I could see the king, glowering at us.
“Well, of course,” snapped Edmund, irritated that I should venture to tell him his duty. “I would have done so in any case. I will mention the matter to my father.”
Oh, Edmund, if only I had said more. If only you had said less. If only. Our lives are made up of “if onlys.”
“Father, Baltazar thinks the path around the lake may be dangerous. You stay behind with the people and let me take the soldiers—”
“Danger!” the old king flared, with a fire that had not burned in either body or mind for a long, long rime. Alas, that it should have blazed forth now! “Danger, and you tell me to stay behind! I am king. Or, at least, I was.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “I have noticed that you—with Baltazar’s help, no doubt—are attempting to subvert the people’s loyalty. I’ve seen you and the necromancer off in your dark corners, plotting and scheming. It won’t work. The people will follow me, as they have always followed me!”
I heard. Everyone heard. The king’s accusation echoed through the cavern. It was all I could do to keep from rushing forward and throttling the old man with my bare hands. I cared nothing for what he thought of me. My heart burned from the pain of the wound I saw inflicted on his son.
If only that fool king had known what a loyal and devoted son he had! If only he could have seen Edmund during those long, dreary cycles, walking by his father’s side, listening patiently to the old man’s mad ramblings. If only he could have seen Edmund, time and again, refuse to accept the crown, although the council knelt at his feet and begged him! If only . ..
But, no more. One must not speak ill of the dead. I can only assume some lingering madness put such ideas in the king’s mind.
Edmund had gone deathly white, but he spoke with a quiet dignity that became him well. “You have misunderstood me, Father. It was necessary for me to take on myself certain responsibilities, to make certain decisions during the time of your recent illness. Reluctantly, I did so, as any here”—he gestured to the people, who were staring at their king in shock—”will tell you. No one is more pleased than I am to see you take, once more, your rightful place as ruler of the people of Kairn Telest.”
Edmund glanced at me, asking me silently if I wanted to reply to the accusation. I shook my head, kept my mouth closed. How could I, in honesty, deny the wish that had been in my heart, if not on my lips?
His son’s words had an effect on the old king. He looked ashamed, as well he might! He started to reach out his hand, started to say something, perhaps apologize, take his son in his arms, beg his forgiveness. But pride — or madness — got the better of him. The king looked over at me, his face hardened. He turned and stalked oft calling loudly for the soldiers.
“Some of you come with me,” the king commanded. “The rest of you stay here and guard the people from whatever danger the necromancer theorizes is about to befall us. He is full of theories, our necromancer. His latest is that he fancies himself the father of my son!”
Edmund started forward, burning words on his lips. I caught hold of his arm, held him back, shaking my head.
The king set off for the tunnel exit, followed by a small troop of about twenty. The exit was a narrow opening in the rock. The file of Soldiers, walking shoulder to shoulder, would have a difficult time squeezing their way through. In the distance, through the opening, the fiery light of the Lake of Burning Rock gleamed a fierce, bright red.
The people looked at each other, looked at Edmund. They seemed uncertain what to do or say. A few of the council members, however, shook their heads and made clucking sounds with their tongues. Edmund cast them a furious glance, and they immediately ftfl silent. When the king reached the end of the tunnel, he turned to face us.