Sovereign

Lynan looked down at what he was holding as if he had not been aware he had them. Farben's body slumped to the ground. Coudroun's head rolled until it bumped into one of the servant's legs.

'Korigan?' Ager said, keeping his eyes on Lynan. 'Would you help me get his majesty to his chambers, please?'

Korigan moved quickly. She and the crookback led Lynan out of the throne room. As they left, Ager looked over his shoulder to Jenrosa. He caught her eye, and saw that beside the certainty there was also resolution there, and once more the faint spark of hope flared in his heart.

CHAPTER 22

Tomar sat on his throne trying to stay awake as two landowners argued a case before him. His secretaries had tried unsuccessfully to clarify the separate claims before the claimants entered, and now he was paying the price for it. He already knew what his decision would be, but tradition—not justice—demanded that both claimants could put forward their case fully. He looked around, noticed that others in the court were also fighting off drooping eyelids and cavernous yawns. The law was a ponderous thing, he thought, made fat by centuries of bickering clerks and poor decisions. One day he would get around to codifying properly the statutes of Chandra, organising them into some kind of hierarchy so that others besides himself could determine the outcomes of cases so important that grieves passed them onto the capital. And that's the other thing he would do, update the system of grieves. He had met a few during his reign, and a benighted lot they were too.

No, he corrected himself, not all of them. There had been the brave little fellow in the Arran Valley who put up to Jes Prado. Not a lot of common sense, maybe, but certainly more than his fair share of pluck. There was, after all, some good among the dross, even if you had to search hard for it. Reforming the system might increase the good and reduce the dross, and that would actually help reduce the problem of too many cases being passed on to the court.

He fidgeted uncomfortably on the throne; even with a cushion under his backside it was an exercise in slow torture to sit through an open session in court, bedecked in his finery, holding the staff of judgement, desperately trying to look interested.

There was a commotion outside the throne room. Tomar held his hand up to stop the landowner who was droning on about ancient rights of way. The court sergeant was standing at the entrance, indicating that there was someone just out of sight waiting to see him. Then he noticed that the sergeant's lance of office was dressed over his right shoulder. The someone waiting was royalty.

Oh God, not Areava, surely!

'My good sirs,' he said to the claimants. 'My apologies, but this case must be delayed to another time.' He turned to one of his secretaries. 'Arrange a special hearing for these two men. Their important matter must not be put off a moment longer than necessary.'

The secretary nodded and gathered together the two landlords, who were indignant but were given no time to object, and moved them aside. Tomar immediately signalled to the sergeant, who marched forward. Two figures—a man and a woman—fell in behind him. He recognised both, and the sight of the woman made him inside. He would rather it was Areava.

'Charion,' he said.

Although everyone in the room was already watching approach of the unexpected guests, most had not seen the sergeant's lance and did not recognise them. When Tomar said the name, a murmur passed through the court like a breeze over a wheat field.

Their condition was pitiful. Their clothes were in tatters, their skin cut and bruised, their hair matted, their faces drawn with exhaustion. He was never sure what made him do it, but filled with a sudden and unexpected pity Tomar descended from the throne to greet them.

'King Tomar, forgive this intrusion,' Charion said. 'But we have ridden far and had nowhere else to go.'

'Then you are welcome in my house,' he said formally, knowing that with their arrival and with his words, events had been set in motion over which he would soon have no control.

Later that day Tomar called for his champion. When Barys arrived he found the king sitting at a desk with three documents in front of him, two he recognised immediately as official letters from Kendra. The third was written neatly on good quality paper, and he could see that Tomar had folded and unfolded it many times.

'How long have you served me?' Tomar asked him, motioning for him to take the seat opposite his.

Barys had to think that one through. 'Twenty years. Maybe more.'

'Thirty-one,' Tomar said.

'Really? I had no idea it had been that long. Are you going to retire me?'

'You will outlast me, old friend.'

'We are the same age.'

'You look older.'

Barys snorted. 'Are you going to talk to me about these?' he asked, moving the documents around the table with a hand. He did not pretend not to be curious, but nor did he insult his king by trying to read them upside down.

Tomar picked up one of the Kendra letters. 'This one you already know the contents of. It is from Areava informing us of her decision to plant the standard of her Great Army in southern Chandra.'

'You know my thoughts on that.'

'And this,' Tomar continued, holding up the second letter from Kendra, 'is from her chancellor.' He gave it to Barys.

'It is her signature,' Barys said.

'But his writing,' Tomar replied. 'I know it as well as I know my own. Read.'

Barys did so. When he finished he said, 'This can hardly surprise you. They must be wondering why you have not formally agreed to their request.'

'I think some in Kendra may have wondered. Areava was happy to let it go and let the army simply arrive, that way demonstrating to the people of Chandra that it was her decision to impose on this province and not mine. She is as wily as her mother, and in her own way as considerate of our sensibilities.'

'Nevertheless, she did sign this second letter,' Barys pointed out, 'her consideration for our sensibilities notwithstanding.'

'She was outmanoeuvred,' Tomar said. 'Probably in council.'

'By Orkid Gravespear?'

'Possibly, or maybe by someone from one of the Twenty Houses.'

'You cannot actually know this.'

Tomar shrugged. 'I have no reason to find excuses for Areava. I do not like the woman. But I do think she is closer in style and intent to Usharna than any of her siblings, and this province lived quite well under Usharna's protective embrace.'

'You have a soft spot for the old queen because she married Elynd.'

With the mention of that name Tomar visibly stiffened, something Barys could not help noticing. Then it all clicked into place for him. He pointed to the third document. 'That's from the General's son, isn't it?'

Tomar closed his eyes and nodded.

'I hope you have been keeping that on your person,' Barys said. 'If Areava or the chancellor—or, for God's sake, Charion—were to find out you had it, they would cut off your head.'

'You would protect me,' Tomar said, trying to keep his voice light.

'They would happily cut off mine first to get to you.'

Tomar did not argue the point.

'Well, my lord, are you going to tell me what it says?'

Tomar picked up the letter, but hesitated in handing it over. 'How well do you remember Elynd?' he asked suddenly.

'Very well,' Barys said seriously. 'I fought by his side in three great battles—'

'Yes, I know all that,' Tomar said impatiently. 'Did you like him?'

'Yes.'

'And I,' the king admitted. 'I know he liked both of us. He thought we were…' Tomar struggled to find the word.

'As straight as a wind across the Oceans of Grass,' Barys said.

Tomar smiled. 'Yes, that's it. How clever of you to remember.'

'The old general had a way with words.'

'Not all of them attractive.'

'What's the point of all this remembering?'

'He was as straight with us as we were with him. It was part of his nature, I think.'