“I would’ve done it, but our friend here said there was an alternative. He tried to shove me off with some twaddle about medical training and the risks of contagion, but being stubborn, as you all know, and damnably curious, I watched from concealment. And so I saw Karon do his little business with the three of them. Needless to say, he had to spend some time telling me all he told you tonight.”
Martin sighed. “We thought we were done with the incident, but didn’t the stupid young bastard ignore Karon’s requirement of silence and take his healthy wife and babe into town, telling everyone of the miracle that had come about. The fool thought he’d make his savior into a hero, but instead, at Ferrante’s house, we hear that a hunt is up for a sorcerer in the district. I managed to smuggle Karon back to Yurevan, meet him properly in different circumstances, and invite him here, never thinking I’d be so stupid as to put him back in the danger from which I had extracted him.”
CHAPTER 7
Day 1, Year 1 in the reign of King Evard
By the time Martin had finished his tale, the sky was rosy and the birds twittering in the garden. Tomas would arrive by mid-morning, and the events of the night would make my departure no easier.
Despite his best efforts, Tanager fell asleep on the floor, while Julia and Martin went to the kitchen to hunt up something for us to eat. Martin had told his stewards to continue the servants’ holiday through the coming day. Tennice paced the library, grumbling under his breath and casting such mournful glances over his spectacles at Karon and me that we decided to escape to the garden. We walked for a while, but there was nothing to say and everything to say, and we could not even begin. Eventually we gave up trying and joined Martin and Julia in the kitchen.
Just as Martin pushed a knife into my hand and told me to slice the oranges piled in a copper bowl, Tennice burst through the door. “Martin, do you have a copy of the Westover Codex? Surely you do. Don’t tell me you don’t.”
The Earl of Gault was up to his elbows in buttered toast. “You’re going strange on us, Tennice. The Westover Codex at six in the morning? Here we’ve had a night such as friends seldom experience, and you’re ready to get back to your books.”
“No jest, Martin.”
Martin shrugged. “In the vault, then. Black leather case.”
Before too long a time had passed, Tennice’s head reappeared in the kitchen doorway. “Seri, would you come, please? I need to speak with you.”
Wiping my hands on a towel and yielding my sticky knife to Karon, I joined Tennice in the library. He was poring over a fragile parchment spread out on the library table, and when I came in, he whirled about, snapping a pen in his thin hands. I had never seen him so agitated.
“Do you love him, Seri?”
I was taken aback.
“Tell me honestly. Karon—do you love him?”
He was not asking lightly. “Yes. Yes, I do, but—”
“You’re not afraid?”
“Of Karon? No more than I’m afraid of you or Martin or the others.”
He nodded as if he had expected nothing else. “If, by taking a great risk, you could avoid what is to come with Evard, would you be willing?”
“I’d do almost anything.”
“I’ve found you a way.” He beckoned me to the table to look at his parchment. “Evard will likely be crowned this afternoon, no later than tomorrow. It’s already been two months since Gevron’s death. A thousand noble guests are getting restless at twiddling their thumbs here in Montevial, waiting for us to make up our mind who we’re going to crown, while their tenants are harvesting crops and their less honored neighbors are lusting over their unguarded fields and horses. And, most importantly, the fall campaign against Kerotea can’t begin until there’s a king. So I started thinking about how there’s no time for an extended celebration, only the necessary rituals—coronation rituals. And that reminded me of something I’d read.” Tennice never forgot anything he read, not even if it made no sense or had no relevance at the time. No one in all Martin’s circle had ever been able to catch him up. “You’d risk Evard’s wrath. He’s not a forgiving man, as you well know.”
The three from the kitchen appeared, carrying trays loaded with toast, jam, oranges, and tea. “What’s this about Evard’s wrath?” asked Martin.
“I’ve found a way Seri can refuse him and choose”—he glanced up at me—“a life she might prefer.”
“Tell me, Tennice,” I said.
“There’s a codicil buried in the Westover Codex about petitions put before the new king on Coronation Day—the Favored Ten. To violate the Westover Codex is to violate the very basis of his own power. Evard won’t do it. Can’t do it. The Council wouldn’t stand for it, and he needs them to support his war. And if he accepts the Westover Codex, then he must grant the first ten petitions on the day of his coronation. If you’re willing, Seri, you can petition him to marry whomever you will.”
When Tomas escorted me from Windham that morning, I told him that I wished to be presented to Evard as soon as he was crowned.
“He’ll send for both of us soon enough,” said my brother.
“But I should be the first to acknowledge his authority, should I not?” Now I knew of the Codex codicil, there was no stopping. I would not let myself consider what the future might bring; all would depend on Evard’s reaction. But, whatever the consequences, I could live with them. Evard, I could not.
Evard, Duke of Doncastre, was crowned King of Leire and Protector of Valleor that afternoon in the presence of the Leiran Council of Lords, every Leiran noble of importance, the high priests of Annadis and Jerrat, and every resident of Montevial who could bribe, wheedle, or sneak his way into the palace precincts. One sullen group of guests dressed in sober finery were noble hostages from Valleor and Kerotea, kept under house arrest in Leire and now forced to witness the succession of their conquerors.
Sharp angles of purple and green light from the stained-glass windows streaked the gray stone floor of the Great Hall of Leire. The carved capitals of the soaring columns were lost in the dim and smoky heights, as were the frescoed ceilings. I stood among the most favored guests to the right of the throne, trying to avoid having my eye put out by the women’s stiff headdresses, my skirts snagged by the men’s jeweled sword hilts, or my breath choked off by the cloying perfumes. But I squeezed and smiled and elbowed my way to the front where I could see.
The ceremony began with a priest’s long-winded recounting of the War of the Beginnings, and most especially of the part where Arot had retired to his mythic palace of Cadore with his wife Mana. While his twin sons guarded the world against the fiends of air and sea, those of us on earth were commanded to defend our own lands and welfare by serving strong, faithful warrior kings. By the time the chancellor was halfway through a recounting of our new king’s life, Martin had dozed off. Evard was only twenty-five. This part shouldn’t take so long.
For my part, I was neither sleepy nor anxious. In truth I was more concerned with Tomas than Evard, for what I was about to do would be a grievous offense to my brother. We had been our parents’ only children, close in age and interests, and forced into constant companionship by the remote situation of Comigor, our father’s keep. I loved Tomas dearly, honored him as a warrior and a swordsman, and respected his authority as the head of our family. But he had never once asked me of my wishes, hearing my objections no more than he would hear a complaint from his horse that the flies were becoming a nuisance. To do so had never occurred to him, though I had been frank about my declining opinions of his friend. But Martin had taught me that my opinions were worthy of consideration.
When the chancellor’s droning ended, the Council of Lords came forward one by one to swear fealty to Evard. Martin winked at me as he took his place in the queue. I nodded, unable, even in my own anxiety, to forget the pain which had led to his moment of desperation the previous night. If Annadis and Jerrat truly favored Leire as our priests assured us, then somehow Martin would have a say in our kingdom’s future.