They marched beneath the castle gate, and Edelmark took them directly to the great hall. The Harmach’s Council was gathered to await him, but as Geran approached, he realized that this was not the council he knew. In the places formerly reserved for Grigor Hulmaster’s advisors and the officers of the realm, the heads of the large merchant companies sat-the masters of the Double Moon Coster, the Iron Ring Coster, House Jannarsk, and of course Nimessa Sokol, whose face was set in an unhappy frown. Marstel’s former seat was vacant; instead the old lord now slumped in Harmach Grigor’s great wooden seat. Wulreth Keltor still held his seat as Keeper of Keys, but no other councilor who’d served under Grigor was at the table. How many of the others had been forced to flee? Geran wondered. How many were dead? The murmur of voices in the hall fell still as he drew near, and the men and women gathered in Griffonwatch’s hall silently watched him.
Captain Edelmark stepped forward and addressed Marstel. “Lord Harmach, I have brought Geran Hulmaster,” he said.
Marstel stirred himself and peered at Geran. “So you have,” he said. “Very good. We have some important matters to discuss, I believe. What of Seadrake?”
“She is moored to the old Veruna wharf. I left a company to guard the ship.” Edelmark frowned tightly. “There is a detachment of almost fifty Shieldsworn aboard, my lord. They should be disarmed immediately, and the ship placed under guard.”
“I would advise against it,” Geran said. “Unless I order them to stand down, Seadrake’s company will resist any such attempt.”
“They’re outnumbered five to one,” the captain said. “You’ll have them stand down, or you’ll be responsible for their deaths.”
Geran turned his head slightly and spared Edelmark a single glance. “I do not answer to you,” he said firmly. Then he looked back to Marstel. His surprise at the situation was rapidly giving way to a mounting anger. Marstel was seated in his uncle’s throne, calling himself the harmach, and he was acting as if he’d always been there! He took two steps forward. “Lord Marstel, what is going on here?” he demanded. “Why are you in my uncle’s seat? Where is Harmach Grigor?”
“The Hulmasters no longer rule in Hulburg,” Marstel said. He sat up straight, and a spark came into his eye. “No longer! Your uncle’s misrule nearly destroyed this realm. The Merchant Council intervened-we had no choice in the matter. Our armsmen moved to restore order, and Grigor Hulmaster opposed our actions. He has been removed from power. As the ranking peer remaining in Hulburg, I have duly assumed the title of harmach.”
“Duly assumed?” Geran repeated. His anger was a hot, white blaze that threatened to sweep him away, and he clenched his fists as he spoke, but he held his temper for the moment. “By what authority do you claim power, Marstel? There is no peerage in Hulburg, no established precedence! You have no right to name yourself harmach. As far as I can tell you are a usurper, plain and simple. Now tell me: what have you done with my family?”
Easy, Geran! Hamil warned. Keep your temper in check. There will be a time for anger and action later. Don’t convince Marstel that he can’t allow you to live.
Marstel’s face darkened, and he half rose from his seat. “I will not be spoken to in such a tone!” he roared.
“He deserves an answer!” Nimessa Sokol said loudly. Ignoring Marstel’s apoplectic fit, she stood and met Geran’s eyes. “Your family is alive, Geran. They’ve taken refuge in Thentia-or so we’ve heard.”
Geran took a deep breath. Nimessa’s loyalties lay with House Sokol, of course, but he couldn’t imagine that she would have had any willing part in unseating his uncle, Grigor. In any other circumstances he would have greatly enjoyed the opportunity to tell her about the destruction of Kraken Queen and the small amount of justice he’d been able to extract against the Black Moon Brotherhood on behalf of her friends and servants killed aboard Whitewing, but that would have to wait. “Tell me, Nimessa. What happened?”
“As Lord Marstel said, the Merchant Council moved to restore order by disarming all militias,” she said. “I argued against it, but the council was resolved; House Sokol had no choice. Harmach Grigor resisted, so the council resolved to recognize Lord Marstel as harmach. The council’s armsmen and the council-sanctioned militias defeated the Shieldsworn and drove them back to Griffonwatch. It seems that Lady Kara found a way to spirit your uncle and the rest of your family out of the keep and get them away from Hulburg.”
“A desperate act on the part of a weak man clinging to power, heedless of the welfare of his realm,” Marstel rumbled. “Had he truly been concerned for Hulburg, Grigor would have abdicated honorably. I intended to see to it that he was comfortably established in any neighboring land. But, since he has not yet done the honorable thing by renouncing his claim, the Hulmasters are banned from all lands and possessions under the harmach’s rule.”
“Banned?” asked Geran. “Hulburg is named after the family Hulmaster, in case you’ve forgotten. Do you mean to tell me that my whole family has been exiled from the realm Hulmasters have ruled for two hundred years?”
Marstel sat back in his stolen throne and smiled to himself. “My edict stands. No Hulmaster is to set foot in Hulburg, on pain of death. Of course, you could not have known this while voyaging abroad, so-despite your rudeness and your hostile manner-I suspend my own edict until you are escorted to the border of the realm. I am not unreasonable, after all.”
The warning of Aesperus becomes clear, Hamil observed. You carried on with your intended course, and Hulburg fell into the hands of the harmach’s enemies. But who is the forgotten foe?
“My lord errs on the side of compassion,” Captain Edelmark said. “Geran Hulmaster is well known as a scofflaw, rabble-rouser, murderer, and worse. Better to deal with him here and now than to let him go free.”
Geran ignored the captain and looked at the other House leaders, their advisors and captains, and saw nothing but guarded expressions and stern frowns. Nimessa Sokol looked down at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. Then his eye fell on a figure he’d overlooked before, a slender man in a long, hooded cassock of dark gray who sat in the place that had once belonged to the Master Mage of the realm. The hood shadowed the man’s face, but a dark suspicion fell over Geran’s heart. He knew everyone else sitting at the council table, even if he did not know them well. But the hooded man he did not know, even though he felt that he should.
As if he sensed the weight of Geran’s gaze, the hooded man reached up with his hands-one made from rune-carved silver instead of living flesh-and drew back his cowl. Geran stepped back with a gasp, sick astonishment momentarily overwhelming him. “Rhovann!” he breathed. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? I am Master Mage of Hulburg, as it so happens,” the moon elf replied. He smiled coldly. “Lastannor the Turmishan decided his services were no longer needed. I have been retained in his place.”
“Indeed.” Sarth studied the sneering wizard, a stern frown on his ruddy face. “Who is this, Geran?”
“Oh, has he not told you of me?” The mage affected mild surprise. “Geran and I have been acquainted for years. We knew each other well in Myth Drannor. I am Rhovann Disarnnyl, of House Disarnnyl.” The false humor in his eyes died, and he held up his silver hand. “Two years ago, your friend Geran gave me this to remember him by. I have given much thought to a suitable gift for him, let me assure you.”