Ironcrown Moon (2 page)

After a month of official mourning, Conrig quietly married Risalla Mall-burn. His profound condolences had been dispatched to Tarn, Maudrayne’s birthplace and the only island nation not yet accepting the Edict of Sovereignty. Tarn’s ruler, the High Sealord Sernin Donorvale, reacted with predictable fury to his favorite niece’s public humiliation. In the year following her presumed death, Sernin rebuffed Conrig’s demands that Tarn join Cathra, Didion, and Moss in a unified High Blenholme, even when the Sovereignty

“reluctantly” cut off trade with his corner of the island, leaving Tarn at the mercy of rapacious mainland merchants and pirates. Forced to purchase food and other needful commodities from the Continent at inflated prices, the once-wealthy domain grew more and more impoverished and vulnerable.

The injurious effects of the Wolf’s Breath volcanic eruptions—which had caused widespread crop failures on the island, shut down

Tarn’s all-important gold mines, and precipitated the political upheaval that inspired Conrig’s scheme of unification—were now only a bad memory. Eastern Didion recovered from the famine that had devastated its largest cities. Its pragmatic ruler, Honigalus, rebuilt the capital city of Holt Mallburn that had been devastated by Conrig’s invading army. He regained the trust of Didion’s independent-minded timberlords, whose cooperation was vital to the restoration of his country’s shipbuilding industry, paid off the war reparations demanded by Conrig by building a new fleet of naval vessels for the Sovereignty, and did his best to keep a lid on his fiery younger brother Prince

Somarus, who remained implacably opposed to Conrig’s hegemony and considered Honigalus a traitor for having capitulated.

In the tiny kingdom of Moss, which enjoyed First Vassal status in the Sovereignty thanks to Conjure-Queen Ullanoth’s magical assistance to Conrig during the war with Didion, things were apparently tranquil. The queen’s insanely ambitious younger brother Beynor, who had briefly occupied the throne until his imprudent ventures into high sorcery incurred the displeasure of the Beaconfolk, had fled to the desolate Dawntide Isles to live with the Salka monsters. Whenever she gathered strength enough to pay the pain-price to the Beaconfolk, Queen Ullanoth made use of a powerful magical tool, the moonstone sigil Subtle Loophole, to keep watch on Beynor…

and to observe other events transpiring here and there about High Blenholme. Part of this intelligence she shared with her sometime lover, High King Conrig. The rest of it she kept to herself, while she quietly pursued thaumaturgical studies and pondered the possibility of seizing control of the Sovereignty herself when the time ripe.

Early in the spring of 1130, when most Tarnian ports remained icebound and the majority of that nation’s fighting ships were still hauled up ashore, High Sealord Sernin learned that a large fleet of freebooters had set sail from Andradh on the Continent, intending to seize
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Tarnholme and the other important port cities of Goodfortune Bay—the only section of the Tarnian coast that remained reliably unfrozen in winter. Poised in the mountains above Tarnholme to reinforce the sea invasion was a ragtag but formidable army of insurgent warriors loyal to Prince Somarus, led by robber-barons of western Didion.

Facing an impossible situation, Sernin and his Company of Equals swallowed their pride and sought aid from the Sovereignty, pledging fealty in return. Conrig agreed only after Tarn bowed to draconian conditions. The High King dispatched his new navy to beat off the Andradhians, and commanded his Royal Alchymist to bespeak the hedge-wizards attending rebellious Prince Somarus, warning of nasty consequences if his fighters pressed their attack on Tarn.

The Continental freebooters were soundly defeated at sea, while the prince’s outlaw Didionite land force scuttled back over the White

Rime Mountains into the wilderness of the Great Wold, never having unsheathed their swords.

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

While these events transpired, I myself grew from a youth into a man. My wild talents ripened with maturity, known only to my royal master Conrig, to his brother Stergos who had become the Royal Alchymist, and to a handful of other trusted intimates of the High King.

During those early years of Conrig Ironcrown’s reign, my duties were important but rather humdrum. I spent most of my time spying on

Cathra’s quarrelsome Lords of the Southern Shore, holders of the original fiefdoms established under Bazekoy over a millennium ago.

This group of affluent merchant-peers, who had played only a minor role in the establishment of the Sovereignty, remained a continuing thorn in the High King’s side because the ancient laws of Cathra made it difficult for the Crown to increase taxes on their considerable revenues. Also, unlike the rest of the nobility, the Lords of the Southern Shore possessed the immemorial right to veto changes in the

Codex of Zeth, the charter affirming the rights and privileges of Cathran aristocracy and defining limits of regal authority—including the succession to the throne. It was the Codex that specifically excluded anyone possessing the least whiff of magical talent from Cathra’s kingship.

This rule dated from Bazekoy’s time, and prevailed in Tarn and in Didion as well. Only Moss, youngest of Blenholme’s nations and founded by a brilliant sorcerer, was an exception.

Less than a year after Conrig’s second marriage, High Queen Risalla gave birth to a strapping son who was named Bramlow.

Unfortunately Lord Stergos, the Royal Alchymist, almost immediately determined that the child had moderate arcane powers. In a move that surprised and bewildered his Privy Council and loyalist nobility, the High King pressured the Lords of the South to amend the Codex so the boy could be named Prince Heritor in spite of his talent. The lords refused, backed up by the powerful Brethren of the Mystic

Order of Zeth, who inflamed the sentiments of the common people against the king’s dubious proposal. In the end, Bramlow was consecrated to the Order as an acolyte, the inevitable fate of windtalented royal offspring.

Excepting Conrig himself…

Oh, yes. My royal master was himself possessed of an all-but-insignificant portion of magical aptitude, imperceptible to the scrutiny of the Brothers. His urgent push to amend the Codex in Prince Bramlow’s favor was actually an attempt to safeguard his own position as High King of Cathra and Sovereign of Blenholme, in case his great secret should be revealed.

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I, with my own undetectable “wild” powers, had discovered Prince Heritor Conrig’s puny talent by accident years earlier—and almost paid for it with my life. Instead, the prince decided to make me his personal snudge, or spy. Later, I inadvertently betrayed my master to his older brother Stergos, who kept the perilous confidence in spite of serious misgivings.

Ullanoth of Moss, the beautiful young sorceress who later became that nation’s Conjure-Queen, also knew about the king’s talent, but had motives of her own for not disclosing it. Only two other persons had found out Conrig’s secret: his first wife Maudrayne, whom he believed to be dead, and her friend the Tarnian High Shaman Ansel Pikan, who was very much alive. So far, Ansel had also kept silent.

But he remained a potential threat who might possibly betray Conrig and precipitate the dissolution of the Sovereignty. Killing the powerful shaman was no easy option. The only person who might be capable of doing the deed, Ullanoth herself, demurred for fear of offending the touchy Beaconfolk, who were the source of her powers. She did counsel Conrig with the obvious solution to his dilemma:

sire a “normal” son as soon as possible. Then, if worse came to worst, the attainted High King could abdicate in favor of the infant Prince

Heritor and make use of an obscure point of law to declare himself regent, preserving his grip on the Sovereignty for at least twenty years, until his son’s majority.

Two years after Bramlow’s birth, in 1131, High Queen Risalla was delivered of healthy male twins who were named Orrion and

Corodon. Lord Stergos and the other Brothers of Zeth who examined the babies pronounced both of them free from magical talent.

Orrion, the elder by half an hour, was affirmed as Prince Heritor.

Unfortunately, the Brethren were mistaken in their assessment of the twins—as I learned to my dismay when I first beheld their tiny faces. As with their father Conrig, I was able to perceive that the infant boys had the faint but unmistakable spark of talent in their eyes. It was my clear duty to inform the king, but perhaps understandable that I should have delayed making the dire announcement. Knowing about Conrig’s own hidden talent had already placed my life at grave risk; if I confessed to knowledge of his newborn sons’ taint as well, who knew what my liege lord might do?

As it happened, I was spared the unwelcome task by none other than Queen Ullanoth, who had scried the little boys from a distance with the powerful moonstone sigil named Subtle Loophole.

After confirming her discovery, she did not hesitate to tell Conrig the truth about the twins. She advised the dismayed king to keep the matter secret, continue pressing for a change in the law of succession… and beget still more offspring. In appreciation of the Conjure-Queen’s wholehearted pledge of silence, Conrig doubled the annual benefice already vouchsafed to her loyal but needy little realm in exchange for magical services rendered.

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

Thus it appeared, as the fateful summer of 1133 began, that most of the problems that had threatened to undermine Conrig Ironcrown and his fledgling Sovereignty were well under control. The realm of Cathra enjoyed unprecedented prosperity. Thanks in part to my own underhanded activities, there was a welcome respite in the intrigues and machinations of the Lords of the Southern Shore. High Queen

Risalla was happily pregnant again. Didion’s fractious robber-barons were quiet, licking their wounds following yet another failed small insurrection by Prince Somarus. Embittered Tarn seemed finally resigned to its vassal status and paid its exorbitant taxes without a murmur. The Continental nations had apparently shelved their expansionist schemes for the time being and
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were content to engage in orderly trade. Even the Dawntide Salka monsters were lying low, not having raided the shore settlements of Moss for over a year, thanks to fierce storms created by Conjure-Queen Ullanoth and a sharp retaliatory strike on the islands by the Sovereign’s navy under Lord

Admiral Hartrig Skellhaven.

I myself was a contented man that year, celebrating my twentieth birthday and entry into adulthood on the second day of Blossom Moon.

As part of the great Summer Solstice festival a few weeks later, I was initiated into knighthood together with fifteen other armigers from all parts of Cathra, becoming Sir Deveron Austrey.

We received the accolade at the traditional ceremony at noon on Midsummer Eve. To my surprise, I was not made a simple Bachelor like the others but was created a Knight Banneret of the Royal Household in recognition of my confidential services to the Crown. The commander’s honors included a velvet purse containing a hundred gold double-marks, twice the boon vouchsafed to the Knights Bachelor; a smallish fortified manor house called Buttonoaks with a freehold of six hundred goodly acres, situated in the rolling hills below Swan Lake, which was supposed to provide me with a decent income and a place to live when I was not needed at the palace; and the services of two armigers rather than one, together with an apprentice windvoice who would ostensibly enable me to communicate with my superiors via the arcane network of Zeth Brethren. (My own windtalents were, of course, a state secret.) After the dubbing ceremony, High King Conrig kindly suggested that I quit the court for several weeks and visit my new demesne, which lay less than three days’ easy journey to the north. With the realm at peace and likely to remain so for some time to come, the king anticipated no immediate need for my particular services.

I agreed to the idea eagerly and made ready to leave at once, glad of the chance to avoid the elaborate Solstice banquet and the many entertainments that would take place over the next several days. I found the pomp and splendor of court festivities tedious. In my role of Royal Intelligencer, I often moved among the great ones of the Sovereignty; but I had been born a commoner of low estate, the son of a palace harnessmaker, and preferred more modest pleasures.

I invited a close friend, Sir Gavlok Whitfell, to accompany me on my tour of inspection. He was another who esteemed the simple life and was glad of a chance to spend time in the country.

Together with our youthful attendants, Gavlok and I left Gala Blenholme city along about the sixth hour on Solstice Eve, heading north toward the Swan Lake region. My armigers Val and Wil, and my windvoice

Vra-Mattis, newly come to the palace from Vanguard and Blackhorse Duchies and Zeth Abbey respectively, were still unfamiliar to me.

But they all seemed to be biddable lads and I looked forward to getting to know them better.

I was in a fine humor, anticipating exploration of my manor in the company of congenial men.

For a short time at least, I would answer to no master but myself.

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The great outdoor feast in the Gala Palace gardens had come to its conclusion by the tenth hour of Solstice Eve. While servitors dismantled the banquet boards, rearranged the chairs and benches, and laid out the hardwood dancing floor with its flower-decked standards and strings of twinkling lanterns, the throng of highborn guests slipped away to chambers of ease inside Gala Palace to refresh themselves before the music began.

In the royal retirement room adjacent to the great hall, High Queen Risalla sat at a dressing table enduring the attentions of her personal maid, who was rearranging her hair. The Sovereign himself rested on a padded long chair, seeming to be lost in deep thought. He had hardly exchanged a dozen words with the queen since they had left the gardens. The room was warm and he wore only his black undertunic, hose, and soft ankle boots, having shed his ornate overrobe of black-tissue velvet with white-gold ornamentation. His valet was busy daubing
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