“You know you should not have even touched such a thing,” said Briony. “You could have been executed for that if someone caught you reading it.” She said it almost lightly, but in truth she spoke only because she was stalling; she did not want to hear what he would say next.
“As I said, Princess, I am a writer, and as all know, that is another name for a fool. I stepped to the doorway to listen for anyone coming and then unfolded the cover. Inside was a list of people—those that I recognized were trusted agents of Lord Brone—who, at a certain time and at a certain signal, would kill or imprison the members of the royal family. There were also plans for consolidating power afterward and keeping the people pacified. And the scheme was in Brone’s handwriting. I know it as well as my own.”
“What… ?” She could not believe what she was hearing. “Are you telling me that Brone plans to murder us?”
Finn Teodoros looked miserable. “It could be that I am wrong, Highness. It could be that it was another report—some conspiracy that he had uncovered, and perhaps even thwarted, copied over in his own hand. Or something entirely different. I would not want to declare the count guilty on what I saw alone and have his death on my conscience. But I swear it was as I tell you, Princess. He had made a list in his own hand that looked very much like a plan of betrayal and assassination—a plan to seize the throne of Southmarch. I wish it were not so, but that is what I saw.”
The clearing beside the road suddenly seemed as unstable as the deck of a ship. For a moment Briony feared it would spin away from beneath her and she would faint. “Why… why do you tell me this now, Finn?”
“Because you are leaving us soon,” he said. “We will not be able to keep up with the prince’s soldiers and in truth we wouldn’t want to. We are not fighters, but there’s fighting ahead of you, the gods know.” Finn bowed his head as though he couldn’t meet her eye. “And… because you have been kind to me, Princess. I am fond of you. As you said, I would like to think of you as a friend—and not simply because of the power that comes with being close to royalty. Once I could convince myself that I might be mistaken, that it was none of my affair. Now… well, I know you too well, Briony Eddon. Princess. That is the truth.”
“I… I have to think.” As alone as she had felt since her twin brother marched away, this was worse. The world, already a dangerous and confusing place, had now proved to have no center and no sense at all. “I have to think. Please leave me alone.”
He bowed and went away. And when Prince Eneas came to speak to her, sensing something wrong, she waved him off as well. There was no comfort to be had in the company of other people. Not now, anyway. Perhaps never again.
38. Conquering Armies
“Some mortal men, it is said, still bear the blood of the Qar in their veins, especially in the lands around the legendary Mount Xandos on the southern continent and among the Vuts and others who once lived in the far north. How many bear this taint, and what the effect of it upon mortals might be, I can find no scholarly record.”
Olin Eddon stood at the rail. He was tethered to one of his guards, with two others standing close by. The autarch might not worry about what a desperate, condemned man might do, but Pinimmon Vash did, and he had finally ordered that some kind of restraints be kept on the northern king at all times. At the very least, Olin might throw himself overboard and spoil whatever purpose Vash’s master had in mind for him. Why this didn’t worry Sulepis, Vash had no idea, although the autarch generally behaved as though he were infallible. So far nothing had proved the Golden One wrong, but Vash knew from long experience that if something did go wrong, it would be considered his fault, not his monarch’s.
“You do not look well, your Majesty,” said Vash.
“I do not feel well.” The northerner was more pale than usual, and his eyes were shadowed. “I have been sleeping poorly of late. I have many bad dreams.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” What a strange dance the autarch had forced him into, Vash thought. Everyone on the ship knew that this man was doomed, and yet the autarch expected Olin to be treated not just with courtesy, but as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “It is good you have come out on deck. The sea air is reputedly good for many ailments of the spirit.”
“Not for this one, I fear.” Olin shook his head. “It will grow worse as I draw closer to my home.”
Vash didn’t know what to say—hardly knew from listening to their conversations whether either King Olin or his own master were entirely sane. He looked up at a castle on the rocky headlands. A flag flew from its tower, but it was too far away to make out anything but its colors, red and gold. “Do you know that place?”
“Yes—Landsend. It is the home of one of my oldest and most trusted friends.” Olin’s smile was more like a grimace—Vash could see the man was hiding some sharp pain, but whether it was physical or caused by a memory, he couldn’t tell. “A man named Brone. He was, in many ways, my paramount minister, as you are the autarch’s.”
And I would wager you treated him better than Sulepis does me, whom he considers little more than a useful pet. Vash was surprised at his own bitterness. “Ah. Would you prefer to be left alone?”
“No, your presence is welcome, Lord Vash. In fact, I had been hoping we would find a little time to talk like this… just the two of us.”
The skin on Vash’s neck prickled. “What does that mean?”
“Merely that I believe that you and I have more interests in common than you might immediately recognize.”
Did this fool think he could talk Pinimmon Vash into betraying the Autarch of Xis? Even had he not been frightened of his master—and the gods knew that Sulepis terrified him—Vash would never betray the throne. His family had been serving Xis for generations! “I am certain that we have many interesting things to discuss, your Majesty, although I cannot conceive of any common interests we might share. Sadly, though, I have just remembered several chores still to be done this morning, so our conversation will have to wait.”
“Do not be so certain that we have no common interests,” Olin said as Vash turned to go. “None of us can know all the truth. It is a truly strange world we mortals inhabit—that is both my greatest solace and my greatest fear.”
The next time Vash encountered the northerner, Olin was brought to the fore of the ship to join Sulepis while the priests chanted and poured two golden seashells full of the autarch’s blood over the side to purify the waves and to claim this new body of water for Xis. Other than the linen bandages around his forearms, Sulepis seemed almost bursting with health, and when Olin and his guards climbed onto the forecastle the contrast between the two could not have been greater.
“Vash tells me you are not well,” the autarch said. “If it is the sea that does not agree with you, take heart—as you can guess, we will drop anchor in only an hour or two.”
Olin did not reply. Instead of watching the spectacle of Panhyssir and his priests blessing the waters, he turned to look back at the rest of the great ship. Everything was being prepared for landfall, sailors and soldiers swarming over the deck, windlasses creaking as the army lifted out their equipment and prepared to debark. It was unusual and more than a little dangerous to begin unloading before the ship touched land: Vash could tell that Sulepis was in a hurry.