“You demand a demonstration?” Ganton asked. “They have come with me—”
“Majesty, I demand nothing!” Ajacias protested. “I spoke only when commanded! Forgive me!”
“There is nothing to forgive—”
“…and let it be Thy will to aid us. Arise, lord, hasten to aid us, for our need is great…“
“—and perhaps you have been of more service than you know,” Ganton said.
One good thing about Yanulf. Lady Cara was silenced. She wouldn’t giggle while the Primate of Drantos invoked the blessings of Yatar. Indeed, she stared as if hypnotized—and yet she probably wouldn’t be able to remember a word that Yanulf had said. While Octavia would have been eager to talk, to discuss Yanulf‘s sermon and compare Yatar to the Roman Jehovah and his son Jesus Christ, to ponder the vision of Bishop Polycarp that the Christ was in fact the Son of Yatar, that Yatar and Jehovah were One—
“-the Time of Testing cometh upon us. Woe to that man who fails to prepare. Woe to him, great lord or villein, who has not done the will of Yatar and laid by goods for The Time…“
“I am told that smiths to the south have learned to make star weapons of their own.”
Ganton pretended not to have heard. Ajacias would learn of the new weapons in due season. For now there was not enough firepowder in the realm to stoke all the guns for more than a few blasts. There was a shortage of ingredients, especially saltpeter. Ganton had learned how to make firepowder, but not-how to extract saltpeter from dungheaps. He wondered if he should not have paid more attention to that day’s lecture. But a Wanax was no mechanic!
“And so we invoke Thy aid.” Yanulf’s prayer ended. Morrone attacked the stag as if it were his blood foe, then tasted the slice he carved and pronounced it good. And now, finally, the cooks’ apprentices could come out and carve the beast and all could get down to the serious business of eating.
But Ganton couldn’t forget the idea he’d had while Ajacias was questioning him. There was one way to show all that the starmen were loyal to the Crown. If only Lord Rick would agree! But for now, there was dinner, and the giggles of Lady Cara…
The Royal Guardsmen began a sword dance, complex beyond belief, with elements of Tamaerthan dancing mixed with something very like a polka. Their razor-sharp sabers flashed in the candlelight, earning the king’s applause.
Rick Galloway watched with approval as young Ganton refused another cup of wine and asked for water instead. The king’s request probably shocked the steward, but it meant Ganton would have a clear head. He was going to need it to fend off Ajacias’s questions.
“Boy’s learnin’ the king business,” Art Mason said as he took his place beside Rick. “And damn good thing you made ‘em put these tables up.”
They were seated behind and to the left of the high table, in a place near an entrance. Rick had insisted that every entrance to the hall be blocked by a table with mercs and Royal Guardsmen, and to hell with protocol. “Yeah?” Rick prompted.
“You been listenin’ to that Ajacias?” Mason asked. “Every question, everything he says, he tries to stir up trouble. That business about making star weapons to use with fireseed, he’s really trying to talk the kid into something. And when he’s not stirring up trouble or fishing for classified information, he tells how it’s time to make peace with the Five Kingdoms.”
“You think he’s a traitor?”
“Hell, Cap’n, you thought so or we wouldn’t be here.” Mason grinned. “I thought you was nuts, wanting to honor a guy that might be plotting against us, but I see it makes sense.” He pointed to the candles at every pillar. “Candles and new livery for the servants. Just those must have cost him a fortune.”
Rick returned the grin and poured wine. “We needed to come north anyway,” Rick said. “We had to stay somewhere. Why not with Ajacias? Anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” A good idea, but not mine, he thought. But nobody on Tran is going to know that. Except maybe Gwen. Who else ever read about Queen Elizabeth I, and her answer to plots?
Silly plots, like Babington’s, she could leave to Walsingham and his secret police, who needed a spectacular success every now and then. More serious situations, involving persons of wealth and stature and importance, she took care of herself: her method was to visit them. As Parkinson, Rick’s favorite historian, had put it, they could hardly plot while she was there, and they were financially ruined by the time she left. Her visit to Euston Hall in 1578 rendered the Rockwoods harmless for at least a decade…
And Lord Ajacias, a bheroman in the vital Sutmarg region bordering the Five Kingdoms, was far too important to accuse without evidence—or to be allowed to get away with treason.
“Anyway, we got him on trading with the enemy,” Mason said.
Rick nodded. Mason’s patrols had intercepted a pack train of hides and fine wine just as it reached the border. Not only did the hides have Ajacias’s brand, but the idiot had written a letter to the Wanax of Tameltemos inquiring about the last shipment and detailing what special payments were wanted. “Hang onto the smugglers,” Rick said. “We might not want to accuse Ajacias. Not just yet, anyway—”
“Right.” Mason waved expansively. “He’s sure not going to hire many troopers this year. Not after two weeks of this.”
“Yeah, but you know, he doesn’t seem to mind. Really acts like he’s being honored to have the Wanax here.”
“Well, sure, he’d like his daughter to be Wannaxae.”
“Fat chance,” Rick said. “What else did your patrols turn up?”
“Confirmation,” Mason said. “Just like you thought, they’re raising armies in the Five Kingdoms. Just how big and what for I can’t tell. Too many cavalry screens. But they’re mobilizing. Funny thing, not so much cavalry as stores. Like they’re expecting a siege.”
Rick shrugged. “The Time—”
“Sure, but they’re increasing the garrisons, too,” Mason said. “Least I think so, but it’s hard to find out anything for certain.”
“One more problem,” Rick said. He turned as his orderly came up behind him. “Yes, Jamiy?”
“A message, Lord. From the Lady Tylara.”
“Ah. Give it to me. Wait, I’ll move away from the table. Impolite to read while the Wanax is eating his dinner. Mason, if you don’t mind I’d rather you stayed here to watch out for the Wanax.” Rick got up from the hard bench with relief. The Guards started a new dance as Rick retreated to the corridor behind the banqueting hail.
He broke the wax seals and unfolded the letter, noting that it was paper, not parchment. Fairly good quality paper, too; the University’s mills had got the knack of it now, so there were few ink runs mixed with her painstakingly written words. As he held the parchment close to the beeswax candles, he wondered how far the University’s research into illuminating gas had gone.
To the Lord Rick, Eqeta of Chelm, War Lord of Tamaerthon, Captain General of the Hosts of Drantos, Beloved of Yatar, from Lady Tylara, Eqetassa of Cheim and Justiciar of Drantos, Greetings!
My beloved, your children and heirs are safe and well, and I trust this finds you the same. I am also well, though I miss you greatly and wish only for our reunion.
Rick nodded and smiled to himself. Leave it to Tylara to put things in that order. Titles. Health of the children. And only then the really important news, that she was all right.
The feud with the Mac Naile has proven more troublesome than I like. It is well that I have come, for this may yet become a challenge to Mac Clallan Muir. Aye, and there is worse, for there is murmur among the lesser clans that much booty may be found at your University. Thus must I strengthen its defenses, yet do so from afar so that it will not seem that Mac Clallan Muir holds sway in this place which you insist must remain above all clans and crowns.
And you’re doing the right thing even though you don’t agree with me about the University, Rick thought. Thank God I met you, Tylara. I’d better come up there now. It makes sense, it’s not just that I want to see you, my love—
My father sends his greetings, and his thanks that you have sent Makail his first grandson to visit him. Though he has not said so, you may be certain that he is even more grateful for my escort.
Eight mercs, Caradoc with two hundred mounted archers, and a hundred lances of Chelm chivalry. Tylara had been sure they would be more than enough to persuade the recalcitrant Mac Naile.
And though that dispute is I think soon ended, there are rumors of others, and it seemed to me that there must be a source to this strife. Thus I spoke with Corgarff, reminding him of your generosity in sparing his life, and of the loyalty of his sons, and of the devotion his new chief holds to you. In this way I persuaded him to tell what he knows of the Dughuilas affair. What he told me has earned him a visit by the headsman—