A Stolen Crown, page 26
“I move that Elrik Akandra, royal heir to the throne of Kandara become, this day, the ruler of Kandara. I, prince Borrican, his brother and the only other heir to our father’s throne support him in this and recognize his rule over our land, court, and armies.”
A hand smacked the table.
“This is preposterous!” Duke Kaledra objected. “We met with the king himself earlier today, and now you have brought us all back here to listen to this nonsense?” Borrican smiled.
He did not know Kaledra well but he had heard about him. The Duke’s lands were rich with ore, most of which he sold to Maramyr. He stood to lose a great deal of money if Kandara went to war. A nice peaceful annexation would be more to his liking whereby he could keep his title and his land and keep on selling iron to the Cerric’s armories. Borrican silently wondered how strong Kaledra’s oath of fealty was to the House Akandra.
“Kandaran law is quite clear that an heir may temporarily assume the crown should the sitting ruler be incapacitated, so long as that heir has the support of the other heirs and the majority of the Council. You have all witnessed our father’s decline over these past years. It saddens us more than anyone that our father’s grief over the death of our mother has left him more often than not in a world of his own fancy. But now Cerric’s armies march on Kandara and the king has ordered the palace staff to prepare a feast for his arrival? We love our father, but we can no longer indulge his delusions.” Borrican told them. Kaledra stood.
“But why is the Maramyrian army in Kandara? What does Cerric want?” the Duke asked.
“We do not know that, save that we have sent riders and none of them have returned.” Borrican told him then turned to the rest of the table. He reached beneath his cloak and held up an arrow. “I pulled this from my saddle today. I encountered an advance patrol of the Maramyrian force. I rode as you see me now, in Kandaran colors. Their orders are to fire on anyone, regardless of rank. Cerric is not here for peace. He is here for war and he plans to be quick about it. The main force will reach the foothills in three days. If we do not stop them there, they will overrun Kandara with our without our cooperation.” Borrican threw the arrow on the table. The gold and blue feathers of Maramyr were plain to see. Kaledra threw up his hands and reclaimed his seat. Duke Boric rose to address the council, his mighty fist thudding softly on the wood of the table.
“I agree with my nephews and I will gladly support them. I had hoped that King Eric would rule many long years the madness began to take him, but he is clearly not himself. He is no longer steady on the throne. How do you decide gentlemen?” he looked around the table at the assembled nobles. Everyone respected Boric. He had a reputation for being a fair man and a good leader who had never used the fact that his brother was the King to unfair advantage. Borrican watched as the faces around the table shifted from expression to expression. He turned as a hand smacked the table. It was Kaledra.
“Damn,” he said. “As much as I love our King Eric, and as much as I love doing business with Maramyr, Cerric has gone way too far. Elrik, you have my support.” He turned to Borrican’s older brother who sat silently, as was Kandaran custom when advocacy was required. Elrik smiled at Kaledra and nodded his thanks. Kaledra looked around the table. “I call a vote.” Murmering was heard from along the table as the nobles muttered to themselves. “What say you?” Kaledra remained standing.
One by one, all the other nobles rose and put their hands on the table, some more forefully than others. One by one, all assented to Elrik and swore fealty to him as the rightful heir and King. Decisions in Kandara usually became unanimous once the majority of the table was convinced of a thing. Once every noble had delcared for Elrik, the new acting-king, Borrican’s brother rose.
“Thank you noble lords. I love my father as I am sure do you all and I respect the man he was, but the time for debate is over. Maramyr is at our doorstep and its soldiers have attacked our rangers and personally attacked my brother who was brave enough to venture close enough to them to bring us a first-hand report. Cerric’s army has not observed any of the conventions of war and I expect this to be the way of things. The time for diplomacy never was. We are at war. It has come quick and we must respond in turn. I want men in the field today. What forces do we have ready?”
Borrican watched as some of the nobles gave half-hearted attempts to retain their own armsmen, fearing for the safety of their individual estates. Their resistance gave way when he described the number of Maramyrian troops that had broken through the southern pass only this morning.
Outside the chamber, Henton frowned as he used his power to listen in on the nobles’ discussion. In the course of a day, Cerric’s easy win over Kandara had changed to a course of blood. Henton did not like the idea of the death that war would bring, but his mage-brother Dakar had assured him that should Kandara resist, the battle would nonetheless be ended quickly. As well protected as the mountain kingdom was, by the terrain alone, it would be useless for the Kandarans to try to stand against the Cerric’s army. It would be even worse for them when the Xallan troops arrived at the front. Henton had heard about the fearsome lizard-men who ate their enemies.
He shook his head as he turned along the walkway along the outside wall of the court. He rounded a corner where the guards could no longer see him and disappeared leaving only a break in the breeze where he had once stood. The nobles of Kandara would not be surprised to see him gone when they emerged from this war council.
*****
Dressed in the height of Maramyrian fashion in a shimmering silk tunic, finely spun cloth trousers, tall black leather boots and a rich dark cloak, Cerric descended the stairs from the upper palace toward the walkway that overlooked the city below. This was the day that Calexis, his bride, would arrive and he had been looking forward to it for many weeks. Since the day before, servants and advisors had tried to get him to look out at Calexis’ procession, but he had refused. Now, he looked out and was shocked at what he saw.
Like so much black ink spilling across the land, the long procession of the Xallan army spilled its way out of the Dark Forest in the distance, across the rolling Maramyrian countryside and to the gates of the city. It was a sight to behold, so many thousands of Xallans, marching peacefully into the heart of Maramyr. For a moment, Cerric wondered if he had been wise to allow his future wife to bring her army with her, but then he remembered the reassurances of the Priesthood that the Xallans would observe the peace. Comforted by the fact that nearly every mage, save for a few rogues and those that he himself had sent north with his own army, was in Maramyr, preparing for the Awakening ceremony, Cerric settled in to watch Calexis’ procession as it neared the palace.
Below, Calexis rode in a caravan similar to that of her last visit to Maramyr except that this one was many times the size and followed by a large portion of the Xallan army. As she looked out from the screens of the luxurious pallet upon which she rode, she wondered if Cerric was watching her grand entrance to his city. While a part of Calexis felt disdain for anyone who would presume to nobility and approach her as an equal, she knew that Cerric ruled a very powerful kingdom. Even with most of his own army moving into Kandara, Cerric still had a sizeable force deployed to welcome the Xallan queen. She smiled, knowing that the presence of her army probably made the Maramyrians nervous. She hoped it made Cerric nervous as well. It was only proper for a groom to be nervous before marriage, even if he was a King.
All in all, it took nearly the remainder of the day for Calexis’ train to reach the palace and she was glad that Cerric had the presence of mind to instruct the servants to show her to her quarters where she might refresh herself before beginning the first of many royal dinners to take place over the next days. Calexis recognized the hallways that led to the chambers she had occupied during her last visit and was delighted to discover that Cerric had given her even more opulent apartments for her visit as his bride. She admitted to herself that she had been sufficiently impressed with the last rooms, but now Cerric had lavished the full wealth of his kingdom upon her.
The rooms were draped with the finest tapestries that ran down from a ceiling gilt in the light-colored gold that was once mined in the hills to the north of Maramyr. A warm fire blazed beneath a hearth that had been worked by teams of master artisans who, generations ago, had created a beauty that was timeless. Calexis sighed, relaxing as her bare-feet felt the lush carpet beneath her toes. The room was warm, just the way she liked it. She was glad to no longer be on the road. As much as the seasons had worked their way well into spring, the nights had still been cold. Now, in the warmth of her luxurious chambers, Calexis again began to feel herself.
A knock at the door announced visitors. Calexis knew who it was, feeling the twitch in her own magic. Priests. She wondered which one of the black robes would come calling this time or whether it would be just one. The presence outside her door felt more like two. Calexis nodded to the silent servant who waited patiently for her command to open the door then admitted Shadar and his high priest, Dakar.
“Queen Calexis,” Dakar began. “On behalf of the entire Priesthood, I welcome your return to Maramyr.”
“Dakar. What is it that I can do for you? I am very tired from my journey and have many long nights of receptions ahead.” Calexis was even surprised at her own irritated tone. As much as she was losing her trust for the black-robes, it would serve no purpose to offend their High Priest. Luckily, Dakar smiled.
“It is not what you can do for me your highness, it is what we, your faithful servants may do for you. If you will permit, Shadar and I, we will set a spell to keep your bath perpetually warm.” Dakar offered and opened the door to an adjoining room. As hard as Calexis was accustomed to keeping her outward self, she momentarily lapsed into uncharacteristic girlish glee at the sight of the bath chamber. Dakar and Shadar traded a look and followed Calexis into the room.
Finely worked in intricate tile and delicate fixtures of bejewelled precious metals, the room was truly fit for a queen. Luckily, Calexis was a queen and she walked right in as though the beautiful chamber had belonged to her since the dawn of time. Someone had recently filled the bath and spread rose petals across the water’s surface and, nearby, several female servants waited to add heating stones to the bath to suit the preference of their future queen. Waved away by the two mage-priests, the women gladly left the chamber. The palace staff remembered Calexis’ last visit and did not envy those who were assigned to wait on the tempermental Xallan queen.
Calexis turned to the two black-robes and raised an eyebrow.
“Well?” she asked expectantly. Shadar bowed.
“Of course my queen, we will begin,” he told her as he and Dakar both summoned small amounts of their power to effect the spell. It was not a difficult task but due to the enduring nature of the spell, it did require two mages. And Shadar had hoped that having the high priest attend the moody queen Calexis would soothe her somewhat and make the days approaching the ceremony go much more smoothly. As they completed the spell, Shadar suspected that he was right, as his queen unceremoniously shed her garments and slipped into the water.
“Perfect! It is superb!” Calexis exclaimed. Dakar dipped into a low bow.
“The water adjusts its temperature to the desire of the bather. If you want it warmer, then merely wish it so, and colder, it is the same,” the high priest told her. Calexis looked at the two mages suspiciously then smiled as she felt the water raise in temperature as she wished it.
“Well done my mages. You may go now.” She dismissed them with a nod then turned to sit on one of the carved marble seats that were submerged around the edge of the pool.
Dakar smiled at his Xallan brother who shook his head as the two of them departed. Once they were well away from the Queen’s chambers, Dakar turned to Shadar and stopped him in the hallway.
“You did not lie about Calexis’ transformation. It is most interesting,” he commented.
“But do you think it will be a problem for Cerric?” Shadar asked. Dakar chuckled.
“Cerric lusts after her so badly that he won’t care about her new skin. So long as the important parts of her function, he will be happy,” Dakar told him. Shadar nodded, relieved. As much as he was perfectly loyal to the Priesthood, he had always been a true and loyal subject to his queen and he was glad that the Maramyrian king would marry her.
“Thank you for your assistance in this, Dakar. In a way Calexis continues to be my ward, even though she has become my queen,” Shadar told him.
“I understand. You are a responsible man and for that you should be commended Shadar. Now, I would ask that you attend to your other responsibility at the temple while I must attend Cerric and allay his concerns over his bride’s new anatomy.” Dakar grinned then retreated down the corridor, leaving Shadar to find his own way out of the palace and down to the temple grounds.
The Xallan queen's bath had been Cerric's idea, and it was a request that had annoyed Dakar, but he humored the king with this little chore, taking solace in the fact that his days of service would soon be over. The ceremony of the Awakening had already begun with so many mages now feeding their powers into the Star Crystal. It was now only a matter of days when they could begin the full ritual to call the One God from the heavens. Soon, Dakar would get his due rewards for being a faithful servant of the Book.
He smiled to himself as he neared Cerric’s chambers where the troublesome King awaited, having sent for him yet again, likely having to do with another one of his petty whims. Dakar looked forward to the day when he would no longer have to play along with the demands of this earthly king. A God would walk the halls of Maramyr, and simple monarchs, kings and queens, would bow to him and his priests and they would beg for the honor of serving instead of being served.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In the weeks since their arrival at Aghlar, Carlis had repeatedly found himself either confused or embarrassed by a whole host of conventions of Aghlar culture. It was no wonder that Elaine, with her extremely reserved Maramyrian sensibility, was so uncomfortable among the seafaring people. Even the facts of Ehlena’s own parentage would have been considered somewhat scandalous in the traditional courts of Maramyr and yet, among the Aglar people, she was considered a legitimate princess.
As Carlis came to understand, Ehlena was, by birth, the daughter of King Toren and Elaine’s sister Erin, even though Toren’s brother Matthius had been the one to marry Ehlena’s mother. Thankfully the first mate, Sten, had sensed Carlis’ consternation at deciphering the Aghlar customs and family connections and had offered to explain.
“Basically,” he told Carlis, “in Aghlar, we be free to mingle with whomever we please. And only when there’s a child at issue is there talk of family and parenting and such.”
“So do Aghlar’s do get married?” Carlis asked. Sten nodded.
“Of course we do. We’re very serious about marriage because it’s for the sake of our children that we do it. The difference in Aghlar is that the man who marries a woman doesn’t necessarily have to be the child’s father.” Sten could that Carlis was trying to figure out Ehlena’s relationship with Toren. “Take the lovely Ehlena. Her mother Erin was bedded by Toren, which is how Ehlena came to be. Toren though, was not ready for marriage at the time, an' Erin was also close with his brother Matthius, so he married her instead so the girl would have a father and a mother to raise her.”
“But why would Matthius make such a sacrifice? Did he not have his own life to live?” Carlis still did not understand. Sten shook his head.
“Of course he lived his own life. And from what I remember, he enjoyed himself, but when it came to the task of raising Ehlena, he was always there and ready to help. 'Tis not considered a sacrifice in Aghlar to raise a child that maybe did not spring directly from your own loins. That Ehlena’s father was Matthius’ brother was good enough. He raised his niece, not a sacrifice and something of a joy. That girl brought him a lot of happiness.”
“But what about Erin, Ehlena’s mother?” Carlis asked, picturing the poor woman at home with a child while Toren was out carousing and his brother Matthius dropping by with the occasional toy or dress for the child.
“Erin?” Sten smiled. “What about her?”
“Was she lonely? Is it not difficult for women left in such a position?” Carlis asked.
“No. She too had several lovers if my mind serves me rightly. Though she was less, ahem… outgoing, than typical Aghlar women. Really Cap’n, I understand such things make for a lot of importance in Maramyr, but we don’t make much of such matters in Aghlar. 'Tis just our way.”
“Sten, I appreciate your patience, but I just have a few more questions,” Carlis said and Sten nodded. “So, Ehlena is a full Aghlar princess of legitimate birth, even though her true father never married her mother.”
“That’s right. Toren acknowledged Ehlena as his daughter, which would have been enough for Ehlena’s mother to get any support she needed from Toren’s family, and to make the tie stronger, Toren’s brother Mathius married Erin Valamyr, making a political family tie between them. It was very honorably done,” Sten told him.
“But what if Toren had not acknowledged Ehlena? What would have happened then?” Carlis asked, for his own curiosity’s sake. Sten looked confused at first by the question, as though the idea of such a thing had not occurred to him.
“Then Toren would have no honor an' he'd be open to being challenge. 'Tis rare, but sometimes it happens, that a woman claims a father and the man denies it. In such an event, any man could challenge him for his position on a ship. Not everyone gets to work the ships, but there's plenty who'd like to, as it's the surest way to riches and greater honor. If the challenger wins, then the parenting responsibility goes along with the place on the ship. If there are no challengers, then 'tis the same as if the father were dead on the seas, and unless the mother had her own family or some way of supporting herself, they would be very poor, but they wouldn'a starve. We take care of our own at Aghlar, an' there's always a fair day's work to be done.”
