Lara (52 page)

The other Shadow Prince was lounging with a rather large goblet of wine in his elegant hand. “They are safe?” and he smiled when Lothair nodded, helping himself to wine and sprawling upon another couch. “I followed Gaius Prospero to a Pleasure House,” Eskil said. “The people in the streets have been roused against him it seems,” he chuckled. “They cried out insults at him, and shook their fists. I think he will be busy restoring his reputation for some time, and we need not worry.”

“We must always worry,” Lothair said. “Gaius Prospero will be concerned with his good name, but Jonah will be considering ways to advance his master’s career and so advance his own. He is more the enemy than the fat merchant lordling, my brother.”

“Who will send word to the Outlands?” Eskil asked.

“I will speak with King Archeron tomorrow. They must send a delegation to the Outlands, but to whom? They have no central government, and we do not want to insult any of these clan family chieftains. Archeron is the current head of the council. It must be his decision. But I suppose if they want we can go to discover the best way of handling this matter for them tomorrow. But now, I need sleep. I have done much magic today.”

“Then rest, my brother, for we will probably be in the thick of it tomorrow. I suspect we must work swiftly lest Gaius Prospero try to subvert our will.”

“The people will keep the Master of the Merchants busy for the interim,” Lothair said with a smile. “It will be a difficult winter here in the City, and they will blame him for it, too.” Then drinking his wine down, he sought his bed.

Gaius Prospero was so distraught by what had happened, and by the people’s disfavor as he had ridden through the streets after the council meeting, that he remained two days at his favorite Pleasure House. When he finally arrived home he learned that his wife had taken their children and gone to their country house.

“It is better, my lord,” Jonah said. “We have work to do.”

“Have you any idea of what has happened? I lost complete control of the High Council. The Squire voted against me! Why he has suddenly gained a conscience I do not know,” Gaius Prospero said irritably. “And the Coastal Kings were more than well-informed, Jonah. They knew everything, and so did those damned Shadow Princes! And the people cry out against me as if I was responsible for the deaths of our mercenaries, but I did not kill them. The Outlanders killed them. If anything good at all came out of this, it is that I have learned the Forest Lords have a great secret, and the Shadow Princes know it.
I
want to know it, Jonah! If the Outlands are out of my reach for now, perhaps the Forest realm is not. There has always been too much of it in my opinion. If I can learn this secret then perhaps I can control the Forest Lords.”

“Indeed, my lord, you could,” Jonah murmured, his facile brain contemplating the possibilities. There were trees to be cut and turned into lumber for the booming building trade. They would harvest the trees on the edge of the Forest first which would open up more land for the Midland farmers. The Squire would stop complaining about the incursion the City was beginning to make into his Midlands, and they could regain his trust—and more importantly, one hundred percent of the Midlands vote in the High Council. So much to do, Jonah thought. And then he recalled the motto he would take one day.
Make haste slowly.
He smiled and then, remembering where he was, he said, “Perhaps, my lord, we acted too hastily in beginning our annexation of the Outlands. Let us consider our other alternatives.”

“What of the people?” Gaius Prospero wanted to know.

“We will soothe them, but not quite yet. Allow them the opportunity to express their anger. Then at the midwinter festival you will release some foodstuffs from your warehouses. You will recall the festival was established long ago to help take people’s minds off the gloom and scarcity of the season. This generous gesture on your part will go a long way to easing the tensions now between you and our citizens.”

“You must go to the Guild of Mercenaries for me,” Gaius Prospero said.

“Of course, my lord,” Jonah responded smoothly. “Tell me what the council desires done, and I will speak with them.”

“I could not do without you, Jonah,” Gaius Prospero said.

“Of course you could, my lord,” the secretary flattered. “All I have learned I have learned from you. And you are the most respected man in Hetar.”

Gaius Prospero smiled, well pleased. “I am, aren’t I?” he agreed. “If Vilia is not here then perhaps I shall return to Anora’s arms for another day or two. You have enough to keep you busy, do you not?”

“Indeed, my lord, I do,” Jonah agreed. His clever mind already pondered the opportunities presenting themselves with this new turn of events.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I
WILL
GO
TO
THE
O
UTLANDS
,” Archeron, the current head of the High Council, told his brothers, Delphinus and Pelias. “My term of office ends with the next moon cycle.”

“Let Lothair transport you,” Pelias said. “I do not trust Gaius Prospero in general, but right now he suffers from the people’s displeasure, and may try to seek revenge on those he feels have wronged him. I understand a mob attempted to storm the Golden District yesterday. They were shouting his name combined with some most unfavorable epithets. They seem to be holding him entirely responsible for what happened to the mercenaries. The Crusader Knights were called out to keep order, for the Guild of Mercenaries would not. Their ranks are weakened, and they must house and feed the widows and orphans of those killed in the Outlands. They are not happy about it.”

“They can afford it,” Delphinus responded. “They received a fair portion of Gaius Prospero’s thievery. But I agree with Pelias. Let Lothair use his magic to send you home.”

“Very well,” Archeron replied. He was a tall handsome man with wavy silver hair, and eyes the color of aquamarines.

He disliked the City, and would not mind avoiding a long trek through the winter landscape back to his own province where winter came only gently. Winter in the province of the Coastal Kings was a short season when the rains arrived. On fair days the sun sparkled on the sea making it almost seem like a basket of the finest sapphires, aquamarines and emeralds had been tipped among the waves.

“With whom will you speak in the Outlands?” Pelias asked.

“It would seem that the one they call Lord Vartan is their leader. This lack of a centralized government in the Outlands makes it difficult to know how to deal with them, but I shall ask Lord Rendor of the Felan for his counsel.”

“Will you go to this Lord Vartan?” Pelias wondered.

“I do not know,” Archeron replied. “It is Rendor who must guide us in this matter so we do not offend the Outlanders in our attempts to make peace again. It would be so much easier to deal with them if we were cognizant of their customs.”

“But Hetar has never before wanted to deal with them,” Pelias said. “It has always been considered they were barbarians, and best left alone.”

“Yet we knew differently, didn’t we?” Delphinus said.

Archeron grimaced. “Aye, we did, and so, I suspect, did the Shadow Princes. Yet there was never any need for us to share our knowledge, was there? How could we have imagined that any among us would attempt to invade the Outlands? We underestimated Gaius Prospero and his colossal greed. Something is changing in our world, my brothers. We have been too prosperous, I fear, and now the balance is tilting the other way. There are more beggars in the streets now than ever before in my memory. There are too many mercenaries, and not enough work for them. The farmers of the Midlands seem unable to feed us as generously as they once did. Their land is worn out, and the cost of our foodstuffs is rising, yet the farmers see no new profits.

“When the people grow unhappy and hungry they also become restless. They begin to huddle with one another and talk on matters they do not fully understand. Eventually some among them will decide that our way of governing is responsible for their misery. They will revolt against that government, and whether they triumph or do not triumph matters not at all. Many will be killed, which will relieve some of the problem for there will be fewer mouths to feed. The damage, wherever it is, will have to be repaired so there will be work to be had. A new government for good or evil will arise. And prosperity will eventually return to put our world once again in balance.” He signed. “May the Celestial Actuary have mercy upon us, my brothers.”

“You will be home shortly, Archeron,” Pelias attempted to soothe him. “This has been a difficult time for us all. Once you walk along the golden sands by the sea, and feel the clean wind on your face it will seem less distressing.”

“Aye, but the problem will still be there,” Archeron said. “It will not go away. Hetar’s way of life, the Outlands’ way of life—it is all changing.”

“I will speak with Prince Lothair,” Delphinus said, and hurried off.

The Shadow Prince was more than happy to take Archeron home, especially when he heard of the dark mood that had descended upon the Coastal King.

“His words frighten me,” Delphinus admitted to the prince. “He has lived longer than any of us, and we revere his wisdom. Sometimes he sees things, as I believe he does now. Is this a vision of what the future of Hetar is to be?”

“He is correct that things are changing,” Lothair said, “but do not be afraid, King Delphinus. Everything changes eventually. Sometimes the change is so swift we do not really notice it, and at other times the change is so slow that we can see it coming, and we are afraid. Change, whether for good or evil, cannot be stopped, I fear.”

“You feel it, too!” Delphinus cried.

Lothair smiled, and nodded. “When Archeron is ready to travel, come to me,” he told the Coastal King. “I will transport him.”

A few days later Delphinus bid Archeron farewell. The High Council was now in recess for the winter, but it was necessary for the general council members to remain until their replacements came in the spring. Only the head of the council might leave.

Back home in his spacious palace by the sea King Archeron rested, but the necessity of contacting the Outland chieftains weighed upon him. He sent a messenger to Rendor of the Felan asking that they meet in two days’ time on the seaside border between their two kingdoms. There would not be time for the messenger to return, and so Archeron, in the company of his son and heir, Arcas, set off in hopes of meeting Rendor at the designated spot. To their relief he was there. The two men, both of whom knew Rendor well, embraced the Outlander warmly, inviting him to join them beneath a blue-and-gold striped awning that had been set up upon the beach. There were chairs, and servants who brought wine to the three men.

“I have always enjoyed this air of elegance you bring with you,” Rendor chuckled as he took a sip of the excellent wine. “We Outlanders are a simple folk.”

“Not so simple,” Archeron replied, “that you did not destroy your enemy successfully, and with flair. The High Council, while shocked, was most impressed by those seven carts of dead driven into the City by their gaunt and hollow-eyed drivers.”

Rendor chuckled wolfishly, but then he grew serious. “It was unwise of Hetar to invade our lands,” he said. “I hope they understood the message we sent to them.”

“They did, and would return to the boundaries of the ancient treaties, Rendor,” Archeron said quietly. “I have come to ask how we should approach the various clans, and their chieftains. We would not offend your lords and add to the problem.”

“The offense was in your attempt to annex a portion of our lands,” Rendor answered. “But we have had our revenge, and now wish to return to the way it was between us. We have formed our own governing council because of this incident. It is obvious to us that we can no longer live quite as separately from Hetar as we have in the past. The lady Lara has convinced us of that, though some would resist. Your High Council needs to be able to speak to us as one when problems like this arise.”

“When was this council formed?” Archeron asked Rendor.

“After the battle. The clan chieftains met at Fulksburg before we departed for our own lands. The council is made up of our eight chieftains. Vartan of the Fiacre was elected its head. He remains in office until he chooses to step down or we vote to replace him, which is unlikely. His clan is the largest, and Vartan is both fair and wise.”

“With a beautiful faerie wife, I am told,” Arcas murmured.

“The Lady Lara is a halfling,” Rendor said quietly. “Her wisdom is as much admired as her beauty.”

“And she is a competent warrior, I have heard,” Archeron said.

Rendor grinned. “That sword of hers would frighten a demon,” he told them. “It sings in a voice that goes from low to high as she battles. And when it is time for the kill Andraste sings of drinking the blood of the unjust and the evil. A man could die of fright facing that ferocious sword. And looking at that delicate beauty wielding it, you would not expect her skill with a weapon.”

“She has a killer’s instinct?” Arcas asked.

“Nay, my lord, not at all. But her heart cries out for justice,” Rendor said.

“Can you take a message to Vartan from our High Council?” Archeron asked the Felan chieftain. “If it is possible I should like to meet with him, and apologize for the actions of our people against yours. Might he come to your hall? Or should I go to his?”

“I think, my lord, that he might enjoy seeing the Coastal Province. I will ask, but I will also offer him the option of having you come to him,” Rendor said.

“Thank you, old friend,” Archeron said. “Now, please tell me you did not lose many men in that battle at Fulksburg.”

“But five,” Rendor said. “Our losses were all minimal, unlike those of Hetar.”

Arcas and Archeron laughed. The Outlander was enjoying his victory, and they did not blame him. If it had been theirs they would have done the same.

The three men finally parted, and Rendor rode back to his own home. The next morning he dispatched a messenger to Camdene, relaying all that had been said at that meeting. Rendor hoped Vartan would come to his coastal lands that he might meet with the Hetarians. He knew that Vartan had never met any Hetarians but for his beautiful wife, and young Noss. If he was to lead the Outlanders, it was time that he did. To his pleasure, Vartan agreed and he and Lara returned with the Felan messenger. The two men greeted each other warmly, and then Rendor bowed with respect to Lara whose beautiful golden gilt head bowed in return.

“So the Hetarians wish to return to life as it was,” Vartan said with a grin.

“Aye, although until you meet with King Archeron you will not have the full tale, which I suspect is an interesting one,” Rendor replied. “He was, as I wrote you, willing to come to you at Camdene. Do you wish him to come here to my village, or will you go to him at his seaside palace? I have been once, and it is both amazing and glorious.”

“I think it is time I began to familiarize myself with Hetar,” Vartan said slowly. He turned to Lara. “What think you, my life?”

“I have never been to the Coastal Province. It is said the Coastal Kings are the true aristocrats of Hetar,” Lara said slowly. “I am curious to meet them, but this decision should be yours, my husband.” She looked to Rendor. “You have become friends with these men, I am told. What think you of them?”

“I like them,” Rendor answered. “They are a people filled with wisdom and honor. We were cautious with each other at first, but our friendship has bloomed into a true one. I believe they are trustworthy, and they did vote not to invade us last year.”

“That in itself speaks well of them,” Vartan replied. “How do they live? Have they villages as we have? And how many kings are there? Must I treat with each? Or have they a high king?”

“They are all, it would seem, of one family. Long ago it was decided that the head of each family branch would be called king, that there be no quarrelling over the title. Each king leads a clan family much like ours. The oldest of them, in this case King Archeron, is recognized as the ultimate authority should disputes arise. Each family has a palace built into the cliffs by the sea. These palaces are spread out to house all members of each family, but I would not call them villages in our sense.”

“Where does their wealth come from?” Vartan wanted to know.

“No one knows,” Rendor replied. “They are as mysterious a people as are the Shadow Princes. Some say they may even be related by an ancient bloodline. They have some magic, but not as much as the Shadow Princes.”

Vartan considered, and then he said, “I should like to see these palaces, and I think my going to King Archeron shows a respect for his position.”

“Good manners is highly appreciated by these people,” Rendor responded.

“I will go with you, husband,” Lara told him.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Though you have never been in the Coastal Province, you are Hetarian-born, and will advise me to the best of your ability, I know.”

Lara smiled and nodded to her husband. He could not guess how much her knowledge of her own people would help him. “I would bathe,” she told Rendor. “Have you the means for it? I have brought a special garment given to me by my Shadow Prince that I will wear. I have told you how much the Hetarians value appearance. These Coastal Kings know of my background. They know I was a humble mercenary’s daughter, and later a slave. But they also know that my mother is a queen among her own people, and that my skills were honed in the company of the Shadow Princes. I cannot go with you looking like a warrior, or a simple woman.”

“You would display your beauty before these kings?” Vartan said, an edge to his voice. His look was hard.

Lara shook her head. “Have I not told you before that you must not be jealous, husband?”

He flushed. “I cannot help it,” he admitted low.

“But you must,” she said. “You swore to me that you would not impede my destiny, Vartan. And I warned you that my destiny would sometimes take me from you. I must treat with these people in my own way if you are to succeed, husband. Do not love me so much else I break your heart,” Lara warned him softly.