‘Majesty,’ he said gently and with concern. ‘The pain has returned?’
Rgoric made no reply. Dan-Tor did not move, but tried to sense the man’s mood. Little ripples of anger still crossed Dan-Tor’s mind at what the King had done and at having such inadequate material for the weaving of his Master’s design, but he swept them away ruth-lessly. Such self-indulgence offered nothing but hindrance and, he thought bitterly, reminded him too much of the King himself.
He moved forward into the King’s line of sight, but kept his face slightly in the shade. He was uncertain what might be showing in his eyes and how sensitive the King might be to what he saw there.
‘Majesty?’
The King’s eyes unfixed themselves from the ceiling and turned to Dan-Tor.
Ali, martyred and misunderstood, read Dan-Tor. Now we know where we are. He moved forward again, the light of a nearby globe falling on his face. And reproachful, too.
‘Dan-Tor, you shouldn’t go away for so long. In spite of your ministrations, my health is so uncertain. I’ve burdened myself with too much too soon. My subjects do not-will not-understand. I work ceaselessly for their benefit, for their protection against treachery at home and abroad, but they harry me.’ His hands twitched pettishly. ‘Where were you?’ he said plaintively. Dan-Tor opened his mouth to speak but the King continued. ‘I felt so strong, so well, when you left. Like the old days. I’ll pick up my duties again, I thought. Take the country in a strong grip. Throw out these bleating Lords as we arranged. Lead my country into a new future, make it strong again. Then… ’ He put his hand to his head. ‘Then my strength left me-just drained away-and the Lords wouldn’t accept my judgement. They defied me. You were away too long.’
Dan-Tor was weary of this monologue, this self-justification. The King had repeated it to him inces-santly since his return from Narsindal. Deftly adjusting his long brown robe of office, he knelt down by the couch in an attitude of both subservience and personal concern for his suffering friend. He too must repeat himself.
‘Majesty, I accept your rebuke. But you know that I was away so long only because the strength of our enemies grows. A monstrous leader has arisen in Orthlund who rouses the people there to ambition and lust for your land and power. I tried to seize him but, with great cunning, he escaped and I had to leave his capture to my escort and return to you.’
A silence fell and the names of Eldric and Jaldaric floated unspoken between them. The King knew now that his impetuous action against Jaldaric had in some way probably jeopardized Dan-Tor’s second plan for the capture of this sinister Orthlundyn leader. Dan-Tor, however, knew that greater benefit would come from his not repeating this complaint, so he let the words remain unspoken, like a sick miasma hanging in the air.
‘This coming and going of your strength is the na-ture of the illness as we know too well, Majesty. You must be patient. You did indeed undertake too much too soon. It’ll be many days before you feel well again.’ Dan-Tor’s voice was forgiving.
The King screwed up his face peevishly. ‘Why didn’t you kill this… this leader, when you had the chance?’ he asked suddenly, almost as if he were anxious to receive Dan-Tor’s rebuke.
‘That wouldn’t have been expedient, Majesty. Such an open act would have brought the Orthlundyn down on us like rocks down a mountainside, and… ’ Dan-Tor paused. Sow a little more doubt and uncertainty, he thought, it’ll always come in useful. He assumed a worried expression. ‘To be honest, Majesty, I didn’t value him at his full worth immediately. He’s subtle and crafty, and has woven himself deep into the hearts of the people over many years. When I realized who he was, and what he was doing, he was almost beyond my reach. It’s some measure of his cunning that he avoided my first trap.’
The King scowled at him and gestured dismissively. Then he drew a startled breath and his face contorted with pain. He held out a begging hand to his tall tormentor. Dan-Tor laid his own hand gently on the King’s forehead and then looked into his eyes. His manner was soft and reassuring: don’t be afraid; I’m here now, it said; all will be well.
He took out a small jewelled box from his robe and, without any apparent movement of his hand, it opened. The King clutched at his wrist feverishly. Dan-Tor delicately picked out a small tablet with his long fingers and, pausing for a cruel moment, placed it in the King’s mouth, now opened wide in anticipation like a newly hatched chick.
Almost immediately the King closed his eyes and leaned back with a relieved sigh, the worried lines disappearing from his face. Briefly Dan-Tor was reminded of the young man Rgoric had once been.
‘Sleep well, Majesty. When you awake, your pain will have gone and your strength will have returned.’
Dan-Tor sat by the sleeping King for a long time staring enigmatically at the now relaxed face. The fleeting vision of the young King had stirred old memories. It’s salutary, he thought, to be reminded from time to time who it is I’m dealing with. Curse this King as he may for being a weak and inconsistent tool in his hands, it would be unwise to forget that he was heir to generations of great leaders. A man to whom others of this independently-minded and formidable race had given loyalty without demur. A man who had led a great army to victory. A man of proven courage and skill in personal combat. A powerful man. And a powerful people. Their complete corruption was essential to His schemes, and could only be achieved slowly. Very slowly.
Dan-Tor longed for His deep, dark patience.
He knew that even now, after so long, his hold an Rgoric, though strong, was deceptive. It was deep, but it did not reach down into the essence of the man; at a level beyond the King’s awareness and beyond Dan-Tor’s reaching, he knew that the King’s old spirit still battled to throw off his domination.
One day, Majesty, he thought. It’ll probably kill you before it’ll submit any further.
Ironically, the contemplation of the long road ahead eased away the last of Dan-Tor’s anger at the King’s actions: there is time for many things on a long journey. He knew it would be fruitless to try to find out why the King had done what he had done. Was it some desire to please him? Some desire to be independent of him? Some vainglorious whim? All irrelevant though. The King himself had probably forgotten even the ostensible reason by now, burying it under a great mound of self-pity and recrimination. The play had been made, and no sleight of hand on his part could change it. The game had to be continued from Rgoric’s unexpected gambit. Now he must watch daily, hourly even, to see that no irreparable harm came of it.
The suspension of the Geadrol with the inevitable reaction of the Lords and the consequent arrest of four of the most senior; the displacement of the Lords’ High Guards by the Mathidrin-both were deeds far too premature and both had the potential to tilt the country into civil war. As for calling the Mathidrin his own High Guard… Dan-Tor closed his eyes briefly. But, equally, these acts would enable him to gather more power to himself, to claim sedition and treason as excuse for a surreptitiously increased repression of the people. The numbers of the Mathidrin could be covertly increased and those of the Lords’ High Guards reduced, and the same reason offered should comment arise.
A faint smile came to his long face. Perhaps a trial of Eldric and the others. That might prove an excellent opportunity for swaying the minds of the people. It would bear careful thought. Much could be salvaged if this were handled correctly. Possibly even progress made.
‘And Hawklan-Ethriss?’, came the thought.
The smile faded and his white teeth ground to-gether. The King’s use of the Mandroc patrol to vent his spleen against Eldric’s family had been folly indeed. Who could tell what effect the Harmony of Orthlund would have on those creatures? The King knew the patrol only as an elite group of the Mathidrin and, while he and the Fyordyn could be persuaded to accept many things, armed and trained Mandrocs in his service would not be one for a long time.