Steven refocused the conversation. ‘So Tenner was at River-end the night of the fire?’
‘He lived there,’ Brynne explained. ‘He was a famous doctor, probably the most famous healer in Eldarn, but he was known throughout the world as Prince Markon’s best friend and closest advisor.’
Uncorking the new bottle, Garec said, ‘Tenner organised the medical programme at the university in Estrad and students came from all over to study.’ He poured for everyone and gestured to Lahp, who shook his massive head and began rolling out blankets on the floor. ‘He was a great leader, but he’s remembered more as an advisor and protector of the king.’
‘King?’ Mark was confused. ‘I thought Remond was already dead.’
‘He was,’ Brynne continued, ‘but Remond ruled Eldarn from Rona, from Riverend actually, right there in the forbidden forest. Prince Markon was the eldest son of Waslow Grayslip and rightful heir to Eldarn’s throne.’
Garec chimed in again, ‘He actually died while hosting his cousins, the royal families of Falkan, Malakasia and Praga. They were all at Riverend when the virus killed Markon and several guests. I think it was Anaria, the Falkan princess, Tenner’s sister, who killed herself when her son died, and Prince Draven of Malakasia died of the same virus in the next Twinmoon.’
‘The virus we now suspect was Nerak?’ Steven queried.
‘In one Twinmoon the descendants of King Remond and the ruling families of Eldarn were toppled.’ Brynne leaned towards Mark; he wrapped an arm around her waist.
‘But not Marek,’ Steven said hoping he was beginning to get the family genealogy organised in his mind.
‘Correct,’ Garec confirmed. ‘Marek Whitward was the first Malakasian dictator to rule Eldarn from Welstar Palace.’
‘But his legitimacy was questioned.’ Steven remembered their conversation atop Seer’s Peak.
‘Right again,’ Brynne said. ‘Marek was believed to be the bastard child of Princess Mernam and a member of Prince Draven’s court.’
‘So any Malakasian claim to the Eldarni throne is illegitimate,’ Mark said thoughtfully.
‘Some believe so.’ Garec sipped from his goblet. ‘Although it’s been nine hundred and eighty Twinmoons and no one really thinks about it any longer.’
‘Sallax does,’ Brynne said quietly.
Mark continued trying to understand. ‘Tenner gave up the Falkan throne to be in Rona. He built a career there as a doctor, but he was really there to protect King Markon?’
‘Not King Markon,’ Garec corrected. ‘Markon never wanted to be a king. He wanted the five lands to unite, to share resources in education, commerce and medicine. He was happy to rule Rona, but he wanted to see Eldarn reunited under the collective governance of King Remond’s descendants.’
‘Parliamentary government,’ Mark reflected. ‘Good for him.’
‘But he was killed before it could be established,’ Brynne snuggled in close to Mark, who tightened his grip around her slim form. ‘Tenner was one of the most powerful people in Eldarn at the time. If he hid these pages in the fireplace, they must mean something.’
‘Brynne, read it out, will you?’ Steven asked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, as Brynne looked over the brittle pages.
To whomever finds these notes:
I will not stand on ceremony; there is no time. If these documents are discovered after my death, they should be considered my last testament. Their contents do not supercede or nullify anything I have written in an official context or in my personal papers. Those can be found in the Falkan archives at my family home in Orindale. These notes are my last testament, because they contain information critical to the continuation of the Ronan and Falkan family lines. The royal houses of Rona and Praga lie in ruins. With my sweet sister’s death, I alone am left to carry on the Falkan line and to date I do not have a living heir. Word has reached us here in Estrad that the Larion Senate has been destroyed and only the Larion Senator Kantu remains, but his whereabouts are unknown. He no doubt waits, gathering information to combat this virus that hunts us all down. But in my capacity as Professor of Medicine, I state here that the deaths of Prince Markon and Princess Anis were not caused by a virus. There is no virus that is so selective as to limit its impact to members of one family. Their deaths are the direct result of something sinister, something evil, something that seeks to supplant Eldarn’s leadership with terror, chaos and fear.
Thus far, it has proven effective. Over the last Twinmoon, the arable lands of my beloved Falkan have been razed and farmers murdered, unfairly suspected of growing the grain or harvesting the fruit that killed Prince Markon or that drove Princess Anis to murder. I say now, though it is too late for them, that they are not the guilty parties. There have been riots at the markets. Flocks of sheep and herds of cattle have been slaughtered and left to rot in the Ronan sun and the harbours at Southport, Estrad, Strandson and Orindale have become battle zones as ships carrying wine, fleeces and foodstuffs have been summarily boarded and sunk, or burned to the waterline by terrified citizens.
Princess Danae waits quietly in her chambers to die. She will never rule this country now. Prince Danmark remains confined to his chambers, a mad shadow of his former self. He too will never recover from his encounter with this virus. The Ronan people have demanded an audience with their new ruler and I do not know how much longer I will be able to convince them that he is alive and well, but remains in private, mourning for his father. My ruse will certainly not last through the next Twinmoon.
By the gods of the Northern Forest, I am tired.
Princess Detria struggles to maintain order in Praga, but her people know she and Ravena are too old to produce new heirs. Anis was Ravena’s last child, and Ravena, in her grief, confines herself to her country home. Detria is strong, but she is old and I worry that the uncertain future of Praga will kill her if the virus does not.
I must return to Falkan to salvage what is left of my sister’s court and bring peace to my people, but I will not leave until I have assured the future of the Ronan line. It is of this I need now to write. Regona Carvic, a servant of no noble birth, has lain with Prince Danmark for this last Moon in an effort to produce an heir to the Eldarni throne. It has been an ugly business and I know I will one day be held accountable for my actions over these past days. Regona ranks among the most strong-willed and loyal people I have ever known; it is my misfortune that our acquaintance came so late.
At long last, this very evening, I am confident she carries a child and I have asked my valet to escort her north, where she will give birth in hiding as an adopted family member to the merchant Weslox Thurvan of Randel. When the current turmoil surrounding the royal family subsides, I will return to Estrad and stand by the child as he or she assumes leadership of the Ronan court and the Ronan people.
I have given my support and duty to the Ronan prince for my entire adult life because he was the rightful King of Eldarn. His vision to see Eldarn reunited in a representative government shall not die while I live.
Finally, I recognise that I too am a target for the virus that has killed my friends and relatives. If it has sought to kill the heirs of Eldarn, as I believe, I am certainly at risk and might be taken at any moment. Therefore, in the wake of Markon’s death last Twinmoon, I took Etrina Lippman of Capehill to wife. Although we have done this in secret, it is a lawful union. She is a Falkan noblewoman of good family and I can think of no one better able to carry on our work to bring peace and prosperity to Eldarn. She does not love me, but these times demand sacrifice, and her bravery and commitment are a model for us all. One day we may have the luxury of time and love may follow, but for now we are content that Etrina and I have succeeded in conceiving an heir to the Falkan throne. Should I perish, a victim of this demon plague, Etrina will go immediately into hiding and ensure our child will grow up safely, that he or she may eventually take on the mantle of rulership of my beloved Falkan.