By Schism Rent Asunder (72 page)

“The terms are what they are, My Lord,” Cayleb replied after a moment. “I won't deny I was strongly tempted to be … less generous. But vengeance for past enmities is a petty thing, and a poisonous one. There are far more things happening in the world these days than the traditional squabbling and sparring between Emerald and Charis. Those things leave no time for our small, local disputes, and I don't propose to leave any festering cankers to poison all of us when we confront the greatest challenge of our lives. Her Majesty and I didn't offer these terms because of how much we love you; we offered them out of a realistic understanding of the need to make reliable allies out of past enemies in the face of the threat represented by the Group of Four.”

“The fact that generous terms may also be wise makes them no less generous, Your Majesty,” Nahrmahn said.

“Perhaps not. But now it's time to deal with those formalities.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Nahrmahn gave his wife's hand a last, unobtrusive squeeze, then released it and stepped forward to the waiting cushion. That cushion's placement was an indication of just how much things had changed. It wasn't directly in front of Cayleb's throne. Instead, it was placed between the two thrones, and as he went to his knees on it, Archbishop Maikel held out a gold and gem-clasped copy of
The Holy Writ
. The prince kissed the book's cover, then laid his right hand upon it while he looked up into Cayleb's and Sharleyan's eyes.

“I, Nahrmahn Hanbyl Graim Baytz, do swear allegiance and fealty to Emperor Cayleb and Empress Sharleyan of Charis,” he said speaking clearly and distinctly, “to be their true man, of heart, will, body, and sword. To do my utmost to discharge my obligations and duty to them, to their Crowns, and to their House, in all ways, as God shall give me the ability and the wit so to do. I swear this oath without mental or moral reservation, and I submit myself to the judgment of the Emperor and Empress and of God Himself for the fidelity with which I honor and discharge the obligations I now assume before God and this company.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Cayleb laid his hand atop Nahrmahn's on the
Writ
, and Sharleyan laid
her
hand atop Cayleb's.

“And we, Cayleb Zhan Haarahld Bryahn Ahrmahk and Sharleyan Ahdel Alahnah Ahrmahk, do accept your oath,” Cayleb replied steadily. “We will extend protection against all enemies, loyalty for fealty, justice for justice, fidelity for fidelity, and punishment for oath-breaking. May God judge us and ours as He judges you and yours.”

For an endless moment, all three of them looked into one another's eyes at the heart of a profound stillness. And then, finally, Cayleb smiled crookedly.

“And now, My Lord, you should probably stand up. I believe you and I—and Her Grace—have quite a bit that needs discussing.”

*   *   *

It had not, Prince Nahrmahn reflected as he gazed out of the window of his family's sumptuous suite at the clouds welling up above the Styvyn Mountains to the west, lit with the crimson and gold fire of sunset, been the sort of day he'd once looked forward to spending in Tellesberg. In one way, it was a great relief. He'd come out of the conflict with a crown still on his head, even if its authority had been rather severely diminished, and with a close familial relationship with what bade fair to become one of the most—if not
the
most—powerful dynasties in the history of Safehold. On the other hand, it was probably at least as likely that the dynasty in question, to which his and his family's fortune was now inescapably tied, would find itself exterminated by a vengeful Church. And, he acknowledged to himself, there was also that other minor bit about who he'd expected to be swearing fealty to whom.

“I think I rather like them, actually,” a voice said from behind him, and he turned from the window to face Ohlyvya.

“I presume you're referring to our new sovereign lord and lady?” he said, with a slightly crooked smile, and she snorted.

“Actually, I was referring to the second and third under cooks!” she said, and he laughed.

“I never really
disliked
Cayleb or his father, my dear. They were adversaries, and I'll admit—if only to you—that I found their persistence in surviving everything Hektor or I attempted rather trying, upon occasion. But it was never
personal
for me the way it was for Hektor. Although, to be totally fair,” his smile faded slightly, “given my involvement in efforts to eliminate both of them, I'm astonished that Cayleb
appears
to cherish so little animosity.”

“I don't think either of them do ‘cherish' much animosity,” she said seriously.

One of Nahrmahn's eyebrows rose, but he only waited for her to complete her thought. Ohlyvya Baytz was a very intelligent woman. More than that, she was the one person in the entire world Nahrmahn trusted without any reservation. Like Cayleb's and Sharleyan's, theirs had been an arranged marriage of state, but it had become far more than that over the years, and Nahrmahn had often wished it had been possible to name Ohlyvya to his official Royal Council. That, unfortunately, had been out of the question, but that hadn't prevented him from listening very carefully to her on the infrequent occasions when she'd offered an opinion.

And
, he thought,
now that we have an Empress who's also a queen in her own right, naming a woman to a mere prince's council probably just got a lot more possible, didn't it?

“I'm not saying either of them exactly loves you yet, dear,” she continued now, with a ghost of a smile, and reached up to lay one hand against his cheek. “I'm sure that once they get to know all the sterling qualities hiding under that shy and modest exterior of yours they'll
come
to love you, but in the meantime, there are those minor matters of assassination attempts and wars.”

“Assassination attempts?” Nahrmahn did his very best to look totally innocent … with a notable lack of success.

“Oh, don't be silly, Nahrmahn!” Ohlyvya scolded. “Despite your best efforts to ‘protect me' from the sordid realities, I have heard all the rumors about that assassination attempt on Cayleb, you know. And even though I love you as both my husband and the father of my children, I've never cherished any illusions about the seriousness with which you played ‘the great game,' I think you've called it.”

This time Nahrmahn's eyes widened in genuine surprise. Ohlyvya had seldom expressed herself quite so bluntly. And she was right about at least one thing. He truly had attempted to shield her from the frequently distasteful and unpleasant decisions he'd found himself compelled to make as a player of the game.

Let's be honest with ourselves here
, Nahrmahn, he told himself.
Yes, you were “compelled” to make some of those decisions, but the real reason you played the game was because you enjoyed it so much. Unfortunately, you didn't end up winning it … although I suppose I could also argue that I haven't exactly
lost
it yet, either.

Something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression, because his wife shook her head.

“I'm not complaining, Nahrmahn. There have been times I've been
tempted
to complain, that's true. In fact, there have been more than a few times when I wanted to kick you smartly in the posterior. On the whole, though, I've been able to tell myself—honestly, I think—that most of the things you've done, including the ones that have caused me the greatest concern for the state of your soul, came about as a result of the situations you faced. Conflict between Emerald and Charis, for example, was probably inevitable, whatever you wanted, just because of geography.

“But,” she continued very seriously, looking into his eyes so that he could see the truth in hers, “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't rather relieved at the way it finally worked out. I know our parents never expected it, Nahrmahn, but I truly do love you, you know. And I love our children. Knowing Cayleb isn't going to be looking for your head, or seeing the boys as a threat that needs to be … dealt with, takes an enormous weight off of my mind and heart.”

Nahrmahn raised his left hand, cupping its palm over the hand still on his cheek. His right hand reached out to settle on the back of her neck and draw her forward as he leaned to meet her until their foreheads touched. It wasn't often she expressed her feelings for him that clearly, and he closed his eyes for a moment while he savored it.

“It doesn't end here, you know,” he told her then, his voice low. “Cayleb was right when he told Trahvys this is only the beginning. By siding with Cayleb, I've sided against the Temple, and Clyntahn's a far more vindictive enemy than Cayleb could ever be. Not to mention the fact that the Church controls many times the resources, wealth, and manpower Cayleb does, even with Chisholm added to this new ‘empire' of his.”

“Clyntahn is a bigoted, fornicating, self-serving, gluttonous, wine-swilling, sanctimonious pig with delusions of godhood and a self-righteous sense of zealotry,” Ohlyvya said flatly, with a venom Nahrmahn had never heard from her before.

He blinked in surprise at hearing it now and drew back far enough to look into her eyes once more. She looked back without flinching, and he saw a fire burning behind them. One he'd never suspected might be there … which was an oversight for which he would find it hard to forgive himself.

“I'm not exactly
blind
, you know, dear,” she told him tartly. “But my point at the moment is that someone like Clyntahn would have a hard enough time standing up to Cayleb and Sharleyan by themselves. With you added to the mix, that pig in Zion is as overmatched as I'd be trying to arm wrestle that Captain Athrawes of Cayleb's!”

Despite himself, Nahrmahn smiled. She glared at him for a moment, and then she chuckled and leaned forward, resting her cheek against his chest.

“I know you've never thought of yourself as the very image of the dashing warrior prince, love,” she said. “Well, neither have I. But I've always thought of you as something rather more important than that—someone who looks at the future and his own responsibilities without flinching and without deluding himself. And while I'd never want you to get a swelled head over it, you're also one of the
smartest
men I know.”

“If I'm so smart, then why did I just end up swearing fealty to Cayleb, instead of the other way around?” he asked in a half-jesting tone.

“I didn't say you were infallible, dear; just smart. Besides, to use that charming idiom your son has picked up from those dreadful novels of his, you can only play the cards you're dealt. I believe someone's just offered you an entirely new deck, though. And from what I've seen of you this time around, I don't think you're even tempted to try dealing off the bottom.”

“Not anymore,” he acknowledged, then shook his head, half in wry amusement and half in bemused disbelief. “Even if I were tempted—which, to my own considerable surprise, I'm not—it would be incredibly stupid of me. There aren't any bridges back to Zion now, love, and there's no way I could possibly take over and maintain the core of opposition to the Temple which Cayleb's been able to put together. Trying to betray him at this point would be like deciding to cut the throat of your best helmsman in the middle of a hurricane. And I'm very much afraid”—his smile was tart enough to sour milk—“that this voyage is going to be long enough that I'll be completely out of practice before things ever get stabilized enough for me to contemplate any sort of treachery.”

“Good.” She nestled more firmly against him. “Good,” she repeated.

“Do you know,” he said softly, bending to kiss the part of her hair, “I believe I agree with you.”

*   *   *

The clouds of the evening before had turned into a solid, dark gray overcast. Rain slashed down from the wet charcoal heavens, beating on the roof of Tellesberg Palace, rushing down gutters and downspouts, gurgling down the drainage channels beside the capital's roads. Commerce in Tellesberg never stopped, of course. Even during the recent war against the Group of Four's cat's-paws, the purely local shipping of Howell Bay had kept a fair amount of freight moving and the ships to carry it busy. Now that the oceans of the entire world were once again open to Charisian galleons, the waterfront's activity had resumed its normal frenetic level. Even while rain pounded down, lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled, the heavy freight wagons—most drawn by dragons, although here and there a smaller wagon drawn by horses or mules moved down the smaller, narrower streets—continued to flow.

Prince Nahrmahn was impressed. As he stood at the open window of the small, private council chamber looking out into the rain, he saw the visual evidence of the prosperity and industry which made the Kingdom of Charis so much more dangerous a foe than the simple size of its population might have suggested.

The door opened behind him, and he turned from the window as Bynzhamyn Raice, Baron Wave Thunder, entered the chamber.

“Your Highness,” King—
no
, Nahrmahn corrected himself,
Emperor
—Cayleb's senior spy said with a bow.

“My Lord,” Nahrmahn replied with something much closer to a nod than a bow.

“First, I'd like to thank you for making the time available to meet with me,” Wave Thunder continued as the two of them walked to the smallish but beautifully polished conference table at the center of the chamber.

“I suspect His Majesty would probably have insisted if I'd proven difficult, My Lord.” Nahrmahn chuckled. “I'm quite familiar with the process of …‘debriefing,' I believe Baron Shandyr calls it. And in all fairness, His Majesty was quite polite about ‘suggesting' I sit down for a short chat with you. Obviously, if there's anything I can tell you, I'm at His Majesty's service and yours.”