“That she has consented to no such match.”
Nor will she, Bran said at the exact moment that Achan heard Sparrow mumble it under his breath.
Sparrow glanced up at Achan and stammered. “I m-mean, she’d have to be crazy to marry him, right?”
Achan turned back to Bran. A familiar fury filled his friend’s visage. So Gidon had tried to take the woman he loved also. Achan wished the lady well, wherever she had hidden herself.
Chairman Levy sighed. He turned to face the witness stand. “Bloodvoicers, what say you? Has this man been truthful?”
The men on either side of Lord Nathak stood. One said, “He has. Though I sense he is withholding something greater. We would need more time to discern what that might be.”
“I agree,” said the second bloodvoice mediator. “I request additional time to question him further.”
Lord Levy nodded. “Very well. Lord Nathak, you are dismissed until further notice.” He addressed the audience. “We shall postpone any marital arrangements until this matter of identity is settled. The Council must take time to deliberate. We will reconvene when we have a majority vote.”
The chairman rose and left the platform, heading to the side chamber. The rest of the Council members went after him. Lord Nathak left the interrogation platform and followed the Council.
“Why does Lord Nathak go to consult?” Sparrow asked. “What part does he play in the Council of Seven?”
“He was being seated on the platform when we were arriving,” Inko said. “Something is being amiss. I shall be discovering it.” Inko slinked toward the grandstands.
Achan watched Sir Gavin. The knight stood against the wall, eyes half closed as if in a trance, despite the noise of the crowd. Achan recalled that day in the dungeon when he had “jumped” through Sparrow’s mind and witnessed Hadar and Lord Nathak’s discussion. Could he do the same now with Sir Gavin?
Achan walked to the knight’s side and stood so their shoulders touched.
Sir Gavin stirred, reached up, and gripped Achan’s shoulder. “All will be well, lad.”
Achan nodded. When Sir Gavin’s mind drifted again, Achan closed his eyes and reached.
It came easily this time. Instantly he was in a florid chamber. Carved bronze sconces pinned massive torches to the wall between vibrant tapestries. An equally impressive bronze chandelier hung above a circular table, its flickering candles illuminating the faces of the Council members. Sir Gavin was watching the Council’s deliberations! Achan was not certain whose eyes he looked out from.
The men all spoke at once, but Chairman Levy silenced them. “I want to hear from you all, one at a time. What is your will?”
The man whose mind Achan and Sir Gavin shared spoke, and Prince Oren’s voice came forth. “Esek is not the prince. He is false. He is not who we thought him to be and has no claim to the throne. He cannot rule. There is nothing to discuss.”
“Agreed,” Duke Pitney said.
Duke Pitney? Achan studied the bronze-skinned man with black hair and mustache, then glanced at each face around the table, suddenly aware of each man’s name, their duchy, their manor. He seemed privy to Prince Oren’s knowledge. How strange.
“Then we should elect you, Prince Oren?” Duke Hamartano said. Achan recognized Silvo’s father — he looked like an older version of his sons. His black hair was slicked back over his olive skin and was tied back in a tail.
“Not I,” Prince Oren said. “Our true king sits in the courtroom. He is a good, strong young man who only needs a bit of instruction.”
Achan wanted to believe that about himself, but his doubt was stronger than his desire.
Lord Nathak banged a fist on the table. “Esek has been trained to rule his whole life. The stray knows nothing of being king.”
“He is not a stray,” Prince Oren said. “And I myself shall train the boy to rule rightly. Chairman Levy, why is Lord Nathak even here? His deceit should have banned him from this debate.”
“I concur,” Duke Pitney said.
“We’ve all seen his letter of proxy,” Lord Levy said. “Duchess Amal has sent him as her emissary.”
“Rubbish,” Duke Pitney said.
Prince Oren persisted. “Shouldn’t his deceit void such a letter? I was not aware the Council was so forgiving where treason was concerned.”
“Treason!” Lord Nathak leaned past Duke Orson’s hairy profile to glare at Prince Oren.
Duke Hamartano’s voice came smooth. “Your brother’s lax rule nearly destroyed Er’Rets, Prince Oren. The Council has only just managed to set a level of order.”
“Do not confuse compassion with neglect, Duke Hamartano. My brother was loved by the people.”
Grey-skinned Duke Falkson murmured, “Peasants and slaves.”
“It was illegal to keep slaves when King Axel ruled,” Prince Oren said.
“My point exactly,” Duke Hamartano said. “King Axel was soft, and his son, raised as a stray, will have pity on every lowlife in the land. It will be his father’s reign, only worse.”
Prince Oren folded his hands and stared at a mound of wax that had formed in the center of the table, having dripped from the candelabra above. “Chairman Levy,” he glanced at the chairman, “the throne has never been open for debate. We must obey Arman in this matter. Achan is rightful king.”
“Hang Arman and hang the stray!” Lord Nathak yelled. “It will take years to train that nitwit. You forget, I know the boy — he was my stray. He’s stubborn, rude, thick-skulled, and temperamental. Esek is ready for the throne, and Er’Rets needs a king. Let the Council vote.”
Duke Falkson grunted in agreement.
“The Council was only created to serve until the prince was of age,” Prince Oren said. “He sits there, of age, ready to serve. There is nothing to vote on.”
“He knows only the life of a stray!” Lord Nathak cried. “He’s at best a cook’s apprentice.”
“He is a squire,” Prince Oren said, “and a good one, trained by Sir Gavin Lukos. And very worthy of much more.”
“And we are to trust Sir Gavin?” Lord Nathak threw up his hands. “King Axel was murdered on his watch. He is lucky not to live on IceIsland with his friends! Let us not repeat mistakes of the past by placing fools and sentimentals in positions of power.”
Achan jerked loose and floated back into his own eyes. King Axel was murdered on Sir Gavin’s watch? He stood in a daze, contemplating all he had heard, unhinged that a roomful of men debated his future.
“I shall tell you my side of it someday,” Sir Gavin said.
Achan wrenched his gaze to Sir Gavin. He knew Achan had been jumping through him? They stared at each other a moment, neither speaking.
A crowd had gathered on the floor, milling about and staring at Achan. Sir Rigil and Bran dodged through the crowd to where Achan and Sir Gavin stood. Sir Caleb approached them from the bench.
“What news?” Sir Rigil asked. His short blond hair stuck out in all directions. If it were longer, he might look like a younger Sir Caleb.
Inko slid between Sir Rigil and Sir Gavin. “Lord Nathak is having a letter of proxy from the Duchess of Carm. He is sitting in her place today because of it.”
“The letter is false,” Sir Rigil said. “Lord Nathak holds the Duchess hostage in her home. I had hoped to raise a party of knights to run off Nathak’s thugs, but it is still difficult to tell who serves who. Perhaps this vote will help define the sides.”
Sir Gavin sighed, his two-colored eyes flashing with rage.
“Calm, Gavin,” Sir Caleb said. “All is going according to plan, is it not? Isn’t the Council siding with the truth?”
A sniffle turned Achan’s gaze back to Sparrow who still sat on the bench. Was the runt crying?