Kings Of The North Part 2

Another chance gone. He wondered when Orlith would come back or if he even would.

Even as he stood up, one of his Squires appeared in the garden door.

"Pardon, Sir King-"

"Yes?"

"Master-trader Geraint Chalvers to see you-you had asked him for a quarterly report."

"Yes, of course." Master-trader Chalvers, the first merchant appointed to his Council, bowed low as Kieri came into the room. He had a cl.u.s.ter of wood and leather tubes under his arm.

"Sir King, I have the reports you asked for."

"Thank you, Master-trader Chalvers. Perhaps you would like some sib. I was just about to have another cup."

"Er...thank you, Sir King." Chalvers bowed again.

"We should go to a larger room," Kieri said, looking at the size of the rolls Chalvers had brought. "Are those maps?"

"Yes, sire. These were made for trade."

"Then we need the big table." Kieri led Chalvers to the smaller dining room.

Chalvers spread the maps out on the table. "You asked what impeded trade here. I know you've lived most of your life in Tsaia and the south-you're used to a trade network that runs at least from Fin Panir to the Immerhoft Sea. Here our largest problem is that we're at the far end of anything...we don't have an easy pa.s.s across the Dwarfmounts, we don't have a really good river port, and for overland transport our roads are inferior to many in Tsaia and the Guild League roads of the south."

"Have you yourself traveled to Aarenis?"

"Oh, yes, Sir King. When I was young, my father bade me follow the trail of Lyonyan goods all the way to the last buyer. I went as far east as the Immervale and as far south as Cha and Sibili, where I found them making tiles more cheaply than we could. I even came back with the secret of a blue glaze we did not have then. I was gone almost three years."

"Well, then, let's see what you're showing me." Kieri bent over the first map.

"Lyonya has many trails but only two real roads-" Chalvers pointed. "-along the foothills, where every spring the snowmelt and rain flood across the road and no one much cares to fix it. Wagons make it only as far as Halveric Steading, and some years not that far. There was a road, or so the tales run, all the way across Prealith once, right through the Ladysforest, or what the Ladysforest is now."

Kieri nodded, thinking of his own journey the other way, from Bannerlith to Halveric Steading: forest tracks and trails, dry leaves underfoot and more falling from the trees as day by day it had grown colder. Had he gone through the Ladysforest? He must have, and yet he had never seen an elf. A dim memory came of someone tall and shadowy, asking him questions and then walking into a silvery mist.

Chalvers was waiting for his attention, he noticed, and nodded again. "Go ahead."

"The other road is here, Sir King, along the Honnorgat. At thaw every spring, the river floods some stretches and makes it impa.s.sable for tendays at a time. That connects with an even less pa.s.sable track in Prealith but intersects one that cuts across here-" He pointed. "-from the river to Bannerlith. Most of our traffic goes up to the river road, then into Tsaia at Harway. From Harway to Verella, the Tsaian road is two wagons wide and pa.s.sable in most weather. We do have wagon access here and here." He pointed to the southwest corner and partway up-opposite Verrakai land, Kieri thought. "But that middle way was never satisfactory with both Verrakai and Konhalt jealous of traffic. Mud holes and brigandage. We traders think the Verrakai supported both."

"So we don't get as much trade coming in or out, and it's hard for people to get their wares to a Tsaian or Finthan or southern market." Kieri looked the map over again; this one did not have all the steadings marked on it, only the few towns and the trade routes.

"Yes, my lord. T'elves don't mind; they don't depend on trade, anyway, not our kind at least. And there are Siers, you know, who are happy to live out in the woods on what they can gather and grow. And I say nothing against that-each to his own. Only if we need an army, my lord, we need a way to feed and clothe it. I know you you know that; I'm not meaning any disrespect." know that; I'm not meaning any disrespect."

"No offense taken," Kieri said. "You're quite right. Armies must be fed, clothed, and paid-they don't come cheap. Some changes we must make, and I agree that better roads is a good place to start. Where would you put the roads?"

"We can't do a thing about the southern trade road once it's in the Ladysforest," Chalvers said. "We'll likely never have a trade route by land to Bannerlith. But up to the last steading before the Ladysforest, it could be improved-bridges over the runoff streams instead of fords, for instance. And the river road or that middle road, supposing the new Verrakai duke allows, could be laid out like the Guild League roads, all-weather roads for heavy traffic."

"Those cost a great deal," Kieri said, thinking of what he'd been told in Aarenis. "Where would the stone come from? And the labor?"

"That's this map, my lord," Chalvers said, unrolling another and spreading it on top of the first. Kieri stared. Chalvers had marked the resources needed for road building: where they were, what ways led to them, and his estimate of costs. "The roads alone will pay for themselves in five years-increased trade. It's true we don't have the population of Tsaia or Fintha, but perhaps we could hire rockfolk-dwarves or gnomes-to cut and move the stone." Kieri had doubts about that; he suspected the elves would not favor such a plan.

"But the real improvement-and we need the roads to make it work-is this," Chalvers went on. He put his finger back on the first map, on the Honnorgat northeast of Chaya. "The river towns have landing places and some crude wharves, but they're not adequate as trading ports. That's what we need. Water travel-down the Honnorgat to the eastern sea, to Bannerlith at least and maybe around to Aarenis-would open new markets and be cheaper transport than overland."

"It's a long way," Kieri said, tracing the route with his finger. "Over the mountains, even going through Tsaia, is shorter."

"Yes, but Tsaians take toll of everything that pa.s.ses through. Downriver, no problem. Harbor fees and cargo taxes at Bannerlith, but I know the Pargunese and Kostandanyans trade to Aarenis without stopping there." He tapped the map again. "Look here. There's a marshy area, a double handful of little mucky streams, not good for anything: dig it out, make it a harbor off the river. What comes out to make the harbor can build up around it to support buildings." He looked up, grinning. "Our very own river port. Tsaian ports are all above the falls. They'd use our road to reach this port, and they'd pay us us tolls. It would still be cheaper, even for them, than going overland-at least for some goods." tolls. It would still be cheaper, even for them, than going overland-at least for some goods."

"You talk to the Pargunese?" Kieri asked; that had trapped his attention.

Chalvers shrugged. "Well...yes. There's some trade across the river-not much-but traders will talk to traders whether their rulers are friends or not. We've seen their seagoing ships heading downriver, loaded with furs and timber and whatnot. Salt fish, I expect. Woolen goods: their women are fine weavers."

Another problem Kieri hadn't antic.i.p.ated. Tsaian traders, as far as he knew, had nothing to do with Pargun...but was that true? "So...you found out their routes," he said to cover his unease.

"Yes, Sir King. Right now, merchant vessels coming north have nowhere to go but Bannerlith and one port each for Kostandan and Pargun. Pargun doesn't have a road from its port up above the falls, and they don't trade much with Tsaia anyway. Southern merchants would come to us to reach markets in Tsaia and Fintha if we had a safe port and a good road up past the falls. We might even attract the Pargunese. Better to trade than fight, eh?"

Kieri just managed not to shake his head. He had hoped for a new viewpoint when he insisted on having a merchant representative on his Council, but he had not expected such immediate results. Chalvers had the imagination his Siers seemed to lack and solid practical experience as well.

"I'm very pleased," he said. "I agree the roads must be improved. I have hopes that the new Duke Verrakai and Count Konhalt will prove able to reopen that middle road to safe travel within a year or two, but in the meantime we must see what we can do about our own roads. The river port...that had never occurred to me."

"It's an advantage we have over Tsaia," Chalvers said. "Theirs over us have been a few good roads and a short route to Aarenis, but they have only the one pa.s.s over the mountains. If there's war-well, I'm sure they'd go by sea if they could...and we would profit." He grinned at Kieri, who could not help grinning back; the man's enthusiasm was contagious.

"You are definitely the right man for this task," Kieri said. "Convincing the rest may be difficult. Though I am king, I prefer to work with my people rather than force them. Still, if we make a start with one road..."

Chalvers nodded. "Understood, sire. I am the newest on Council; I know that. But even a small start should begin to show its value." He bowed and withdrew. Kieri smiled after him. What a relief to deal with a sensible, practical human after Orlith! And he hadn't mentioned marriage.

Verella, Midsummer, Coronation Day

Dorrin, Duke Verrakai, sat her borrowed horse in the coronation procession, very much aware that more than Duke Marrakai's red chestnut stallion objected to her presence. The horse she understood-a spirited charger would resent her unfamiliar hand and seat. Her tact and skill should settle him quickly. But she felt the gazes of lesser peers behind her as if they were spears tickling her shoulder blades. How could she rea.s.sure them? Or would they always fear and distrust her?

Beside her, Kirgan Marrakai nodded, no hostility now in those green eyes. "You ride very well, my lord," he said, as they turned the first corner of the palace wall. Then he flushed, having revealed he hadn't expected her expertise.

"A fine horse," Dorrin said. "Kieri always preferred Marrakaibred horses. What's his name?" She smiled and nodded at the crowd lining the street, held back by Royal Guard troops.

"Firebrand, my lord," he said. "Stable name's Cherry."

Ahead of them, the king touched spurs to his horse, and the gray curvetted; Duke Mahieran, just behind him, did the same. The red stallion jigged; Dorrin lifted her hand slightly, shifted her weight, and the stallion lowered his haunches, bent to the right, and began the half-parade. Beside her, Kirgan Marrakai did the same to the left, and the two of them formed a V behind the king and his uncle for a dozen steps before shifting to haunches out. As long as she kept him busy, Dorrin found, the red stallion steadied: supple, obedient to the lightest aid. She doubted anything similar would work with the peers.

By the time the procession had completed its tour of the city bounds and returned to the palace, the stallion had relaxed. Not so the peers, other than Kirgan Marrakai and Duke Serrostin; the others' glances were brief and ranged from anxious to hostile. The palace servants, too, as they helped the peers change from riding boots to court shoes, avoided her gaze. The same tiring maid who had giggled while adjusting Dorrin's court dress that morning now seemed terrified of her. No doubt the woman had heard that Dorrin was one of the dreaded magelords. Dorrin longed to get away, but law and custom decreed she must attend the coronation banquet.

In the anteroom of the banquet hall, she was surprised to see Duke Marrakai slouched in a chair; she'd a.s.sumed he was still in bed, under a physician's care. Dorrin, uneasily aware of the Marshal-General's displeasure and the fears of some of the other peers, stepped aside to let the others talk to him first, but he gestured to her.

"Come closer," he said. "You were Phelan's captain; I hold no grudge against you for your name."

"You are kind, my lord," Dorrin said, wondering why he said nothing about the attack in the courtyard. "But how do you feel?"

"They tell me I fell and hit my head-what a thing to happen on a coronation day, eh? But a head as hard as mine does not crack easily, whatever the physician says. I have a headache, that's all. Anyone might."

Dorrin looked at him closely, concerned. Despite his words, he looked the color of new cheese, and his gaze wavered. She leaned close. "My lord duke, with no intent to argue, I have seen soldiers take such a blow, who wore helmets. They needed to lie quiet; our physicians insisted on it. By your leave, I would have you obey the physician; you are not yet well."

"It is the coronation banquet-my last, I am sure, for Mikeli is young and will long outlive me. I do not wish to miss it." He gave her a crooked smile. "If I die now, no one will blame you. You had nothing to do with it."

So he remembered nothing of it; that in itself could be expected with a blow to the head, but as for the rest-if that were all, he should look better than he did. Dorrin looked around; the other peers, out of courtesy or nervousness, had left a little s.p.a.ce for her and Duke Marrakai to talk, but the Marshal-General stood not far away, watching. Dorrin caught her gaze and nodded. The Marshal-General moved nearer.

"My lords," the Marshal-General said, her tone edged. "How may I serve you?"

"Tell Verrakai you do not blame her," Marrakai said. "She is worried about my health, but I am as hale as any man of my years. It was but a knock on the head from falling."

The Marshal-General looked closely at his face. This time her voice was gentler. "My lord duke, I understand her worry. Such blows are not always harmless; I believe yours did more damage than you know. Will you not retire?"

"No!" Marrakai's voice was loud enough to turn heads. More quietly he repeated what he had told Dorrin. "And I won't go off to bed like some errant boy who's displeased his tutor!"

This vehemence convinced Dorrin-and, she saw, the Marshal-General as well-that his injury was still affecting him and perhaps worsening. "Marshals have healing powers, do they not?" Dorrin said to the Marshal-General.

"So, it is said, did magelords once," the Marshal-General said, looking Dorrin in the eye. "Are you unwilling to use your powers that way?"

"Not unwilling but unskilled," Dorrin said. "Healing was the rarest of the gifts, and there was no one to teach me. All I've healed so far is a well."

"A well?"

Dorrin shook her head. "Too long a story for now. If you have the ability, Marshal-General, or know someone..."

Marrakai slumped in his chair, his head falling forward; his eyes had not quite closed, but when the Marshal-General called his name, he mumbled something they could not understand. Now the other peers crowded in, including Kirgan Marrakai.

"What did she do this time?" asked one of the barons; others shushed him.

"She did nothing," the Marshal-General said. "It is that blow to the head. Send for the physician and any Marshal in the palace. My lord Verrakai, I ask you to lend your aid, as a Falkian would." did nothing," the Marshal-General said. "It is that blow to the head. Send for the physician and any Marshal in the palace. My lord Verrakai, I ask you to lend your aid, as a Falkian would."

"Certainly," Dorrin said. Every instinct told her they had little time, that something was wrong inside Marrakai's head. She had seen the same in battlefield wounds.

"Help me lift him from the chair to the floor." The other peers shuffled back as two palace servants came forward. Together with the Marshal-General and Dorrin, they lifted Marrakai-no easy task-and laid him on the floor; someone hastily handed them a folded cloak to put under his head. "Duke Verrakai, lay your hand on his shoulder-like that, yes-and one on his chest; I will hold his head. And now I ask all Girdsmen to pray with me for the healing of this peer of your realm, while I also pray and Duke Verrakai calls on Falk."

Dorrin felt hands on her own shoulders and glanced back to see Duke Mahieran and the king both standing there, as if guarding her back and joining her effort at the same time. Others, behind them, reached to form a human chain. She closed her eyes, calling on Falk and trying to feel what the Marshal-General was doing so she might aid. Power rose in her, as it had before without her bidding. She opened her eyes and looked at Marrakai's face. He had gone pale again, almost gray around the mouth. It wasn't fair-he had done nothing wrong-he had defended her; he must not die for that.

Her power moved along her arms; they first itched, then tingled, a sensation she had not felt when healing the well. She felt she could see the power moving up to his head, joining with something the Marshal-General was doing, though she could not say what that was. Something urged her to shift the power a little this way, a little that. She was unaware of time pa.s.sing, of anything at all, until her power cut off suddenly and Marrakai opened his eyes and blinked. His color was healthy again, his lips pink, his eyes clear.

"What happened?" he asked in a more normal voice. "Did I faint?" He glanced from one to the other.

"Somewhat more than that, my lord," the Marshal-General said. "The blow to your head-"

"Blow to my head?" He frowned, put a hand to it. "When? How?"

Everyone started talking at once, telling what each had seen, a rising gabble of voices, until the king said, "Silence, my lords and ladies. This noise will not serve him."

Into the silence that followed, the king said, "You were attacked, my lord duke, and, when you fell, hit your head on the stones of the courtyard. You woke and were put to rest by the physician for a while but then lost consciousness again. You were healed by the Marshal-General and Duke Verrakai. You remember nothing?"

"No," Marrakai said. "Not clearly, at least, since-since the coronation ceremony. I feel well now." He moved his head on the folded cloak beneath it. "No headache-if only I could remember."

"Juris can tell you about it later," the king said with a warning look to the other peers. Kirgan Marrakai nodded to his father; the Duke shrugged and extended a hand; the Kirgan reached down, and Marrakai stood. He was steady on his feet, his gaze clear and focused. He, the Kirgan, the physician, and two Marshals both withdrew briefly.

This time the physician and the Marshals all agreed that Marrakai was as fit as he said he felt. The banquet started. Dorrin took her seat as instructed, but it seemed unreal. Too much had happened too fast. Too many people-still strangers, but now her fellow n.o.bles-eyed her with a mixture of awe and concern. Marrakai, apparently now in perfect health, sat across from her, chatting with Duke Serrostin; Duke Mahieran sat next to Dorrin. At the head of the table, the king and his younger brother Camwyn-the boy looking uncomfortable-sat alone and at first spoke only to each other.

"It is clear, my lord," Mahieran said to her as servants produced a fish course, "that having you among the Council will ensure no dull days."

Dorrin shook her head. "I shall hope to bring no more excitement, my lord."

"I suspect you and that paladin have something in common," Mahieran said. "You cannot help what you are, and what you are is change." He chuckled. "I daresay this Coronation Day will never be forgotten, and since it turned out well in the end, the celebration's all the sweeter."

But was it the end? Dorrin kept waiting for something else to happen: a servant to leap at the king with a bolt of power or a carving knife, the taster to fall dead of poison, one of the peers to attack her. The banquet went on smoothly, servants bringing in course after course, pouring the different wines, offering warm damp towels at intervals. Musicians played, jugglers and acrobats performed, a chorus of Girdish yeomen in their formal blue and white sang a deafening "O King Below, O G.o.ds Above" to the accompaniment of trumpets and drum. Dorrin recognized the tune as one her troops had marched to, with very different words, some of which ran through her mind.

A stab of nostalgia smote her, but would she really be happier to be back in the field than here? She looked across and down the table draped in Tsaian white, rose, and crimson, glittering with crystal goblets, gold and silver plates, the peers in their many colors, their lace and jewels, the hovering servants in palace livery. Back there she'd had less luxury but the company of true friends. Here she might find new friends and clear her family's reputation. After all, she'd saved the king's life already, and that had to count for something.

She wondered what Paks would think. Paks, she suspected, would tell her to follow what Falk wanted, as any Knight of Falk should. Falk-when she tried to ask-said nothing. This was more Falk's world than Gird's, this magnificence and luxury, and Falk probably expected her to be comfortable with it. The next course was roast venison spiced in a way she'd never tasted. She finished the meal laughing at herself and her internal dialogues while Duke Marrakai talked horse breeding with Duke Mahieran.

"How did my horse carry you in the procession?" Marrakai asked her suddenly. "Did he give you any problems?

"None at all," Dorrin said.

"Good. I've taken care that he's ridden by others regularly, so he knows he's to behave. But he will try things, even with me."

"We had them all prancing and showing off," Duke Mahieran said. "I'm not sure if m'lord Verrakai asked for everything he did or if it was his idea."

"Both," Dorrin said. "I thought it would keep him busy, and if he offered more, I made use of it."

"What concerns me now," Duke Marrakai said, "is the security of the royal stables and stud."

Duke Mahieran nodded and turned to Dorrin. "Is it likely other grooms could have been taken over? Do you have any idea how long the transference has been going on?"

"A very long time, my lord," Dorrin said. "I looked only at the current family book, for those I thought would be alive now. When I glanced back, the same symbol was used as far as I looked. The worst of it is that some have been transferred more than once."

Duke Serrostin spoke up. "My lords, this is a matter of state; perhaps it should be deferred to Council."

"It is urgent," Mahieran said.

"Indeed. And this is a banquet hall with more ears than ours." His gaze flicked briefly to the king's table, where Prince Camwyn sat, cheeks flushed from unaccustomed wine. "Unless Duke Verrakai perceives another immediate threat, I suggest we confine our topics to those appropriate to a celebration."

Mahieran raised his gla.s.s. "And I salute your wisdom, my lord." He turned back to Dorrin. "At the Council meeting tomorrow, you'll be asked what you know."

"Council meeting?"