In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) (62 page)

His Lord was instead face down on the ground, with the man who called forth the lightning bolt that morning seated on his Lord’s chair.  The man in armor looked around the room, and saw Ethan still seated on the cold marble floor.  “My lord?”

Xaro did not give the young prince a chance to speak.  “And one more thing, Lord Ethan.  For any of your soldiers who are tired of the mundane drudgery of protecting your late father’s imperial palace, they shall be welcomed into my army.  We eat well, and our cause is just.  They will learn our ways, and be better fighters for it.  Your city is now even better fortified than it was before I came, and I will teach you how to contact me anywhere in all of Tenebrae should you need my support.  No one else needs get hurt, and my only order to you is to rule justly, and give your people more than what your father chose to share with them.  Do this—and you will prosper.  Your city will prosper.  You have seen the power of my God.  You will want to be on our side when he re-enters our realm.”

He stepped down from the throne and motioned for young Ethan to take it.  He reached down at the knight that had cut his hand on his own sword and helped him up.  “Join me.  Your wounds shall be healed, your coffers enriched, and your life given purpose.  All who are willing are welcome!”  Xaro spread his hands wide.

Twenty-four hours later, more than 9,000 men and mages joined Xaro’s camp, helping him transport several bushels of
pillafer
out of Misk to his campsite, where he wove a powerful healing spell to stave off the spread of swamp disease within his troops.

It wasn’t until the end of a very long day, as he collapsed into his makeshift bed, that he remembered Veronica’s efforts to reach him. 
The good news can wait a day.
  Xaro finally rested, having conquered Misk single-handedly, with only one casualty, and nearly doubling his able-bodied fighting force in the process.  Within a few weeks, he should be back closer to 30,000 men. 
Let us see how the “House of Tuitio” and the rest of the Queen’s favored Lords and her arrogant Knights deal with a force of this magnitude on one side with a nearly equal number of undead from the other!

Xaro fell asleep with a smile still on his face.

Chapter 22:  Rejection, Doubt, Failure, and Lies

~Strongiron~

The waves crash
ed over the bow while Strongiron stood, looking out over the open water.  It was a beautiful day for sailing, and in general he liked the sea. 
It is the salty smell,
he thought with a grim smile.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be here.  It wasn’t that he
thought finding evidence of the True Clerics wasn’t important.  To his mind, it just wasn’t the
most
important thing.

No, that’s not it either,
he mused. 
It’s an improper allocation of resources. 
Always the strategist, he couldn’t fathom needing
two
of the realm’s top leaders to babysit a well-trained illusionist who already had a personal bodyguard in the form of a seasoned Ranger.  On what amounted to what—a camping trip?  What were they even looking for in the woods?  The General just shook his head, scratching his two-day stubble, already the makings of a fine beard.

Surely Queen Najalas didn’t make a decision
such as this personal? 
He thought back to a dinner he shared with his Queen, many months ago….

***

“Elvidor needs a King, Strongiron.”

He
looked up from the juicy pheasant breast that he was cutting into.  “My Queen—”

“Do not tell me we have discussed this before.  We shall discuss it again.  The realm needs an heir.”  The Queen looked squarely into his ice-blue eyes.

Strongiron shifted uncomfortably.  He looked down, couldn’t stand looking into the piercing stare of his Queen for long.  His tone was soft and informal.  “Najalas, I…” he began.  “I am flattered.  You know I loved King Alomar.  I would have traded places with him without hesitation.  Knowing how he suffered, I would have taken that on to keep him as King.  A wiser man I’ve never met.”

“Nor have I, my friend.  But come
—let us speak plainly.  Surely had our fortunes been reversed, and it was I who contracted the illness, and it was I who had suffered and withered and died—how long would our realm have been without a Queen?  Six months?  You and I, who knew him best, know it would be months, if not weeks before a new Queen was announced to great fanfare.  As it should—Elvidor needs an heir.  With your tale of Xaro and all we’ve learned of the coming war—we need an heir now more than ever.”

Queen Najalas walked around the table to sit next to her General.  “He has been dead now for over
a year.  It is time that I accept a King.”  She spoke softly.

“Najalas,” Strongiron struggled.  “As I have said on occasion before
—”

“Reconsider.”  It was not a command, more a plea.

“Must I say it?  My Queen, command me to go anywhere and do anything, but not this.  I do not love you in that way.”  Strongiron forced himself to look at his Queen when he said it.

She laughed.  “Love?  When have I ever said a word about love?  This is a matter of State, General.  Your Kingdom
—”

Now Strongiron interrupted, “
If it is a matter of State, then may I suggest an alternative alliance?  Perhaps Lord Kensington from Kekero?  He is a widower, and would be manageable.  He does have a bastard son, Vincent, but he would have no claim.   Or look to West, to Adimand.  The Lord of Whilure is said to be a good man from our coastal cities of the Three Fingers who trade with him.  Lord Hamath, I believe is his name.  An unmarried man of means and a potential ally—”

It was the Queen’s turn to cut him off with a wave of her hand.  “A weakling and a merchant.  I said Elvidor needed a
King.  I did not say I needed a husband.  As I have said, this is not a matter of love.”

Strongiron pushed his plate to one side to look at his Queen.  “
It
is
a matter of love.  I cannot dishonor myself or the memory of my King by taking his wife under the pretense of merely ‘providing an heir.’  I will not do it.”

The Queen’s eyes flashed.  “What pretense?  There is no pretense.  Think rationally.  I am offering you a
Kingship. 
You would not run just an army, you would rule a continent.  All would be subject to your laws.  There would be no voice higher. I—” her voice cracked, “—even I would place myself beneath the King.  Your word will govern all conflict.  You alone shall make peace, and you alone shall declare war.  All shall kneel before you, and your heirs would be princes over the world.  All I ask of you is to share this burden with me—there is no finer leader in the land.”  The Queen’s voice took a harder edge as she finished, “You can afford to choose your women by looks or love.  I cannot.  I do not have the luxury of waiting for ‘love’ to find me.  Elvidor needs an heir
now
!”

The general considered.  “There are better men.” 
Though none that I’ve met, if I put humility aside for a moment.

At this the Queen laughed again.  “Really?  Then who? 
Kensington, you say?  Or this trader from Whilure?  Would you have me throw myself at our meticulous Steward?  My ancient Mage?  Peter and Simon have wives and likely mistresses as well.  Come, tell me true—am I so ugly that you would not have me?  Would we be having this discussion if I looked like Niku’s protégé, Belara Kassar, over whom all the men at court fawn?  Or even the Elven princess you gawk at, Lady Elyn—Chief Chocktaw’s daughter?  Surely the power I offer in trade compensates, does it not?”

Strongiron frowned.  “You insult me, my Queen.”

The Queen plowed forward.  “If I insult anyone, it is myself.  Come, we are speaking plainly, are we not?  I am not under any illusions here.  But—you may find that love grows from a place of respect.  Half the realm arranges their marriages, each lord jockeying to move up in stature, securing more land, more title.  The milkmaids and stable boys may chase after love.  As leaders, we must be more discriminate.”  She paused.  “Frankly, I am surprised at your stubbornness.”

The general narrowed his
ice-blue eyes.  “Very well, if we are speaking plainly, then let me ask the indelicate question.  How do you know your—womb is fertile?  I don’t engage in court gossip, but there are whispers, Najalas.  You were married ten years!”

The Queen closed her eyes and lowered her head.  “I just know.”

Strongiron narrowed his eyes further.  “My Queen?  How do you know?”

She looked up, tears in her eyes.  “Because
…he couldn’t get a baby on any other woman in court, either.  Don’t you think we would have tried anything—
anything
—to give Elvidor an heir?  Had one of our surrogates conceived, it would only have been my private shame.  But at least the kingdom would persist.”

Strongiron just
stared at his Queen, speechless.

“So when you talk of ‘love
,’ now you know why I laugh.  The King you say you loved must have had every lady in waiting, every countess, every single woman in Rookwood.  All with my blessing, if not my joy.  And we waited for some lucky lady to bear his heir.  None did.  No, Strongiron, it is not my shame, there is nothing barren about my womb.  Quite the opposite, I suspect.”  She smiled and chuckled cynically at herself.  “My body has been preserved these last ten years.  I think that is long enough.  Will you not reconsider?”

Strongiron said nothing for an awkward moment while he poured wine into a large cup.  “Najalas
—I would do anything for you and the realm.  I am yours to command.”  He lifted the cup to drink, but stopped before it reached his lips.  “But not this.”

The Queen narrowed her eyes and stood up.  “I can command this.”

Strongiron bowed his head.  “You can, my Queen.  But you won’t.”

Exasperated, the Queen walked back to her
place at the table.  She wasn’t the least bit hungry.  She grabbed her goblet and drank rather noisily, unbefitting a Queen, for sure.  “Are you unable to be a man?”  It was the only explanation that made sense to her.

It was Strongiron’s turn to laugh.  “If that helps to explain my decision
—”

The Queen threw her goblet at
him, which he evaded easily.  “It does NOT!  I
do
pay attention to court gossip, as I’ve had to live with it for many years.  I hear whispers, too.  Do you not fancy women?  A man of your looks, single well into his 20s...  It is
unnatural
, as they say.”

Strongiron considered. 
If ever there was a good reason to lie…
But he could not.  Like all Knights, he was bound to tell the truth.  Strongiron, son of Peace-arm, Knight of the Order Thunder, Commander of the Realm, bearer of the ancient crest of House Tuitio…he would not lie to his Queen and dishonor his name.

“Aye.  I fancy women.  I just haven’t found the right one.  Yet.”  When Najalas
did not reply, he excused himself and left the chamber.

~Strongiron~

Raking
back his dark brown hair, wet with salt spray, he remembered that conversation like it was yesterday.  Sending her best general on a lengthy babysitting assignment seemed petty, outside of Elvidor’s best interest, and totally out of character for the Queen. 
She must truly believe I’m needed here.
  In the end, it was the only thing that made sense to him.  He sighed.

He turned
to see Kari standing next to him.  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Strongiron,” she said shyly.  He was, admittedly, startled.  
My, she has brilliant green eyes.
  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, alone.”  She smiled sheepishly.  “I wanted to let you know about something I’ve been praying to Dymetra about…”

~Veronica~

It had been nearly two days since she had reached out to Xaro.  Seated in a room, wrapped up in blankets to keep the cold at bay, she waited patiently to hear back.  She had decided to stay on the outskirts of Rookwood, off the main paths, until she could speak with him, and she did not want to be around others when he cast his spell of communication.

Finally, near evening, she felt the air stir and saw his image appear in her room.  He was smiling.

“My apologies, Veronica.  I have been late in speaking with you.  I have had other tasks that simply could not wait.  The good news is that my labor has been fruitful.  Our army is stable, and growing.  But enough of my update.  Please—I can bear the suspense no longer.  Your good news for me?”  Xaro’s image leaned forward, positively beaming.

Veronica’s heart sank, followed by her head. 
No.  I will look him in the eyes when I tell him. 
“Master…I have failed you.  I executed our plan, and took my shot.  The poison dart…it was blocked.  I won’t make excuses.  I will simply say that the dart did not find its home in his flesh.  I was lucky to escape after the attempt, but managed to do so without them seeing me, I believe.  But their defenses will be up, and his especially.  I will keep trying, Master.  I will need more time.”

She watched the color begin to drain from Xaro, as disappointment spread unchecked across his face.  “You were the best, Veronica.  The one I most trusted.  And now…this is beyond disappointing.  You have no idea how much I wanted him dead.”

Silver always said a True Assassin never asks why.  A True Assassin never asks why.  A True…
“May I ask why, Master?”

Xaro just cocked his head slightly.  “You mean besides him being the leader of our enemy’s forces?”

Veronica now put her head down.  “Yes, of course, Xaro.  It is obvious why he is a target.”  She looked back up though to stare at Xaro, unable to shake the sense that there was more.

Xaro smiled, but there was no joy in it.  His smile was one of contempt.  “He is my brother, Veronica, if you must know.  We share a father, the wretched knight Peace-Arm—Peace-Arm Orion Tuitio.  I am of House Tuitio, but you won’t find
my
name on any crests, nor gold in any coffers bearing
my
initials.  The fool has no clue.  We could have ruled the land as brothers—I offered him the same post Tar-Tan now holds.  He rejected me, just as our father did nearly forty years ago.  Imagine the surprise when I lay claim to the Tuitio wealth after his untimely death.  The Queen and her army reels, our army and our coffers swell, and my brother lies dead—making me the last in the proud line of Tuitio men.  Xaro Magnus Tuitio—the bastard child who was born of a union between my cowardly father and enchantress mother.  Does that tell you why I want him dead, Assassin?”

Veronica just stared at Xaro.  She had no words.  All she could manage was, “Yes, Master.”

“To say I am disappointed is such an understatement because you—of all my lieutenants—
you do not fail!
  That is what makes you special...what makes you the best.  You should have slit his throat.”

“I would not have escaped,” she said.

“You should have slit his throat,” he repeated.