Unicorn Saga - The Unicorn Peace Part 7

The old Mage smiled. "You think big, laddie, I'll give you that, but I scarcely think that Strandkind would thank you for it. They're attached to the wall. It's rep- resented safety to them for as long as they can remem- ber. Besides, it's a source of revenue now."

Jarrod couldn't resist. It was a favorite hobbyhorse and he had ridden it often. "But the Upper Causeway will divide the old territories from the new," he said.

'*It will keep the new lands out as effectively as it did the Outlanders. It'll create new divisions."

"Good thing too," Greylock said shortly. "That'll give the new territories a chance to develop a character of their own, not to feel that they're a second-cla.s.s off- shoot."

39.

"I hadn't thought about it in that way," Jarrod said.

"Of course you "hadn't." Greylock sounded trium- phant. "But it's true nevertheless. Still, that doesn't solve the question of what we should do. You, Tokamo, give me a thought."

He's reverting to the days when we were boys and he was teaching us, Jarrod thought. He was also delighted that Tokamo was being asked the question. If the past held true, though, he ought to be thinking of an answer.

Tokamo's tongue peeked briefly out between his lips.

"Well," he said, "it ought to affect the whole of Strand and it has to be something that people can see. Ideally, it should have something to do with the Outland and it should be something that could only be achieved by Magic."

"You've stated the problem admirably, lad," Grey- lock said, "but I don't hear an answer."

Jarrod heard the words faintly. He was flying above Strand again in his memory. Affecting the whole of Strand. Weather and the Upper Causeway. What else?

Then it came to him and it seemed so obvious.

"The Giants' Causeway," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" from Greylock.

The memory of the dream flickered in the back of Jarrod's mind. He brushed it aside. "The Giants'

Causeway," he repeated. "It's unsightly, it serves no useful purpose and it stretches across most of Strand."

"What about it?" Greylock enquired.

"If we could get rid of it . . ." Jarrod left the idea hanging. The stone had always been used for building.

This very tower incorporated stone from the Giants'

Causeway. The images of the elusive building in the mountains came back. Should he mention it to Grey- lock? No, not yet.

Greylock sat back and contemplated. "Where would the rock go?" he asked.

40 "Out onto the Plain?" Jarrod suggested

"Glib answer as usual, Courtak." Greylock reverted to his old pedagogical manner. "That's all very well for the moment, but we'll get colonization at some point.

Can't have good farmland strewn with rocks. People wouldn't thank us for that."

Jarrod kept his own counsel.

"It's not a bad idea,'' Greylock said into the silence.

"1 think the two of you should go away and work out the details." He nodded several times and then waved his right hand in farewell and dismissal.

By the time the two younger men had reached the door, his chin had sunk back down to rest on his chest.

"See what a mess you've got us into?" Tokamo de- clared as they went down the stairs.

"Don't get in such a lather," Jarrod said. "This will have to be approved by Ragnor. The odds are that he'll kill the whole idea." He halted and put his arms out across the stairwell. He looked back up and grinned.

"If I were you, though," he said, "I'd try to think up the logistics of such an operation."

"Why me?" Tokamo asked rhetorically. "I've enough to do collecting t.i.thes and trying to keep the accounts straight."

"Because you're good at that sort of thing," Jarrod said, resuming his descent, "because Ragnor will expect it and because I'm going to be tied up with negotiations on an enclave for the Discipline. That might even solve the problem of what to do with all the stone."

"Where are we going to get the labor force? You can't call out the Farod anymore."

"Wouldn't help if we could. This has to be done with Magic, remember?''

"Well, it isn't fair. You get to do all the glamorous stuff and I get stuck with the logistics."

"You're wrong There, Tok." Jarrod replied seriously.

41.

"You get to travel all over Paladine, living like a nor- mal man, drinking ale with ordinary people, and I get stuck here playing Mage, watching every word I say lest I offend some great lord or amba.s.sador. There's no glamor in that." He paused and added maliciously, "Of course, if you'd prefer to confront the Archmage and explain to him that the Discipline is in a decline . . ."

"Would that I could," Tokamo returned, straight- faced, "but unfortunately Agar Thorden needs me."

They both laughed, secure in the familiarity that al- most thirty years of friendship brings.

chaptep 5

1.

n the deep woods ofOxeter, p.r.o.nounced "Oxter" by the locals and in Court circles but invariably mispro- nounced elsewhere, men mustered quietly. Two hun- dred of the Duke's retainers, fifty of them mounted, prepared to move against the neighboring estate of Spa.r.s.edale. Duke Paramin of Abercorn watched them in the waxing light with a feeling of satisfaction. They were well armed and moved with the automatic com- petence of two years of intensive drilling. His son, who would lead the expedition, sat his horse easily a few feet away. A decade of planning was about to be put to the test.

The Semicount of Sparsdale was a distant cousin of Queen Naxania and a fervently loyal va.s.sal. His lick- spittle loyalty had been rewarded by the loan of a com- pany of the Royal Guard, fifty seasoned veterans of the Outland wars. The significance of their billeting had not been lost on Paramin. They were there to act as a warn- ing and a check. An attack on Spa.r.s.edale was an a.s.sault on the Crown. There could be no going back after today.

The men were not wearing his livery, but they carried it in their packs. As a result of his neutrality in the previous uprising, he must be seen to lead when the time came- at least if he wanted to wear the crown, and he did.

He had felt that the first uprising was ill timed. Nax- ania was the beneficiary of both her father's reputation and the general euphoria at the unexpected coming of 43.

peace- The cottars were sick of war, the merchants saw no advantage in civil strife and the Royal Forces, though weakened by the battle for Stronta Gate, were still formidable. Events had proved him right. The for- eign upstart Gwyndryth had put down the rebels swiftly and efficiently. The gibbets at Stronta had stretched a goodly number of aristocratic necks and the Crown lands had swelled with the forfeitures.

Ten years had elapsed since then and the bloom was off the young Queen. She was now seen as remote and high-handed, predisposed to the northern counties and indifferent to the mid and southern regions. Taxes were still high. The cottars did not care that the roads had improved or that bridges had been rebuilt. Since the Farod had been dissolved, they traveled no farther than the nearest market. The great Indowners may have prof- ited from the peace, but the small farmer an9 the day- worker had seen little improvement in the condition of their daily lives. It amused the Lord Paramin to be thought of as the champion of the poor and the op- pressed. It was they who had paid for the men who were riding out on this clear morning, but they were too stu- pid to realize it. Nevertheless, their pa.s.sivity, their belief that their lord acted in their interests, would be the key to victory this time. The witch Queen had no offspring and the accursed House of Strongsword would be no more.

Paramin watched as his force moved out of the wood- lands in orderly fashion. He had brief words of encour- agement for his son, Bardolph, words that brooked no failure, and then he withdrew to his castle. If the a.s.sault failed, he intended to disavow it. His errant, glory- hunting son had acted on his own initiative in an at- tempt to set up a fiefdom for himself. Young men these days, deprived of the release and the discipline that war had provided, were p.r.o.ne to such things. If, and the

44 G.o.ds forbid such an outcome, his men were driven off, Paramin would be contrite for his failure to recognize his son's ambitions and dissatisfactions. He would, of course, have to mount another, more sizable, attack at some other target fairly swiftly or lose his credibility as a leader. If the worst came to the worst, he would lose his son. It was an entirely acceptable risk. If all went well and the other disaffected va.s.sals rose, he would be king. He was still capable of siring other sons. Indeed, on this morning the future seemed to stretch before him limitlessly. He turned his horse's head, clapped heels to flank and galloped back to the castle. He was hungry.

News of the fall of Castle Spa.r.s.edale and the anni- hilation of the Royal Guards reached Stronta four days after the event. Added to the shock were rumors that two of the southern provinces had declared against the throne and that the Earls of Rostan and Southey were coming out for the rebels. There was conflicting infor- mation about six of the thirteen counties, but it was obvious to Darius that a serious rebellion was under way. The summons to the Presence Chamber came as no surprise.

Queen Naxania sat upon the throne, pale as ever, black hair hanging straight past her shoulders. Ordi- narily the sight of her exhilarated Darius, even after all these years. Today, however, the white face was set, the mouth was a grim line and the long-fingered hands gripped the arms of the throne tightly. Greylock, the Mage of Paladine, stood before her, and Darius was aware that his entrance had brought their conversation to a halt. His eyes flicked around the room as he ad- vanced across the polished floor. No ladies-in-waiting, no courtiers, Just the three of them. He came to a halt the required twelve paces from the throne and bowed.

"Give you good morrow, my lord," Naxania said,