Even Caelum might think twice about setting the Strike Force on the entire West and North.
At the least, Zared thought with only the tiniest degree of humour, he might think about sending in a scouting party first. Frankly, Zared was amazed that six days after the destruction of Kastaleon, the Icarü Strike Force was still not yet wheeling down on him from the sky.
“I would have set everything I had after me had ,’ been Caelum,” he muttered. “What in the name of all gods is he up to?”
They had moved south fast from Kastaleon. Desperately fast. They’d ridden a day, then commandeered river boats to carry them towards Carlon. This morning Zared had ordered the boats to put to shore, and land his men so they could ride the final league.
Zared hoped that Goldman had been right in saying Carlon would support him, and that western Tencendor would rise up to back his claim to the throne. The last thing he needed was to ride into an apathetic city.
“She still does not know?” Theod said softly beside Zared, breaking his thoughts.
Zared glanced over his shoulder. Leagh was several lengths behind him, riding with Herme. Zared reined his horse closer to Theod’s.
“No. I have not liked to tell her. Who knows if Askam lives or dies? It would be cruel to tell her.”
Theod looked at him with concern, thinking to say more, but Zared’s gaze was now fixed on the road before them.
“Look! Is that Goldman?”
A group of five horsemen had ridden from Carlon’s gates, still some three hundred paces distant. Two outriders carried poles from which fluttered pennants and standards.
“Look,” Theod said, “they bear the standards of Carlon… and of Zared, Prince of the North.”
Zared felt his muscles relax a little; he had not realised he was so tense until this moment. He pulled in his own horse, then waved his column to a halt.
There was a movement to his side, and Herme and Leagh rode up.
“Goldman,” Zared said, indicating the riders, but Leagh said nothing.
The group of riders covered the distance to Zared at a brisk canter. It was indeed Jannymire Goldman, with four well-dressed companions.
“Prince Zared,” Goldman said, reining his horse to a halt three paces from Zared, “I offered the support of the traders and guilds of Carlon, and here it is. May I present Mayor Gregoric Sandmeyer, and the Guild Masters of the Wool, Fish and Grain merchants’ guilds.”
Zared raised his eyebrows. A powerful coterie indeed. “And do you also present me Carlon, Master Goldman and Mayor Sandmeyer? I have at my back a force of some five hundred men. Hardly enough to overrun Carlon’s walls should I be forced to do so.”
“I think you will hardly be ‘forced’, Prince,” Sandmeyer said, bowing deeply from his saddle. He was a barrel-chested man, with strong features and startling eyes. “Carlon – indeed, Achar – eagerly awaits you.”
Then he turned to Leagh, and offered her another, if smaller, bow. “My Princess, I am glad to see you again. It has been too long. And you ride by Prince Zared’s side. If I may be so bold, for many know that the Prince has been petitioning for your hand for many a long year, may I ask if you ride as his wife?”
“Not yet,” she said shortly. Sandmeyer was being too forward. “I have yet to come to a decision.”
“I see,” Sandmeyer said softly, and looked at Goldman.
“I think, Princess,” Goldman said, “that Carlon’s reception may make your decision a little easier for you.”
Zared had hoped Goldman would organise a welcoming crowd, but he had never envisioned the tumultuous welcome that Carlon put on for him.
As they urged their horses forward, Zared became aware of a muted roar. Initially it puzzled him, but as he drew closer to the main gates he realised – with absolute astonishment – that it was the thunder of a crowd tens of thousands strong.
He looked at Leagh – they now rode side by side at the head of the column, the others having drawn back -and saw that her face was pale, as astonished as his.
And then they were inside the gates, and inside a maelstrom.
The noise of the crowd was overwhelming, and Zared had to grab at the bridle of Leagh’s mare as it shied in fright. One of Carlon’s militiamen ran forward, and took it from him, and Zared leaned back in the saddle, trying to absorb the sights and sounds before him.
Carlon’s streets were lined ten-deep with people. Others crowded balconies and roofs. Everyone was waving something, whether ribbons or pennants or banners; some were the rose and gold of his familial standard, others were the royal blue and scarlet of the Acharite throne.
As one, they roared his name.
“Zared! Zared! Zared!”
Atop the shouts of the crowd came the trumpeting of horns – scores of them – and the beating of drums and the clashing of cymbals. The noised bounced off walls, echoing wildly through the streets and then into the sky.
Zared stared, then he laughed, almost overwhelmed with the emotion poured out in his welcome. He spurred his horse forward and waved, and the noise, if possible, tripled.
Leagh, riding at a more sedate pace behind him, was utterly stunned. She could hardly comprehend the sights and the sounds. She had seen nothing like this before. Nothing. Even Caelum’s crowning on the shores of Grail Lake had been a sedate seventh-day picnic compared to this.
Askam had never pulled a crowd of more than a thousand onto the streets, but Leagh thought that Carlon’s entire sixty thousand must have abandoned home and work and school to pay homage to Zared.
And that was what it was, she realised. Homage, not welcome.
Before her the crowd surged, trying to follow Zared’s progress. He had been mobbed, but did not seem afraid. Instead he was laughing, and leaning down from his horse, grabbing hands, touching faces.
“King Zared!” the crowd now roared. “King Zaredr Then the mob were crowding her, too, and she heard them call out her name.
“Leagh! Leagh! Queen Leagh!”
Some ten paces in front of her, separated by hundreds of people, Zared swung his horse about and caught her eye.
Leagh stared at him, shaking. She had never realised… never realised…
They were led, eventually, to the dazzling ancient Icarü palace on the highest hill in the city.
Not to the Prince’s palace.
The Icarü palace had been the one used by the former Kings of Achar, passing into the hands of the SunSoar family once Axis had destroyed the throne.
Now, apparently, it would again be used by an Acharite king.
There, in the Chamber of the Moons, Carlon had prepared a reception for Zared that was only slightly less restrained than the street welcome.
On the dais sat a throne, a perfect replica of the ancient throne of the Acharite kings. Leagh stared at it in amazement – how long had they been preparing for Zared? The throne was the patient work of a master craftsman, several masters, for exquisite wooden carvings had inlays of gold and silver and scatterings of precious gems.
How had I never known? she thought to herself, still dazed, as Zared took her arm and led her to the dais. How had I never known?
Zared would not use the throne, saying it could wait until he was crowned, but he stood on the dais, Leagh at his side, Herme, Theod, Goldman and Sandmeyer slightly behind him, and received the well-wishers of Carlon.
First there were representatives from the guilds, all of whom knelt before Zared and promised him their support.
The city militia stood forth and did likewise.
Representatives from each of the major blocks of Carlon came forward, some with their wives and children, and proffered their support.
And from the nearer rural areas came the rural guild masters, there, as all the others, to offer Zared their wishes and their loyalty.
Leagh was a little amazed that even the rats had not sallied forth from their sewers to pledge their allegiance as well.
“Prince Zared,” Goldman finally said, standing forth so that he could address Zared. “Have you any doubts as to the loyalty of your people?”
“No, good Goldman,” Zared said softly. “This is more than I ever dreamed possible.”
“Do you have any doubts as to their wishes, my Prince?”
“No, Goldman. I do not.”
In a dramatic gesture, Goldman dropped to one knee, put a hand over his heart, and dipped his head in obeisance.
“Zared, will you accept the loyalty of your people? Will you accept the wishes? Will you assume the throne of Achar?”
There was utter silence in the chamber, and Zared looked slowly about, not only at the people who waited for his answer, but also at the chamber itself that had witnessed so much violence and death during Axis’ war with Borneheld.