jayce, to be his tutor in all things pertaining to the city of Obann, Wytt had crept into Silvertown through a flaw in the shoddily constructed wall. And when the sun went down, he began his own search for Jack.

CHAPTER 19

King Ryons’ Loyal Servants

Once, when he was Lord Reesh’s favorite, and because Reesh had urged him to do it, Orth had created a counterfeit Scripture and arranged for it to be discovered in the archives by an unsuspecting scholar. As head of the presters’ authentication committee, Orth had made sure it was accepted as genuine. When his memory returned to him, he had confessed the deed, and the spurious passage was not included in the new copies of the Old Books.

Orth had given up all the deceits and subterfuges that once were second nature to him. God had taken away even the temptation to resort to such devices. But now he had a need of them and found himself incapable of double-dealing. It even troubled him that he’d sent Ozias’ scrolls to Durmurot without informing anyone but Constan.

“I’m sure the purpose of the coronation is to perform some act against the king,” he confided to the preceptor. “Merffin Mord is the kind of man I used to be. And yet I’ve promised to place the new crown on the king’s head. Whatever plot they’re hatching, I’m part of it!”

Constan comforted him. “Ungodly men always think the righteous men are fools,” he said. “That’s your advantage over them. Use it wisely.”

Silvertown was full of burned-out houses that had not yet been torn down, new buildings yet unfinished, and heaps of stone and lumber. Wytt found plenty of good hiding places. The hungry Big People had already caught and eaten almost all the rats and mice, but there were still worms and insects, which the Omah liked, but about which it would probably be best to say no more.

You or I would be distressed by the sight of bodies hanging from the gallows, by the constant threat of violence embodied in the Heathen conquerors, and by the toil and poverty imposed on the people of the city. Wytt paid no attention to such things.

Jack was in the big building in the middle of the town: it took him no time to discover that. So was Martis. But there was something else in the place, in that very building, that no human being would detect with his dull senses, but which cried out to the Omah. Had he not been so attached to Jack, he would have fled the city that very night.

Wytt could not have put it into words; it wouldn’t occur to him to try. Big People understood so little! He knew they couldn’t perceive what he perceived. But he did perceive that there was something evil in this place, and that someday it was going to come out and devour much more than it would ever find here. It was like the taint of evil that still clung to the ancient, ruined cities of Obann, to which the Omah were immune. Wytt could taste it everywhere in Silvertown, spreading out from the big building in which Jack was a prisoner. Upon the ruins it was just an aftertaste, but here it was alive and strong. And the stupid human beings had no awareness of it. Even a tiny, hairless baby Omah would have been afraid of it.

For the time being, there was nothing Wytt could do but watch and wait. Near the big building, under a neglected pile of sawn logs, he found an abandoned rat’s nest where he could safely spend the night. Thoughtfully munching on a centipede, his mind wandered down paths where no human mind would ever go.

To King Ryons in Lintum Forest,

From Merffin Mord & the Ruling Council of Obann,

Our most profound & affectionate greetings!

Whereas it has pleased Your Majesty to quit his loyal city of Obann, to sojourn in Lintum Forest:

And whereas we his loyal subjects remain in the City of Obann, from which the entire Country takes its name:

And whereas we are all desirous of honoring the King & confirming him in all his rights & privileges, which once pertained to all the Kings of Obann:

And whereas the Holy Scriptures themselves provide a Model for what we ought to do:

We hereby invite & entreat Your Majesty to visit his city of Obann at his earliest convenience, & to bring with him whatever persons he pleases to have in his company:

So that on Midsummer’s Day of this year, he may in the sight of all the people be anointed & crowned the rightful King of Obann by the grace of God, by the hand of the First Prester, Lord Orth:
Said coronation to be an occasion of rejoicing to all the people of Obann, & to mark the beginning of a new & glorious epoch in our Country’s history.

Signed and sealed by His Majesty’s servants, the Ruling Council of Obann.

Obst read the letter to the chieftains of King Ryons’ army and to the chief men among the settlers at Carbonek. Around the semicircle of the chieftains on their stools of office, in front of the ruined castle, everyone in Carbonek pressed as close as they could to hear as much as they could. And on his carven stone seat, amid his chiefs, sat Ryons in his Wallekki headdress and his kingly robes, in which he always felt uncomfortable and out of place. Cavall crouched beside the makeshift throne, and on the other side of it stood Baby, with Perkin’s arm around the big bird’s neck to keep him from getting overly excited by the presence of so many people. The dog and the giant bird, with the king between them, looked rather like a royal seal.

“Loyal subjects—ha, ha!” Helki laughed out loud. “I like that!”

“The kings of Obann were always crowned in Obann,” said Obst, “with due ceremony.”

“Except for King Ozias, our king’s ancestor!” said Perkin, who had once been a student at a seminary.

“Quite right,” Obst agreed.

“But wait, Obst—I don’t understand,” Ryons said. He always tried to avoid speaking in these councils, a boy among men, but he really didn’t understand, and he needed his teacher to explain. “I thought God said my throne was to be here, in Lintum Forest. Why should I have to go back to the city? And what’s a coronation?”

“It sounds to me like some kind of trap,” said Zekelesh, chief of the Fazzan. “When we left that city last year, those people were very glad to see us go. You should have heard the things they said about us! It’s not like it was when Nanny Witkom was alive.” The old prophetess had been his special friend.

“Peace, my lords,” Obst said. And to Ryons: “Sire, a coronation is a great and special ceremony in which the king is anointed with holy oil and crowned. It used to be done in ancient days to confirm him in his kingship.”

“The great God has confirmed our king!” said Shaffur, chief of the Wallekki. “By the words of a true prophet, by victory in battle, and by miracles! Have they forgotten how their king came to them—mounted on the great beast whose like was never seen before by any man, and how he came in time to save them from the Heathen? If that’s not enough to confirm him as king, then I don’t know what is.” And the Ghols who stood behind the king, guarding him, clashed the hilts of their daggers on their shields, applauding.

Tughrul Lomak, chief of the Dahai, spoke softly, so that only the other chiefs could hear: “Besides which, we have other plans for this summer’s campaigning season.”

“We may not speak of that here and now!” Obst said.

The chiefs had agreed to march on Silvertown and take it from the Thunder King. They had intelligence now that the traitor Goryk Gillow had been invited to Obann under a safe-conduct from Merffin Mord’s council and had agreed to come. They were still trying to decide whether to proceed to Silvertown as planned or to attack and destroy Goryk Gillow as he journeyed to Obann. As Shaffur put it, “We gave him no promise of safe conduct. Let those fellows in Obann keep their promise, if they can.” But most of the other chiefs thought it would be best to appear before the walls of Silvertown while the tyrant was away.

“I don’t have to go to this coronation, do I?” Ryons said.

“You’re the king, Sire. You don’t have to go anywhere,” Helki answered. “All the same, I’d love to see how they try to handle two First Presters in Obann at the same time.”

“There is only one First Prester,” Obst said, “and that’s Lord Orth, who was elected by the College of Presters. Goryk is a creature of the Thunder King. How anyone in Obann could talk peace with him is more than I know.”

“If I were Lord Orth, I’d watch my topknot,” Helki said, and the Abnaks who were there all laughed.

“It’s no laughing matter!” Obst said. “With Goryk in the city, Lord Orth will be in danger.”

“If they’re planning to take the First Prester’s scalp,” said Chief Buzzard, the Abnaks’ spokesman, “what will they have in mind for our king? You ought to stay with us, Your Majesty. We’ll keep you safe.”

That was just what Ryons wanted to hear. It wasn’t so long ago that most of these men had been prepared to see him sacrificed, cut open so a mardar could read the future in his entrails. But to a boy as young as Ryons, even that seemed a long time ago. He trusted his chieftains now and didn’t care if he never again left Lintum Forest.

CHAPTER 20

How Ellayne Wrote to Her Father

The signed and sealed invitation to King Ryons’ coronation had come to Durmurot, too. Prester Jod couldn’t decide how to answer it, so he convened a chapter meeting of his lesser presters, reciters, and seminary preceptors to discuss it.

“What shall I do?” he said. They met in the chapel of the chamber house in the afternoon, with colored light through the stained glass window dancing on the cool stone floor. “King Ryons is determined to go, Queen Gurun tells me, and certainly it would appear very strange if they went and I didn’t. But I don’t trust these men who have appointed themselves the rulers of the city. Nor does the First Prester—else he wouldn’t have sent King Ozias’ scrolls to us for safe keeping. And now I learn—of all things!—that Goryk Gillow, the traitor, unlawfully styled First Prester by our mortal enemy the Thunder King, will also be in Obann for the coronation. The council says he’ll be there to talk peace, but I don’t believe it.”