Authors: Julian May
I must investigate these settlements of my countrymen, Beynor said to himself. He would need human followers -as well as a source of real money. Sorcery could accomplish only so much.
Other thoughts and questions filled his head as he waited, speculations about the Salka Eminences' reaction if he should be accepted as Moss's legitimate ruler, even plans that might let him maintain a foothold in Ironcrown's court if his claim were denied. And then there was Beynor's slippery one-time ally Kilian Blackhorse, architect of the theft of Darasilo's Trove from Cala Palace as well as fellow-instigator of the massacre on the River Malle. How long would it take the cunning old bastard to begin wondering whether Beynor had finally found those missing moonstones?
I'll have to deal with Kilian first of all, the sorcerer decided. But before he could think further about it the door to the little room opened and Duke Ranwing stood there, backed by a dozen of his household knights. All of them wore full armor and held naked swords.
'Be so good as to come with us,' said the duke. 'Our Sovereign and His Majesty King Somarus have granted you an audience.'
Beynor inclined his head and rose from the desk. 'Certainly, my lord.'
'And you must entrust me with your weaponry, messire.'
'Very well.' Smiling, the sorcerer gave over his two daggers, his table-knife, and the Sword of State, which the duke accepted with a respectful nod. Ranwing Boarsden took the lead as the group proceeded to the High King's private chambers, carrying the great blade horizontal in his mailed hands. Beynor came after him, flanked and followed by the knights. The door to the royal sitting room swung open and the duke motioned for Beynor to enter ahead of him.
The place was crowded with at least twenty men wearing hooded crimson robes, doctors of the Mystical Order of Zeth wearing golden gammadion pendants. Each held high a different kind of sorcerous implement - crystals, charms and amulets wrought of many substances, wands, boxes with
mysterious contents, and objects unidentifiable - as though they were gifts presented in salute.
Or talismans elevated to fend off encroaching danger.
The Royal Alchymist stepped forward to confront Beynor as soon as he was admitted. Stergos raised an ornate reliquary that contained one of Emperor Bazekoy's famous blue pearls and intoned: 'All
harmful spells avaunt!'
Beynor was dazzled by a great flash of white light. But since he had attempted no conjuration or other magical activity (and the sigils in his wallet were not yet activated), he was unfazed. Assuming an expression of dignified forbearance, the sorcerer doffed his hat and made a formal obeisance to two men who were almost lost in the mob of alchymists. One of these was tall, blond and stalwart, wearing a red houserobe trimmed with black. The other was grossly overweight, attired in a worn-out gown with a moulting sable collar and cuffs.
'My heartfelt greetings to Your Sovereign Grace and to Your Majesty of Didion. I am Beynor of Moss, once a brother monarch of this island, long exiled but now returned to claim the vacant throne of my nation and offer fealty to the Sovereignty of Blenholme.'
'We'll see about that.’
Ironcrown said, pushing through the Zeth Brethren without ceremony. He stood, fists on hips, surveying the smiling sorcerer from head to toe and back again.
One of the knights smote Beynor on the shoulder with his open hand. 'On your knees before the High King, varlet!'
Beynor stood as unyielding as a stone statue. His gaze was locked upon that of Conrig. 'It would not be proper,' he said mildly, 'since I am also an anointed king.'
'Let be!' said the Sovereign, surprising himself. The supplicant's manner bordered on insolence, but Conrig found himself unable to take offense. There was something about
this man that inspired trust and good will - and another, more puzzling emotion as well. The High King beckoned to Somarus, who lumbered up and gave the visitor an intent glare through narrowed eyes. Conrig said, 'Put our guest to the test, Majesty, in the way we agreed upon.'
Somarus cleared his throat and declaimed: 'At the time of the real Beynor's coronation, when the arriving royal guests from Didion came in procession up the main street of Fenguard Town, several outrageous events occurred. The result was that my late father King Achardus ordered the parade to halt. Then he and I and Crown Prince Honigalus went up to the castle together to demand an explanation. King Beynor offered a plausible excuse. He said his jealous sister Ullanoth had used magic to embarrass him. Then he summarily condemned her to death and offered to let us watch the sentence carried out. The three of us agreed. But first, we said, we wanted to take care of another matter.
What was it?
Beynor's lips twitched with repressed amusement but he spoke gravely. 'As a result of Ullanoth's cruel trick, you three royal personages were splattered from helmet to heel-spur in the ordure of seagulls. You wished to clean off the bird-shite before viewing the evil witch's come-uppance.'
Somarus turned to Conrig with a short nod. 'He's got it. And only Beynor and my father and brother and I shared that conversation . . . This fellow looks like Beynor, too, given adjustments for serious wear and tear and the passage of long years. Although he seems not nearly as obnoxious and arrogant as the boy-king of yore.'
'Wear and tear and exile,' Beynor observed, 'tend to round off the sharp edges of the personality. I'm older and, I hope, wiser.'
'And are you still a sorcerer?' Conrig asked. His tone was neutral. 'I've heard that you were cursed by the Great Lights.'
'The rumor is not entirely accurate. My arcane powers have been diminished by hardship, but I am still capable of exercising moderate talent.' He nodded pleasantly at Stergos. 'The Reverend Doctor Arcanorum is undoubtedly much more powerful than I. And perhaps certain others here in the castle also.'
King Somarus hoisted a single eyebrow. 'Such as my Lord Chancellor, Kilian Blackhorse?'
'That I cannot say.' Beynor turned back to Conrig. 'As I approached this castle, I noted that your Sovereign banner bears four crowns, not three. In your own heraldry, the Conjure-Kingdom of Moss still lives. So - will you accept my legitimacy and my avowal of fealty?'
Conrig glanced at the King of Didion, who gave a minimal shrug and said, 'It's him. I'd bet my goolies on it. But who can say whether the pitiful survivors of his devastated land will accept him? If they agree, it might be prudent for the Sovereignty to do likewise.'
'No,' said Conrig Ironcrown softly. 'If
I
accept him, then his erstwhile subjects must!' He turned to the duke, who still carried Beynor's Sword of State. 'My lord, give the great blade to me.'
'Sire.' Ranwing handed it over.
Conrig flourished the glittering weapon. Admiring murmurs came from the assemblage. To Beynor, he said, 'Kneel!' And then: 'Do you vow fealty to the benevolent Sovereignty of High Blenholme and accept its High King, Conrig Wincantor, as your liege lord?'
'I do.'
Conrig tapped the kneeling sorcerer on each shoulder with the flat of the blade. 'Inasmuch as a former ruler of Moss has already acknowledged vassalage in the Sovereignty, it pleases me to affirm you, Beynor ash Linndal, as lawful Conjure-King of that nation, which is now occupied by Salka invaders.
In the fullness of time, the Sovereignty will see these vile interlopers vanquished and cast out of Moss. On that happy day, when you return to your kingdom in triumph, may you reign justly and prosperously.' There was a brief patter of applause. 'You may rise.'
Beynor climbed to his feet and accepted the return of his sword, which he sheathed with care. Both Conrig and Somarus embraced him with a certain reserve, after which the High King said, 'We're having a feast tonight. The betrothal of my son to Somarus's daughter. Do you want to come?'
A polite nod. 'It would be an honor and a pleasure, my liege.'
'You should know that it's our custom to come unarmed to formal dinners,' Conrig said, 'save for personal table-cutlery. You should also know that the incantation pronounced earlier by Lord Stergos will continue to nullify any harmful sorcery you may be tempted to use.'
‘I understand.' Beynor was perfectly at ease. 'Please accept my heartfelt assurance that I come here in peace.'
'Most gratifying.' Ironcrown then raised his voice, silencing the murmuring throng of alchymists and knights. 'This audience is now at an end. My lord duke, your men will form a guard of honor for our new royal guest. Let them make certain that His Majesty the Conjure-King is well accommodated. My Royal Alchymist, Lord Stergos, will join them to escort King Beynor to the betrothal ceremony at the proper hour.'
Boarsden smote his breastplate in salute, formed up the knights with a sweeping gesture of command, and led Beynor out of the room.
When they were gone, Conrig beckoned to Stergos, speaking low. 'You're certain that Mossbelly villain will be unable to harm any of us with sorcery?'
The alchymist opened the precious reliquary and gave his royal brother another glimpse of Bazekoy's blue pearl. 'This is the most powerful quencher of evil spells in Saint Zeth's arsenal. You may recall how it defeated our treasonous Uncle Kilian when we came to arrest him. The pearl has limitations, of course, which I didn't think fit to mention to Beynor. But so long as he remains within these castle walls, he can perform no sorcery with a purpose that is manifestly evil.'
The High King laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. 'I'll rely on you to keep a close eye on him, Gossy - especially at the betrothal feast tonight. I'll have other things on my mind.'
'As to that, Prince Heritor Orrion has arrived at the castle. He begs permission to confer briefly with you.'
'God's Teeth! If he thinks to plead with me to change my decision at this late hour -'
'That's not what's on his mind at all,' Stergos said in a soothing tone. 'Talk to him, Con. It's very important.'
'I'll give him fifteen minutes,' the king said ungraciously. 'And now I'll thank you to leave me alone so I can sort out my thoughts.' He jerked a thumb at the throng of Zeth Brethren, who were still engaged in animated discussion of Beynor's reinstatement. 'And take this lot of jabbering magickers along with you!'
* * *
Far to the north, where the Beacon River flowed into the Icebear Channel separating High Blenholme Island from the Barren Lands, the retreating army of the Salka emerged from the river delta into the sea and split into two divergent columns of swimmers.
The first and smaller contingent turned eastward, staying near the surface and close to the rugged Didion coast with little attempt at concealment. As the great amphibians traveled, they greedily snapped up the saltwater fishes that had
been missing from their diet during their tedious inland sojourn, littering the surface of the water with leftover bits of flesh that attracted hovering flocks of noisy seabirds.
The second group, which outnumbered the first by over two hundred to one, swam more rapidly and stayed deep beneath the waves. After heading directly north into open waters for nearly fifty leagues, with keen-talented rangers patrolling the route and warning of predatory animals or human ships, these Salka altered their course in a westerly direction toward the Lavalands Peninsula, the first leg in their long journey to Terminal Bay.
They swam steadily but without undue haste and expected to arrive at their destination within two weeks... or less.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
The three princes waited for Stergos to return to his rooms. They had no idea why the alchymist had been summoned so suddenly by the High King, save that it had nothing to do with them.
Orrion had rewrapped the end of his truncated arm in bandages in preparation for the hoped-for audience with his father. He stood apart from the others, staring out of the solarium window and wondering whether he would ever see Nyla again. Vra-Bramlow sat at the round table with Corodon, studying his brother's moonstone souvenir with his deep-scrying windtalent.
'I detect nothing remarkable about this rock of yours,' the novice Brother said. 'It's not even flawless.'
'The chunks and slabs of the stuff that formed the Demon Seat throne weren't flawless, either,' Coro reminded him, 'yet they glowed with a weird radiance and summoned the Lords of the Sky readily enough when Orry touched them. I'll wager this bit of mineral could do the same.'
'If you think to do silly experiments with it,' Bram said matter-of-factly, 'then give up your hope of being Prince Heritor, and be prepared to look up from the Hell of Ice to
see Dyfrig Beorbrook named heir to the throne - or else our depraved cousin Feribor Blackhorse, if young Dyfrig is unable to keep him at bay! The moonstone sigils have killed persons who make frivolous requests. Conjure-Queen Ullanoth died merely because she used sigil sorcery too often. Her mother Taspiroth was tortured to death and sent to hell for misusing one of the stones - no one knows how! The Beaconfolk won't stand being trifled with.'
'I'd never trifle in matters concerning my future crown.' Corodon picked up the mineral, wrapped it again in his kerchief, and put it away. 'I'm not such a fool as you may think.'
'Just remember that the demons ask a terrible price for their magical favors, little brother. Be sure you're willing to pay it.'
The younger prince cocked his handsome head. 'I could ask the price first, then decide whether the favor was worth it. Orry was satisfied with
his
bargain!'
The novice shook his head. 'Coro, you're talking like a child. How can I make you understand -'
The door to the solar opened and the Royal Alchymist entered. 'Nephews, I've just come from the Sovereign's chambers. Something quite bizarre just happened. Conjure-King Beynor of Moss has reappeared after dropping out of sight for nearly two decades. He came to the gate of Boarsden Castle, cool as a dill pickle, and declared himself. Both your father and King Somarus decided to accept him as legitimate after putting him to the test.'
The princes began to ask excited questions.
Stergos waved his hand to silence them and addressed himself to Orrion. 'The High King will be greatly distracted as he considers the implications of this event. We may hope that his anger towards you will be diminished as a consequence. Come along with me now, lad. I've told your father that you wish to discuss a weighty matter but said little else.