Sovereign

Edaytor glanced at the prince. 'You are asking questions sidewise,' he said. 'Is this going to be a lecture?'

'No. You may already know the answer. I did not until I gave the subject a great deal of thought.'

'Then to answer as best I can, the obvious reason they are called the Keys of Power is that they contain great magik and are capable of performing great magik.'

'You are speaking like a magiker, as you should. But I think you are wrong. I think they are called the Keys of Power because of what they represent, not what they contain. For most people living in Grenda Lear, the Keys belong to the monarch and her family. The Keys represent sovereignty, majesty, stability. That is their true power.'

Edaytor considered Olio's words, then asked: 'And you derive from that?'

'That we can continue our work to heal the sick and injured, but this time in the open and with the full cooperation of both the Church and the queen.'

'Your part in this?'

'Purely symbolic. I am the possessor of the Key of Healing. It will be enough.'

'Many believe you performed miracles the night of the fire. The common people will be looking for miracles again.'

'By providing proper care for those who need it and cannot afford it for themselves, Edaytor, we will supply a flood of miracles. In time the stories of that terrible night will become like ancient myths; the common people will pretend to believe in them while all the time being the level-headed labourers, cobblers, cooks and sailors they have always been.'

'You underestimate the power of myth,' Edaytor said absently, for they had left the harbour behind and were strolling through the crowded foreshore markets. People bustled out of the way of the royal entourage. Edaytor noticed that some faces were scowling at the party. For getting in their way, he presumed. But then he noticed that those few who scowled were directing their attention towards the prince. That could not be, he told himself. No one disliked Olio.

'I underestimate nothing of the sort,' Olio said. There was a heavy tramping ahead. Even the royal entourage moved aside this time as a company of infantry marched past them on their way to the harbour. They carried backpacks as well as weapons.

'On their way to Chandra,' Olio told Edaytor. 'The Great Army gathers.'

Edaytor repressed a shudder. He could not help thinking that great armies invited great disasters. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with a fierce and burning love for Kendra, for this great city where he had lived all his life, and at the same time he was afraid for it. Everyone assumed that Lynan would never reach this far, that Kendra was protected by armies, the Rosethemes and the Keys of Power. He wanted to shout at them that Lynan had an army and was a Rosetheme and possessed two of the four Keys of Power. He wanted to go back to the harbour again and see once more the sun on the water and the ships' pennants in the breeze and the seabirds catching updrafts. He knew there would be other days when he could do it, but he could not escape the feeling that there would come a day—and sooner rather than later—when it would be the last time.

He trembled with the thought that Kendra might be mortal.

It was a meeting neither man looked forward to, but it was the third such and there would be at least one more. Orkid and Dejanus met in the constable's office, at Dejanus's insistence, sat on opposite sides of a table and passed documents between one another.

'This is the meat requisition order,' Orkid said. 'The committee approved the cost at its last meeting.'

Dejanus scanned it, signed it and passed it back.

'And this is the charcoal requisition order.'

'What do I need charcoal for?' Dejanus demanded.

'Your blacksmiths need it.'

Dejanus should have realised what the charcoal was for, and both men knew it. 'And how much hold space will that take up?' he asked, using anger to cover his embarrassment.

Without any expression Orkid checked a black register that always seemed to be by his left hand. 'One ship. We've assigned the Rutherway, a single-mast skip belonging to merchant Ogday Tyke of Lurisia, to take the charcoal outbound and bring back any sick or wounded—'

'I don't need to know the name of the bloody ship!' Dejanus shouted. He signed the charcoal requisition form and threw it back at Orkid.

'You asked—'

'How many other bloody pieces of paper do I have to

'Some.'

Dejanus leaned across the table. 'And why do you need my signature on them anyway?' he hissed. 'After all, I'm not on the bloody committee.'

'Because you're the commander of the army, of course,' Orkid replied. He breathed in heavily and put his hands down on his papers. 'We've gone over this before. This is what you've always wanted, Dejanus, and now you have it. All the honour and glory that will go with being in charge of the largest army ever created by Grenda Lear. However, with the honour and glory comes all the detail and boredom. That you now have too.'

Dejanus sat back and sneered. 'You enjoy ticking me off, don't you?'

Orkid turned his attention back to his papers. He picked one out and held it up for Dejanus. 'Promotion list for officers from local regiments and one or two from Storia.'

'Don't pretend you didn't hear me, you Amanite leech.'

Orkid held up a second document. 'And its opposite, a charge sheet for an incident down on the dock three days ago which resulted in the injury of two workers and necessitated the payment from the army's budget of—' he turned the document so he could read the figure at the bottom '—quite a considerable sum.'

For a moment their eyes met. Orkid, impassive, did not even blink. Dejanus took the documents, scribbled his signature and gave them back.

'I can't wait to get out of this city,' Dejanus said, his voice filling with self-pity. 'Why am I stuck here when my army's already gathering in south Chandra?'

'Most of the army is yet to arrive in Chandra, and for now there is much that needs your attention here in Kendra.'

Dejanus stood up, the legs of his chair screeching on the stone floor. 'Nothing here needs my attention! It needs my signature. If it needed my attention I would still be on the committee.'

'If you were still on the committee,' Orkid said levelly, 'the whole Kingdom would now be in revolt against the queen and you would be commanding nothing larger than a burial detail.'

The chancellor watched with fascination as the constable's face went white as snow and his eyebrows bristled like wire brushes.

'I should kill you for that,' Dejanus said, his usual bellow now barely more than a strangled whisper.

'You always assume that I am against you, that when I tell you things I am trying to insult you. Because of our shared… past… you should know I cannot afford to do that. Why you insist on believing I would cut my own throat to hinder your career is beyond me.'

'You didn't want me to be army commander. You didn't even want me to be constable.'

'Yes and no. I did not want you to be army commander because I do not think it is a task you have the ability to perform. I did want you to be constable after Areava's ascension to the throne because I believed it was a task you did have the ability to perform.'

Dejanus blinked, stumped by the chancellor's candour. It did not bleed away much of his anger, but he found himself without any cause for it other than his indignation at Orkid's opinion of his ability to command the Great Army, that and the suddenly terrifying thought Orkid might be right.

I will not be afraid again! he told himself fiercely. I will not be afraid again!

'I'll leave these papers here, will I?' Orkid asked, patting the pile. 'You can study them at your leisure and get them back to me after you've signed them.'

'You know I won't read them.'

'Yes, I know. But for the sake of the Kingdom, Dejanus, at least pretend you know how to be a commander. That way I can pretend along with you.'

Before Dejanus could think of an answer, Orkid was gone.