Echoes of Betrayal (45 page)

“Indeed. But it’s like when Stammel was blinded … I blamed myself for that, but it was not my fault, really. Nor yours. You could not have known that Korryn would collude with a renegade Verrakai or that fate would bring him in contact with Stammel again, or with such consequences.”

“Indeed, I’ve wished time and again I’d had him killed,” Valichi said. “But only the gods know all. What I do know is that you’re the king’s vassal … and for the sake of your domain, we would prefer that you not alienate him.”

“I will do my best,” Arcolin said.

V
alichi’s warning proved sound; as soon as Arcolin announced himself to the Royal Guard officer at the gates, he was given an escort to the palace and ushered into the king’s presence.

King Mikeli had matured, Arcolin had noticed last fall at Autumn Court, from the crown prince just past an assassination attempt. But now the king seemed not just older but more strained.

“We have much to discuss,” the king said. “I know you have just arrived, and I will not long delay your rest, but I must know one thing at once: have you had private communication with Duke Verrakai?”

“With Dorrin? She sent word that she had released the cohort Selfer commanded, as she had promised at Autumn Court, and gave the names of those who had chosen to stay with her.”

“Ah. And how many was that?”

“Fifteen, sir king. Older veterans who had no obligation to remain—it had long been Kieri Phelan’s policy that all with more than five years’ service might withdraw between campaign seasons, without their death benefits, and those who served four hands of years might withdraw at any time, taking their benefits.”

“Had they pledged fealty to you? Did you formally release them?”

“No, sir king. I have not seen them since they came south a year ago with Kieri Phelan; he left them at the south border of his land when he came to court. He released them from their oath to him after he arrived in Lyonya. Dorrin—Duke Verrakai—brought them back to Tsaia and hired them to help her carry out your commands.”

“And they pledged to her as their liege?” The king looked down at a paper on his desk.

“No,” Arcolin said again. Surely the king knew this already. “She considered them still part of Phelan’s estate, to be transferred to his successor. She contracted with Selfer, formerly her junior captain, on the same terms as any other employer, for their service. She and I discussed this at the Autumn Evener; I told her I would need that cohort this coming campaign season. She said she would send them on when she got back from Autumn Court; I went on north to confirm my new rank.” Arcolin paused there. Should he go on? Explain every decision that had taken Selfer and the cohort south instead of north for the winter?

“So … they had not given their oaths to you or to me.” The king
sounded disapproving. Arcolin understood: the chain of fealty had a gap, and oathless soldiers were considered virtual outlaws, suspect at best.

“No, sir king, but Selfer is reliable, and I have no doubt that when I get to Valdaire they will.”

The king nodded but was still frowning at the paper in front of him. “Do you know whether any of those who stayed with Duke Verrakai were born Verrakai, bastard or other?”

“Not without reviewing the Company rolls, sir king. We have records of what each one swore when recruited, but those rolls are in the north. Should I send for them?”

The king stroked his beard. “I … am not sure. That is the problem. I am not sure, and my advisors and other lords are not sure. We trusted too much before; we must not trust too much again. There is something uncanny about Duke Verrakai.”

Remembering Dorrin with Stammel last autumn, Arcolin could not argue that. “What is it you fear, sir king?”

The king moved restlessly. “I don’t quite know. She saved my life, that I do know. And I saved hers in return. She is a Knight of Falk, which should mean a person of honor … but how do I know what it really means? A Knight of Gird would be guided by Marshals, who would recognize if … if one turned from Gird’s way to … to something evil. Who has authority over a Knight of Falk? Does that ruby they wear turn to a dull pebble if the Knight goes astray?”

“She said the Marshal-General had visited her and seemed content. And Paks.”

“Yes. In the summer.” The king shifted again in his chair. “I think … I wonder … if the Marshal-General can be … can be so surprised by any virtue in a Verrakai that she would overlook … could be fooled.”

“Paks wouldn’t,” Arcolin said. “What she sees is real; she has the gods’ own light to see it by.”

“I would like to believe Duke Verrakai as honest and loyal as you tell me she is,” the king said, meeting Arcolin’s gaze. “But you must know that some of the other nobles do not trust anyone of that family and do not trust someone who uses magery, as she does. Even the other dukes, who all supported her at my coronation.”

“But they sent their children as squires—”

“Squires, yes. And spies,” the king said. He shifted a little in his chair. “At least Beclan Mahieran was. His father, my uncle, suggested it to me. I agreed, and both his father and I gave the lad his assignment. Keep watch, take note of any use of magery and the circumstances of it. Any sign of honoring evil deities—we didn’t actually think she
was
Liartian, but in that environment, isolated on Verrakai domain, could some other evil influence her? Take note as well of the population, the way they behaved. The number of sound men: she claimed that most had been killed or injured in that battle with the Royal Guard and her cohort, but …”

Arcolin could not keep surprise out of his voice. “But you made her your Constable, to oversee Tsaia’s military readiness, to command in the field. If you didn’t trust her—”

“I did … to a point. And she was the only war-trained person of rank in the kingdom at the time; she had convinced me—and others—that we might face danger from Aarenis as well as from Pargun. You, you recall, were over the mountains, out of contact with us.” The king paused for a moment; Arcolin could think of nothing to say. “And the other thing is, she’s … a woman. A woman as duke … as war-leader …”

“But you’re Girdish,” Arcolin said. “The Marshal-General is a woman. Many Marshals are women.” That burst out before he could stop it, and no “sir king” to soften it.

“Yes. And the Marshal-General, when I mentioned one cause of a general distrust of Dorrin Verrakai, was displeased with what she called our intransigent aristocratic attitudes. But Gird himself allowed Tsaia to retain its monarchy and its aristocracy so long as we obeyed the Code. Which we do. It is only that her being Verrakai, and female, and using magery … that is a lot to swallow.”

“So you set a mere boy to spy on her and hoped that she would slip?”

“And hoped she would prove herself,” the king said. He sighed. “You cannot understand, Count Arcolin, all the pressures on a king. At any rate, at Autumn Court, Beclan reported to me. Reported nothing suspicious or dangerous, except … You yourself saw her perform magery, did you not?”

“Yes—my sergeant had been blinded and invaded by someone we
now know was a Verrakai; he had not died, nor let the other take over, but had it still deep in his soul. She cast it out, destroyed it.”

“What did you think at the time?”

“I had not known he still had the demon or monster inside him; I was shocked when she called it out, relieved that Stammel survived, and saddened that this did not restore his sight.”

“And then came the Pargunese invasion of Lyonya. King Kieri and I established a courier service early in his reign, so I was aware of his concern about the Pargunese. He actually met the Pargunese king before the invasion—did you know that?”

“No, sir king.”

“Their king came to assassinate him because of some ridiculous notion he had about women soldiers and his daughter. However, they parted peacefully—it is a long story, and I do not yet have all of it because of the war. Very shortly after, a Lyonyan courier brought word that the Pargunese had crossed the river. Duke Verrakai’s first dispatch came a few days later—understandable, as she was then at home, two days from Harway. I trusted she would move at once to muster what Verrakai troops she could and proceed there to take command.”

“Did she not?” Arcolin said.

“Indeed. What I did not expect is that in those first chaotic days a royal courier would die on Verrakai lands, killed—she claims—by renegade Verrakaien she had not yet captured. Or that two of her squires would be attacked by more renegade Verrakaien. The youngest suffered crippling injuries and was healed by a Kuakgan, not a Marshal of Gird. There’s a twig where his thumb was, and it moves. His family’s appalled, of course. Now he’s refusing to obey his father and come home.” The king paused and pushed the papers on his desk around for a moment.

“My own cousin Beclan, fourth in succession,” the king continued, “patrolling
her
domain by
her
orders with an escort of
her
former soldiers and Verrakai militia, was caught in a Kuakkgani trap along with those Verrakaien renegades.” The king’s voice had risen; his hands closed into tight fists. “All died but him; he killed them because the Verrakaien took control of them and they would have killed him. Three Verrakaien men, a veteran sergeant of Phelan’s Company, and four Verrakai militia, killed them all. So he says—and
there are no witnesses to gainsay him. But can a stripling, a squire, strike down so many by his own strength and skill?” Arcolin was speechless with shock. This was no rumor hatched by envious counts; the king would have searched out the facts as best he could.

“Holy Gird,” Arcolin murmured at last.

“You see how it looks,” the king said.

“Indeed.” He did not dare say what he was sure the king had thought: a boy Beclan’s age, no matter how talented with the sword, should not have been able to kill that many grown men, not without forbidden magery. And if magery—in the presence of Verrakaien renegades—then the likely explanation was that he had been invaded—against his will or with his cooperation. He was only a boy; he could not have withstood such an attack as that aimed at Stammel. He pushed aside the horror of a member of the royal family harboring a Verrakai magelord and brought up the next topic that came to mind. “Sir king, I had intended to ask the hospitality of Verrakai House; I know she told her house-wards I might stay any time I was in the city—”

“No,” the king said. “I will not risk you in that house, not now. If you trust her, you may house your escort and servants there, but you will stay in the palace.”

He would not be harmed in Dorrin’s house; he knew that. And yet … the king’s words were so very damning.

“We want another analysis of our military situation,” the king said. “You will need to present your ideas about our military situation to those of the Council who are present now. Can you be ready by the day after tomorrow, our next meeting?”

“Yes,” Arcolin said, “if someone has the current figures from the various domains.”

“I’ve had them sent to your chambers. We’ll meet again at dinner.”

Arcolin bowed; a servant led him to a pleasant apartment. A fire crackled on the hearth. He wrote a note to his escort and another to Dorrin’s house-wards.

B
efore dinner, he met Duke Serrostin and Duke Mahieran. “The king has told you about our concerns,” Mahieran said. “You
should know that we had, initially, a favorable impression of Duke Verrakai. You told the king that she had had no contact with her family for years—”

“She had not, my lord,” Arcolin said.

“It was a delicate matter, granting her the title and the domain,” Mahieran went on. “We did not have time, after that assassination attempt, to ask Kieri Phelan about her character. The Council did, of course, send word to him, as well as to her, but we could not wait for the answer. None of us had ever met her. The king relied heavily on your advice.”

“I spoke the truth, my lord,” Arcolin said. “And I’m sure King Kieri said much the same when you did have word from him.”

“That’s so,” Mahieran said. “And so I believed when we did meet her. A very unusual woman, to be sure, with her experience. A bit … intimidating, perhaps, to some of the nobility. Yet frank and open with us, and I very willingly assented to the king’s pardon of her after she killed that Verrakaien who had invaded a groom.”