The White Mists of Power (25 page)

“I don’t care about Dakin,” the king snapped. “What do you want from me?”

Alma clasped her hands in her lap, wishing that she had been present for the beginning of the conversation. She wondered what crop failures had to do with Geoffry’s land claim.

“Sire, I checked with the store master. You have enough food here to feed an entire army under siege for three years. You can afford to share it, and it might ease tensions in the countryside.”

“I see no reason to feed peasants.”

Neither did Alma. And she could see no reason for Geoffry’s request. The man was crazy. He should have been petitioning for his lands rather than speaking for the unwashed.

“The common folk keep this country alive, Highness,”Geoffry said. “The gentry live off the land, but the peasantry work it. Without them we would have nothing. Right now, neither the gentry nor the kingdom itself does anything for the peasantry–”

“I have heard enough!” The king pounded his fists on the chair and the entire dais rumbled.

Alma suppressed a smile. She had never seen the king mad before. He looked like a red-faced, roaring bulldog–the small, yapping kind her mother used to keep. The retainers along the walls stood at attention and stared at the dais. Geoffry took the remaining steps in two leaps. He crouched before the king.

“You’ll listen to me, sire, because if you don’t, it could mean the end of the realm as you know it. Not one of you pays any attention to the peasantry. The beautiful Lady Jelwra over there wants land and power. Lords Ewehl and Boton want to run the kingdom their way. The council spends more time exchanging land than doing any real work. When governing is done, it is done for the landed, not for the people who work the land. I’ve traveled through the realm, sire. I know its people. And, believe me, you had better start working with them instead of ignoring them.”

The king didn’t move. Alma’s urge to smile had disappeared as well. She didn’t like Geoffry’s assessment of her, nor did she like the way he asserted that assessment to the king.

“You think these isolated incidents will become a mass uprising,” the king said. His anger seemed to have disappeared.

“I know it, sire. Kilot’s history shows it. The Dakins took their lands because the Kinsmails, who controlled it, failed to care for their peasants after a major fire swept through the forest up there. The first Dakins helped the peasants and the peasants helped them. The present Lord Dakin has forgotten the lessons his family learned. If his heirs manage the estate as he has, Dakin will not control that land much longer.”

“But attack the king?” The king was clenching his fists so tightly his knuckled turned white.

“Sire,” Geoffry’s voice softened. “Have you forgotten what happened to Queen Glerek two hundred years ago? She abused her peasants. Her laws forced them into starvation and forced the crop failures. If it weren’t for the Enos working to protect the land, she would have died in an uprising.”

The king sighed. “I have made no laws hurting the peasants.”

“You have made no laws to help them either, sire. And they are starving.”

The king looked at Geoffry. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glowed. Alma wondered if passion always made his face seem so alive.

The silence seemed long. Alma resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. Then the king chuckled. “You did warn me about that, didn’t you?”

The king’s chuckle grew into a laugh. The guards relaxed, and so did Alma. She didn’t want anything to happen to Geoffry, and she didn’t want anything to interfere with her own plans. “And so what do you suggest, sir bard?”

“You’re lucky that I like you, bard, and that you have good ideas.” The king waved his hand in dismissal. “I will consider your grievance my own way. And tonight you will sing for me so well that I will forget your impertinence.”

Geoffry bowed. “Thank you, sire.” And without a single glance at Alma, he left the audience chamber.

Alma stood and put her hand on the king’s shoulder. He was tense. She stared at the doors, wishing she could see through them and see Geoffry. He never did what she expected. He was one of the few people she had ever met whom she couldn’t read. Usci was another. She wished he were here instead of home, tending to her business. He might understand the bard. Perhaps she would send for him.

The king patted her hand as Lord Boton stepped through the curtains in the back. Alma had suspected there were listening chambers, but she was surprised that the king would reveal them to her.

“What do you think, Boton?” the king asked.

“The bard has a point, sire. He knows the lands better than we do, and several gentry have reported trouble with their people. I’ll look into the matter. But I would also have someone watch that bard. He reminds me too much of Lord Demythos.”

Lord Boton’s eyes widened. Alma felt a shiver run down her back. The king seemed shrewder today than he ever had before. She wondered, if she became consort, whether he would prove as malleable as she had hoped.

“Demythos was a good man. He thought of others before himself.” The king smiled. “You’re right, Boton. The bard does remind me of Demythos.”

Lord Boton frowned. The king took Alma’s hand off his shoulder and stood. “Alma and I are going to lunch.” He led her down the stairs and tucked her hand into his arm. His body seemed almost too warm. He leaned his head near hers. “I see you so rarely, Alma, and I do miss your mother so. She was the heart of the council.”

Alma nodded. She had heard that before. Too bad her mother was not the heart of Jelwra. Her father had run the lands, and had raised Alma. She would never give as much away as her mother had.

“I would love to discuss the bard’s proposition over lunch,” she said, turning the conversation from her mother. If the king liked the former lady of Jelwra, he would not like Almathea.

The king patted her hand and walked her slowly out of the audience chamber. “I no longer discuss business over meals,” he said. “Ruins the digestion.”

As if anything ruined the king’s digestion. Alma did not sigh, but she made a silent vow. She would never, ever have a meal alone with the king again–at least not until she became consort.

iii

To the Lady Kerry:

Dasvid shocked the palace by confronting the king over the crop failures. Surprisingly, the king listened to him. The king and the council examined the situation and decided to allot five pounds of food per family as long as the wheat disease continues. Dasvid has also been promoted to the king’s representative to the underclasses. He is to hear their petitions and to bring valid claims before the king. Dasvid seems to enjoy the job. He spends most of the day listening to the petitions and his evenings entertaining the king.

The king’s fascination with Dasvid is unusual. Most entertainers would have been banished for their impertinence, yet Dasvid is still a favorite. He seems to have no outside contacts. His only real friends are his traveling companions, the magician Seymour and the boys Colin and Afeno.

As you requested, I met with the Lady Jelwra. Dasvid fascinates her as well. Mentally, she refers to him as Sir Geoffry. Although my tap of her mind was abortive, I learned that she has not known him long and is not clear about his identity. She is also planning something to do with the king, but the idea was nebulous and unfocused because it had nothing to do with our conversation. During our meeting the Lady Jelwra protected Dasvid from my questions. I do not know why.

Vonda

iv

Alma finished buttoning her day dress and looped the braids around her head. She set the remaining pins on her dressing table. The room was a mess without Usci, but she didn’t want any of the palace serving people inside. The dressing room was hers, sloppy as it was, and she didn’t want anyone snooping.

She sighed and checked her appearance one final time in the wavy mirror. She hated hunting, thought it both boring and barbarous, but right now she couldn’t refuse any invitation of the king’s. She liked the way he looked at her when he thought no one else was looking, the way his eyes gleamed, as if he were thinking that he could make love to her and she would be useful to him.

She could make love to him too. It would take a little imagination and a lot of fantasizing, but she would be able to hold him and please him–and have a child with him. And she was glad that she wouldn’t have his full attention. The king would feel affection for her, but the Lady Constance would take care of the love. Alma would love her children, and she would love the kingdom, and she would love her power.

And until she had those things, she would do what the king asked.

She grabbed a fan and her small whip and let herself into the hallway. The hallway was dark, the faded portraits staring at her as if they were laughing. She touched her hair, sorry she had agreed to the hunt, sorry that she had agreed to be up at dawn. As consort, she would lie in bed until noon and stay up until dawn: those were civilized hours. She gathered her skirts and headed toward the stables, her leather shoes scuffling against the stone floor.

A door opened in front of her, and she had to step back to keep from walking into it. Sir Geoffry emerged and, seeing her, took her arm. His touch was warm and gentle. “Are you all right, milady?”

She stepped around the door and peered inside. She had noticed the doors lining the corridor, but thought they led to serving closets. Geoffry’s had a lute, juggling equipment, a table, and a desk. “Do you always open doors with such enthusiasm?”

His grip tightened on her arm, and he led her into the little room. The air was stuffy and hot, but smelled faintly of soap and leather, like Geoffry. He closed the door. Alma leaned against the desk, unwilling to sit unless he did. “You haven’t told me,” she said. “Is Byron your real name?”

The laughter had left his face. His eyes were hard and black. “I don’t plan to tell you, milady. You know enough already. I wanted to make it clear to you that if you decide to reveal what you know about me, I will reveal what I know about you.”

Alma tilted her head a little. She took a deeper breath, and forced herself to stay calm. More important men than Geoffry had threatened her, although she had never expected it of him. Something she had done worried him. “And what do you know about me, Sir Geoffry?”

“I know how you’ve been expanding your lands. I doubt even lords Boton and Ewehl know the details. Your recent council defeat won’t take away all the lands you stole from Lafa, not if you can provide the documents with the king’s seal. And we both know that you have those. Too bad you can’t use your mother’s key to the documents room to get the deed to Kilot itself. You’ll have to sleep with the king for that.”

The edge of the desk dug into Alma thighs. Her palms were sweating. She thought no one knew that her mother had had an extra key to the documents room. Lord Boton kept the kingdom records in that room as well as the king’s seal. It had been so easy to transfer Lafa’s land, forge the king’s signature, and seal the document. And she had done it long before Geoffry came to the palace. “I assume you want more from me than silence,” she said.

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “The lady becomes cold when she feels threatened.” He smiled. “We’re not enemies, Alma. In fact, I think we can work well together.”

“Either you would like my help in the documents room, or you too would like to sleep with the king to gain a kingdom.”

Geoffry laughed. The warm, melodious sound filled the small room and made Alma shiver. “Neither, lady. I just want the title that I’m due.”

“Why don’t you approach the king and ask for it? You’re in favor now.”

He sat on the cot. The wood groaned. “It’s not that simple.” His hand rested beside him, almost inviting her. She noted the movement, but ignored it. After a moment, he sighed. “Lady, if you do plan to vie for the king’s offer, watch yourself. Lord Ewehl has spies all over the castle, as does the Lady Kerry. I believe Lord Kensington is receiving regular reports as well. Those in power will do anything to retain that power. Even murder.”

“You sound like such an expert, Geoffry. And you’ve only been here a few months.”

“Byron, lady.” He rested on one elbow and looked up at her. His body was smooth and strong, the shoulders wide and hips narrow. She wanted to touch him, but she had to hunt with the king. Her future had to come before her passions.