How Firm a Foundation (83 page)

Cayleb and Sharleyan looked down at him, seeing
the unshed tears behind those brown eyes, hearing the grief in the young voice which refused to remain completely steady despite all its owner could do. Cayleb felt his own throat closing, and he glanced at Sharleyan, saw the tears glistening in her eyes, as well, as they stretched out their hands to cover the boy’s.

“And we, Sharleyan Ahdel Alahnah Ahrmahk and Cayleb Zhan Haarahld Bryahn Ahrmahk,”
Sharleyan said, her voice clear but soft, “do accept your oath. 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.”

There was a moment of intense silence as the three of them gazed into one another’s eyes, their hands still joined atop the
Writ
. Then
Cayleb cleared his throat.

“There was a day,” he told the young prince kneeling before him, “just over three years ago this month, when another Prince of Emerald named Nahrmahn knelt where you are today, Your Highness. He came as a defeated foe, making the best terms he could for his House and his people, knowing my wife and I, as his sworn enemies, might well have demanded his head in return.
He came anyway, despite that danger, and knelt on the same cushion and swore the same oath you’ve sworn this day. I’d been raised all of my life knowing Emerald was the enemy of Charis. There’d been decades of spying and maneuvering for position and—finally—war between us. We had every reason to hate one another, and very little reason not to.

“Last month, that prince died.” Cayleb had to pause
and clear his throat again, and despite himself his voice was husky when he continued. “He died protecting his wife—and your mother—with his own body. He died at the hands of an assassin who murdered thirty-seven other people with the same bomb. He died having fought with all his marvelous intelligence and wisdom, at my side and Sharleyan’s, for three years. Having fought for that in which he believed,
for that which he loved … and for that for which he gave his life. And my lifelong enemy died not simply as our vassal, but as my friend, my ally, and my brother. In a few more years, my younger brother will wed your older sister, but know this—our Houses are already joined, and while Sharleyan and I weep at bidding your father go with God, we rejoice at welcoming you to the throne you now
assume. I know how much your father loved you, Nahrmahn Gareyt, and I know how much you loved him. Remember him, as we will, and follow the example he set for you. If you do that you’ll become not simply a prince to be respected and obeyed, but a
man
to be loved and celebrated.”

The young man who would be sixteen Safeholdian years old—fourteen and a half, in the years of Old Terra—in four more
five-days gazed up at his emperor and empress. Then he bent his head, his forehead on their clasped hands until Sharleyan withdrew hers and rested it on his dark, curly hair. Nahrmahn Gareyt’s shoulders quivered, ever so slightly, and the empress’ smile trembled as she stroked his hair. Then she drew a deep breath.

“Rise, Prince Nahrmahn Gareyt, Nahrmahn III of Emerald. You are summoned to our
Imperial Council, and we have much of which to speak.”

*   *   *

Nahrmahn Gareyt was already taller than his father had been. He was also athletic and muscular, without Nahrmahn the Elder’s undeniably portly physique. His eyes were much the same, however—dark and sharp. It remained to be seen if the brain behind them was the equal of his father’s, but the signs were hopeful, Sharleyan thought.
The young man had never expected or wanted to take a throne so young, yet his parents had trained him well, both as a potential ruler and as a boy growing steadily into manhood, and those sharp eyes drank in every detail of the council chamber.

He was also clearly aware of his youth as he sat in the chair which had belonged to his father. There was a definite nervousness in the ever so slightly
too erect posture, in the way he watched whoever was speaking. There was still too much grief in that youthful face, as well, and every so often his left hand touched the black mourning band on his right arm. Yet he showed far more composure than many a man twice his age might have, and Sharleyan remembered a girl child, even younger than he, who’d also come to a throne untimely because her father
had been assassinated. She’d always felt close to Nahrmahn Gareyt, and now that common bond of murder had drawn them closer still.

“I meant what I said in the throne room, Nahrmahn Gareyt,” Cayleb said, looking down the table to where Nahrmahn Gareyt sat at its foot. “I didn’t expect even to
like
your father before we met, but both of us were rulers, both of us knew the survival of our realms
and our people required us to find an accommodation. I never anticipated how much we’d come to treasure one another, or how valuable his wisdom and counsel would be. I’m sure you know Sharleyan and me well enough by now to realize how sincerely attached we were—and are—to your entire family, little though any of us expected that outcome. And despite your youth, you’re a full voting member of the
Imperial Council. You
are
the Prince of Emerald, the second ranking noble of the Charisian Empire, and we’ll value your input and opinions. I’m sure you’ll be more hesitant than your father was to
offer
an opinion.” Despite the solemnity of the moment, Cayleb’s lips twitched. “God knows Nahrmahn was never shy about offering
opinions!
”

A mutter of laughter ran around the council chamber, and even
Nahrmahn Gareyt smiled at the emperor’s wry expression.

“That hesitancy is only to be expected, given the combination of your age and how recently come to your throne you are,” Cayleb continued more seriously as the moment’s humor ebbed. “When you do wish to speak, however, you have not only the right but the responsibility to do so. I trust you understand I mean every word I’ve just said?”

“I do, Your Majesty. And Your Grace,” Nahrmahn Gareyt said, bowing down the length of the table to Sharleyan. His voice hadn’t yet settled completely into its adult register, but he met his monarchs’ eyes steadily. “And you’re right. For at least a while I’m going to take my mother’s advice.”

“Oh?” Sharleyan cocked her head. “And what advice did Princess Ohlyvya give you, Your Highness?”

“To
keep my mouth shut in official settings even if I think people are going to assume I don’t know what they’re talking about rather than open it and
prove
I don’t,” Nahrmahn Gareyt told her with something approaching his normal grin. “She, ah,
suggested
it would be wise of me to mostly listen until I actually have a clue what the people around me are discussing.”

“A wise woman, your mother, Your
Highness,” Cayleb observed with an answering smile.

“I think so most of the time myself, Your Majesty. Although there
have
been times when her idea of ‘wisdom’ and mine weren’t exactly the same.”

“I can imagine,” Cayleb said feelingly. Then he shook his head and looked around at the other councilors seated at that table, and his amusement—welcome though it had been—disappeared.

Some of the
faces had changed. Nahrmahn’s left a painful gap, but much as Cayleb would miss the plump little Emeraldian, the gap where Sir Rayjhis Yowance had sat for so long was even more painful to him. And yet, as bitterly as he missed the man who’d been his friend, mentor, unofficial uncle, adviser, and, finally, servant, he felt no qualms when he looked at the man who’d replaced him.

Trahvys Ohlsyn,
the Earl of Pine Hollow, had been Prince Nahrmahn’s first councilor for many years, but he would be unavailable to Prince Nahrmahn Gareyt in that role, because Cayleb and Sharleyan had stolen him for the Empire. Quite a few Charisian noses had been put out of joint by their decision to name Pine Hollow to succeed Gray Harbor, yet no one had complained too loudly. Partly that was because the people
who might have done the complaining suspected how little patience the emperor and empress would have shown their protests. Perhaps equally importantly, however, was the irreproachable job Pine Hollow had done managing Emerald’s affairs while Nahrmahn was distracted by his responsibilities as Sharleyan and Cayleb’s imperial councilor for intelligence.

In the process of doing that job, Pine Hollow
had also spent a great deal of time in Tellesberg, conferring with Gray Harbor and the council members permanently based there. He’d gotten along particularly well with Gray Harbor himself, and they’d carried on a lively correspondence even when he wasn’t in Tellesberg. As a result, he was very much a known quantity, with a command of the issues he would confront in his new position which very
few of his new colleagues on the council could have matched and none could have excelled.

There were other reasons to name him to that position as well, of course. One was to demonstrate Cayleb and Sharleyan’s willingness to step outside their own realms of Old Charis and Chisholm to fill such a vital position. It was another proof they’d genuinely meant it when they declared that the Empire
of Charis was to be an empire of
all
its peoples. In addition, Pine Hollow had the advantage of having understudied one of the most skilled, cunning, and devious rulers in Safehold’s history, which would undoubtedly prove valuable. And, finally, in the wake of Nahrmahn’s death, the Brethren of Saint Zherneau had finally (if tardily) accepted the Emeraldian’s recommendation that Pine Hollow be
added to the inner circle.

Cayleb would have given literally anything to have Gray Harbor still sitting in that chair, but if he couldn’t have that, at least he had someone who was every bit as determined and every bit as intelligent as Gray Harbor had been himself. And one who knew the full truth about the struggle they confronted … and who had access to Owl and the coms which tied the inner
circle together.

Now if we could only get those lovable old fossils to let us bring
Ironhill
fully on board
, Cayleb thought. Then he snorted mentally.
Just like you, isn’t it, Cayleb? Never content, never satisfied! Why don’t you just concentrate on the things the Brethren have managed to do
right
and contemplate some of the things they may have kept
you
from doing
wrong,
instead?

“Bynzhamyn,”
he said out loud, turning to where Bynzhamyn Raice sat next to Nahrmahn Gareyt, “I suppose we should start with you.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Baron Wave Thunder looked as weathered and solid as ever, yet it was clear he’d taken the suicidal attacks hard. His expression was grim, and the mood of the entire council darkened perceptibly as its members turned their attention to him. All of them
knew they weren’t going to like what he had to report, but only those who were also members of the inner circle knew there was even worse he
couldn’t
report yet.

“As of my most recent figures,” he said, “the death toll from all of the attacks stands at one thousand seven hundred and sixteen. Over half of those were from the Gray Wyvern attack. In addition, according to the Order of Pasquale,
we have at least another twenty-five or thirty in hospital who may yet succumb to their injuries. And over ninety who are expected to live, although some of them have lost limbs.”

His voice was harsh, and his eyes met Cayleb’s. Both of them knew those numbers were low, although neither could say so, since no reports had come in as yet from Chisholm. That meant there was no acceptable way for
them to know another three hundred plus people had died in Sharleyan’s kingdom. Baron Green Mountain, her own first councilor and beloved mentor, might still be one of them, too, although the healers seemed to have him stabilized.

“The only good news is that we did manage to take at least one of Clyntahn’s agents alive,” Wave Thunder continued. “It was only blind luck, of course.” In fact, it
had been Owl’s SNARCs and Merlin Athrawes’ ability to sprint halfway across Tellesberg under cover of darkness at superhuman speeds, but, again, that was something he couldn’t very well explain to the council at large. “We were all lucky Captain Athrawes happened to be outside the Patent Office to notice the wagon approaching the building. If he hadn’t become suspicious and overpowered the driver
before he could reach the detonating mechanism—”

“Captain Athrawes does seem to have a talent for that sort of thing, doesn’t he?” Sharleyan observed, deliberately pitching her voice to lighten the mood as she turned her head to smile at the sapphire-eyed Guardsman standing just inside the council chamber door.

“He
has
proved a moderately useful fellow upon occasion, I suppose,” Cayleb agreed
in a judicious tone.

“One tries, Your Majesty,” Merlin replied respectfully, and the entire council laughed. A mere bodyguard might not have been expected to reply to an emperor that way in most realms, but this was Charis, the bodyguard was Merlin Athrawes, and they
needed
that cleansing laughter.

“At any rate, Your Majesties,” Wave Thunder said, “the one man we’ve managed to capture hasn’t
been the least bit reticent about who he is or why he’s here, or even who sent him. In fact, Master Ahndairs is
proud
to have been personally selected by the Grand Inquisitor as one of his ‘Rakurai.’ His only regret seems to be that he was captured before he killed himself blowing up the Patent Office and as many people who worked in it as possible—and Father Paityr, in particular—and he’s boasted
to anyone who would listen that he and his companions were only the first wave of the attacks Clyntahn intends to launch.”

There was no laughter this time, and faces hardened all around the table.

“I suppose something along these lines was only to be expected, eventually, given how uniformly unsuccessful they’ve been in regular military confrontations with us,” Pine Hollow said quietly. “Given
the timing, it was probably the Markovian Sea that actually pushed Clyntahn into this strategy, I expect.”