Limits of Power (32 page)

“What do you think you're doing?” Mikeli said in the exact tone he remembered from his father. He reached over, took the reins Cam had dropped, and moved his leg away from his own mount.

“It's easier to talk to Aris this way, and the horses haven't spooked for—” At the touch of Mikeli's spur, Camwyn's horse shied, rump swinging wide; Cam grabbed for the cantle of his saddle and then looked at Mikeli. “You did that!” he said.

“Yes. Because if there is anyone in these woods with evil intent, a foolish prince sitting backward with the reins loose would be too tempting to miss. Turn around.”

Cam turned around again; Mikeli handed him the reins. Camwyn said nothing, but the flush on his cheeks wasn't from the sun. Good. Maybe Cam wouldn't do anything else dangerous or annoying until they reached Verrakai House. He hoped the duke had allowed Beclan to stay for the official arrival.

C
amwyn ignored the grins passed between the nearest Royal Guard troopers at Mikeli's scolding. At least he hadn't fallen off, and so far Mikeli hadn't told High Marshal Seklis about his magery. He looked ahead, catching a glimpse of open meadow and a great stone house in the distance; then the forest ended at the edge of a water meadow where the Duke was waiting for them.

Camwyn glanced at Duke Verrakai, then looked at her squires. The girl must be Aris's sister Gwennothlin, her face browned by sun; she grinned past him at Aris. The other was Daryan Serrostin. Camwyn looked at his hand, hoping to see the twig-thumb of rumor, but Daryan wore gloves.

After the greeting, they rode on toward the house, set on a low rise beyond the stream that trickled through stones of the ford. Camwyn saw rows of children holding flowers and repressed a grin with an effort. He, prince of Tsaia, was going to ride through another rain of flower petals. A perfect day!

D
orrin Verrakai waited with her escort at the forest edge. She heard the king's party already—the thud of hooves, the jingle of tack and harness, the voices.

The king's party appeared shortly: his standard-bearers in front, great banners drooping in the still air, then the king and the prince, flanked by Royal Guard troops, including two trumpeters. Behind them High Marshal Seklis in Girdish blue and white, Duke Marrakai in red and green, Count Konhalt in yellow with blue trim, and Baron Nunaver, one of Konhalt's vassals. At a little distance, Dorrin heard the noise of the royal baggage train. They stopped; the trumpeters blew a fanfare, and the standard-bearers hailed Dorrin.

“Behold the king of Tsaia, Mikeli of the house of Mahieran.”

Dorrin bowed in the saddle, as did her squires and escort.

“Be welcome, lord king, to Verrakai lands and Verrakai House.”

“Thank you, Duke Verrakai,” the king said. “Ride with me if you will.”

Dorrin edged her horse nearer the king's as the standard-bearers once more led the way and her squires spread to either side.

“Lord king, if I may—my kirgan—”

“Is he here?” the king asked.

“Lord king, he awaits at the house, but I have an urgent errand for him elsewhere if it please you—”

“I'm glad he's here; I will greet him, and then he must leave. I must meet all heirs, and … I want to see and judge him for myself. I will explain later.”

“As you will, lord king. He is ready to leave on my signal.”

“I will tell you.”

“Your command, lord king.” She bowed again, then faced forward. Verrakai House looked well—the broad meadows spangled with wildflowers in all colors, the cattle at a distance, the house itself with the royal colors draping the entrance and windows, the children, backed by servants in Verrakai livery, flanking the way up to the steps, flowers in hand. She glanced at the king.

He looked as handsome as ever, erect in the saddle, his skin touched more by the sun than she'd seen before. Perhaps the days of riding in the fresh summer air, away from the city and the confines of court, had relaxed him. He smiled as he caught sight of the children. “You have outdone yourself, my lord Duke.”

“They've never had a chance to see a king,” Dorrin said. “They're so excited—I hope they remember to toss the flowers softly and not jump up and down and squeal. They did practice.”

He chuckled. “They won't spook my mount, not after the days on the road. My father used to tell me nothing settled a horse like days of riding. He was right; we've had no jigging about since the third day.”

They came up to the waiting children and servants; his trumpeters blew another fanfare. Beclan waited to one side of the entrance. At Dorrin's hand signal, he moved another step to the side. Now the king rode forward; the children tossed their flowers to form a gold and white carpet on the grass—only a few forgot and squealed—and the royal party rode up to the foot of the steps. Dorrin's grooms waited to hold the horses.

Up the steps; the king gave Beclan a quick nod, then turned to face the little crowd below the steps. Dorrin had stopped a step below him with her squires a step below that.

“It has been many generations since a Verrakai duke welcomed a king of Tsaia here,” he began. “And I for one am glad it is this duke, Dorrin Verrakai, who has welcomed me. May Gird's grace and Falk's honor rest here, and as long as my standard is planted here, any who wish the king's justice may apply.” He looked down at Dorrin. “My lord Duke, present your kirgan and the others.”

Beclan looked startled; Dorrin signaled him to take a step forward. He went to one knee. “Sir king,” she said. “I present my kirgan, Beclan Verrakai.”

“Kirgan Verrakai,” the king said, and nodded; Beclan stood again and bowed. “I understand your duke has an urgent errand that only you can accomplish. I give you leave, therefore, to go upon your Duke's command.”

“Sir king,” Beclan said, bowing again. He looked at Dorrin.

“Beclan, you have my seal of authority in this matter; you may go now,” Dorrin said.

Beclan bowed to her, again to the king, then entered the house. Dorrin knew horse and escort awaited him outside the stableyard walls in back. He would not return until Dorrin sent word that the king had gone.

The king's party was even smaller than she had expected, and only he and Duke Marrakai, the High Marshal, and the peers would stay in the house itself. Everyone else, he said, would camp in the meadow.

“Sir king, would you prefer to refresh yourself before a meal or eat now?”

“A bath would be a delight,” the king said. “Your way shelter is adequate, but I have ridden several days, and it's warmer than I expected.”

“This way, then.” Dorrin led him upstairs to her own apartment, now set aside for his use; she had had a bath prepared, and it lacked only another can of hot water should he desire it. She left him with his squires to attend him and showed the others to the chambers prepared for guests.

The king came down in lighter clothes, only a short rose-colored cape around his shoulders with the deeper red rose of Mahieran embroidered on the back. “Now I'm hungry,” he said, rubbing his hands.

The long table was laid in the front hall for the midday meal: platters of sliced meats, loaves of bread, fresh greens from the garden, the earliest fruits of the year. They set to eagerly, their talk initially all of the journey.

“I cannot believe,” the king said finally, “that I've never been so far from Vérella before. I understand why my guardians did not want me traveling around. Some of them did not trust the former duke here, and that was, as it turned out, wise. I don't imagine that had I visited here as a prince, I would ever have come out alive. But being away from the city and the palace—not just on Mahieran estates or the royal hunting preserve—has already taught me a great deal.”

“You came to Marrakai once as a small boy,” Duke Marrakai said. “You might not remember—”

“I don't … not for certain—”

“And that's west of Vérella, not east. I have never been here either, my lord. I see you have worked on the track from Harway.”

“I had to,” Dorrin said with a laugh. “When I first came, it was nearly impassable near the border—intentionally. It is not yet as smooth for wagons as I could wish. But the old Middle Trade Road—that I spoke of, sir king—will be the main road someday. My kirgan and I have been alternating in the supervision of that construction.”

“Is the purpose trade?” Duke Marrakai asked.

“Yes, primarily, though the king's forces need an interior route to move troops as well. There was no way to get our products to market or resupply here but by pack train. Isolation suited the former duke, but it does not suit me.”

“That old road is on the oldest maps in our library,” High Marshal Seklis said. “What do the Lyonyans think about it?”

“King Kieri favors it,” Dorrin said. “I believe he expects to start work on it from Chaya next year. This year he wants to work on the River Road. The middle road would be shorter and serviceable in seasons the River Road is a morass from floods. If my neighbors to the west agree.”

“I will make that case to the count involved,” the king said. “Will you want to found a town on its way through Verrakai lands, or will it come near this house?”

“The straightest way—the old way—would pass south of here,” Dorrin said. “I had not thought of founding a town, though I had in mind suggesting another new road connecting Harway to some southern town east of Fiveway—”

“Brewersbridge, for instance,” said High Marshal Seklis.

“Yes. That would allow movement of both trade and troops if necessary.”

“Do you really think we need to garrison our border with Lyonya?” the king asked, brows raised.

“From danger in Lyonya? No, sir king. But at the moment Lyonya bears almost all the burden of border watch. They have had incursions of brigands from here. They would be glad if we kept our criminals from crossing the border.”

“I see. That would involve you and Konhalt—and those south of Konhalt as well. Perhaps we could remit some of the Crown levy this year for those contributing to the construction of such a road.” The king looked at Count Konhalt. “Do you have any sort of track along the border?”

“There are forest tracks but nothing like a wagon road,” the count said. “But like Duke Verrakai, we have few outlets for our goods—we formerly traded only through the Verrakaien, who took a toll—” His look at Dorrin was not entirely friendly.

“I'm sure my uncle did,” Dorrin said.

“If you build this middle road,” High Marshal Seklis said, “will it be a toll road?”

“It must be,” Duke Marrakai said. “No one can afford to build a road for nothing. Even maintenance—”

“I haven't decided,” Dorrin said. “Considering what my family did … I would prefer rather to serve than take. But you're right, my lord: my family left fewer resources than I really need.”

“Other roads are tolled—even the Valdaire road is tolled in some stretches,” High Marshal Seklis said.

“Indeed,” Dorrin said. “One thing the Crown should insist on is free passage for Crown business—royal couriers or troops moving at royal command.”

The king nodded. By this time they had quit eating; Dorrin nodded to the servants, who cleared the table.

“High Marshal,” she said, “the Marshals sent here have asked if you will have time to visit them while you're here. We have three granges—or will have when the buildings are finished. Darkon Edge was here when I came, though the Marshal who fought bravely was assassinated later—probably at my uncle's command. Marshal Nemis is building a grange along what will be the middle road from Tsaia to Chaya; Marshal Fenold has a circuit of villages, including Kindle, a little west of here. Marshal Istan took over Darkon Edge. Marshal Daltor isn't founding a grange yet; he says the population in my southern half is too thin, but he's traveling about meeting people.”