Sparrow slid his small, thin fingers into Achan’s hand and squeezed. Achan stiffened and glanced at Sparrow without moving his head. The boy squeezed again, smiled, and let go. Achan drew his hand into a fist and pulled it to his lap.
“Sir Luas Nathak,” Lord Levy said, “please take the stand.”
Lord Nathak rose from his seat and stepped down off the platform. He climbed into the witness box at the end of the high table and sat. Two men dressed in black capes came out of the side chamber. They climbed onto the platform and sat on either side of Lord Nathak.
Achan stared at the bloodvoice mediators. What did they do exactly? Were they there merely to scare Lord Nathak into speaking the truth? Or could they force the truth from him?
The chairman began, “If it is lies you hope to spread, Lord Nathak, do not bother. These two men are bloodvoice mediators, as I’m sure you know. You are also aware how bloodvoice mediators work. They are trained to sense deceit and omission. Tell us the truth, and we will take your honesty into consideration in the end. Now, by the authority of this Council, I implore you to tell us your side of this tale.”
Lord Nathak sat in silence for a long moment. “As you know,” he finally said, “I found the prince child near Allowntown, just over thirteen years ago.”
“Remind the court how you knew the child was Prince Gidon,” Lord Levy said.
“He wore the king’s signet ring on a chain ’round his neck. I took him home, uncertain of what to do at first. He was King Axel’s son, and I sensed his father’s weakness in him.”
A murmur rose in the court. Achan’s eyes widened. He’d never heard anyone claim King Axel had been weak.
Someone yelled, “Traitor!”
“Silence!” the chairman cried. “Lord Nathak, you will refrain from insulting our fallen king in this Council room.”
Lord Nathak bowed his head. “My apologies, Chairman Levy.”
“Continue.”
“My own son, Esek, had just turned four. Prince Gidon, I guessed, was nearly three. I kept the prince for several weeks, praying to the gods for guidance. Despite the age difference, the boys looked like twins. As they played together, Esek pounded the prince daily. He knocked him down, took his food and playthings. The gods’ message was clear. King Axel had ruled the same way: weak and apathetic.”
Murmurs rose again, but Lord Nathak spoke over them. “He allowed neighboring peoples to pillage our lands, our foods, our gold. If I allowed this weak prince to take the throne, I would be responsible for another generation of the same in Er’Rets.”
Fury rose in Achan’s chest. Weak? He’d been merely a babe!
Then he shook his head, surprised at his own thoughts. So now he believed this incredible story?
“Nearly six months passed before I sent word that I’d found the boy,” Lord Nathak said, with a glance at the mediators. “When I brought him to Mahanaim, I presented Esek, my son, as the prince, wearing Hadar’s signet ring. Those closest to the king had died in the attack. No one suspected. The ring was all that mattered.”
Achan glanced at Gidon, who sat with one leg casually thrown over the other as if this tale bored him. But his hands betrayed his true emotions. They gripped the sides of his throne, knuckles white.
He hadn’t known the truth either.
The chairman asked, “What became of the real Prince Gidon?”
“My cook lost his wife and child in childbirth.” Lord Nathak’s voice softened, as if trying to convince the court he was kind and thoughtful. “I urged him to raise the boy as his own. In this, they would have each other, and I would be able to watch over the boy’s safety.”
Achan scoffed. Safe at the end of Poril’s belt. Why hadn’t Lord Nathak just drowned him? There had to be more to this story than Lord Nathak was revealing. Why keep him alive?
“And you branded him a stray to hide his birthmark?” the chairman asked.
“He had food and a place to sleep. Death would have been worse.”
“And this is when you gave him the âleh tonic?”
“I have given him the âleh tonic since his first day in my household.”
Achan squeezed his fists until the veins popped out on his inner wrists.
“Why did you do this?” Lord Levy asked.
“It was well known the prince had the gift. If my plan was to work, I couldn’t have people sensing his ability.”
Lord Levy folded his hands on the tabletop. “Remind the Council how you came to the responsibility of raising the prince. You found him, yes, and presented your son in his place. But the boy should’ve passed to Prince Oren. Remind us why he was given to you to raise.”
“Nearly everyone who cared for the child had been killed along with the king and queen, or sent to IceIsland. Prince Oren took the boy in for a short period, but he sent him back.”
“Because the prince knew the boy was a fake,” Sir Gavin mumbled.
Achan looked to Prince Oren. The man sat silent, one hand gripping his chin.
Lord Nathak shrugged. “My son missed me and his mother. His silence and depression worried the advisors. With the king dead and the heir so young, this Council was formed to rule until the prince grew to manhood. This same Council granted my plea to raise the boy. I built the stronghold in Sitna to keep the child away from prying eyes. I have taught him how to be a great king. He is shrewd and wise and quick with a sword. We have negotiated his betrothal to Lady Averella Amal of Carmine, and, once wed, he will move to Armonguard to take the throne.”
Sparrow squeaked and turned pink over this latest declaration.
What was wrong with him? Achan frowned at this latest information from Lord Nathak. The Duchess of Carm had a daughter? He did not recall ever seeing the lady visit Sitna. Bran was from Carmine. Achan wondered if Bran knew of her.
A murmur rose in the fifth row of the stands. There was Bran, on his feet, face redder than from sunburn alone. Sir Rigil, the young knight Bran served, stood beside him. He whispered and tugged Bran’s elbow. Suddenly Achan could hear their conversation as if he were a fly on Bran’s shoulder. Or maybe he was looking though Bran…
I will speak, but I will not make accusations, Sir Rigil said.
Then I will, Bran said. Lord Nathak is a usurper and traitor. He holds the Duchess hostage! Her daughter has fled to avoid his son’s hand. I will not stand here and let him claim he has obtained Averella’s hand by her own choosing!
This is not a battle for today. Sir Rigil pushed down on Bran’s shoulder. Sit yourself down or I shall be forced to drag you out.
Bran fell into his chair and crossed his arms like a sullen child.
“Sir Rigil?” Lord Levy said.
Achan noticed that everyone in the chamber seemed to be watching Bran and Rigil. Even Lord Nathak had fallen silent to observe the knight and his squire.
Sir Rigil turned to the high table. “Yes, my lord chairman?”
“Have you something to add to our discussions?” Lord Levy asked.
Sir Rigil raised his voice. “I beg the Council’s pardon. Duchess Amal spoke to me of this matter, this ‘arrangement’ for marriage, when I stopped in Carmine on my way to the tournament for the prince’s coming-of-age celebration.”
The chairman banged his gavel. “The Council recognizes Sir Rigil Barak of Zerah Rock. What do you know of this matter?”