Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (20 page)

Galloran stood, as did the others around the table. “If all proceeds as you describe, I look forward to our partnership leading Trensicourt into a brighter future.”

Copernum nodded at the others in turn, his gaze lingering longest on Rachel. She found a wary respect in his eyes.

Kerick led Copernum’s horse from the stall. The chancellor put on his cloak, adjusted his hood, and mounted up. He bid them farewell and departed into the rainy night.

Rachel finally relaxed as Copernum passed out of sight. If the choice were hers, she hoped never to see him again.

Galloran replaced his blindfold. The incessant patter of rainfall had receded into white noise during the meeting, but it gained renewed prominence in the silence. An unseen horse in one of the stalls stamped and whinnied.

“All clear,” called a voice from above, startling Rachel. She looked up and saw Nedwin dangling from a rafter, the length of his body reducing the drop to less than eight feet. He let go and landed on the floor in a crouch.

“I didn’t know you were up there,” Rachel said.

“That was the idea,” Nedwin replied, crossing to Galloran. “My task was to monitor our guests. I took up my position just after the meeting began.”

“We never agreed to your entering the stable,” Galloran said.

“I had to hear,” Nedwin said. “I stayed quiet. You didn’t want Copernum to see me. He never saw me.”

“I didn’t want you to see him,” Galloran responded. “That could not have been easy.”

Nedwin forced a smile. There was no warmth in it. Rachel could understand. Copernum had held Nedwin prisoner and tortured him for years. Copernum had also harmed Nedwin’s family, stealing away his elder brother’s title by defeating him in a battle of wits. “I’ll tell you what was easy—the negotiation. Much too easy.”

“Happy to install me as king so he can betray me later?” Galloran asked.

“Sounded that way,” Kerick said. “After issuing all those pardons, you’ll be surrounded by enemies. The majority of your ruling class will be spying for Felrook.”

“Agreed,” Galloran said. “Fortunately, I don’t intend to wage this war with secrets. Nor do I intend to remain in Trensicourt for long. I need Trensicourt for manpower. My faith is in the prophecy. Once I am crowned, all my effort will go into mobilizing for war.”

“To that end you need control of the kingdom,” Nedwin said. “Quickly and without bloodshed.”

“To leave evil men unpunished and in positions of power is a grievous cost,” Galloran said heavily. “The injustice sickens me. Yet I see no alternative. Not given our time frame and our goals.”

“Rotten apples stay spoiled,” Nedwin said. “Copernum and his allies will hang themselves with future crimes.”

“Let’s hope those crimes aren’t the end of us,” Bartley added.

“The viscount has a point,” Galloran said. “We can’t be too careful over the coming weeks. Including tonight. Our location and numbers have been observed by the most dangerous man in the current government. A surprise attack is possible. Stormy or not, we should make haste to our next temporary residence.”

Rachel sighed softly. It would be nice to stay here, warm and dry, at least for the night. But she supposed that if staying elsewhere might prevent them from being slaughtered in their sleep, she probably shouldn’t complain.

CHAPTER
5

A
cold rain sheeted down relentlessly, pattering against the roof of the old storage shed and making the puddles outside appear to boil. Seated on a wooden cask, Rachel drew her cloak closer about herself to help against the chill. Across the yard three lanterns hanging under the eaves of the stable brightened the rainy night.

Beside her sat Galloran, blindfold in place, his sheathed sword resting across his knees. At her other hand crouched Bartley of Wershon. Yesterday the husky viscount had been full of blustering bravado. Today he was much more subdued, rubbing his lips regularly as he stared soberly outside.

Rachel noticed her fingers trembling. Was it the cold or her nerves? She tightened her hands into fists. Weeks of travel and anticipation had led to this night. Much time and effort could be saved if the meeting went well.

“They’re late,” Bartley whispered.

Rachel had only seen the viscount briefly on the day when Jason had faced Chancellor Copernum in a battle of wits. But she knew that he had helped Jason. And according to Brin and Nicholas,
he had quietly proven very useful ever since Jason had departed Trensicourt months ago. At present he had really stuck his neck out, offering his estate as the location of the upcoming meeting.

“Tardiness is probably a good sign,” Galloran said. “If this were an ambush, they would have taken care to be prompt.”

“Instead they elect to insult us?” Bartley asked softly.

“The weather is harsh tonight,” Galloran replied calmly.

Tark suddenly ducked into the storeroom, water streaming from his cloak. “I saw the signal. Three quick flashes, evenly spaced.”

“Then our guests approach as requested,” Galloran replied. “No evidence of foul play.”

“Aye,” Tark confirmed, and slipped away into the darkness.

Rachel knew that Nedwin, Ferrin, Brin, and Nollin were scouting the area. Tark and Io were stationed in a neighboring outbuilding with horses ready for a getaway. They had worked hard to defend against a potential ambush. The visitors thought the meeting was taking place up the slope at the manor. At the last moment one of Bartley’s sentries would divert them to the lower stable, where Kerick awaited to greet them.

After riding hard from the jungle’s edge to the outer boundaries of Trensicourt, Rachel had spent two days living in a remote barn while Nedwin arranged the particulars for this meeting. Yesterday morning, before sunrise, she and her friends had arrived at the Wershon estate to temporarily take up residence in a large mill at one corner of the property. If this meeting went well, she might sleep in comfort before much longer.

“You’re sure you want me at the meeting?” Rachel asked.

“Certain,” Galloran replied. “These are men accustomed to solving problems through negotiation, but they will not be eager to surrender the kingdom. We must appear strong. A talented Edomic adept is a unique and intimidating weapon. Remember,
if the opportunity arises, show your power by exerting control over them. Petrify them, put them on the ground—anything to make them feel vulnerable. The talent to command men is extremely rare and bespeaks a deep reservoir of power.”

“All right,” Rachel said, trying to sound like somebody he could rely on. Did Galloran suspect how terrified it made her to think that the outcome of this meeting might depend on how intimidating she seemed? Was he hearing her insecurities as she thought them? Maybe his attention was elsewhere. Or maybe he was kind enough to pretend he couldn’t sense her anxiety.

Rachel noticed Bartley warily eyeing her acolyte robe through the gap in her cloak. At least they seemed to have an effect on him. He turned his attention back out the door and softly cleared his throat. “A lone rider approaches.”

“We invited three guests,” Galloran said. “Have they only sent a messenger?”

Rachel watched the hooded rider pull up to the stable, dismount, and lead his steed below the overhanging eaves. Not far from one of the dangling lanterns, Kerick approached the man and engaged him in conversation. After words were exchanged, Kerick took the reins and gestured for the man to enter the stable. He then faced away from the storage shed where Rachel hid and waved his arm twice over his head.

“There’s the signal,” Bartley whispered. “I suppose this means at least one of them came.”

“How could they resist?” Galloran asked. “Trensicourt is currently run by strategists and compromisers, not men of action. Strategists need information. Compromisers require meetings. They had to send someone.”

“Strategists also like traps,” Bartley added. “These compromisers have an untrustworthy reputation.”

Galloran gave a nod. “We’ll remain on guard. Rachel, at the first sign of trouble, don’t be afraid to use force.”

Rachel told herself that she had trained for this. She had used Edomic in dicey situations before. But she had only commanded a person under pressure the night Kalia had attacked. Those commands had been urgent and reflexive. This would be a different sort of challenge: commanding a powerful enemy to prove a point. Would she be able to get it right?

Rachel raised the hood of her heavy cloak and took Galloran by the hand. She led him out into the downpour, with Bartley close behind and Io joining them. Rachel kept her eyes on the stable, but there was little to see. Kerick and the visitor had disappeared inside. Rain drummed against her hood. She tried to help Galloran avoid the worst puddles. By the time they reached the overhanging roof of the stable, their boots were caked with mud.

As Rachel led Galloran through the entryway, she got her first clear look at the visitor. An open area before the stalls had been swept, and a large table had been brought in. Food awaited, and drink. The smell of fresh rolls mingled with the inevitable odors of pent-up horses.

The visitor stood near the table. Tall and thin with stooped shoulders, he had a prominent, bony nose and wore a stern expression. A dagger hung from his belt, but no other weapon was apparent. He had hung his cloak on a peg and had replaced his hood with a large tricornered hat.

“Who has come?” Galloran whispered.

“Chancellor Copernum,” Bartley and Rachel murmured in unison.

Kerick had led Copernum’s large steed into a stall and was now rubbing it down. Copernum regarded the four newcomers in silence, his body still, his alert eyes in constant motion.

His gaze made Rachel uncomfortable. He was renowned for his clever mind. He had tried to have Jason killed.

“Welcome, Chancellor,” Galloran said, doing his best to sound upbeat with his raspy voice, ruined by the same caustic powder that had blinded him. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“How could I ignore an opportunity to meet the renowned heir to Trensicourt?” Copernum replied dryly. “Bartley, good of you to host the evening, although the accommodations leave something to be desired.”

“Lay the blame on me,” Galloran insisted as Rachel led him to the table. “The viscount offered his home. Considering the purpose of our discussion, I opted for discretion over comfort.”

“An option to which you have undoubtedly grown accustomed,” Copernum replied.

Io took Galloran’s wet cloak. Galloran sat down, and Copernum mirrored him on the far side of the table. “I have endured some trying years,” Galloran agreed amiably, as if missing the condescension behind the remark.

“I’m afraid I don’t know your companions,” Copernum said.

Io collected Rachel’s cloak.

“This is Rachel, a Beyonder and a skilled Edomic adept,” Galloran said.

Copernum turned his shrewd eyes to her with sudden interest. “She wears the robe of the oracles.”

Galloran had suggested she wear the fine robe because it might make her appear more impressive. She hoped she wouldn’t come across as an imposter instead.

“Rachel has trained with multiple masters,” Galloran said. “The man hanging our cloaks is Io, future chief of the wild clan of drinlings. And you met Kerick, of the Amar Kabal, who is tending to your horse.”

“You travel with quite a menagerie,” Copernum said.

“You came alone,” Galloran replied.

Copernum nodded, picking up a dark roll and cracking it open. “The invitation did not allow for bodyguards. The Grand Duke of Edgemont sends his regards, as does the regent.” He took a bite.

“Was the weather too much for them?” Galloran asked.

“They have empowered me to speak on their behalf,” Copernum answered. “You have a reputation of impeccable honor, but years in Felrook have been known to alter a man. The duke and the regent did not feel it was prudent for the three of us to meet unguarded in a place of your choosing.”

“Regrettable, but I understand,” Galloran said.

Copernum poured himself a drink and took a sip. “Tell me: Why, after all these years, has the Blind King decided to come out of hiding?” The comment was clearly meant to imply that Copernum had known all along that Galloran was concealed in plain sight as the Blind King. Rachel supposed it was possible, since Maldor had known, and Copernum reportedly had strong connections with Felrook.