Selenay set the pace, they only had to follow her; she looked meditative, as if she was taking a stroll in the gardens, not walking up to the throne that she would officially take in a few moments. Alberich thought that she looked as beautiful and fragile as a snow spirit in the gown that had been made for this moment, a gown of some soft, silky, draping stuff based on Herald's Whites, but with winglike sleeves and a train that trailed out behind her, glittering with tiny moonstones and gold beads, and a chaplet of moonstones and beads in her unbound hair. He would much rather that she had worn her armor, truth to be told. He would have preferred to see her marching up to the throne like a conquering battle maiden. Who would take this sweet young girl seriously as a monarch?
The army. Anyone who was with us on the battlefield. Perhaps those who heard her eulogy for her father. But the others? Highborn and notables from across the land? They knew only what they saw—a girl, a mere girl, come to govern.
Well, she'd better learn how to handle them. It was her job to make them take her seriously.
With perfect timing, they reached the dais just as the music ended. And in a silence remarkable for a room holding so many people, the three of them ascended it.
Waiting for them there were the chief members of the Council, ranged in a half circle behind the throne—the Seneschal, the Lord of the Treasury, the Lord Marshal, and the chiefs of the Heraldic, Bardic, and Healer's Circle. Representing all of the various and varied religions of Haven was the Patriarch Pellion d'Genrayes; Alberich didn't know which sect and temple he represented, but he looked every inch the part—white-haired, bearded, in robes of purple and white that were absolutely stiff with white embroidery, and an imposing staff capped with a huge globe of amber.
"Who comes before the throne of Valdemar?" the Lord Marshal thundered, placing his hand on the hilt of his purely ornamental sword.
"I, Selenay, daughter of Sendar, and rightful Queen of Valdemar," she replied, in a voice as cool as mountain snow. "In the name of the gods, I lay claim to the throne of Valdemar."
"By what tokens do you claim the throne?" asked the Seneschal, who looked nothing near as imposing as the Lord Marshal. Truth be told, he looked as if he should be asking, "Have we got the order of precedence right?"
Selenay answered the challenge as her father's daughter should. "By the token of my blood, of the line of Valdemar, first King of this land. By the token of my Choosing, by the Companion Caryo. By the token of my mind, trained to rule this land as wisely as the first King. By the token of my heart, that is given to the service of the people of this land. And by the token of my right hand, that will wield the sword of war or the staff of peace over it as need be." She held her head high, and her voice remained steady and clear.
"And who vouches for these things?" the Lord Treasurer asked.
"I vouch for her blood, of the line of Valdemar, for my Healers saw her born of Sendar's consort," said the Chief Healer.
It was the Chief Herald's turn. "And I, that she is Chosen by the Companion Caryo, for my Heralds saw her trained and granted Whites."
"I," the chief Bard said, somehow putting far more theatrical flourish into the words than anyone else, "vouch for her mind, for my Bards have tested her training, and found it complete."
Now it was Talamir's turn; his voice trembled a little, but only a little, and Alberich didn't think that anyone noticed but him. "I vouch for her heart, for I am the Queen's Own, and her heart is open to me."
Now, tradition said that the last lines were to be spoken by the Lord Marshal himself, but Selenay had asked for Alberich to take the final part. "Who else could but you?" she had asked, and he could not find it in him to deny her. He had drummed his response into his brain until he woke to find himself reciting it in his sleep; this was no time to let his Karsite syntax mangle what he was going to say.
"And I," he said, in a voice that sounded harsh to his own ears, "vouch for her hand, strong in defense, gentle to nurture, for I am the Queen's Champion, and I have tested her will and her spirit in the fires of adversity."
The Lord Marshal nodded, and stepped back. "Then come, Selenay, daughter of Sendar. Come and assume your rightful place, Queen of Valdemar."
Selenay took the last few paces until she was within touching distance of the throne, then turned, and faced the gathering. Her pages scrambled to gather up the train of her gown and arrange it at her feet. Alberich moved farther to her left and took the gold wand that served as the seldom-used scepter from the hands of the Seneschal, as Talamir did the same on the right and took the crown from the Seneschal. Selenay removed the bejeweled chaplet with her own hands, and gave it to the Treasurer.
With infinite care, Talamir placed the simple gold crown, hardly more than an engraved circlet, on her golden head, and stepped back to take his place behind the throne. Alberich gave the scepter into her hands, and looked for a moment deeply into her eyes.
She looked back at him fearlessly. A world of question and reassurance passed between them in that look, and he could not have told which of them comforted the other more. But he knew then, in that moment, that no matter what hardships, what trials came in the future, she would not break under them. He had seen her tested in the fires of adversity, tested and tried and tempered, and she had come out of it full of strength, true as steel, and as tough and flexible.
:As have you,: Kantor said, a universe of love and pride coloring the words. :And those who don't see it, haven't eyes. The rest are proud that you are one of us, Herald Alberich.:
He stepped back and took his place, next to Talamir, and the Lord Marshal called out the very same words that he had used, all those many days ago, on the road to Haven.
"Valdemar—behold your Queen!"
And the cheer that erupted from those gathered below her held nothing feigned or uncertain.
EPILOGUE
ALBERICH had wanted to come to the Temple of the Lord of Light and visit Geri for nearly a moon, but there had just been too much to do. It wasn't just his full duties as Weaponsmaster, although that was a time-devouring job in and of itself. When you added his continued forays into the darker streets of Haven, then his informal, but very necessary lessons with Talamir, lessons detailing the intricacies of the life of the Court and the highborn courtiers that made it the very hub of their existence, as well as all the eddies and swirls of intrigue within it—
There just hadn't been enough marks in a day.
Working with Talamir had been the hardest, although Talamir was, during these sessions, the most like his former self that he ever was these days. Alberich walked into the lessons with a shiver, and out of them with a feeling of relief and the strong sense that he'd been in the naked presence of someone who'd been done no favors by being brought back to life, and who lived each moment longing to return to the path he'd been taken from so that he could finish the journey.