Lynan’s anger melted away. Pirem was almost in tears. “Really, I was in no danger. Kumul was there—”
“Kumul? Kumul’s lucky to be alive, too. He should’ve taken me. Someone’s gotta watch his back. It’s too damned big for hisself to watch it. You’re both careless, you both think blades will turn on your hide, and you’re both as ox-headed as the general…”
Pirem stopped suddenly and turned away, but not before Lynan saw the tears start to flow. Lynan felt ashamed. There were few certainties in his life, but one of them was the love he knew Pirem held for him, and the love Pirem had held for his father, General Chisal. Pirem had never recovered from failing to stop the assassin’s knife that struck down Elynd Chisal. The fact that he was able to slay the assassin before he could get away had never been any comfort for him.
Lynan reached out to put his hands on his servant’s shin shoulders, but pulled back. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I promise to be more careful.”
Pirem, his face still averted, nodded. “Being careful may not be enough anymore.”
Lynan sighed. “I will not leave the palace again. At least, not by myself.”
Pirem looked at Lynan over his shoulders. “You’ll take Kumul with you?”
“I’ll even take you along, as well.”
Pirem sniffed and straightened. “Well, good enough is good enough,” he said, his voice still subdued, and carefully examined his charge. “Pretty enough to frighten the queen’s horse. Get on, then. You’re expected in court this morning.”
“Me?”
“Your brother’s back from Hume. The queen wants the rest of the family to welcome him.”
Lynan groaned. “I hate these sorts of things.”
“Berayma’s your brother, like it or not. You’ve got to stick with him. He’ll be king one day. One day soon, maybe.”
“Not much difference to me. Though at least Berayma will be no worse than my own mother.”
Pirem glared at him. “You’ve got no sense, sometimes. You don’t know when people are doin‘ you good or evil. Her Majesty may have her faults, but not as many as you. Keep that in mind. An’ keep in mind your father loved her above all else, and he was no fool. An‘ keep in mind that you are her son, an’ that she’s never forgotten it, even if you have.”
Lynan was taken aback by Pirem’s fierceness. “When has she ever shown me a kindness?”
Pirem shook his head. “It would take all day and the next night to tell you, and you’re in no mood to listen right now. So go or you’ll be late, an‘ there’s no point in makin’ her even more angry with you than she already is.”
Usharna gripped the armrests of her chair as exhaustion overcame her. She tried to force away the nausea by concentrating on the words being spoken by Orkid Gravespear, chancellor of the realm of Grenda Lear, as he strode about the queen’s study like a tamed bear. One of her ladies-in-waiting approached, but she waved her away.
She had known last night when she had used the Keys of Power to save the life of that poor cripple how exhausted it would make her. The Keys held great magic but the cost of using them was also great. She was barely sixty years of age, yet she felt as if she inhabited the body of someone twenty years older again, thanks to the number of times she’d used the Keys during the Slaver War. Until last night she had not used them since the end of that terrible conflict, but she could not let the man die after he had so valiantly saved the life of her son.
Oh, Lynan, she thought, despite everything I have done to protect you, my enemies still get through.
Or maybe, she conceded, not her enemies but those of her last husband, Lynan’s father. Elynd Chisal had been a great man and a great soldier, but common born. His skills as a general had earned him the enmity of the Slavers and their backers, and her marriage to him had earned him the enmity of the noble houses.
Usharna had tried to keep Lynan safe by keeping him out of the court as much as possible, by feigning indifference to him, by not letting him hold those minor offices her other children used to practice their royal responsibilities. But all to no avail. Her enemies and Elynd Chisal’s enemies were now her son’s enemies as well. She thought it bitterly ironic that the offspring between her and the only husband she had ever truly loved should have so many in the kingdom set against him, that her love should generate so much hate.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the chancellor’s rumbling voice.
“And as you predicted, your Majesty, Queen Charion of Hume has agreed to allow Berayma to tour her lands in an official capacity early in the new year.” The chancellor grinned inside his thick, dark beard. “And in so doing has once again conceded your son’s right as your successor to be her overlord.”
He glanced at Usharna, noticed how white she had suddenly become. “Your Majesty… ?”
Usharna waved one hand. “Just more of the same, Orkid. Don’t concern yourself.” She smiled at him with genuine affection. “I try not to,” she added dryly.
Orkid, unconvinced, nodded anyway, and continued. “The gift that accompanied our proposal gave her a way to accept the tour without losing face.”
“Always best to let them think they have the better of you.”
“Charion is too proud.”
“Which knowledge we work to our advantage. Hume is a border realm, traditionally independent and aligned with the kingdom of Haxus, our oldest foe. Charion, and her father before her, are the only rulers from Hume to have ever owed allegiance to another crown. Hume must be treated with patience and every courtesy.”
“She takes advantage of you.”
“And we own her, Orkid, her and her kingdom. Never mistake the fortress for its stones.” She closed her eyes, conserving the little energy she had left. “When did you see Berayma?”
“Early this morning, as soon as he arrived. He gave his report—succinctly—handed over his papers, and went to get a couple of hours’ sleep before coming to see you. He should be here any moment.”
“When I am gone—”
“You shouldn’t say such things, your Majesty.”
“When I am gone,” Usharna persisted, “Berayma will look to you for wise counsel. Serve him as you’ve served me.”
Orkid bowed stiffly, a concession lost on Usharna, whose eyes were still closed. “Yes, of course, your Majesty.”
“You did not tell me how he took to reporting to you in the first instance. Did it rankle his pride?”
Orkid allowed himself a smile. “Stirred it a little, I think.”
“He must learn to trust you and take your advice.” Orkid returned the compliment with another unseen bow. “And you must learn to flatter and cajole him, as you flatter and cajole me.”
The chancellor was genuinely shocked. “Your Majesty!”
“Oh, Orkid, you have been my chancellor now for fifteen years. You are my right arm, so do not dress up our relationship in clothes that do not fit it. You needle, old black-beard, until you have your way.”
“Or until you tell me to leave well enough alone,” he rebutted.
Usharna actually laughed. “As you say. We make a fine pair, you and I, and Grenda Lear should be grateful to us for its prosperity and peace. I want you to forge the same relationship with my son. There is nothing in creation as dangerous as a new king ready to try his wings for the first time.”
“Nothing so dangerous?” Orkid teased. “Not even a new queen?”
Usharna laughed for the second time that morning, a rarity even on her best days. Orkid felt absurdly pleased with himself. “Well, in my day, new queens had a great deal to prove. New kings will only repeat the mistakes of their predecessors because they are taught to emulate them.”
“He could do worse than emulate you.”
“Now you’re buttering me up, and I don’t like it. He will be his own man, but he must also be king of Grenda Lear, and the two may not always sit easily together. It will be your job to ensure his throne is big enough to fit, but not so big he slips off.”