I swore and then turned to Kellen. "Do you see what I mean? Siphern save me from the whims of Tallvenish gods."
Kellen gave me a wry smile touched with real amusement. "I don't feel strong," he said. "But, unlike you, I'm not in the habit of arguing with the gods. So I'll wash up and see if I feel better in the morning."
That's it, I thought. Give yourself time to reinvent yourself. And if that fails, do it again. Just like I had.
Just as I was.
Resolutely I pushed back the sick, formless fear that welled up from my time in the Asylum.
"My lord," I said. "I'd appreciate it if you would keep my dragon a secret for now. Hurog's already had one power-mad man attack us hoping to find dragon bones—no telling what they would do to find a real dragon."
Kellen raised an eyebrow, but nodded. When he had scrubbed as well as he could, he put his head low in the water and began swimming. I kept a watchful eye on him because he was in no condition to do much, but he stopped after one lap when Rosem and Oreg, carrying clothes and toweling, entered the clearing.
I dried quickly and dressed, leaving Kellen with his man. It looked as though they had a lot to talk about. Menogue wasn't so big that they'd have trouble finding the rest of us when they were ready.
Late as it was, there were few people sleeping at camp. The story of what we were attempting had traveled through our men and sponsored a great deal of discussion, though no dissent. King Jakoven was not much liked among our men since Erdrick had died at his hands. My own capture, it seemed, had cemented the feeling.
When I approached the central fire where Duraugh was holding court, Tisala brought me a cup of tea. She ran her eye over me as if to make sure I wasn't missing any parts, and then strode back to the fire without saying a word.
Kellen and Rosem came not long after I did. Dressed and clean, Kellen looked better, but my uncle made sure that he had a wooden platter of travel bread and cheese as soon as he sat down.
"So you think Hurog is the best place to store me?" Kellen asked. Obviously Rosem hadn't wasted any time when I'd left them.
My uncle nodded. "Even if Jakoven knows that we're the ones who got you out, he'll expect us to take you to my own Iftahar or to one of the Oranstonian lords who are supporting your uncle."
"I've seen to it that Alizon knows where we take you," Rosem said. "He'll probably be there before us."
Kellen's eyebrows lowered as he stared at Rosem. "I may go to Hurog, Rosem. Indeed, it sounds as if, for the moment, that would be for the best. But if I go, it is not because I have been taken there." The frightened prisoner shaking in the water had given way to a man who had been raised as royalty.
Forged indeed, I thought, pleased.
"There are problems with Hurog," said Tosten. "You ought to know that the keep is in the process of being rebuilt. If the king discovers where you are, the walls will not hold him out."
Or at least the gates won't, I thought, remembering how little time it had taken Jakoven's men to open them.
Suddenly Kellen smiled. "I have to admit that part of the reason I'm inclined to go to Hurog is to see it for myself." He turned to me. "Rosem kept me informed about things, and I heard much of what happened when you brought the walls down on the Vorsag."
"If we can manage it," said Duraugh slowly, "we can pull a lot of the lords of Shavig behind your standard while you are at Hurog. If the Hurogmeten follows you, they will as well."
"You assume I want the throne, then?" Kellen said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
Everyone froze—even Tisala, who'd been staying out of the conversation by sipping her tea, halted mid-sip.
"No," I replied sharply, when it appeared no one else would. "We assume that you will do as you were born to do: protect your people as Jakoven has failed to do. But if your time in the Asylum has rendered you unfit to rule, I would rather you stop now than continue what your brother has begun."
Oreg stared into the night, smiling at nothing.
Rosem put his hand on his sword and would have stepped between us had not Kellen put a hand on Rosem's shoulder. "Peace, old friend, he's right." Kellen nodded respectfully to me. "Locked up in a cell," he said, "it's too easy to forget what I have been fighting for. I want everyone here to understand what that means, though. Rather than injustice, there will be war. Civil war. Brother fighting against brother." He gave an elegant hand movement that asked us to include himself in his last statement. "The ties that bind us together might be ruined forever, leaving the Five Kingdoms broken before her enemy's sword. And, from what Alizon's letters and messages have told me, we probably will not win. Make certain before we start what cannot be undone that Jakoven's sins are such that they are worth the cost you will pay."
I shrugged my shoulders and said before my uncle could speak, "Jakoven has declared war upon Hurog and we must fight. With your banner before us, we have hope of winning; otherwise we fail. I would rather fight a war for my rightful king than a war for survival. But for Lord Duraugh, Tosten, Beckram, my sister, myself, or any who have the blood of Hurog strongly in their veins, we have no choice." I opened my mouth to tell them why, but Oreg got there first. Just as well, because my slow tongue was making my audience restless.
"The cost of doing nothing may be higher yet. Jakoven seeks to bring upon us a cataclysm as bad or worse than the one that destroyed the first empire." Oreg's voice was full of the mysteries of the ages. He could do that when he wanted to, pull the cloak of his years around him until the weight of time beat upon his audience like a mallet. "He has been trying to pull the secrets of the Imperial mages out, and he dabbles in things he knows nothing about. Farsonsbane destroyed civilization on this continent until the people deserted their cities for the wastelands. For nine and a half centuries the Bane was hidden, but Jakoven has found it again. If he lives long enough to unlock its secrets, we'll wish the Vorsag had invaded and sold us all as slaves."
Oh good, I thought, glancing around at the faces reflected in the firelight They really needed something more to be frightened of.
"He doesn't know how to use it yet," I said. "But he's convinced that the answer lies in the blood of Hurog. So you see that it is not some notion that you are the rightful king that sways Hurog to your support. Nothing so tenuous as honor or the belief in a cause. Hurog fights for survival—which makes us your staunchest supporters."
Kellen smiled at me. "Your sword will cut my enemies as well as any zealot's. I just wish I had a hundred more lords with cause to fear Jakoven."
"Ward can bring you most of Shavig and a fair portion of Oranstone," offered my uncle with unfounded confidence.
Kellen looked at Duraugh with interest. I looked at him with disbelief.
"Shavigmen have long memories," Duraugh said. "They fought against Oranstone in the Rebellion because Fen, Ward's father, fought. Most of them will fight shoulder to shoulder with Ward because he is the Hurogmeten—and because no Shavigman worth his salt ever turned down a good fight."
"Myth," I contradicted Duraugh flatly. It was dangerous to allow Kellen to believe that. "Shavigmen are men like anyone else. They fight when they have to and are not about to follow a callow boy blindly. You've been to the same Shavig council meetings I have."
Tosten smiled blindingly and laughed. "When you hear respectful tones from a Shavig lord, it's time to run," he quoted smugly. "Ward, don't you know you've given Shavig a hero for the first time since old Seleg died and the dragons died with him."
"Hero?" I choked. "If Orviden calls me a puppy one more time, I just might bite him."
Kellen stared at me for a moment. "The council meets, I believe, next month. Can you get them all together sooner?"