fortress of dragons.html (22 page)

He comes straight from Tasmôrden's court with a letter."

"Tasmôrden's court," Ninévrisë said scornfully. "
Tasmôrden
has a court! Indeed!"

"Your Grace." It was the first time Ryssand had turned conciliatory toward Ninévrisë—his desperation was a remarkable sight, and perhaps it was even a true sentiment he expressed, insofar as the lord of Ryssand might have recognized that the Lady Regent of Elwynor represented a potent force in the Crown's camp, one it was more expedient to deal with—certainly should Tasmôrden's proposal see acceptance, he would have to deal with her in the future. And should Artisane marry into the royal family Ninévrisë was the power over the women's court. His reasons were clear enough.

"Your Grace," Ryssand said mildly to Ninévrisë, "he has an army."

"An army bought and paid for," Idrys interjected sharply. "My lord king, this is no respectable lord: they're scoundrels. Mercenaries with fortress of dragons.html

no stake in the lands they are stealing, bandits, some of them
within
this so-named court."

"As the Lord Commander objects," Ryssand answered, "there are irregular elements. But an army nonetheless, and with that army Tasmôrden sits in Ilefínian, which is a fact. He holds a court there—

whether legitimate or illegitimate, I leave it to others to say."

"I do not admit it," Ninévrisë said, and Ryssand reprised, refusing to be shaken from his point.

"But
that
he held court there enabled him to receive Earl Cuthan when he fled Ylesuin. And through Cuthan, who alone of his resources could pass our borders alive—merely a courier, Your Majesty!—he sends a convincing offer of peace."

"Convincing," Idrys echoed dubiously.

"Hear him," Efanor said, and said so just as Ryssand drew a large breath in anger. He had to let it go and reprise in a mild, a reasonable voice.

"Thank you, Your Highness. I am honor-bound to lay this letter before His Majesty, for the good of Ylesuin, and pray to do so."

"Peace with Tasmôrden?" Cefwyn said. "I think not."

"Your Majesty, I have brought the letter. Only hear it."

"A letter to me?"

Ryssand hesitated. "A letter which Earl Cuthan was authorized to unseal—"

"A letter from a scoundrel, unsealed by a scoundrel!"

"So that I would know its import to bring it to Your Majesty!"

"You allowed the opening of a sealed letter," Idrys said, and by now sweat stood on Ryssand's face.

It was time to have the content of it. Cefwyn waved a negligent hand.

"The letter is compromised, but no less so than the source and the letter-bearer. We will
hear
it, since you've read it, in its Principle details and as best you remember it. I will not entertain Earl Cuthan in my hall, a man who has betrayed his own brother lords and connived with a man recommended to
me
as honest—" He had no need to say that it had been Murandys who had recommended fortress of dragons.html

the appointment. He only shot Duke Prichwarrin a burningly resentful glance… and at the same time found it noteworthy that Prichwarrin did not stand immediately next his former ally in this; moment of peril, but rather over against the nearer column, as far as he dared remove himself from the area. "A man who turned out to be a common thief and a liar, besides. A man who ordered the murder of surrendered and disarmed noblemen. What a pedigree for this business!"

"Your Majesty." Ryssand was not finding it easy going, his immediate plan overset, his witnesses disallowed. "I pray you hear the exact words…"

"Tasmôrden's? As if they were sacred writ? As if any letter the bearer could unseal at will is proof in itself? I find all our enemy's arrangements curious. If Cuthan could pass our border at will—why come to you, a league and more to the north? Why not send to
me
, for the good gods' love? Why this care to have it in
your
hands, pray?"

"The enemy knows Her Grace's presence in the court and feared lest the letter—"

Well struck. "Don't say it!" Cefwyn burst out. "Don't
dare
to suggest—"

"Your Majesty!" Ryssand cried, "not my suspicion at all, I assure you, but rather the imagination of our enemy—"

"A lie," Ninévrisë said. "Lies and deception are old allies of his."

"Nonetheless, Your Grace, Your Majesty, if you will hear his proposal—Tasmôrden is prepared to make peace with Ylesuin, and to agreed that the Lady Regent rules in the districts east of Ilefínian, granting to her the title of Queen of Elwynor, granting to the king of Ylesuin the district northward, and agreeing for himself to the titles and honors of the King of Ilefínian and High and Lower Saissond."

A woman who was a fool, perhaps, might have leapt up in rage and tears and lost her case with a people never in the least enthusiastic about their king's foreign war and foreign bride, and for such a response Ryssand undoubtedly hoped.

Such a response the man who had raised Artisane would undoubtedly expect.

But Ninévrisë was not such a fool. She sat, chin on fist, staring at this fortress of dragons.html

recital.

"Ridiculous," Cefwyn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The man consorts with
sorcery
! He claims a kingship, in Elwynor, where prophecy claims a High King will rise against us! Gods save us, Ryssand! To what do you counsel us? To give this snake a lair from which to breed and strike at our heart?"

"By no means sorcery, Your Majesty!"

"Oh?" Cefwyn asked in mock mildness. "And who informs us of that?"

"Your Majesty, his own words… if Your Majesty will read his letter…"

"Damn his letter! Word from a heretic!"

"Quite the contrary, in a land rife with the old ways, he contends
against
the dark arts which sustained the Regency—"

Now Ninévrisë' did move, drew herself up with a breath. "There is a
lie
, sir."

"The Regency depended on wizardry," Ryssand said in a rush, "as the Lord Regent was a wizard, no less than Aséyneddin's ally—"

"A great deal less than Aséyneddin's ally!" Ninévrisë cried. "Who was a sorcerer!"

"Yet this man struggles against the remnants of Aséyneddin's forces
and
Caswyddian's, your enemies, Your Grace, which have kept the land in turmoil. He struggles against a rise of the old powers—against the far greater threat from across the Lenúalim, where contrary to Your Majesty's law, the old Sihhë
walls
are rising and a claimant exists to the High Kingship…"

Corswyndam of Ryssand was dangerous and quick. They already knew that. He delivered a telling shot and Cefwyn lost no time in returning fire, with a slam of the royal fist on the arm of the Dragon Throne.

"You are
deceived
, Ryssand. Dangerously deceived. Good gods, I had thought a man of your years would see it!"

"I am not so deceived, Your Majesty!"

"What, and bring me a murderer and a thief to swear to Tasmôrden's character? It seems apt, but hardly persuasive! And you take his fortress of dragons.html

word, above your own king's? What are we come to? And wherein do foreign powers write
you
letters and send
you
my messages as if you were—what, a
king
?"

'If Your Majesty please, only listen to an agreement which may save the realm from great, from incalculable danger! The war Her Wace urges can only cast more and more power into the south, where the dukes of Ivanor, Lanfarnesse, Imor, and Amefel have raised an army, and authorized fortifications your grandfather ordered demolished.

This new lord in Amefel, this wizard's fetch, this
Sihhë-lord
as they openly hail him in the streets of Henas'amef…"

"…
is not the enemy of this realm
!" Cefwyn shot back, strike and parry, and now with full knowledge how much this rebel duke was willing to risk in public. This
Sihhë-lord
, as you are at such great pains to call him, is the true friend of this court and the fortifications he restores
at my order
are all that stand between our land and that
purchased
army of brigands Tasmôrden has raised against us, no less than Aséyneddin, with no cleaner claim, no less allied with sorcery—silence, sir! I've heard enough of this brigand's letter!"

There was an uneasy stir in the court, all the same, and he had let it through his guard. Tristen's doings in the south were rumored, but not the wall, and not the current adoration of the populace, or its connection with the High Kingship, and now there was a dangerous murmur throughout the hall as all of it came into the open. Cefwyn rose to his feet and let loose the notorious Marhanen temper, letting any waverers in the court know what the stakes were and what he was prepared to do.

"As for you, sir, do you count Tasmôrden your friend? This man, the heir of Aséyneddin? This man who raised war against his lawful lord? A man who insulted Her Grace, murdered her friends and relations? A man who's
purchased
army rapes and murders and robs the very people he would claim to lead? Is that our preferred friend, sir? And you swear to his
honesty
?"

Ryssand had the sense to bow, and bow deeply, and lower his voice.

"I swear to nothing, Your Majesty. I only bear the message."

"Receiving the messenger from an enemy of the realm—gods, sir! as if you were
king
?"

That shot had scored the last time. This time it raised a stir, a charge fortress of dragons.html

revisited, clearly a threat.

And Ryssand looked afraid. "I received a traveler, Your Majesty, who turned out to have such a message, and who had alarming reports out of Amefel… reports of which I had no knowledge Your Majesty already knew."

Dangerous man, subtle as a snake, but there was no escaping the inappropriate nature of his actions and Cuthan's, and on such subtle issues did the support of those listening sway.

"We knew. We
knew
from the source, and we knew the truth of the conditions in the lands to the south and the reasons for the building of those fortifications. We based our judgment of those reasons on our
personal
knowledge of that source.
Have
you personal knowledge of Tasmôrden's character? Of Tasmôrden's actions this past year? Or how long have you received his messages?"

And so, without accusing, he planted his own seeds in the minds of those wine-touched individuals hanging on their every word.

Opinion of those outside these walls, however, had less to do with protocol than with rumor. And Ryssand's resources in that sense went far beyond Cuthan and Parsynan, beyond anything even a king could muster. Rumor spread on the wings of religious fear: they had rid themselves of Udryn, but now they had the Quinalt Patriarch of Amefel newly arrived in the town, complaining in the inner councils of the Quinalt that the old ways were gaining far too firm a foothold in Tristen's lands. Here was a man who had fled his post and a tolerably comfortable living rather than endure Tristen's rule over him—or so the Quinalt would see it. Guelen soldiers, too, Parsynan's men, whom Tristen's soft-handed mercy had let leave his land alive…

they had talked in the taverns and all the low places, so the rumors were fairly sped.

Oh, there were a dozen ways men of Ryssand's stamp could take any mercy and turn it back as a weapon.

He had known Ryssand would do this, had seen no real way to prevent it, but he had prevented the worst of the damage, and made his case in front of witnesses half-gone with wine, minds on which subtleties and details would be lost.

And so he waited for Efanor to move in, as he at last did, and interposed quiet, personal words to Ryssand. The intervention fortress of dragons.html

became a small, urgent conference, the drift of which came to him, anger on Ryssand's part, fear, and Efanor's solicitous promises.

Ryssand was not unscathed in the view of the hall, either: his countenance had gone from ruddiness to pallor and back to congested redness that suggested ill health. The man had lost a son to his quest for power, a recent loss, and no sham; but Cefwyn had no pity.

"I beg Your Majesty's pardon," Ryssand said at last, bringing a reluctant silence to the murmur of speculation among the courtiers.

"I urge Your Majesty grant it," Efanor said… playing his part.

"I will not hear this," Cefwyn said, playing his, while Idrys loomed over all.

"Your Majesty," Efanor repeated. "I ask it."

It was what they agreed. When the storm had grown too great and become dangerous to the realm, Efanor would ask pardon, and intercede for Ryssand. Efanor would thus widen his own small court, hitherto mostly scholars and priests, include among his debtors a potential father-in-law, and thereby set himself as confessor to receive all the things that an unreasonable king would not hear.

Cefwyn settled back against the throne in his most forbidding manner. "I shall hear
you
, brother. In the meantime, do not consider we entertain this traitorous Amefin earl or any of his connections, Elwynim or otherwise.—Play!" he shouted at the musicians, who had not stirred in this utter stillness of the hall. After brief hesitation they took up the paselle they had been playing, from its beginning.

It was a light, a graceful music, little appropriate to a royal tantrum, but the whole court drew a collective breath. No one moved to dance except two very young folk who hesitated toward that notion, and desisted, frozen in place.

Slowly, very slowly, Ryssand backed and bowed his way to safety, ignoring Murandys in his retreat.

Slowly the court began to murmur and to move, half a hundred statues come to life. The musicians struggled on, and Cefwyn waved a hand at a cluster of the young people and smiled, waving them to the floor. They moved with uncertainty, and the talk broke out among their elders, almost fit to drown the music.

Cefwyn drew a breath and a second, willing to be soothed as fortress of dragons.html

Ninévrisë sought his hand across the gap between their seats.

"Well done," Cefwyn said to his small company of conspirators.