“‘If I can,’ I told you,” Grus replied. “For some things, there’s no answer that makes everybody happy. That’s where we are right now, I’m afraid.”
“Yes. That’s where we are. Your Majesty.” Lanius stalked away. He listened hard, wondering if Grus would laugh out loud as he left. Grus didn’t. As far as he could be, he was sensitive to Lanius’ pride. Sometimes, that stung worse than outright contempt.
What can I do to Grus? Lanius wondered. How can I pay him back? Can I pay him back at all? When Grus first took his share of the throne—and took over the whole job of running Avornis—he’d warned against trying to unseat him. He’d just done it again. And he’d shown himself a man whose warnings deserved to be taken seriously. Most of the time, Lanius kept that in mind.
Now… Now he was too furious to care. He stormed into his own living quarters and glared at Sosia for no more reason than that she was her father’s daughter. She, fortunately, had enough on her mind not to get angry at him. “I’m glad to see you,” she told him. “I’ve got news.”
“What is it?” he growled.
Even his tone didn’t faze her. He wondered if he were altogether too mild-mannered for his own good. Then she said, “I’m going to have a baby.”
“Oh,” he said, and no doubt looked very foolish as he said it. “That’s—wonderful,” he managed, and then, “Are—are you sure?”
“Of course I am,” Sosia answered, as indulgently as she could. “There are ways to tell, you know. Now—what were you all upset about a minute ago?”
“Oh, nothing,” Lanius said, and discovered he meant it. How could he stay furious at the other king when he’d just gotten Grus’ daughter pregnant? He supposed some men could have managed it, but he wasn’t one of them. He hugged Sosia. “That is wonderful news—especially if it turns out to be a boy.”
She nodded. “What if it’s a girl?” she asked, worry in her voice.
“In that case, we just have to try again,” he replied, and grabbed her as though he intended to do that there and then. Sosia laughed. Maybe that was happiness, maybe just relief.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The yellow-robed cleric named Daption bowed low before King Grus. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Arch-Hallow Bucco met the common fate of all mankind last night. The end must have come easily—he went to bed in the evening, and no one could wake him come morning.”
“That is an easy passing,” Grus agreed. “My father was lucky in his going, too. I wonder if I will be.” He sighed. The gods knew the answer to that, but he wouldn’t, not till the day.
“May it be so, Your Majesty,” the cleric said, and then, quickly, “May you not need to learn for many years to come. I meant no offense, no ill-wish, no—”
Grus raised a hand. “You didn’t offend me. I understood what you meant.”
“Your Majesty is gracious,” Daption said, relief in his voice. “Uh, have you yet thought about who will follow Bucco as Arch-Hallow of Avornis? There are, of course, several good candidates from among the senior clerics of the capital, and no doubt others in the provinces, as well. Do you know when you will announce Bucco’s replacement, or will you ask for advice from the hierarchy before making your choice?”
“Arch-Hallow Bucco was a bold and powerful man,” Grus observed. “He always had his own notion of what should be done.”
“Indeed he did.” The yellow-robed priest sounded proud to have served under such a man. But Grus hadn’t meant it for praise. As far as he was concerned, Bucco had stuck his nose where an arch-hallow had no business putting it. Daption coughed a couple of times before continuing, “As I say, Your Majesty, there are several excellent candidates for the position. If you like, we would be pleased to submit to you a list of the possibilities, from whom you may, of course, choose.”
“I’m sure you’d be pleased,” Grus said. Like the nobility, the priesthood wanted more power for itself and less of what it saw as interference from the Kings of Avornis. Of course, what it saw as interference looked like necessary oversight to Grus, as it had to the kings who came before him. “I won’t need a list, though. I know the man I want as arch-hallow.”
“Do you?” Daption raised an eyebrow in polite disappointment. “And he is—?”
“His name is Anser,” Grus replied.
Daption thought for a moment, then frowned. “I’m very sorry, Your Majesty, but I must confess I do not know the name. From what city does he come?”
“From Anxa, down in the south,” Grus said.
“I… see,” Daption said. “How interesting. Since the Menteshe came, we haven’t had so many arch-hallows from that part of the kingdom. Not a few kings have feared to choose southern men because of the possible taint from the Banished One.”
“I’m not worried about that here,” Grus said firmly.
“I do admire your intrepid spirit, Your Majesty.” The yellow-robed cleric made his praise sound like, I think you’re out of your mind, Your Majesty. His frown hadn’t gone away, either. “What is this Anser’s rank, if I may make so bold as to ask? Surely he cannot now wear the yellow robe; I believe I know all the clerics of my own rank throughout Avornis. Would you elevate to the arch-hallowdom a man from the green, or even from the black?” He closed his eyes for a moment in well-bred horror at the thought.
Grus sighed. He’d hoped Daption wouldn’t make him give all the details so soon, but the other man had, and now there was no help for it. “Anser will be a red-robed priest—which is to say, the Arch-Hallow of Avornis—as soon as he is consecrated,” the King of Avornis said.
Daption’s eyes grew wide. “Do you mean to say he is… a secular man?” the priest whispered. “You would place a secular man on the arch-hallow’s throne? That is—highly irregular, Your Majesty.”
“Maybe so,” Grus said, “but he has one virtue that, to me, outweighs all the rest.”
“And that is?” The priest sounded as though it couldn’t possibly be anything important enough to counterbalance his secularity.
“He’s my son,” Grus answered. To him, that counted for more than anything else.
“Your son?” Daption echoed. “But I thought Prince Ortalis was your only son.”
“Prince Ortalis is my only legitimate son,” Grus said. “Anser was… just one of those things that sometimes happen. He’s part of my family, though, and I intend to take care of him.”
“Is that what you call it, Your Majesty?” the cleric demanded. “But what of our holy faith?”
“I think our holy faith will do quite well, thanks,” Grus said. “The gods have children. I don’t expect King Olor and Queen Quelea will be too upset because I had one out of wedlock. Queen Estrilda has forgiven me.” Mostly, he added to himself.
“But… Your Majesty!” Daption seemed to be struggling to put his protest into terms that wouldn’t infuriate the King of Avornis. “Appointing a… a boy who has lived a… a secular life to the post of arch-hallow offends the dignity of all holy clerics who have held the post since the beginning of time.”
“After Anser’s been arch-hallow for a while, he’ll be as holy as any other cleric, don’t you think?” Grus asked mildly.
“But—” Daption tried again.
This time, Grus cut him off with a sharp question. “Are you telling me I haven’t got the right to appoint the man I want as Arch-Hallow of Avornis? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m not, Your Majesty.” The yellow-robed priest did have the sense to see he was treading on dangerous ground. But he went on, “Appointing such a person to such a position, though, is… is unprecedented.”