“You have to come see, Father. You have to come see.” Powl let Anticus take his hand this time, and let himself be led barefoot along the cold stone passageway to Northam’s chambers.
Northam was lying in his bed, his eyes staring straight up, wide open and slightly extruded, as if he had received a sudden vision of God. Powl went to the body and placed a finger just under the neck. There was no pulse. The flesh was quite cool, but not yet cold.
“Brother Anticus, I want you to get Father Rown. Tell no one else what you have seen, but get Father Rown now.”
Brother Anticus scurried off, his breath already coming in jerking sobs. While he waited, Powl made the primate decent—pulling his nightshirt straight, closing his eyelids, placing his hands across his chest. He did not know how much time he had, so he did only a cursory search of the room. When he heard two sets of approaching footsteps, he straightened and bowed his head in prayer.
“Oh, God, no,” said Father Rown’s voice behind him.
“Come in,” Powl said, waving for the priest and Anticus to enter the room. “Close the door behind you,” he ordered, and Anticus did.
Father Rown also felt for a pulse. When he felt none he turned, aghast, to Powl. “Do you ... do you ...”
“Do I what, Father?” Powl asked, holding his breath.
“Do you know who ...” Powl frowned at him. “... I mean, do you know what the word is?”
“The word?”
“Did Primate Northam pass on to you the—”
“Ah, the name of God,” Powl finished for him, and started breathing again.
“Yes, yes,” Rown said, his face taut with tension.
“Of course he did,” Powl said. “Did you think Northam would forget that?”
Rown sighed with relief. His round face seemed to fall into its normal shape, and his generous figure, released from tension, visibly relaxed.
“You must wake our brethren,” Powl told Anticus. “Do not give them the news. Tell them to gather in the royal chapel.”
Anticus opened the door and hurried out.
“You will give them the news?” Rown asked.
“No, Father, you will.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Because as Primate Northam’s successor my first duty is to inform the queen and her chancellor. I will do that now.
And it is also my duty to select a new secretary to replace me. I select you. Father Rown. Now go and do your duty.“
Father Rown bowed in thanks, and in recognition of Powl’s ascension into higher office. When he looked up again, he wore half a smile. “I will do my duty.”
“I know it. Now I must do mine.”
“You have been talking with my brother.”
Orkid looked up from his desk to see the queen standing in the doorway to his office. She was looking particularly imperious and stern. He stood up so quickly he scattered piles of paper on to the floor.
“Your Majesty! I was not expecting you—”
“Was it yesterday, Chancellor? Or the day before.”
Orkid was trying to pick up papers and figure out exactly what the queen was getting at. Two secretaries were on hands and knees picking up papers as well, handing them in fistfuls to the chancellor.
“I wonder how you approached the subject? Perhaps something about how cold Hume was at this time of year?”
And Orkid understood. He stood erect, his secretaries still scrambling around his feet. “You are angry with me.”
“Of course I’m angry with you,” she said without any ire at all. “This is something you should first have raised with me.”
“You would have said no.”
“My prerogative. You would have argued me around.”
“Eventually, perhaps. But this way was quicker.”
“It was wrong of you.”
Orkid spread his hands. “My duty is to give you my best advice, and to ensure that your wishes are carried out. Approaching Olio so he could convince you himself was a shortcut I took to achieve both ends.”
Areava turned on her heel and left. Orkid was not sure if he should follow or stay where he was. He looked at the mess on the floor, and decided he could do more good away from his office.
“Your Majesty!” he called after Areava. She slowed but did not stop for him. “Your Majesty, I am sorry if you feel that I have manipulated you—”
“You always manipulate me, Orkid. I’m used to that. What I am not used to is being manipulated behind my back.”
Orkid nodded. “It will not happen again.”
“Good.”
They strode on, courtiers and visitors making a path for them. Royal Guards snapped to attention when they went past.
“There is something else,” Orkid said eventually.
Areava breathed deeply. “There is always something else with you.”
“It concerns Sendarus.”
“Go on.”
“If you are going to assign him as general—”
“You know I am going to assign him as general. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?”
Orkid swallowed. “Yes, your Majesty. If I may finish. When you make him general, it might be wise to ensure his authority is respected among your officers.”
“They will respect him or answer to me,” she said curtly.
“Easier to enforce his authority in the first place.”
Areava stopped suddenly, forcing Orkid to overshoot. He backtracked and met the queen’s gaze.
“How, exactly, do you propose I do that?”
Orkid pointed to the Keys of Power hanging in plain view over her chest. “Give him the Key of the Sword.”
Areava blinked. At least, Orkid thought, she did not say “no” outright.
“The Key of the Sword?”
“Yes, your Majesty. As ruler, you only need the Key of the Scepter. Sendarus will be leading your army north against Haxus, in defense of the kingdom. Surely the Key of the Sword would be the perfect symbol of your royal authority and your trust in your consort.”
Areava nodded slowly. “I like this idea.” She resumed walking, Orkid in tow. “I like this idea a lot. Do you think the council would accept it?” Her expression became downcast. “With Primate Northam’s passing, it is weighted toward the Twenty Houses.”
Orkid shrugged. “Even so, if theidea has your blessing, I don’t see why not.”
“The Twenty Houses would be against it,” she said slowly.
Orkid did not even have to think about how to answer that. “True, your Majesty. Another point in its favor.”
Chapter 18
Within two days of each other, three armed forces moved out of camp and toward enemy territory.
The first to move was Rendle’s raiding party, nearly four thousand strong. Divided into three columns, they rode single file along one of the three passes his scouts had discovered toward the end of winter. They moved quickly, perhaps dangerously, but carried only the limited supplies needed to reach the Oceans of Grass as soon as possible.
The next day Salokan started his invasion of Grenda Lear. His force was several times larger than Rendle’s and took considerably longer to cover a similar distance, even though the ground was level and mostly clear of snow or mud. Hume’s border posts were swept out of the way like solitary trees before an avalanche.
The same day, and before news of Salokan’s invasion could reach his ears, Jes Prado had moved out his own force, heading straight for the Algonka Pass.
There were eagles overhead. Rendle cursed them, then turned his attention to the column struggling up the defile. He looked west, saw that the largest part of his force was now over the pass’s highest point and descending to the Oceans of Grass, still a good two days away. The eagles were waiting for accidents to happen, as some—inevitably—would. A hoof slipping on loose scree would send rider and mount into a long, uncontrolled fall, ending in broken limbs and maybe necks. He could not afford to leave anyone behind to care for the injured.