“And you won’t have far to go to see it done,” the king said, comfortable over his wine and nuts. “The East Market is being cleared as we speak.”
“Then you mean to go forward with this, my king?” Hylus asked softly. “You will not reconsider?”
The chamber went silent.
Erius turned slowly to his chancellor, and Tobin recognized the sudden change in his uncle’s jovial countenance. It was the same look he’d given Tobin when he’d foolishly asked that Cirna be given to Ki’s father. This time Niryn did not intervene.
“I believe I made myself clear on the matter this morning. Do you have something more to say?” the king replied, his voice dangerously low.
Hylus looked slowly around the table, but no one would meet his eye. “Only to reiterate that such matters have always been dealt with outside the city walls. In light of today’s incident, perhaps Your Majesty should—”
Erius lurched to his feet, clutching his mazer in one upraised hand, ready to hurl it at the old man. His face had gone dark red and sweat beaded his brow. Caught behind the Lord Chancellor’s chair, Ruan clutched the empty alms basin to his chest. Hylus lowered his head and pressed a hand to his heart, but did not flinch.
Time seemed to stop for one awful moment. Then Niryn rose and whispered something in the king’s ear.
Erius slowly lowered the cup and slumped back in his chair. Glaring around at the table, he demanded, “Does anyone else object to the execution of traitors?”
No one spoke.
“Very well, then,” Erius said thickly. “The executions will proceed as I order. Where I order. Now if you will all excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”
Korin rose to follow his father, but Niryn shook his head and accompanied the king himself. Moriel followed. Korin stared after them in silent outrage, cheeks flaming.
It was Hylus who broke this silence. “Ah, my prince, these are trying times. I should not have questioned your good father. I pray you will convey my apologies to him.”
“Of course, my lord.” Korin was still shaken, too.
Everyone rose to leave, but Tobin sat a moment longer, heart pounding in his ears. He’d grown complacent again, basking in his uncle’s favor. Tonight he knew he’d had a true glimpse of the man his mother had feared, the man who could in cold blood order the death of children.
24
“Traitors or not, I don’t like the feel of this,” Ki muttered as they finished dressing the following evening. “It’s bad business, killing priests. My dad used to say that’s what brought on all the famines and sickness there’ve been since the king—” Ki bit his tongue and looked quickly at Tobin to see if he’d offended him; the king was his uncle, after all. He kept forgetting that.
But Tobin was staring off with that distracted look he still sometimes got since his illness. Ki wasn’t sure if he’d even heard him.
Tobin tugged on his new surcoat and let out a troubled sigh. “I don’t know what to think, Ki. We’re pledged to fight all traitors against Skala, and I will! But the way the king looked at Hylus?” He shook his head. “I grew up with my mother’s madness. I know the look of it, and I swear that’s what I saw in the king’s eyes when he was shouting at that poor old man. And no one else said anything! They all acted like it was nothing. Even Korin.”
“If he is mad, who’d dare say anything? He’s still king,” Ki reminded him. “And what about Niryn? He looked pretty damn pleased, I thought.”
A soft knock came at the door and Nikides and Ruan slipped in. Ki noted with alarm that Nikides was close to tears.
“What’s wrong?” Tobin asked, guiding him to a chair.
Nikides was too overcome to answer.
“Haven’t you heard the rumors?” asked Ruan.
“No,” Ki replied. “What is it?”
Nikides found his voice then. “Grandfather is under arrest. For treason! For asking a question!” Nikides choked out, shaking with anger. “All Grandfather did was ask a question. You heard him. The king knows as well as anyone that there’s never been an execution inside the city walls, except—Well, you know.”
“Except during Queen Agnalain’s reign,” Ruan finished for him. “Begging your pardon, Prince Tobin, but your grandmother did some dark things.”
“You needn’t apologize to me. She was mad, just like my mother.”
“Don’t say that, Tob,” Ki begged. Her memory seemed to be on Tobin’s mind too much these days. “She never did anything like Mad Agnalain.” Or the king, he added silently.
“It can’t be true,” he said to Nikides. “Chancellor Hylus is the wisest, most loyal man in Skala and everyone knows it. You know how rumors are.”
“But what if it is true?” Nikides fought back tears. “What if he’s executed with the others tonight? And—” He looked imploringly up at Tobin. “How could I just sit there and watch?”
“Come on. Korin will know, I bet,” said Tobin.
Tanil answered their knock. “Time to go already?” He had on his showiest armor but his boots were still unlaced.
“No, we need to speak with Korin,” Tobin replied.
Korin was standing before his long looking glass with his cuirass half-buckled. The Sakor horse charm Tobin had made for him swung against the gilded leather as Tanil wrestled with the stubborn buckles. Two valets, meanwhile, were laying out ceremonial cloaks and polishing the prince’s gold-chased helm.
Ki felt a pang of guilt, seeing all this. Tobin still dressed himself, and only let Ki help with the straps he couldn’t reach. As much as he admired Tobin’s simplicity, he sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t try to live a bit more like a royal.
Tobin explained Nikides’ concerns, but Korin only shrugged. “I’ve heard nothing of it, Nik. You mustn’t mind Father. You know how changeable he can be, especially when he’s weary. It’s this damn heat!” He turned back to the mirror to watch as Tanil draped his maroon-and-gold cloak over his shoulders. “But Hylus should know better than to question Father!”
Any son would stand up for his father, Ki knew; he’d done it often enough himself. All the same, there was an imperious note in Korin’s voice he’d been hearing more often lately and it left him uneasy. So did poor Nikides’ stricken look.
“I thought it was the Lord Chancellor’s role to advise the king,” Tobin said quietly.
Korin turned and ruffled his cousin’s hair. “An advisor must still show the proper respect, coz.”
Tobin started to say something, but Ki caught his eye and shook his head slightly. Nikides’ nervous glance told him he’d done the right thing, as well as just how much life at court had changed since the king’s return.
The Companions assembled in the mess for Master Porion’s inspection before going on to the New Palace. Tobin stayed close to Nikides as the others milled about.
Ki stood with them, but his eye was on Korin. The prince was in high spirits, chattering on with the older boys like it was some festival they were going off to. Some of them had seen hangings, but tonight wizards would be burned!
“I hear they turn black and shrivel up like a spider in the fire,” said Alben, clearly relishing the idea.
“I heard they explode into colored smoke,” Orneus countered.
“We’ll show ’em how traitors are served in Ero!” Zusthra declared, brandishing his sword. “Bad enough to have enemies over the water without worrying about vipers here at home.”
This was greeted with a hearty cheer.
“Wizards are the most dangerous sort of traitor, with their magic and free ways,” Orneus declared, and Ki guessed he was quoting something he’d heard his father say.
“Rogue priests are the next worst, like that bastard who attacked Korin,” Urmanis chimed in. “And these damn Illiorans who still claim that only a woman can rule Skala? It’s like shitting on all the victories King Erius has given them.”