Beside Grus, Nicator coughed. Grus needed no signal to recognize the danger that lurked—or might lurk—in that proposal. What he did need was a moment to figure out how to evade it without offending. After that moment, he said, “Thank you, Marshal, but the royal bodyguards should watch over His Majesty here, and over nobody else. My marines are plenty good enough for me. I think I’ll just keep them on, if nobody minds too much.”
“I would be happy to share my guardsmen with you, Commodore,” King Lanius said. “As you guard the kingdom, so they should guard you.”
“That’s very kind of you, Your Majesty,” Grus said, eyeing the young king with curiosity. Lanius was supposed to be clever. Was he clever enough to go along with Lepturus’ scheme for separating Grus from the men most loyal to him, or was he just naive and trying to be helpful? Grus couldn’t decide. He went on, “Any which way, though, the honor’s too much for the likes of me. I’ll stick with marines, the way I said before.”
“Are you sure we can’t change your mind?” Queen Certhia asked.
“Your Royal Highness, I’m positive,” Grus answered, and waited to see what would happen next. Certhia’s question convinced him that she and Lepturus and Lanius were all part of this ploy. Grus eyed the king again. He wasn’t anything special to look at—for his age, he was small and skinny. But he did look alert, and anything but naive. Sure as sure, he’d tried to get Grus away from the marines.
How desperate are they? Grus wondered. How much power have I really got? Better to find out here and now. If they kept on trying to thwart him… I’ll have to figure out what to do if they try that.
But they didn’t. Before either Certhia or Lepturus could speak, King Lanius said, “Let it be as you wish. You know best what you require.” His mother and the commander of the royal bodyguards both looked as though they wanted to say something more—Certhia bit her lip—but neither one did. They nodded at about the same time.
Well, well. Isn’t that interesting? Grus thought. Lanius wasn’t of age, but his word carried weight. That was worth knowing. Grus bowed to him once more. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I appreciate it. These boys here”—he gestured to the marines—“have been through a lot with me.”
“A commander should have loyal men,” Lanius said. “So should a king.”
His cheeks were still smooth, though the down on them was starting to turn dark. His voice remained a boy’s treble. Even so, Grus got the feeling that this child-king was very clever indeed. I’m going to have to watch myself. But all he asked was, “Have my wife and son and daughter moved to the palace yet?”
“Oh, yes,” Lepturus replied with a bland nod. “Royal bodyguards took care of that earlier this morning.” He smiled. His words meant, Your marines may watch you, but they can’t be everywhere at once.
“Thank you so much,” Grus said, as blandly. If anything happens to them, you pay.
“I’m sure they’ll be very comfortable there,” Queen Certhia said. For as long as we need you to do these things we can’t do for ourselves, she didn’t add. Again, Grus had no trouble hearing it even so. As soon as that’s taken care of, we’ll throw you out— if we decide to let you live, that is— and we’ll throw them out, too.
“I’m looking forward to doing everything I can,” Grus said.
For a wonder, King Lanius asked him a serious question. “How will you hold back Dagipert and the Thervings when Count Corvus couldn’t?”
“I’d be a liar if I said I knew all the answers yet, Your Majesty,” Grus replied. “The only thing I can promise is, I’ll do my best not to let Dagipert or anybody else catch me napping.”
“Good,” Lanius said. His mother and Lepturus didn’t seem to think it sounded quite so good. When Grus said he wouldn’t let anybody catch him napping, he’d included them along with everyone else. Plainly, they’d understood that.
Lanius had wondered whether having a protector in the palace would be like having his father back again. He didn’t remember King Mergus well; the older he got, the more he realized just how young he’d been when Mergus died. Grus didn’t remind him of the dead king, or try to fill Mergus‘—or even Lepturus’—place. He simply went about the business of trying to put Avornis back together again. Any kingdom that owed its survival only to the strong walls of its capital and to paying tribute needed rebuilding.
He wasted no time in summoning counts Corax and Corvus to the royal palace to account for themselves. He also summoned several other nobles close to the brothers. They all wasted no time in refusing him. Grus sent for them again, this time in King Lanius’ name.
As Lanius signed the orders, he asked Grus, “Why didn’t you summon them in my name in the first place?”
“Well, Your Majesty, if I’m the legal protector, my orders should be good on their own, shouldn’t they?” the naval officer replied. “The other side of the coin is, if they refuse me, it’s not quite treason. Now they’ve had that chance, and they’ve taken it when I wish they wouldn’t have. So we give it another try, this time with your signature. Maybe it won’t drive them into real rebellion. I hope it doesn’t.”
“Do you?” Lanius eyed him. “If you did, wouldn’t you not summon them at all? Wouldn’t you pretend nothing bad had happened?”
“Yes, I suppose I could do that, Your Majesty,” Grus said. “But if I did, who’d be running Avornis? Would you? Would I? Or would Corvus and Corax be calling the shots? If I’m going to play this part, I’ll play it to the hilt.”
“All right,” Lanius said. “That does make some sense. You’re not doing it just because you don’t get along with them.” He raised an ironic eyebrow.
“Why, Your Majesty!” Grus said, eyes widening. “Would I do such a thing?”
“Probably,” Lanius answered. “If people get to the top, one of the things they do is pay back their enemies.”
He watched Grus watching him. Grus’ mouth twitched. Anger? A suppressed smile? Lanius couldn’t tell. At last, the commodore said, “No, you’re no fool, are you?”
“I try not to be,” Lanius answered. “I’m never going to be a big, strong man. If I don’t use my head, what have I got going for me?”
“What? I’ll tell you what. You’re the king, that’s what,” Grus said.
“How long will I stay the king if I don’t know what I’m doing?” Lanius returned. He felt himself flushing, and hoped Grus wouldn’t see. “And even if I do stay king, what does it matter?”
Again, Grus thought before he spoke. When he did, he said, “The first part of that is a real question. As for the second, though, Your Majesty, being king matters a lot. Never doubt it. If it didn’t, why would so many people want the job?”
Lanius considered that. It was his turn not to answer for a while. He finally said, “There’s more to you than meets the eye, I believe. You think about these things.”
“Who, me?” Grus shook his head. “Not a chance. I’m just a tool your mother picked up on account of it was handy. She’ll use it till it does what she needs or till it breaks, whichever happens first. Then she’ll get herself another tool, and use that instead. If you don’t believe me, just ask her.”
Lepturus presumed to be sardonic in Lanius’ presence. So did his tutor. They both enjoyed an immunity based on long acquaintance. Grus didn’t. He spoke his mind anyhow. He spoke it as though he didn’t care what Lanius thought of him. Maybe he truly didn’t. Maybe he wanted Lanius to think he didn’t. The more Lanius saw of him, the deeper he seemed.