“He hasn’t called us. That’s all I know for sure. We wouldn’t be down here on the Stura if he had, now would we?” Nicator chuckled, then spat into the river.
“He hasn’t called anybody. We’d know if he had,” Grus said. Nicator nodded. Sailors knew what other sailors were up to. Grus went on, “So how does Bucco aim to fight the Thervings without river galleys? He won’t be able to attack, and he won’t be able to defend, either.”
“Looks that way to me, too,” Nicator said. “But Bucco, he’s not a general, you know. He’s a holy man.”
“Then why is he trying to fight?” Grus burst out. “I’m not a holy man. If you gave me a red robe and put me in the cathedral, I’d make an ass of myself. Doesn’t he see it works the other way round, too? Aren’t there any generals trying to talk sense into him? If I had to pretend I was an arch-hallow, I’d listen to the priests who knew what they were doing.”
“Ah, but you’ve already got your head on straight, Skipper.”
“Thanks.” Grus tugged at his beard, as though making sure his head wasn’t at some strange angle. “By the gods, though, Bucco’s no fool.”
“Then why is he acting like one?”
“That’s the question, all right,” Grus said. “Why?”
“Maybe he’s not aiming at fighting the Thervings,” Nicator said. “Maybe he’s got something else in mind.”
“Like what?” Grus asked.
Nicator looked this way and that. Nobody stood particularly close to Grus and him. The sailors aboard the Osprey had learned Grus and his longtime comrade liked to have room to talk. Even so, Nicator didn’t answer, not in words. He just looked up at the sky and whistled a tune peasants sang when they trampled grapes in the fall.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grus asked irritably. Nicator went on whistling. Grus felt like hitting him. “Are you playing the fool or making me out to be one?”
Nicator still didn’t answer. Grus started to get really angry. Then he stopped and stared. “You don’t suppose—?”
“Me, Skipper?” Nicator was the very picture of innocence. “I’m just a dumb old sailorman. I don’t suppose anything.”
Grus ignored that. “D’you think Bucco can get away with it?”
“Who’s going to stop him?”
A dour soldier named Lepturus commanded the royal bodyguard. King Lanius, by the nature of things, saw him every day. That made Lepturus one of the most important men in the kingdom. Lanius didn’t usually pay much attention to him, maybe because he saw him so often. He might have been part of the furniture. You didn’t pay attention to a chair—till you needed to stand on it to climb out a window in a fire.
“I know my father always thought you were a wonderful officer,” Lanius said.
In a way, that was a lie. So far as Lanius could remember (which, since he was only nine, wasn’t very far), King Mergus had never said a word about Lepturus. But it also held a truth. Mergus wouldn’t have put Lepturus in such an important post if he hadn’t thought the man could handle the job.
It worked. Lepturus’ face softened more than Lanius would have guessed it could. The soldier said, “Your old man—uh, His Majesty—was one of a kind. Too bad he’s not here now. We could use him.”
“Yes.” Lanius nodded. “We could. But he wasn’t one of a kind. He was part of the dynasty. I’m part of the dynasty, too.”
“That’s true.” Somber once more, Lepturus nodded. “King Mergus, he went to a lot of trouble to make sure you’d be part of it, too. Seven wives!” He rolled his eyes. “If that’s not trouble, curse me if I know what is.”
“Er—yes.” Lanius wasn’t sure what that meant. But, since he had no other good hopes, no other choice, he plunged ahead. “I don’t want to be the last part of the dynasty.”
“What?” Lepturus had black, bushy eyebrows that reminded Lanius of caterpillars. They wiggled like caterpillars now. “What are you saying, boy?” That was no way to address the King of Avornis, but Lanius didn’t mind. He told Lepturus what he meant. Lepturus’ eyebrows did some more wiggling. “You figured this out all by your lonesome?”
“Well, with some help from my tutor,” Lanius answered.
“And what do you suppose I can do about it?” Lepturus asked.
Again, Lanius told him. Now, will he take me seriously? he wondered. On the one hand, he was King of Avornis. On the other hand, he was nine years old. He’d seen—as what child has not?—that grown-ups often treated children like fools just because they were children.
But Lepturus thought for a little while and then said, “Do you know, Your Majesty, I think we can do something like that.”
“I hope you can.” Lanius had never been more sincere.
A couple of days later, Duke Regulus rode from his encampment outside the city of Avornis to have supper with Lepturus at the royal palace. Only a few soldiers rode with Regulus. He plainly expected no trouble. Lanius’ tutor had said he wasn’t very smart. If that didn’t prove it, nothing ever would.
Smart or not, though, Regulus looked splendid as he rode up to the palace. Lanius watched him from a window where he wouldn’t be seen. Regulus looked more like a king, a warrior king, than he ever would.
But did looks make the King of Avornis? Lanius hoped not. If they did, he would never sit on the Diamond Throne when it really mattered.
Down below, big, bluff Regulus dismounted. So did his companions. Royal guardsmen took charge of their horses. Lepturus came out and embraced Regulus. They went into the bodyguards’ dining hall arm in arm. The door closed behind them, and Lanius couldn’t see any more.
After a while, a serving woman told him to go to bed. In such matters, he was a child, not the king. They could make him go to bed. They couldn’t make him fall asleep. He lay awake a long, long time, listening. But he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. At last, sleep sneaked up on him.
Next thing he knew, the morning sun shone in his face. He needed a moment to remember something important should have happened. Had it? He didn’t know. The serving women at breakfast chattered among themselves in voices too low for him to make out what they were saying, but they always did that. One of the bodyguards winked at him, but they were always doing things like that. Lanius didn’t know whether he felt like shouting or crying.
“Time for your lessons, Your Majesty,” one of the maidservants said.
“All right,” Lanius answered, so eagerly that she blinked. People had trouble understanding he really liked to study. They didn’t, so they thought he shouldn’t. And he especially wanted to go to his lessons today.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” his tutor said. “We’ll be reading the chronicles this morning, for style and for grammar and for history.”
“Yes, yes.” Lanius was monstrously impatient. “Speaking of history, what happened last night? Tell me!”
His tutor gave him a sidelong look. “What happened last night? Well, that great general, Duke Regulus, didn’t go back to his army. Lepturus arrested him and sent him to the Maze instead. And if you go into the Maze, you don’t come out again. Now, Your Majesty, to your lessons, if you please.”
“Yes. My lessons,” Lanius said. Regulus deposed and imprisoned didn’t solve all his problems. Nothing but growing up would. But he’d just bought himself a better chance to grow up.
CHAPTER FIVE
A nomad paced the Osprey. He had a good horse. He had several good horses, in fact; he frequently changed them. That was what let him keep up with the river galley. Grus looked over at him every so often as the ship made its way along the Stura. The rider might have been waiting for a moment of inattention to start shooting. Or he might have been a wizard, with some darker, deadlier purpose in mind.