Trial of Fire (36 page)

What was he looking for? What did he expect to find that he had to be on his own?

This was Robert’s son, he reminded himself. By this age, Robert had already fought a battle, had seen his father die at his feet, his country fall to
the usurper. And though he appeared to be the innocent, Andrew too had seen his share of evil.

‘It’s a nice evening,’ he began gently.

Andrew started, jumping up from his seat, eyes wide with surprise. ‘Oh, Your Grace … I didn’t hear you—’

‘Generally the others call me Father. In the current climate, I think it’s also probably safer.’

‘Of course! I’m sorry.’

And he did look sorry, genuinely sorry, and Aiden felt sorry for him in return. What an amazing ability that was, to so completely generate pity in another person. A quality rare amongst Kings, but not without its uses. His own cynicism made him smile. ‘Please, sit. I was just taking a walk. The weather has been unusually pleasant – at least, it is as far as I can recall. It’s been a long time since I spent a spring in Lusara.’

‘Yes,’ Andrew sat down again, though this time he kept his hands on the rock beside his legs and kicked his feet against it. ‘Are you glad to be back?’

‘Very much, though of course I wish the circumstances were better. What about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Are you glad to be back?’

‘Oh, yes!’

‘But you were only gone a few days. Were they so bad?’ While he awaited Andrew’s answer, Aiden wandered around the ruin a little, enjoying the moonlight and the fact that it wasn’t so cold he needed fifteen layers to combat the chill.

‘Not bad, no. I just didn’t want to leave Lusara.’

‘None of us do, my boy.’ Aiden found a suitable rock to sit on himself, a wide flat stone with dried lichen on top. He dusted it down then sat facing Andrew. ‘So tell me,’ he began without changing his tone. ‘What do you make of all this?’

Andrew’s mouth dropped open at the question. ‘I’m not the best person to ask, Father. You should know that I—’

‘Yes, Finnlay has explained your reluctance to kill your cousin.’ Aiden waved his hand, deliberately dismissing the issue before Andrew could get bogged down in it. ‘I meant the rest of it. The rebellion, the prospect of being King, the need to have your powers, the expectations of you. What do you make of all that?’

For a moment, Andrew didn’t answer. Then his eyes dropped to his hands and he shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m sure you’ve all talked about it a lot. I didn’t know anything about it until I met Robert, and that was only a
few weeks ago. You’ve already sent letters out, so the rebellion can’t be stopped. I suppose everything will happen one way or the other.’

There was something so fragile in Andrew’s tone that Aiden couldn’t miss it; he knew he had to address it now, or it would become a monster on its own. He stood and made his way to Andrew’s side. The boy watched him as he sat on the same piece of wall, laced his fingers together in the same way. ‘Do you know what’s going to happen when you become King?’

Andrew shook his head slowly.

‘Well, the country will be a mess, that’s for sure. I mean, it’s already a mess, so a rebellion isn’t going to fix it up at all. Not without help. And the people will be a mess – again, so many of them are already – and as King, you will be responsible for making their lives better.’

The boy’s eyes remained wide, and not a little frightened.

‘Can you imagine, however, what would happen if we just left it all to one person? You, or even Robert? We would have an even bigger mess on our hands – which would defeat the entire purpose of the rebellion. And that’s why we’re here. Your Council: Deverin, Owen, Payne and Daniel, me, even Finnlay. We’re all here to help you. So you can learn from us, so we can take a lot of the work from you – because we’re all older, and wiser, and we’ve done much of this before. But even if you were thirty years old, even if you had done it all before and knew everything there was to know about being a King, we’d still be here to help you.’

‘Why?’ The shy question almost made Aiden cry.

‘Because,’ he replied quietly and solemnly, ‘you are a Ross by birth, and the last of our Lusaran royal line. You are our true King.’

‘But I don’t know what being a King means. I mean, if Kenrick is so bad, then what else can a King do?’

Aiden smiled. ‘Learn.’

‘Learn?’

‘A good King is always learning. You’re young, you’ve been taught well so far. Just keep going.’

‘That’s all?’

‘For the most part, yes. The more you learn, the more you’ll learn. But whatever you do, don’t try to make it all happen now. All that business with fighting Kenrick and the rebellion and making your powers develop – worry about those as they come. For the moment, the single best thing you can do is to talk to us, your councillors. Ask questions. Learn. That’s what we’re here for.’

Andrew’s eyes searched his for several heartbeats, then the boy nodded.

Knowing he’d breached those emotional walls Andrew had barricaded himself within, Aiden now began to mend them. ‘You know how long I
reigned as Bishop? About three hours. Long enough to celebrate mass and consider the enormous role I had just taken on. After that, I was put in a cell, with a nice locked door, and told I would never see daylight again. Two years later I did, thanks to Payne, and your Father John, and a number of others. After I met Robert, things changed again. He drew me into this entire adventure, and he’s never let me go since. During all that time, no matter my pleas, he has always called me Bishop – even when I threatened to hit him.’ Andrew smiled a little at that. ‘I can see you know what I mean. You see, he wanted me to remember. He wanted me to never forget that I did have a role to play – and an important one at that. And here I am, more a Bishop every day, and you know, I still don’t know how to do it. More than that, it scares me more as each day goes by. One day soon, I’ll stand before my congregation in the Basilica and I will have to show them what they’ve been waiting for. The very idea frightens me half to death.’

Andrew frowned. He slipped off the wall and moved away a few steps. Without turning, he said, ‘You think I’m afraid.’

‘I’m saying
I’m
afraid.’

‘No, you think I’m afraid.’ Andrew turned then and looked up, his eyes meeting Aiden’s openly.

Once more, Aiden shook his head, ‘I don’t think you’re afraid—’

‘Don’t.’ Andrew held up his hands. ‘Please, Father, I know you’re lying. If you want me to trust you, and if we’re going to do all this then I need to know you won’t lie to me.’

Aiden held his breath in shock. By the gods, this boy
could
tell the truth from a lie! Was that why he’d been so determined to keep himself apart from everyone else? Because he could see the lies they would speak to him?

Dear Mineah, then he would know how disappointed they were, that they had expected so much more. And could this be the first of his powers beginning to show? He’d have to ask Finnlay.

‘Yes,’ he admitted, laying himself open as he did. ‘I do think you’re afraid. I also think you’ve every reason to be and I don’t think there’s a man alive who, in your position, wouldn’t be afraid. I also think,’ Aiden paused, standing up straight and stretching, ‘that being afraid is not the worst thing in the world. I know for a fact that Robert is afraid all the time.’

Andrew scoffed at that. ‘He is not.’

‘I promise you he is. Ask him.’

‘He’d never tell me.’

‘I think you’d be surprised.’ Aiden looked back at the path winding along beside the water. ‘It’s still early. Do you know this area at all? Is it safe to keep walking?’

‘If I come with you it will be.’

‘Very well. Lead the way.’ Aiden’s smile wasn’t just for the boy’s benefit. This was definitely Robert’s son: beneath that gentle, beguiling exterior was a heart of pure steel. Deverin was right: Robert had chosen well.

*

Micah didn’t see the trip wire until it was too late and he was tumbling from his horse, landing heavily. He rolled twice, out of breath, but he still managed to come up in a crouch, ducking out of the way of his panicked horse. He had a dagger in his hand, ready to confront his attacker – but he needn’t have bothered.

Robert stood over him, Micah’s own sword pointed towards him, inches from his throat. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you.’

Micah waited a heartbeat then dropped his dagger. ‘I don’t have a reason for you.’ He looked up, not wanting to see what he knew would be there in Robert’s eyes. The moonlight was bright, almost enough to read by. This stretch of the path was open enough and he could see clearly. The darkness came entirely from Robert’s eyes and sent a shiver of profound shock through Micah from head to foot.

He’d known this man from the age of six and not once, in all that time, had he ever seen Robert angry. Until now.

‘I’m not going to go away,’ Micah began carefully, not trying to hide anything in his voice. He couldn’t hide anything from Robert anyway and they both knew it. ‘I want a part of this. I
am
a part of this.’

‘That’s why you stayed with Andrew, was it? So you could hold some sway over him?’

‘No! I stayed with him to teach him, to protect him. I thought you’d want it.’

‘Oh, I did – until I found out you’d married a Malachi! And you kept her there, so close to Andrew, knowing full well what he was all along.’

‘No, I had nothing to do with the attack, so don’t even go saying it.’

‘I’m still waiting for that reason.’

Carefully, slowly, Micah climbed to his feet, noting how Robert simply followed him up, using the sword when his powers would do the job better but less painfully. ‘Lusara is my country. My father had to die on foreign soil. You owe
me
a Maclean.’

Robert didn’t answer immediately. His eyes didn’t waver, nor did his threat. Then, abruptly, he stepped back, twisted the sword and tossed it to Micah hilt-first.

‘Fine. But what I said about your wife still stands. And one other thing.’ Robert turned away, pulling his gloves on absently. ‘If I suspect you will betray Andrew or anyone in our cause, I will kill you without question and you will consider it a blessing.’

‘Robert—’

‘No.’ He turned and faced Micah squarely, anger written in every line of his face. ‘You gave up the right to call me that when you agreed to that deception.’

‘I had no choice!’

With a bitter laugh, Robert strode to the side of the path where his horse was tethered. ‘Welcome to my world.’ With that, he mounted up and rode away, leaving Micah to scramble to catch his mount and follow. And though so much had changed in ten years, it all felt exactly the same.

*

Finnlay used the moonlight to his advantage. With the night so bright, the shadows were doubly dark, and hiding in them was so much easier. But he didn’t need to get too close to Elita’s main keep to see the villagers, to hear them praying.

They gathered some time around midnight, on the road approaching the castle. Roughly about where the outer postern gate had stood, where huge blocks of stone still lay, the villagers held their gathering. There was only a dozen of them, and they sang softly, but with passion. Less than half an hour later, they were walking back down the road towards Fenlock, gleaming smiles on their faces as though they’d been blessed by the goddess herself.

There was simply no accounting for some people. How could anybody think Jenn was the incarnation of the goddess? Certainly she’d done a number of miraculous things, but they could all be attributed to her powers. It was true that none of these people would know that she was a sorcerer – although it was possible that some had recognised her at Shan Moss and knew what she’d done, and it was ironic that they would credit her with this status when Mineah was last known for putting down the sorcerer’s rebellion – but should that make a difference?

Still deeply puzzled, Finnlay backed away from the road, found more shadows to hide in and gradually made his way back to the camp. He’d posted sentries and checked each before finding his bed and sinking into it with gratitude.

More waiting. In particular, more waiting for Robert. He had no trouble assuming Robert was still alive; he had to be. Since Robert and Jenn were together now, he couldn’t imagine Robert – in whatever dire straits – not finding the power at least to mindspeak Jenn to say goodbye, not after they’d waited so long to be together.

And now they were here, ready, waiting, the rebellion in its first precious hours. It had taken so long to arrive at this point, so much had happened, but there was so much still to happen. And though he had all the faith he
could muster in a brother who was still not here, and a nephew who didn’t want to be here, there was not enough faith in him yet to believe that they had a real chance for victory. The one thing he did know, however, was that this would be their last try. If they didn’t win this time, then the loss would be final.

‘Damn it!’ he whispered to himself. He hated thinking things like this when he was trying to get to sleep. When he woke in the morning, he’d be cranky, without really being able to say why.

He rolled over, found a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he listened to the sounds of the camp, to Deverin snoring and the horses stamping. He tried not to listen to the river below; that would just make him want to get up to relieve himself. The ground was comfortable enough, his blanket adequate against the cool of the night, and the moon soft enough to make him feel at home, such a powerful blue glow—

His eyes snapped open – then widened. By the gods – was he dreaming? He sat up, looking around to make sure he was the only one awake. He was, and the sentries were a good distance away, so they shouldn’t see this.

Careful to keep his movements as quiet as possible, Finnlay peeled his blanket back and returned his eyes to his nephew. Andrew was lying not far away, beside an old tree trunk struck down by lightning. He had a blanket over his shoulder, with just his face and his left hand protruding from the cloth: both of which were glowing a vivid blue, as though the moon had condensed itself onto his skin.