"Yes." Tiuren crossed the room to join his friend at the window.
"You know that I love her that much, don't you?"
"Yes."
"You know me well, then."
There was little more to say. Passions were the lifeblood of this man. His love, his hate, his loyalty- these things knew no limits. They were not bound by circumstance, logic, ego, or even the value Kohath would put on his own life. The king loved the land of Vantir like none before him-but he loved his wife more.
"We don't know for sure the curse will be lifted after you consent to the demands." Tiuren leaned against the wall.
"I'm willing to take that chance." Kohath attempted a smile, but it turned into a grimace. "It is the only one I have."
Kohath gave his friend one more look, as if seeking inspiration. Then he dropped his gaze, turned, and left the chamber through the curtained door.
Tiuren would have given anything at that moment to inspire Kohath, to suddenly cheat fate as they had so many times in the past. But no. All he could think to say was, "Remember, my friend, the sun still shines, somewhere____________________
"
He doubted the king heard him. Just as well.
Tiuren sighed. The next time he would see his friend, he would no longer be king.
The next morning was long in coming. After leaving Kohath, Tiuren had stood outside the royal chambers where the queen lay dying. He could have mustered up the courage to see her in her horrid state, but he knew his sorrow at Kohath's sacrifice would be plain on his face. Abdication could never be the right thing for the king. To lose a nation for one soul? Especially this soul. Tiuren had never understood what Kohath saw in Dic-cona.
Finally, the sound of a chambermaid coming down the corridor had chased him off. Deciding it would be best for all concerned to leave her alone, Tiuren had gone to his chambers and made motions to greet the sleep that never came.
Dressing slowly, his mind in a gray haze like the morning sky outside his window, Tiuren steeled himself for what lay ahead. He refused breakfast when the servant brought it, instead brushing past him and heading down the stairs to the great hall.
When Tiuren arrived, he found Count Darius waiting at the bottom of the stair, before the open doors of the hall. The thin, angular wizard had arrayed himself in great fineries of velvet and lace. His face was stony, but something in his eyes betrayed his excitement at the events about to unfold. Tiuren wondered if Darius's anticipation was simply natural-indeed, how often does a man learn he is about to become king?-or if it meant something more. A wizard was behind the terrible curse. Could Darius-no, a milksop such as Darius could never master such a bold plan.
The two entered the great hall together. They exchanged no words or acknowledgments. Tiuren felt no need to ingratiate himself before the sudden heir apparent, and Darius seemed preoccupied with concerns beyond pleasantries with a mere bard. Tiuren was tolerated at court only due to his friendship with Kohath.
The masses of people filling the hall all had dressed in regalia that seemed out of place so early in the morning. Their whispers grew to a deafening roar. How many of them had come to support their king, and how many simply hungered for the spectacle? Tiuren suspected many more attended for the latter reason. Leeches and carrion eaters, these people had no real loyalty to the king.
Tiuren would not miss these days at court.
The room fell silent as Kohath, king of Vantir, entered the hall. Tiuren was surprised to see the monarch wearing only loose, leather riding clothes. Judging by the gasps of surprise and the looks of confusion, his appearance surprised others in the room as well.
The king strode to the center of the dais, halting before the throne. Without pausing-even for a sigh of resignation-Kohath drew his blade, the sword Tamer-rung, and knelt before it, with the sword's point on the ground.
"I, Kohath, renounce the throne of Vantir."
The hall erupted in murmurs, punctuated by a handful of outraged shouts.
Without hesitation, the king continued, louder. "I claim before all present, mortals before me and immortals all around me, that I and my line are unfit to rule a kingdom such as this."
Tiuren was amazed at Kohath's resignation and uncharacteristic lack of emotion.
"Only a true sovereign of wizardry, one who understands the higher worlds, can claim mastery of this great land. My last act as king is to name Darius, great in the ways of sorcery, as my successor.''
Gracefully, Kohath stood and drew out the scepter of office that had been tucked within his shirt. There was no quiver in his stance, despite the dour deed he had just committed. Kohath tossed the scepter onto the throne and left the chamber, accompanied only by the silence of the crowd.
Darius hurried toward the dais. The count-or rather, the new king-appeared to have thought that Kohath would remain to congratulate him.
Such a fool will make a terrible king, the bard predicted. He knew that Kohath was even now making his way to Diccona's chambers to see if his sacrifice had lifted the curse.
Tiuren slipped quickly out of the great hall to try to catch up with him. If Kohath ever needed a friend, it was now.
"The curse is lifted! Former Queen Diccona recovers quickly! She and the former king will soon leave the palace, and Vantir itself!"
Tiuren overheard the news even as he pushed through the buzzing crowds. He had to reach his friend quickly and find out his plans. The passages of the palace swelled with people excited or disturbed by the recent events.
The heavy wooden door leading into the chambers stood slightly ajar, and Tiuren pushed it open, evoking an unwanted squeak from the hinges. A small antechamber stood between the door and the bedroom. Despite his years of friendship with the king, Tiuren had been to the royal chambers only once or twice. Knowing it was proper to announce his presence, he called out a greeting, but no one answered. Without further hesitation, he parted the thick red curtain covering the entrance to the bedchamber.
The next few moments' exploration determined that the dimly lit royal chambers were empty. A wave of guilt passed over Tiuren-he should not be here, he thought. Before his thoughts could become action, however, he heard a noise. The door to the chamber was opening.
Tiuren found himself in an awkward situation, and he quickly began thinking up excuses for why he had violated the privacy of the royal chambers. As his mind worked on explanations, his eyes scanned the room for a hiding spot. He found concealment much quicker than a good excuse, and so leapt within a wardrobe filled with regal garments. The curtain separating the foyer and the bedchamber parted as soon as he turned around within the wardrobe-there was not even time to close the door.
Figures passed through the curtain. Diccona, the queen, slipped in clandestinely, accompanied by another. The shadowy form waited near the entrance as Diccona looked about and then quietly announced that they were alone. Tiuren could hardly keep from gasping in surprise when Count Darius took hold of the queen around her hips and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. Darius?
Without another word, the two disappeared into the next room. Tiuren's mind reeled. He had to get out of here-what was going on? None of this made sense. Suddenly, the squeak of the door betrayed yet another intruder.
But no, this was Kohath. He stepped into the chamber and moved toward a stout chest on the wall opposite the wardrobe. Deep in thought, Kohath began busily packing a brown leather bag with clothing and personal belongings. His mood seemed surprisingly enthusiastic, considering the situation-his eyes retained at least a little of their former spark.