Ari stirred, looking a little apprehensive at that pronouncement. But before he could say anything, Lord Ya-tiren stood up, and any murmuring sank into silence.
Lord Ya-tiren had never been the sort to have any patience with ostentation in his dress, so the plain kilt he wore and the simple collar, sash, and wig with it, would not have been out of place among any gathering of moderately prosperous men. It was not his physique that commanded the room either; like most Altans, especially compared with Tians, he was slender, and although he was in excellent condition, his was the build of a scholar or scribe, not a warrior.
It was something else entirely that set him apart; the feeling of completely unconscious authority, as if, all his life, men had listened to him and obeyed when he gave an order.
Which, of course, they had.
“I make bold to call this meeting into order. We are here because things have come to the point that we need a council of peers to govern us,” he said, in such reasonable tones that there was nodding all the way around. “I think we are all agreed on that, even our new—allies. And we were fairly agreed some time ago on who should sit on this council. But after last night, it is clear to me, and perhaps it has
always
been clear to Kaleth, that Sanctuary is not going to be the retreat for Altans alone that we once thought. It will be bigger, holding far more people, and a council alone will not suffice to govern it.”
He paused, but there was no sound of disagreement. “We are used to being ruled by Kings and Queens, both Altans and Tians alike. I believe most folk will be uneasy without such rulers. Perhaps a council might have served if Sanctuary was only to be home to a handful of Jousters, a few renegade Great Houses, and a gaggle of priests. But it is not. The common people of the Two Lands will be coming here, and we need a single figure—or perhaps, I should say, a pair—to serve as leaders. Our peoples are used to bringing their troubles to a single source of remedy, not a council. And there should be one deciding voice to cut through dissent and say, ‘
this
shall be’ when there is no clear agreement.”
There was murmuring, but it was the murmur of agreement rather than dissent. No one was going to argue . . . yet.
“You, my lord,” Ari began, but Lord Ya-tiren shook his head.
“I will not be accepted by Tians,” he pointed out, before any of the Tian priests could even think to object. “I would not even truly be accepted by Altans. By our laws, the ruler
must
be out of the royal bloodlines. Kaleth and Marit are already out of the succession, by reason that he is claimed by the gods and she is claimed by him. So aside from them, there is only one person here who matches that requirement.”
And he looked across the circle to where Nofret was sitting beside Ari, on the side opposite to Kiron. She looked up at him, eyes as wide as a startled gazelle.
“But!” she began, “I do not—I am not—” but Lord Khumun and Lord Ya-tiren together shook their heads.
“You must,” said Lord Ya-tiren. “We are all—all!—taking duties we feel we are ill-suited to. This must be yours. Besides, Nofret, you and your sister were trained to sit on the Twin Thrones. You may not have the experience, but you have the knowledge of how to lead, and you certainly have the example before you of how
not
to lead.”
“But Tians will never accept an Altan leader,” began Baket-ke-aput, his brow clouding. “There have been only two Queens who ruled in all of our history, and even then they ruled as Regents for their infant sons!”
Kaleth held up his hand. “We did not say she was to rule alone. In Alta, that would be unthinkable anyway. We are no longer to be ruled by the Sacred Twins, I think, but—” And now he looked at Ari, “—there is a logical partner for Nofret who would be accepted by the Altans. And that is you, Ari.”
Ari started visibly. He had not been expecting
this!
But then, by the murmurs, neither had anyone else. “I cannot see why—” Ari began.
“Only because you are far too modest. If I recall correctly, it is you, Ari, who more often than most, has the best ideas.” Kaleth lifted his right shoulder in a kind of shrug. “Ask anyone, and they will tell you. It is you who is the likeliest to devise solutions to problems quickly. But most important of all, you are a peacemaker. It is you who most often can take people who are quarreling and bring them to work together.”
“Oh, no—” Ari objected, shaking his head. “It is
you,
Kaleth, who does all that and more!”
“But only when under the hand of the gods! When I am myself, I am no better at it than—than Gan!” Kaleth replied, causing those who knew Gan well to laugh. Then his expression darkened, and grew serious. “Besides, no man can serve at two tables. The gods demand my time, and our history tells ill tales about those who thought to hold power over men while the gods demanded their own kind of service.”
“It says worse of those who styled themselves as Priest-Kings,” Heklatis put in dryly. “Or those who claimed to rule in the name of the gods. The temptation is to say that what you want and what the gods want is one and the same, and it is difficult for ordinary folk to prove otherwise.”
“As always, your tongue delivers wisdom as well as stings, Healer,” Kaleth said, nodding. “To be brief, then: I will not deny the gods what they will of me.”
Marit placed a hand on his shoulder; she said nothing, but her expression spoke as loudly as any words.
No more shall I.
“I,” said Lord Ya-tiren, “would not be accepted by Tians, nor, more importantly, by Nofret. And, most importantly of all, the First Lady of my house would strip my skin from my flesh with her words if I were to try so foolish a thing.”
That brought another bit of laughter from those who knew the lady in question. Sweet-natured as Lord Ya-tiren’s wife was, she also had a dangerous tongue when she was angered. And there was little doubt how she would react to the notion of her husband attempting to take a wife young enough to be his daughter, she who had never permitted a Second Wife to enter the household. “I am pleased and happy to handle administrative tasks,” he finished, “but I know where my abilities best lie.”
“And I,” said Lord Khumun, “am, and always will be, a soldier. Ask me strategy, tell me that tactics are needed, and you will have all you desire. But outside that—” He shrugged. “And even less am I, a soldier of the Altans, like to be accepted by Tians.”
“I do not know how much you know of the ways of our people and their rulers,” Lord Ya-tiren said to the Tian priests. “In our tradition, the male twins of royal blood who marry the female twins of royal blood can be made Kings. And unless I am very much mistaken, in the Tian tradition, the man of the appropriate bloodline who marries the royal daughter can be made King. Is this correct?”
Baket-ke-aput nodded. “Entirely. And—” he added, with a lifted brow, “—there is a saying among our people that the man who
least
wishes to be King, is the man who is like to be the best suited. Still—”
“Then by all qualifications, Ari is the only choice for all of us,” Kaleth replied, “since he is Tian and will be accepted by Tians and I will not divorce my Marit to free her for some other husband.” Marit still had her hand on Kaleth’s shoulder, and he covered it with one of his own. “My beloved, who has the secrets of her sister’s heart poured daily into her ear, tells me that Nofret does not find Ari distasteful.”
“Ah, but Ari is a commoner,” Ari objected—
Except that when he said those words, he did not sound at all certain. In fact, he sounded like a man who was telling a lie. And Kiron’s ears pricked up at that.
Kaleth drew himself up and stared at Ari, putting on that invisible mantle of dignity that transformed him into someone Kiron felt impelled to bow to. The back of his neck prickled a little. Kaleth
knew
something. And it had not come from the mouths of men. Furthermore, he was about to say something—or perhaps it was more appropriate to say, Someone was about to speak through him.
“I believe, Ari-en-anethet,” said Kaleth, in a voice that seemed to echo in the overcrowded room, “that it is time and more than time that you told the truth about your birth.”
The reaction of the Tian priests to that voice was altogether satisfactory from an Altan point of view. They looked very much as if they were going to throw themselves on their faces, and only the fact that no one else was doing so kept them still seated. At the back of the room, the few acolytes who were still here
had
thrown themselves prostrate.
So these Tians do recognize the Voice of the Gods when they hear it.
That made Kiron feel a good bit better. It meant that the priests
knew
now what Power was holding the reins here, however lightly those reins were being held. And when their fellow countrymen showed up, the priests would take care of whatever “enforcement” of the laws and ways of Sanctuary needed to be done. It was one thing to claim to speak for the gods, but when you could demonstrate the fact, well, that was another bundle of reeds altogether.
But others here had paid more attention to the words than the tone or the way in which the words were delivered. “Your birth?” Haraket looked from Kaleth to Ari, his face screwed up in puzzlement. “What about his birth? He’s the son of a scribe—”
“He is the
nephew
of a scribe,” Kaleth corrected, in a voice that no longer echoed. “His mother was a Temple of Senet handmaiden. Which was where his father came upon her and came to love her.”
Sharp glances among the Tian priests, and some whispers among the oldest. So. There was something about this that was calling to mind things that they knew.
“My father was a simple soldier,” Ari said stubbornly.
Kaleth laughed. “Your father was a soldier, yes, but hardly ‘simple, ’ and well you know it. Ari, the gods have shown me your life laid out as an open scroll. Let your tongue at last tell the truth. It is the answer to how to unite our people, and though it is not the only answer to that conundrum, it is the best one.”
Ari looked as stressed as Kiron had ever seen him, as if he both loathed what he was about to say, and had longed to say it aloud all his life. “It is—it is nothing I wished anyone to know.
Ever!
” he managed. “It is an accident of birth! It is not meritorious and not ignoble either, but it is no recommendation to be made a leader! Kings should be made of more than bloodlines! This is—”
“Vital,” Kaleth said firmly. “To the common man, it is the hand of the gods. Perhaps blood does not make a king, but having a noble bloodline does not make him less of one. You have the skills. Now tell.”
Ari hung his head. “My father,” he said, to the hands lying clenched in his lap, “Was—is—the King’s brother, the Royal Commander of the Armies of Tia.”
Baket-ke-aput looked absolutely thunderstruck. So, in fact, did every other Tian. It was Baket-ke-aput who recovered first and said, falteringly, “Then Ari-en-anethet, Jouster of Tia and Sanctuary, would be—acceptable to the priesthood and the people of Tia as a coruler with the Noble Maiden Nofret. If he is acceptable to the Noble Maiden.”
Nofret’s expression was sober, but her voice was firm. “He is acceptable.”
“Just one moment.” Ari stood up. Kiron had never seen him so tense in all the time he had known the senior Jouster. He practically vibrated.
It’s a good thing that Kashet isn’t here, or Ari’s nerves would have that poor dragon looking for something or someone to attack.
“Nofret, no matter what these people want, I will not take a wife who is coming to me out of a sense of duty!”
Nofret regarded him gravely. “Jouster Ari,” she said, with great dignity. “All my life I have known that I must wed out of duty. To have a husband who is pleasant, kind, and a—” she hesitated, “—a friend, a very dear friend, is more than I expected.”
Ari shook his head, stubbornly. “Maybe
you
have been trained to think that is the right and proper way to do things, but I have not. Thank you for saying that I am pleasant and kind and a friend, but I—I require more.”
He turned to Kaleth. “The Lady Nofret has no other kin here but you and her sister, Mouth of the Gods,” he said with great formality, before anyone, even Nofret, could respond. “Therefore, I beg your leave to court her and win her love as well as her regard.”
Baket-ke-aput was dumbstruck. Nofret looked first shocked, then puzzled, then, slowly, her eyes glowed with warmth and pleasure.
Kaleth did not so much as lift a corner of his mouth, even though Ari was almost old enough to be his father. “You have my leave,” he said gravely.
“And mine,” said Marit, just as gravely, though the twinkle in her eye and the furtive flush on Nofret’s cheeks suggested that Ari already was well on the way to having that love. Assuming he didn’t have it already. Maybe Kiron wasn’t very old, but there was one thing he did know, and that was that there was no telling what a female would think.
“And you will not pressure her into a decision!” Ari continued. He sounded desperate, but Kiron didn’t think he was looking for an excuse not to wed Nofret. On the contrary. He wanted her desperately. He meant exactly what he said; he didn’t want a co-ruler, he wanted a wife and a partner.