The Chosen

Amidst tyadra and others of his household, Carnelian sat on a throne watching the approach of the Masters of the second lineage. Each was a jewelled spire pulling behind him a train carried by many boys. Behind them, among their guardsmen, walked Fey. She and Carnelian exchanged a look of understanding.

The Masters stopped in front of him, their faces impassive marble.

'You are welcome, my Lords,' Carnelian said and waited for their obeisance, but all they gave him was a nod.

'Have you heard the news, my Lord?' said Spinel. 'News?'

'Rebellion…'

'What rebellion?' Carnelian said, exasperated, wishing to come immediately to the matter of the Seal.

'In a nearby coomb, a Ruling Lord has been most heinously done to death by' – Spinel sketched disbelief in the air – 'apparently, by one of his slaves. Such a singular event shakes one's world to its very foundation.'

'What concern is this of ours?'

'It will affect the election and that is the concern of all the Great.' The election?' The Lord Imago was-'

'Imago? You speak of the Ruling Lord of that House?' 'Just so, my Lord.'

'And you say his murderer was a slave.'

Spinel threw his hands up. 'It is entirely beyond comprehension.'

'Will the Lord Jaspar now lead his father's faction?'

'He will if he has the courage to put on the mantle of his father's power along with the Ruling Ring of his House.' Spinel looked at Carnelian expectantly. 'He was your companion on the road, was he not, my Lord?'

'He was, but you were not summoned here, my Lord, so that we might discuss politics. You will surrender the Seal to me.'

'My Lord, the Seal is your father's.'

'My Lord might have noticed that my father is not here. Until he returns, I am the head of the first lineage.'

'Still, the customs of this House do not sanction what my Lord requests.'

Carnelian was determined to break the stony resistance in the Master's eyes. To spare your grief I have kept something from you.'

Spinel's eyes narrowed.

'When last I saw my father he was mortally wounded. For all I know he might now be dead.'

'We suspect otherwise,' said Opalid.

Spinel gave his son a sharp look, then reached into his sleeve and pulled out a letter. Then who is this from, my Lord?' The Master beckoned a servant and gave him the letter to take to Carnelian.

Carnelian hesitated, then took the parchment and brought its seal close. In the wax, a pomegranate showed its seeds. The letter began to tremble in his hands. It could only be the seal of He-who-goes-before. Carnelian looked at the letter, reluctant to open it.

'My Lord?' said Spinel.

The look Carnelian gave Spinel made the Master flinch. 'How came this into your hand?'

Spinel's hands were apologetic. 'I rule this coomb…'

Carnelian broke the wax, unfolded the parchment and read:

My son, I have sent this letter sealed with the Pomegranate because my ring has gone, none knows whither. Leave the House Seal in my mother's hand. Avoid disrupting the flow of power in the coomb. Have a household prepared and send it to me here. Include a letter from yourself. I am making a fair recovery and will come to you as soon as I am free to do so.

Your father, in the Halls of Thunder.

He should have felt joy instead of unease. He examined the glyphs. They were not in his father's hand, though they were very like. There was a difference in the faces that proved to him the letter had been written by someone else. He could feel a corner of his mind steeping in dread. Was this one of Aurum's schemes? He felt sick. What if his father was dead and Aurum had arranged this whole charade to conceal it?

'Is our Ruling Lord well?' asked Spinel.

Carnelian looked at him, striving to keep the misery from his face, trying to gauge the man's intentions. 'Apparently, he is recovering.'

Spinel's face was blank but Opalid's betrayed disappointment before it set like plaster.

'I must go to join him in the Halls of Thunder.' Carnelian heard the emotion breaking into his voice and saw that Spinel could hear it too.

Opalid framed a questioning gesture. 'It is forbidden, my Lord.'

'By whom?'

The Law, my Lord.'

Carnelian stared, not understanding.

Opalid read his face and his lips took on a sneer. 'Surely you know that at this time only Ruling Lords are permitted at court? It is-'

'It is part of the Balance,' Spinel broke in. 'Intended to dissuade the House of the Masks from seeking to take the Ruling Lords hostage, or worse.'

Carnelian fought a frown. He could see that Spinel was thinking furiously. The Master took a step forward, trying a smile. 'However, if my Lord feels it essential that he join his father, there might be a way.'

'What way, my Lord?'

The Ruling Lord Imago, now sadly deceased, was expected at court. It is almost certainly the Lord Jaspar's intention to go there in his father's place. The Law insists that he will have to accompany the body to the Plain of Thrones for its embalming. It is likely that he will go from there straight up to the Halls of Thunder. He might be worked upon… but of course I am neglecting to take into account his grief.'

'Finish your thought, my Lord.'

Spinel opened his hands. 'I was just thinking that perhaps the new Imago might be worked upon to take you with him, my Lord… passing you off as one of his minor kin. It is unusual to take a companion, but then Imago Jaspar is not yet fully a Ruling Lord and in the electoral negotiations he might well desire to lean upon the experience of an older Lord.'

'You propose that I deliberately break the Law?'

Spinel shrugged. 'It is a minor infringement, my Lord. The penalty would not be above a little wealth.'

'And Jaspar?'

'He could pass it off as an amusing jape. He might do it for a friend.'

Carnelian thought about it. 'We know each other well enough. It might not go amiss if I were to pay him my condolences personally.'

'Such an act of compassion would be… eccentric, but then-'

'Imago Jaspar is well used to my eccentricities,' said Carnelian, reliving the road.

'My Lord could join his father, and return here with him once the election is over. Meanwhile, in the time we still have before we ourselves shall go to court, we could continue to prepare the coomb for your return.'

Carnelian nodded. 'I will go to Coomb Imago.'

Spinel smiled. 'My Lord will have need to plan his journey.' The Master bowed. 'We shall return to our halls and immediately resume our labours.' He began to turn.

'My Lord, you have forgotten something.' Spinel turned back, his eyebrows arching.

The Seal?'

Spinel's nostrils flared. 'But I had understood-' 'I will have the Seal.'

Spinel's hands clenched. 'How shall we make all the necessary changes without it?'

The time has come for my Lord to be relieved of the burden of rule that he has borne for so long. On behalf of my father, I thank you for your stewardship of our House, but now it is time for another to bear its weight.'

Opalid stared at Carnelian. 'Surely you do not mean…?'

'Urquentha,' said Spinel, his voice as dull as his eyes. 'Yes. I feel my grandmother has been locked away for long enough.'

There was a pleading look in the eyes that Spinel turned on Carnelian. 'It was done for a reason. She is a dangerous woman.'

Carnelian gave him a cold smile. 'Perhaps she has been made so. I shall give her the Seal.'

'Did you see their faces?' said Carnelian, grinning. He was weighing the Seal in his hand.

'I saw them, Master,' said Fey, looking at the Seal with a doleful face.

Alarmed by her expression, he reached out and took her shoulder. 'Are you all right?'

Fey straightened, smiled, nodding. 'I was just thinking that Mistress Urquentha has been much wronged. It is justice that she should have the Seal again.'