Limits of Power (33 page)

“An excellent idea,” the king said before Seklis could answer. “You can report to the Marshal-General, Seklis. I'll be here a few days; we can spare you the time.”

Seklis nodded. “Sir king, that is what I'd hoped to do. If Duke Verrakai could provide an escort who knows the ways—”

“Of course,” Dorrin said. “And a pack mule, as well, for supplies.”

“I'll leave tomorrow, then,” Seklis said. “A night in a real bed will do me no harm.”

Later, Dorrin took the king, Duke Marrakai, and Count Konhalt into her study to show them the maps she had and her plans for the roads.

“What is the best route from here to Konhalt?” the king asked, running his finger along a thin dotted line.

“I'm not sure,” Dorrin said. “There's an area of damaged trees—trees both Queen Arian and the Kuakgan Ashwind said had been damaged by evil magery, though whether by Verrakaien or by kuaknomi they aren't sure. My squires have patrolled there without difficulty, barring the ugliness. It's more open than the deep forest, but there's no actual road. It extends down to the Konhalt border.”

“Count?”

“I have always gone in from the west,” Count Konhalt said. “Though it's but a crooked, narrow track.”

“Perhaps the Verrakaien damaged the trees to make travel easier without the work of building a road,” High Marshal Seklis said.

“Perhaps. Do you think it's safe to travel that way, my lord?” the Count asked Dorrin.

“I would think so,” she said. “The Kuakgan Ashwind came from the south; he said he cleared the evil ahead of him. And the king's escort is amply large enough to deter any small brigand band.”

“But I'm not going on,” the king said. “That was the plan, but Queen Arian's visit was delayed—and I'm delighted she came, late or no—and then our progress here was slower than I expected. I must be back in Vérella by Midsummer Court, and my escort will go with me. Do you have no one who could guide the Count to his domain?”

“Only to the border,” Dorrin said. She turned to Count Konhalt. “I'm sorry, Count Konhalt, but I have found none who have traveled into your lands. I would gladly lend you one of my militia, but he would know no more than you.”

Konhalt nodded and turned to the king. “Then, sir king, if you will excuse me from Midsummer Court, I will travel back west and south and enter Konhalt by the only way I know.”

“If you have nothing to bring before me, I excuse you,” Mikeli said. “But you must then attend Autumn Court without fail.”

“Of course, sir king. Thank you.” He turned to Dorrin. “I agree that it would be better to have more access, Duke Verrakai, and I would participate in road building from here south, if it please you.”

“It would indeed please me. We need more communication, not less,” Dorrin said.

“I would like to see some of your vills,” the king said to Dorrin. “Especially the one where you healed the well. Since I'm not going farther, I thought I might spend a hand of days here; we have things to discuss.”

“Of course, sir king,” Dorrin said. “Kindle, in fact, is near enough to reach this afternoon if you like.”

The king shook his head. “To be honest, I would rather spend the rest of this day on something softer than a saddle.”

“Of course, sir king. Whenever you wish.”

T
he next morning, High Marshal Seklis rode away with a small party to make a round of the new Marshals. Scarcely a turn of the glass later, the king came in from the garden, where he had been walking with the others after breakfast, and found Dorrin.

“Do you have a secure place to confer, Duke Verrakai?”

That sounded ominous. Had he changed his mind about Beclan? Dorrin nodded. “Yes, sir king. My office. Down this passage.”

“Come along, Camwyn, Aris,” the king said. Dorrin glanced back, surprised. Prince Camwyn might need to be privy to the king's concerns about Beclan, but Aris Marrakai, she'd heard from Gwenno, was the veriest mischief. Why include him?

“In here, sir king,” Dorrin said. The king entered and looked around. Dorrin shut the door; whatever this was about, the king would want no eavesdroppers.

“Was it in here you found the regalia?” he asked, pointing to the niche on the far wall.

“Yes, sir king. That niche was covered by the portrait I told you of, now burned.”

The king gave the niche another long look, then sat down at the table and gestured to a chair for Dorrin and the two boys. “We have grave matters to discuss,” he said. “I must have your word you will not reveal what I say to anyone—anyone at all—without my leave.”

“Of course, sir king. On Falk's honor, I will not.”

“First you must know that the crown you gave me now speaks to me as well as to you.” Dorrin said nothing; he went on. “It bids me set it free—it wants you, Dorrin Verrakai, despite your oath of fealty.” Another pause. Dorrin could think of nothing to say. “I ask you, on that oath: have you told it what to say?”

“No,” Dorrin said. “On my oath of fealty, I have not. All I have said—thought—in return to what it tells me is that it should bide where it is and be still.” She shook her head. “But I cannot rule it; it continues to speak to me—and now to you.”

Two seats down from the king, the prince stirred. The king turned his head. “Camwyn? You have something to say?”

“By your leave, sir king,” the prince said.

“Not yet,” the king said. He turned again to Dorrin. “The second thing we must discuss I learned about only on my way from Vérella and is a graver matter yet.”

“What is that, sir king?”

“Camwyn is a mage.”

Dorrin stared. The myriad implications of that tangled in her mind. She looked at the prince. “You? Have magery?”

The boy nodded. He looked frightened and embarrassed, as well he might.

“Show her, Cam,” the king said.

The prince pushed back his chair and lifted his hands above the table. One was glowing, bright enough to cast shadows.

Dorrin glanced at the windows, murmured “By your leave,” and went to close the curtains. The stableyard outside was full of activity, but for a mercy no one was staring at the windows. In the dimmer light, the prince's hand showed brighter.

“Show her the rest, Cam,” the king said.

The light in the prince's hand faded, but as Dorrin watched, he lifted from the chair, face taut with effort. One handspan, then another. Floating. He slid sideways in the air about an armspan, then landed hard on the floor.

“
That
is my problem,” the king said. “My brother the magelord. The very
illegal
magelord. Can Beclan do that?”

“No,” Dorrin said. “He can light all the candles on the dinner table at once and shift a few papers or a tossed ball to one side. He can't lift it off the table by magery, let alone lift himself.”

“You know what this means,” the king said. “I will have to give up the throne. The law—”

“Sir king.” Dorrin's tone, more commanding than she intended, stopped him. “Sir king, as your Constable, I advise that you
not
give up the throne while the realm faces possible invasion. Who could take the crown instead? Not the prince—leaving aside his magery, he's not of age nor trained. Not Duke Mahieran, as the father of another mage. Not his son Rothlin, as the brother of a mage. And in what other family will you find a king?
You
are our king; you are the one person born to and chosen for this duty. You must not shirk it.”

“But the law—when people know, they will demand my abdication. The High Marshal—”

“Yes, the law … and the Fellowship of Gird.” Dorrin held up a hand again when the king opened his mouth. “You should send a courier to the Marshal-General at once, explaining what has happened. Ask her advice—”

“After I talk to the High Marshal?”

“No, sir king. You should have her ruling on this
before
you tell him—or at the very least tell him you have applied to her. This is a matter of command. She heads the entire Fellowship of Gird. Whatever comes out of Fin Panir will have authority; Marshals in Tsaia will align themselves with her, including High Marshal Seklis. When you have a command problem—when you need a decision—go to the top.”

“But the High Marshal will feel I did not respect him. And the Marshal-Judicar—”

“No, sir king. When they think about it, they will realize that any decisions about magery appearing in the Tsaian peerage cannot be made in Tsaia … not without bending the Code of Gird to breaking point. The Marshal-General will have a broader view. Because if magery can appear in a family where it has not been known for generations, who is to say it cannot appear in Fintha as well? In any family, anywhere?”

“That thought terrifies me,” the king said. “What if—what if
my
hand suddenly gives light? What if a trooper in the Royal Guard? A merchant? Or—though surely Gird would prevent it—a Marshal?”

“Exactly,” Dorrin said. “Did not the magelords sire children on their peasants in the old days?”

The king nodded. “But nothing has happened until now,” he said. “Why now?”

“I don't know,” Dorrin said. “But there will be a reason.”

“I wondered if it was you,” the king said. “I wondered if you had awakened magery in Beclan—but you haven't been near Camwyn.”

“I have awakened no magery in my other squires,” Dorrin said. “Nor in my soldiers, in all those years, nor in my household here.”

“Could it be the regalia?” the king asked. “But no—it has talked to me, but nothing has happened to me as it has to Camwyn.”

“I thought maybe it was the dragon,” the prince said.

“The dragon?” Dorrin looked from one to the other.

The king sighed and put his head in his hands. “A dragon came, in the guise of a man—”

“And said his name was Camwyn,” the prince said.

“Yes. Sir Camwyn. He came from Count Arcolin's domain with Sergeant Stammel because of the gnomes—do you know about that?”

“A little,” Dorrin said. “The dragon who stopped the scathefire in Lyonya visited Arcolin and went off with Stammel, who was blinded in the south. Arcolin gave the gnomes rock-right, according to Girdish law.”

“Yes. That dragon. Camwyn—” He looked at his brother. “Cam's always been fascinated by his namesake, and begged the dragon for a ride.”

“Did you touch tongues?” Dorrin asked the prince.

“We both did,” the king said. “I, to seal the bargain: I agreed to the gnomes having rock-right and would not dispute the land the dragon took from Tsaia. Camwyn, so he could ride in the dragon's mouth.”

“So I thought,” the prince said, “because dragons have fire and can fly, that maybe my magery was from the dragon.”

“That would not explain Beclan's magery,” Dorrin said. “I suppose there might be many causes, but you and Beclan are cousins—they often share family traits.”

“Then it was my grandfather,” the king said. “He sired both my father and Duke Mahieran's.” He looked bleak.

“Or your mother and your aunt … or your grandmother … or anyone with any mageborn blood, on either side, as far back as you can look. Sir king, I return to your thought of the regalia. Granted, Beclan had no direct contact with it. But if its effect is to waken magery, then … we have no idea how far its influence reaches. He was in Vérella when it was.”

“Why would it do that?”

“I don't know,” Dorrin said. “But … is it possible that the diminishing of the magelords' power that preceded the Girdish revolt was due in part to my ancestors using blood magery to lock the regalia away? Now that it's free again, its influence has returned.”

“So it's your fault after all?” The king smiled as he said it, then shook his head. “I applaud your honesty, Duke Verrakai, but I cannot think it true.” He was silent awhile. Dorrin held her peace, but the boys fidgeted. Finally the king said, “Your recommendation has merit. I will write to the Marshal-General first—but when Seklis returns, I must tell him.”

“Yes, sir king—but tell him only what he needs to know, not every detail. The more he hears, the more he will want to take charge. He is an honorable man, but was it not he who approved the plan to first isolate Beclan in that hunting lodge and then use him as bait? That plan led to deaths for many and near disaster for Beclan and Duke Mahieran.”

“But he's trained in war—”

“Sir king, I do not doubt his loyalty to you, or to Gird, or his personal fighting ability. But he has never seen real combat. It was—with all due respect—a fool's plan, discounting the enemy's intelligence, ability, and will.” Dorrin waited; the king finally nodded.