Then Aurolron seemed to make an effort to assert himself. He picked up the two papers and started to tear them into small shreds. "You are a meddlesome, snooping busybody--but I suppose you inherit some of that from me. Your paternity, at least, is not in doubt. You will find curiosity useful. Who else knows of this? Have you discussed it with that rat pack you favor?"
The prince flushed. "With no one, Father."
"Good," the king said. "Very well, I congratulate you. I agree that I may have overlooked something. Forget this conversation. I shall take steps to uphold my honor, and I suggest that you now be more concerned with your own. You may withdraw."
Jarkadon rose and bowed low, but as he turned for the door, his face broke into a wide smile. Hastily Shadow closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wing of his chair, feigning sleep, afraid to meet the prince's gaze. His clothes were soaked with sweat.
He did not hear the equerry enter across the thick rug, and he jumped quite genuinely when the man spoke. He saw a few grins out in the anteroom. Shadow asleep on duty! Why had he never thought of that before? He must start dropping such hints, and perhaps he would win his retirement yet.
No more audiences were scheduled, only a few petitioners.
The king would not see them.
The equerry withdrew, and the door was closed. For an endless time the monarch sat at his desk and stared at Shadow's chair, making its occupant melt with terror.Did the king know?Had he been pretending ignorance all this time? If he as much as suspected that Shadow had overheard, then Shadow's death was very near.
And which story was correct? The king's mind was infinitely tortuous, and he had switched positions like a moth. Obviously he was betraying one son or lying to the other, but which? Or both?
Aurolron ended his brooding. He reached for the bell rope and summoned his most trusted secretary and another man, whose name was enough to send shivers down Shadow's back--ostensibly an armorer, he also applied his skill with hot iron as one of the royal torturers. The door was closed and then opened almost at once as the secretary scuttled in.
The king waited until the man was ready and then began. "To the crown prince: usual greetings...
"By our royal command: Terminate your journey at Gorr and do not continue to Ninar Foan. Return with all your companions as fast as practical. You may give your mother's health as a reason, but she is well.
"While you are in Gorr, a man named Ovla will seek audience with you. Admit him privily and receive him in private, with only Shadow present. You may allow a day or two for him to appear.Usual ending. Also, prepare a warrant for the arrest of the holder of Hiando Keep--a baronet, last name Harl. Look it up. And his wife. To be held incommunicado during our pleasure. We will receive the aerie archivist after lunch."
The secretary rose.
"Wait!" the king said. "There is more." He paused until the man was ready once more. "Add this to the prince's letter:I know that this revocation will distress you greatly, but I have good reasons for it, and the man Ovla knows them and will disclose them to you. Then you will understand that I am acting in your best interests only. We have much to discuss when you return, my son, and I regret that I have not taken you into my confidence sooner.That's all. Bring the private seal; I shall have another."
Shadow watched the secretary's stooped shoulders hurry through the door and puzzled on what all that had meant. Even after five kilodays, he could never unravel the spider's webs, the depths of his duplicities. Aurolron prided himself on never having to cancel an order. The feint of a recall, the double feint of that apparently sincere and personal addition to the impersonal command, the irresistible hint of secrets to be disclosed by Ovla...then what? What else would the mysterious Ovla bring?
Now the king had taken pen and parchment himself and was writing--and that was rare indeed. Only the most contrived machinations ever provoked him to use his own hand. For what seemed a long time he sat and wrote, while Shadow cowered in his chair and listened to the pen scratch like a fingernail on a coffin lid.
The king finished, read it over, folded it carefully. He rang once more, and then received the armorer, who smiled at Shadow as he went past. The man enjoyed his work.
"There is a Jion Paslo in the cells," the king said quietly.
"Yes, Majesty?"
The king sighed. "He is very stick."
Not expected to live.
"Any questions, Majesty?"
"None," said the king. "Quick and painless. I expect the warden's report within the hour." He passed over a ring as payment.
The man bowed. "About one hundred breaths, sire."
He paused at the door and gave Shadow another friendly smile. He always did that, and Shadow always wondered if he were being measured for a griddle.
The secretary returned, and the two letters were sealed.
"Both to be sent by the bird from Ninar Foan," the king said. "Take them to the aerie yourself and see that the lord eagler attends to the matter in person."
He rose and wandered along the room behind the secretary, looking amiable.
"Well, Shadow," he remarked cheerfully. "I think we have earned some lunch--are you well?"
"A touch of the grippe, Majesty, perhaps."
Aurolron frowned. "Then we shall send you to bed. We should not want you to become very sick."
Shadow shivered convulsively, as though he had an ague.
Someone was going to be very sick, he was sure, when that letter reached its destination.
Chapter 6
"Give a man the whole sky and he'll break his neck."
WHY did the world always feel colder when a man awoke from sleep? Shadow climbed quietly up to the top floor of the aerie, shivering and wondering. The sun was the same and the wind was the same, but he had not shivered when he had arrived at Vinok. The two troopers on sentry duty straightened when they saw him; nineteen eagles paid no attention.
The primitive toilets were on ground level, a long way down. No one else was awake, so Shadow moved to leeward and relieved himself over the perching wall.
A desolate place! The Rand here curved away from the sun, almost across the terminator. The lower hills were sheathed in perpetual shade, and the higher peaks glowed against a somber sky. The air was thin and bitter, the sun a bloodstain on the horizon.
He had slept badly, his mattress stretched across the door of the prince's room. That was an excess of zeal, perhaps, but that was no fault in a leader, and everyone in the party knew who made the decisions. Zeal, unfortunately, was little protection from either drafts or frequent giggling and rustling sounds--the countess had been working overtime at cheering up her prince. Raising the spirits by raising the flesh, she called it.
It was now forty-five days since they had left Ramo, and Vindax was still alive. The wild birds--and they had seen several flocks--had avoided so large a group. If wild men were planning violence, Shadow's precautions had confounded them so far.
His business ended, Shadow wandered over to the nearer guard.
"Good sky, trooper."
"Good sky to you, Shadow." It amused the troopers that he need not be saluted and yet could overrule a vice-marshal.
NailBiter and IceFire had stopped nuzzling each other. Shadow stared hard along the ridges rightward, seeing nothing but barren rock and rare wind scrub. "We are about to have visitors," he said.