Better still — as far as Crex was concerned, anyhow — Princess Pitta, being younger than he was and a girl besides, would ride out with Queen Sosia in a litter. That Crex had done that himself more than once did nothing to convince him it wasn't a babyish way to go.
"I think you're ready, Your Majesty," Lanius' groom said after checking the horse's trappings one last time.
"Let's go, then," Lanius said. He and Crex and Ortalis all emerged from their stalls at about the same time. Crex waved to his father. Lanius waved back. He also nodded to Ortalis.
However little he loved his brother-in-law — which was putting it mildly — he did try to be civil.
Ortalis nodded back. "So the Scepter of Mercy really is coming here, is it?" he said.
"Unless your father's been telling a lot of lies in his letters, it is," Lanius answered. "After more than four hundred years, it's finally coming home."
He thought the number would impress Ortalis. It certainly impressed him. But his brother-in-law only shrugged. "If we've done all right without it for all this time, I don't see why everybody's making such a fuss about getting it back now."
"We finally have a real weapon against the Banished One," Lanius said. "Why do you think the Menteshe stole it in the first place?"
"The Menteshe are way off… wherever they are," Ortalis said vaguely. Lanius was shocked and astonished to realize he didn't know, or care, whether the nomads lived to the south, the north, the west, or even the east, where Avornis had no neighbors save the sea. Ortalis went on, "Wherever they are, they aren't about to bother us here."
Against such invincible ignorance — and, worse, indifference — where could Lanius begin? Nowhere. Nowhere that he saw, anyway. He decided not to try, saying only, "Well, everyone else is pleased about it. You'll want to go along, won't you?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" Ortalis said irritably. "I'm not going to let my old man say I was off hiding somewhere when he came back. He'd score points off me for years if I did that." His chuckle was less than pleasant. "Unless I score 'em first, anyway."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lanius asked.
"Never you mind," his brother-in-law answered. "We're going to ride out and celebrate the day, right? Yahoo! Huzzah!"
Lanius didn't think he'd ever heard less sincere celebration. But, again, it was much too late to repair the long-mined bonds between father and son. He just said, "Come on, then," and rode out of the royal stables.
"I think Uncle Ortalis would rather be doing something else," Crex said.
"I think you're right, son," Lanius agreed. "Sometimes, though, even grown-ups have to do what they have to do, not what they want to do." Crex looked as though he wanted nothing to do with such an unpleasant notion.
Mounted guards riding in front of the royal party bellowed, "Clear the road!" The people of the capital obeyed slowly when they obeyed at all. Lanius didn't think he would have wanted anybody bellowing at him, either. He doubted the cavalrymen's officers would be interested in hearing anything like that.
Eventually, and despite more bad-tempered shouting, he and Crex and Ortalis took their places outside the city of Avornis. Arch-Hallow Anser joined them a few minutes later, followed by the women of the royal family.
Off in the distance waited a pair of horsemen. When the royal family was assembled, one of the men rode toward Lanius and his kin. The other sent his horse trotting back around a stand of apple trees and out of sight.
"Your Majesty!" called the rider who approached the king. "Your Majesty, King Grus and the rest will be along directly."
"Good," Lanius said.
The brief stretch while he waited was enlivened when Tinamus the builder hurried out to join them. "So sorry, Your Majesty," Tinamus mumbled, and stammered out a tale of woe about oversleeping, getting sidetracked on his way to the gate, and a dozen other small catastrophes.
"Never mind." Lanius waved aside all the apologies. "You're here now, and that's all that really matters."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a detachment from the army that had besieged Yozgat came into view. After the standard-bearers rode Grus and his companions. Hirundo was easy to spot. So was Pterocles, because he bounced along on a mule instead of a horse (no great horseman himself, Lanius had more than a little sympathy for the wizard). When the party came a little nearer, Lanius recognized Oms and Fulca, who rode behind the other king.
And there were Collurio and his son. Between them rolled a wagon that carried a cage. Lanius smiled. There was Pouncer, up near the front of things. The only trouble was, the moncat probably didn't want the honor.
A flash of blue light drew Lanius' gaze back to Grus. The other king carried the Scepter of Mercy in his left hand. Awe trickled through Lanius. I had a hand in bringing that back here. I really did.
"Is that the Scepter?" Sosia asked.
"That's the Scepter," Lanius answered.
"And that silly moncat stole it out of Yozgat?" his wife persisted.
"Pouncer did it, yes," Lanius said. "I don't suppose the Banished One thought the moncat was silly, though."
Sosia thought about that before nodding. "I suppose not," she said. "And having him do that was your idea?" Proudly, Lanius nodded. Sosia looked from the Scepter to the wagon carrying the moncat to Lanius again. "Nobody else would have come up with it — I'm sure of that."
Was she praising him, or was that something less? Lanius wasn't sure and didn't feel like asking. Nor did he have to. Grus broke out of the lead group and rode up to him. The Scepter of Mercy looked more magnificent the closer it got. "Your Majesty," Grus called.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty," Lanius answered. That was as much praise for Grus as it was for the Scepter. The other king had to know as much.
Then Grus did something Lanius didn't expect. He held out the Scepter of Mercy, saying, "Here. You take it for a bit. You did as much to bring it back to Avornis as I did."
"Me?" Lanius' voice rose to a startled squeak. No, he hadn't thought the other king would let him set a hand on it.
Understanding him perfectly, Grus gave him a wry smile. "One of the things you find out, once you've got the Scepter, is that you have to live up to having it. Do you know what I mean?"
"No, not altogether," Lanius admitted, "But I think I'm about to find out." He accepted the talisman from Grus.
It was lighter than it looked. He'd thought it would be from what he'd read about it, but holding it still came as a surprise. It didn't make him feel suddenly stronger or smarter than he had been a moment before. But it did make him feel larger, as though he and his kingdom were mysteriously merged. He could also sense the Banished One, off in the distance — not that it seemed so far from here to the Argolid Mountains, not with the Scepter in his hand. He didn't try to say anything to the exiled god; from all he knew, Grus had done everything that needed doing there. Slowly, he said, "Thank you. I begin to understand."
Then, even more slowly, but with firm determination, he handed the Scepter of Mercy back to Grus. "Thank you," the other king said. "I wondered if you would keep it for yourself."
Lanius shook his head. "No. I won't tell you it didn't cross my mind, because it did. But you have to be able to give the Scepter of Mercy away to deserve to hold it, don't you?"
"I thought so. That's why I handed it to you," Grus answered. "I hadn't put it quite that neatly, though, even to myself. You think straight." He suddenly grinned. "And you think crooked, too. If you didn't, the Scepter would still be sitting down in Yozgat."
"It took both of us," Lanius said.
Grus nodded. "Ride with me, Your Majesty, and we'll show the Scepter to the people of the city together."
"I'll do that." Lanius had wondered whether Grus would try to shove him into the background while celebrating the Scepter's return to Avornis. Now he realized the other king couldn't very well do that. To deserve the Scepter of Mercy, you had to live up to the ideals it stood for. That would take some getting used to, to put it mildly.