"No. I never called him 'Sir.'"
Rory chuckled. "And you're still not admitting you know anything, are you? The khanate runs the continent on a simple divide-and-rule system. Whichever monarch is current suzerain grows rich, because he gets to collect and remit the tribute, and he can also call on the others to make war on his personal enemies in the Khan's name. They all want to be the next suzerain, and that keeps them licking the Khan's boots. They know that as soon as the present one begins to get out of line, the Khan will depose him and appoint another.
"But now Nevil is turning the system upside down. He's deposed three suzerains and is about to start on a fourth."
Father Lachlan pushed his glasses up his nose. "I cannot understand why the Tartars haven't marched against him already."
Rory shrugged. "Because the khanate is old and decadent, probably. When they do come, they'll come like a tide. Or else they're waiting for Nevil to cross the Vistula, so they can take him on their home ground. That's when we…" He yawned. "Never mind. It's getting late, and this is an odd place to be discussing world politics."
"I thought you were going to tell us about Susie," said Toby.
"So I was, Longsword, so I was. You don't know what a palace is like. It's like a school, with one teacher and hundreds of children. Courtiers are stupid, worthless people. They're idle, useless, and bored. They live in circles, grouped around the ruler, and all they ever worry about is which circle they're in and how they can move closer to the center. Their lives are an endless game."
He shifted, leaning on his left arm and pulling his feet around. His eyes were suddenly very intent on Toby. "They have childish habits."
Toby decided he did not like that stare. "Such as?"
"Such as nicknames," Rory said softly. "Each circle, each little coterie, has its own codewords, its own signals. It's a great honor to be able to address someone of higher rank by his pet name, and of course everyone is always gossiping. The secret names are common knowledge, although just because you know that a senior minister is Wooky to his friends doesn't give you the right to get familiar. As Father Lachlan says, names can be words of power. Names are dangerous — I told you that."
"You're not telling me much now. Who was Susie?"
Hamish gulped.
Rory did not look at him. He kept his eyes on Toby and his free hand hovered close to his dirk. "Got it?"
"Suzerain?" Hamish whispered.
"Right, lad. Susie for short. Susie was the innermost-secret codeword for King Nevil. That was probably what Valda called him in bed. Your oversized friend used to be Toby Strangerson. He says he still is, but Lady Valda calls him Susie."
CHAPTER SIX
Morning came, cold and dark, rainy and hungry. The Reverend Murray Campbell hammered on the cabin wall to rouse the men and must have then found the courage to go and waken the fearsome Meg, for they heard him beating on the other cabin also.
Toby moved and groaned aloud. All his joints had frozen and all his muscles petrified. The fire had gone out. He had slept, though, slept like a boulder. The hexer had not haunted his dreams — he had been much too tired to dream.
"Breakfast first, please," said a subdued whisper from Hamish's direction. "A hot breakfast and a blazing fire and dry clothes…"
"If we are to break our fast here," Father Lachlan remarked squeakily from Toby's other side, "which I doubt — then it will not be until after we have visited the shrine." His voice changed. "We are one short!"
Toby sat up sharply. Rory was missing.
More trouble? How could there possibly be more trouble than there was already?
"I didn't hear him go. Perhaps he went to the market."
"I just hope he didn't go up to the shrine by himself!" The acolyte found his eyeglasses and put them on, looking worried.
"Is that dangerous?"
"Er… not usually. But it would be a grave affront to the keeper."
Toby did not care eggshells for the keeper's feelings, and he thought Rory was more capable of looking after himself than any man he had ever met. He shivered out of his blanket and began pleating it into day wear.
Ten minutes later, he was starting up the path to the shrine. Apparently it was correct procedure to attend to one's devotions on an empty stomach; it seemed disrespectful not to shave first, yet when he had suggested it, Father Lachlan had told him not to bother.
Rain was beating the trees harder than ever. The keeper limped ahead, leaning on his staff. Father Lachlan and Hamish followed him, deep in talk. Toby brought up the rear with Meg. Huddled in her cloak, she was just as irksomely chirrupy as she had been the previous morning, but worrying about Rory.
"He can't have gone far," she said.
"I expect he'll be waiting for us up at the shrine."
Had he wanted to ask the spirit a few private questions?
"I'm not very happy about the shrine," Meg said. "It's easy for you — you were brought up with a hob — but I'm nervous!"
Did she think he wasn't? He was scared to a jelly, but he would die before saying so. The idea of an adolescent hob was very unsettling.
"Don't worry! It isn't going to do anything. We're just going to thank it for saving us from Lady Valda and ask it some questions."
Toby supposed he wanted to hear the answers.
They walked on in silence. He could think of nothing to say. What did one say to girls? Meg's crush on him was flattering, and also very disturbing. He was not experienced in friendship, let alone love.
Meg raised her head to peer at him, blinking as the rain fell in her eyes. "Are you going to ask if you're really King Nevil?"
"I thought you were asleep."
"I heard some of it. Are you?"
"No."
"Pity. I would like to be friends with a king." She looked down quickly.
"Not that one, surely?" World traveling must already have made Toby bolder, for he added, "Don't you like me just as myself?"
"Oh! Yes… of course."
Good. What was the right thing to say next? Meg made him feel like a clumsy, lumbering ox, but if she didn't mind being seen with a man who must weigh twice — or three times — what she did, then why should he mind? She was a jeweclass="underline" small and sparkly and full of fire. If he tried to say so, she would laugh her head off. Men couldn't say such things.
"When I am restored to my throne, you can be the belle of the court." Coward! Humor was cowardice. He took her hand. It was icy. She did not pull it away. He closed his great paw over her tiny fist to warm it.
"Does Master Glencoe really think you are Nevil?"
"No, I don't think so. He was just talking nonsense. It's rubbish."
But… There were buts.
Meg plodded on in silence.
"There's no reason to believe it," Toby protested. But that name, Susie… He had not told Rory that; Rory had told him. "Nobody can explain what happened between Nevil and Valda. If she demonized him, then why did she disappear? Why did he banish her?"
"Something went wrong with the gramarye. Or the demon possessed Nevil and then turned on her." Either the tanner's daughter had overheard most of the arguments, or she had been giving the matter much thought on her own.
"Maybe," he admitted. "But then why has she come back now? Why wait ten years?"
"She lost all her demon slaves and had to go hunt down more? Or she has been gathering more gramarye somewhere, learning how to restore him. I mean, she still had Nevil's soul bottled in a jewel, and she chose you to be… to… A very good choice, of course."
"Thank you." He remembered her words in the dream: See the fine young body I found for you, my love. More than the cold trickle of rain inside his plaid made him shiver. "But Father Lachlan says he's never heard of anyone being possessed by a mortal soul."