A horse skidded to a halt and the crookback Ager was on the ground next to Lynan, pulling him away from the animal, his spear ready to strike.
For a moment no one moved. Ager held his spear, Korigan her sword, and Lynan, not even panting, stood over the dead wolf.
“How did you do that?” Korigan asked in amazement.
Lynan said nothing, but stared at his hands.
“Lynan?” Ager prompted. “That’s a grass wolf. It’s as strong as Kumul. How did you break its neck?”
Lynan eased off the chin strap of his wide-brimmed Chett hat. His ivory-colored skin shone with sweat. He squinted in the bright light and shook his head. “I don’t know.” He met Ager’s anxious gaze, then Korigan’s mystified one. Then he saw Gudon.
“Oh, no,” he moaned, and knelt down next to his friend. Korigan and Ager joined him. Ager felt the Chett’s thin throat, placed a hand gently on his chest.
“He will be fine,” Ager said, and Lynan sighed with relief. “Bring me some water.”
Lynan went to Ager’s mare and returned with a water bottle. Ager dampened a kerchief and used it to pat Gudon’s forehead, then poured some of the water over his lips. Gudon’s mouth moved, and Ager let him swallow some of the water.
“Oh, all the gods hate me,” Gudon muttered. He blinked and looked straight into Ager’s face. “I am in hell.”
Ager grunted. “Not yet.”
“What happened?” he asked weakly as he tried to sit up. Ager placed an arm under his shoulders. Gudon saw the wolf. “You did that?”
Ager shook his head, nodded to Lynan. “Our young prince did that.”
Gudon smiled at Lynan. “Your aim was sure.”
“He did it with his hands,” Ager said.
Gudon’s eyes widened. “Three of our strongest warriors could not have subdued that creature.”
Lynan stood up uneasily. He did not know what to do with his hands. “What has happened to me?”
No one could answer him.
Chapter 2
Orkid Gravespear, Chancellor of Grenda Lear, found his queen standing on the south gallery of the palace. When he did not find Areava in her sitting room, he had known she would be here. It struck him as ironic that, like her hated brother Lynan had once done, she came to this place when she wanted to be alone. He paused at the wide double doors that led to the gallery, his bearlike frame almost filling the space, and studied her for a moment.
Areava was a tall, blonde-haired woman whose back was as straight as a stone wall. She inherited her beauty from her mother, the late Queen Usharna, but her character was a strange amalgam of her mother’s wisdom and her father’s selfish willfulness. He had not yet hit upon a method to get his way with her as he had with Usharna.
The thought made him smile ruefully. It had occurred to him after Usharna’s death that she had in fact hit upon a method of getting her way with him and making it seem it was the other way around. But Areava was too direct for that and had not yet learned her mother’s trick of subtle cajoling.
Areava was staring out over the royal city of Kendra, toward the harbor and Kestrel Bay beyond. She held her tiara in her right hand, and her long hair sifted gently with a cooling southerly breeze.
Orkid coughed politely into a hand and came to her side.
“I need some time alone, Chancellor,” she said without looking at him.
“We all need that, your Majesty, but you of all people can least afford it.”
He saw her grimace in irritation. “I hear my mother’s voice when you speak like that.”
“She was the wisest of women.”
“Not so wise, perhaps.”
“How so?”
“After my father died she married the General and begat Lynan.”
Orkid sighed deeply. He had suspected her current mood had more to do with Lynan than with other affairs of state.
“You are being wise at her expense,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes. That was unfair of me.” She faced him. “Strange, isn’t it, how we always refer to Lynan’s father as ‘the General’? Why not ‘the Commoner’ or simply ‘Elynd Chisal’?”
“Because he was the greatest general Kendra has ever seen.”
“Was Usharna the greatest queen Kendra has ever seen?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then why do we not call her simply ‘the Queen’?”
“In time, we may. But you may surpass her, your Majesty. Future generations may quibble about which of you should be called nothing but ‘the Queen.’”
“And the other nothing more than ‘the mother of the Queen’ or ‘the daughter of the Queen’? I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t want to be greater than Usharna.”
“You should. If you do not strive to be the very best monarch Kendra has ever had, you will not be doing your duty.”
Orkid watched with fascination as the red Rosetheme rage filled her cheeks. “How dare you—!”
“Do I have your attention now?” he interrupted sharply, his thick beard adding to his grim expression.
Areava’s mouth snapped shut. Her face was still flushed, but the corner of her lips turned up in a smile she was finding hard to repress. “Is this how you treated my mother?”
“No, your Majesty. She was my teacher in all things.”
Areava heard the genuine sadness in Orkid’s voice, and felt pity for him. “You are my teacher, then?”
“No, Queen Areava. I am your chancellor. And we have work to do.”
She resumed looking out over the city. The trees that filled the gardens and parks of Kendra’s richest citizens had turned red and gold, filling the city with splendid color. “I cannot get Lynan out of my head. I had truly believed he was dead and gone forever, and when that mercenary ...”
“Jes Prado,” Orkid said with some distaste.
“... Prado told me he was still alive, I felt like I had died instead.”
“I understand. I felt the same way. But we still have work to do.”
“I want to be rid of him, Orkid. I want my kingdom free of his influence, free of his taint.”
“He is harmless, your Majesty. He is with the distant Chetts, a petty people living in a wasteland without cities or armies.”
“No, you are wrong. While he is alive, Lynan can never be harmless. The idea of Lynan is a canker and, like a canker, it will spread if not cut out. He is a mule born of a monarch and a commoner. And he is a kingslayer.”
Orkid sighed deeply. “This is something you should discuss with your council. Indeed, there are many pressing matters that you should discuss with your council.”
“And what will be their advice, do you think? The same as yours, mayhap?”
“Your Majesty, if I had that kind of influence with the council, I would not be an Amanite. They will support you in all things, but can advise beyond my poor measure to do so.”
“Oh, now you tease me,” she said disdainfully. “Mother depended on your advice as heavily as I do. And you may be an Amanite, but most on the council look upon your people with a kinder light now.”
“Because you are to marry one of us? Maybe.”
Areava frowned in concentration. “Perhaps you are right. I will call the council on this.”
“They will help you steer the right course, I am sure.” He turned to leave, having achieved what he came for. He would tell Harnan Beresard, the queen’s private secretary, to issue the summons for the council immediately. Areava needed hard work to drive her out of the despondence brought on by Jes Prado’s news.