“P-p-perhaps this one time, Edaytor?” Olio said. He hated the thought of letting a man die who had small children.
“Your Highness, you cannot cure every ill afflicting Kendra,” Edaytor said somewhat impatiently. “We have discussed this before. If you truly wish to help your people, you have to use your power sparingly and only where it will do the most good. We must go, and we must go now.”
The priest was confused, and became even more confused when the prince and the prelate left without seeing his dying patient. When they were gone, he hurried back to the kitchen and wrote down everything that had been said between the three of them. He took some time over it, trying to remember every single word and nuance. In this regard, Primate Powl’s instructions had been explicit.
It was late at night and Dejanus was about to leave his office to go to his own rooms when one of the guards knocked and opened the door, letting in a small, rat-faced man who seemed uncomfortable in the presence of so many people with so many weapons.
“He says he has some information for you,” the guard said, his voice doubtful.
Dejanus nodded and the guard left. “Hrelth.” He said the name like a swear word, and came to stand over the man. “How pleasant to see you again.”
Hrelth bowed. “Your Magnificence, you asked me to come if I had any news about Prin—”
Dejanus’s hand shot up to cover Hrelth’s mouth. “And I also asked you to never come to me in the palace, remember?” he hissed. “Only talk to me at the tavern!”
Hrelth shook his head; Dejanus resisted the temptation to twist it off his shoulders. He let the man go and went to the door. He opened it quickly, and did not like the way the guard was so determinedly at attention. “Find some wine,” Dejanus snapped. “Couldn’t you see my guest was thirsty?”
“Sir!” the guard shouted and ran off on his errand.
Dejanus closed the door behind him and turned back to Hrelth. “All right, quickly. What news of the prince?”
“He and Edaytor Fanhow went to the hospice you asked me to watch. They went in the back door, stayed for only a few minutes, and then left again. The prelate escorted Prince Olio all the way back to the palace and then left for his own home.”
“And they were at the hospice for only few minutes? Are you sure?”
Hrelth nodded vigorously. “And there’s something else.”
“Something else?”
“I was heading back when I saw the priest from the hospice running to the palace as well. This was about ten minutes after the prince had returned.”
“He probably lives in the west wing,” Dejanus said reasonably.
Hrelth shrugged. “Maybe. That is certainly where he went, but less than ten minutes later he was rushing back to the hospice again.”
“Really?” Dejanus mused.
Hrelth nodded again. “I’m sorry for coming to the palace, your Constableness, but I thought you would want to know...”
“Yes, yes. You were right.”
The door opened and the guard came in with a flagon of wine and two mugs. Dejanus looked askance at the mugs— he was used to better now that he was constable—but at least they were clean. The guard left to take up his post again.
“So, you think the harbor patrols are doing a good job?” Dejanus asked.
Hrelth looked quizzically at him for a moment, then understanding dawned in his eyes. Dejanus wanted to kill him again.
“Yes, that’s right. Very good. Good patrollers on the harbor.”
Dejanus poured him a mug of wine and handed it over. Hrelth drank most of it in one gulp, then whispered, “Err, we have not yet discussed my retainer, sir.”
“You just drank a mug of vintage Storian wine. How much do you think that’s worth?”
“It was very nice, sir,” Hrelth admitted, “but it doesn’t feed my children.”
“You don’t have any children.”
Hrelth thought about that for a moment. “Err, that’s true.”
Dejanus opened his coin pouch and threw the rat two pennies. “Enough to feed you for a week, at least, or keep you drunk for two days.”
Hrelth did a little bow and scampered off.
Dejanus poured himself a wine and sat behind his desk again.
So two of us at least are collecting information about Prince Olio, he thought. And what is the new primate’s interest in all of this?
Dejanus had no answer to that question, but it did not worry him overly. The primate was a new broom and probably just wanted to make sure of things before sweeping everything clean. Still, it would not hurt to keep an eye on Powl. Maybe, just maybe, he could prove useful as an ally, and then there would be two of them on the council secretly opposed to Chancellor Orkid Gravespear. Now that was worth thinking about.
Chapter 25
If Salokan had known beforehand that Daavis was going to be such a tough nut to crack, he might have reconsidered his strategy. His generals continually assured him that the city’s fall was imminent, but as far as he could see the only thing that was imminent was another failed and bloody assault. He was tired of seeing long streams of Haxan wounded making their way to the hospital corner of the camp while the walls of Daavis stood there scorched and battered but still standing. He had no idea what casualties Charion’s forces were suffering, but he was damn sure it was considerably less than those she was inflicting on him. “When I take the city,” Salokan said aloud, “I am going to hang Queen Charion from the main gate. I will hang her by her feet. Alive. And naked.”
Some nearby officers chuckled appreciatively, secretly relieved he was not yet talking about hanging them upside down and naked from the walls of Daavis. If the city did not fall soon, they knew they could expect little in the way of kindness from their king. The problem was no one had expected Charion to be so effective in rallying the defense of her capital.
Salokan studied his officers, accurately reading their minds. I need an advantage, he thought. I need something Charion does not have. He sighed heavily. And, of course, that something was Lynan Rosetheme. Then he could parade the exiled prince up and down the country raising the province against its own diminutive queen now bottled up in Daavis. Symbols were important, he knew, just as he knew his army’s continued lack of success against the city was also a symboclass="underline" a symbol of his failing invasion of Grenda Lear.
It was not supposed to turn out like this, he told himself. By now he was supposed to be inside Daavis preparing for the inevitable counterattack, with Lynan in one pocket and Charion in the other.
There was a cry from behind him, and he looked around to see some soldiers pointing to a flock of pigeons coming from the west and heading northeast.
“That’s strange, isn’t it?” he asked allowed but of no one in particular. “There are no pigeons on the Oceans of Grass, are there?”
“No, your Majesty,” said an aide, then cleared his throat. “They could be ours.”
Salokan looked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they could be the pigeons we sent with Thewor for Rendle’s expedition.”
“They couldn’t all be carrying a message, could they?” someone asked.
“I think they are all bearing the same message,” Salokan said bleakly.
Farben shook his head as if to clear his ears. “I’m sorry, your Highness, but I’m not sure I understood you correctly.”
“You understood me, Farben. Don’t lie.”
“But we don’t have enough soldiers.”
“See, I knew you understood me. We do have enough soldiers.”