After freeing himself from the crowd, Sithas mounted the steps and went out the same door by which his father had left. His sedan chair awaited him outside. He climbed in and ordered, “to Quinari, at once.”
The slaves hoisted the carrying bars to their broad shoulders and set off at a trot.
Hermathya was waiting for him. The news had moved quickly through the palace, and she was brimming with delight at her husband’s triumph.
“You’ve won them,” she crowed, pouring Sithas a cup of cool water. “The clerics look upon you as their champion.”
“I said only what I believed,” Sithas noted quietly.
“True enough, but they will remember what you did, and they will support you in the future,” she insisted.
Sithas dampened his fingers in the last drops of the water and touched his face with his fingertips. “Why should I need their support?”
Hermathya looked surprised. “Haven’t you heard? Lady Nirakina has suggested to the Speaker that you be appointed as co-ruler, to share the burden of power with your father.”
Sithas was taken aback. “You’ve been listening from balconies again,” he said with displeasure.
“I have only your interests in my heart,” she said, a trifle coolly.
There was a long silence between them. Not much affection had grown between the firstborn and his beautiful wife since their marriage, and Sithas was growing more skeptical of her devotion with each passing day. Hermathya’s ambition was as obvious as the Tower of the Stars and twice as big.
“I will go and speak with my father,” Sithas said at last. Hermathya moved to join him. “Alone, Lady. I go alone.”
Hermathya turned away from him, her face blazing crimson.
A servant announced the prince, and Sithel gave permission for him to enter. It was mid-afternoon, and the speaker was immersed in a steaming hot pool, his head resting on a folded towel. His eyes were closed.
“Father?”
Sithel opened one eye. “Get in, why don’t you? The water is good and hot.”
“No, thank you.” Sithas took the direct approach. “Father, what is this I hear about mother wanting you to appoint me co-ruler?”
Sithel raised his head. “You do have your spies, don’t you?”
“Only one, and I do not pay her. She works on her own account.”
“Hermathya.” Sithel smiled when the prince nodded. “She has spirit, that girl. I daresay if it were possible she’d want to be co-ruler, too.”
“Yes, and bring the rest of Clan Oakleaf to rule with her. She already replaces palace servers with her own relatives. Soon we won’t be able to walk the halls without tripping over some Oakleaf cousin or other,” Sithas said.
“This is still House Royal,” replied his father confidently.
At that, Sithel sat up, roiling the hot mineral water. He reached for a beaker sitting on the rim of the pool, then shook a handful of brown and white crystals into the water. The steam was immediately scented with a rare, spicy musk. “Do you know why your mother asked me to make you co-ruler?”
“No,” Sithas replied.
“It was part of a compromise, actually. She wants me to call Kith-Kanan home.”
“Kith!” exclaimed Sithas, interrupting his father. “That is an excellent idea!”
Sithel held up a hand. “It would cause great dissent among the clerics and nobles. Kith-Kanan broke some of our most ardent laws. He threatened the very foundations of the House Royal. My anger with him has faded, and I could bring him home—if he would properly apologize. There are many, though, who would oppose my lenience.”
“But you are speaker,” Sithas argued. “What difference do the grumblings of a few priests make to you?”
Sithel smiled. “I cannot tear apart the nation for love of my son. Your mother said that to assuage the clerics I should name you co-ruler. Then they would be assured Kith-Kanan would have no part of the throne after my death.” Sithel gazed long into his eldest son’s troubled eyes. “Do you still want me to dismiss Lady Nirakina’s suggestion to make you my co-ruler?”
Sithas drew a long breath and let it out slowly. He knew that there was only one path to choose. He turned from the window. “If you seat me beside you on the throne, the people will say there is no Speaker of the Stars in Silvanost,” he said quietly.
“Explain that.”
“They will say great Sithel is old, not strong enough to rule alone. And they will say Sithas is too young and has not the wisdom to be sole speaker. Two halves do not a speaker make.” He looked down at his father’s strong face. “You are the Speaker of the Stars. Do not relinquish one drop of your power or, as from a pinhole in a waterskin, it will all leak out and you will have nothing.”
“Do you know what this decision means?” Sithel demanded.
The prince made a fist and pressed it against his mouth. There were other words he wanted to say; he wanted to have Kith home and let the consequences be damned. But Sithas knew he must not let these words out. The future of Silvanesti was at stake.
“Then I will be Speaker, and will remain sole Speaker until the day the gods call me to a higher plane,” Sithel said after a long silence.
“And…Kith-Kanan?”
“I will not call him,” Sithel said grimly. “He must return on his own, as a supplicant begging for forgiveness.”
“Will mother be angry with you?” Sithas asked softly.
The speaker sighed and scooped steaming water up in his hands, letting it trickle down over his closed eyes. “You know your mother,” he said. “She will be hurt for a while, then she will find a cause to which she can devote herself, something to help her forget her pain.”
“Hermathya will be angry.” Of this, Sithas had no doubt.
“Don’t let her bully you,” counseled Sithel, wiping his face with his hands.
Sithas flushed. “I am your son. No one bullies me.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” After a pause, Sithel added, “I’ve just thought of another reason why you ought not want to be speaker just yet. I’m a husband, father, and monarch. So far, you’re only a husband.” A wry smile quirked his lips. “Have children. That will bring age and hasten wisdom.”
10 — Four Days on the Trail
Kith-Kanan and Anaya paused in their pursuit of Voltorno’s band. The half-human and his followers were headed almost due south, straight for the seacoast. Kith-Kanan was surprised when Anaya called a temporary halt. He was ready for anything, from a stealthy approach to a headlong, pitched battle. True, his feet ached and his hands were covered with cuts, but the knowledge that this Voltorno held not only Mackeli but his griffon steeled the prince to go on.
When he asked if she’d sensed Mackeli was near, Anaya said, “No. I smell animals nearby. It’s time to hunt. You stay here and don’t move around. I will return soon.”
Kith-Kanan settled down with his back against a tree. In short order, he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, Anaya had tossed a brace of rabbits in his lap.
“You snore,” she said irritably. “I could have had us venison, but your roaring chased the deer away. All I could get were these rabbits.” She frowned at the scrawny little animals. “These must have been deaf.”
Quickly Anaya gutted and skinned the animals, then speared them over a twig fire. Kith-Kanan was impressed; her deftness was amazing. She dressed each rabbit in two strokes and started a fire with one nick of her flint against a blue fieldstone. Kith-Kanan doubted he could strike a spark at all against such a common, frangible rock.
She bent to tend the fire. Kith-Kanan watched her back for a moment, then he put down the rabbit. Quietly he unbuckled his sword belt and let it down soundlessly to the ground. He added his dagger to the pile. Then, using the steps Mackeli had taught him, he crept up behind Anaya.
She straightened, still with her back to him. When he was two feet from her, she whirled, presenting the point of her knife to his face.