“I’m sorry, your Majesty, but I can’t tell you that.” He gestured at the crowded tables. “If someone here were to hear and word get back to Vond, I fear what would happen.” In a moment of inspiration, he suggested, “Perhaps you could ask the wizard Annara.”
Phenvel looked without thinking, then realized that Annara, as a mere commoner, was not at the high table; as a rule, she and Ederd ate their meals in the kitchen with the servants.
He snorted and turned back to his fried potatoes. Sterren was able to finish his meal in peace and then slip out of the castle unnoticed.
He strolled through the village, with its odd empty spaces where houses had been destroyed, and down the hill, where he paused and looked at Vond’s palace.
The greater moon was high in the sky, the lesser low in the east, and the white marble seemed to almost glow in the moonlight. The five towers, one at each corner, and a much larger one over the gate in the center of the northwestern wall, stood out starkly against the starry sky. Lights shone from a few windows, but he knew that most of the structure was still empty.
He watched it unhappily.
Vond was accomplishing some impressive feats. The palace was beautiful, at least on the outside, although a bit ominous in its appearance, with its high, blank walls. The village at Semma Castle was cleaner and sounder than ever before, at least, what there was of it. Ophkar, Ksinallion, and Semma were united for the first time in three hundred years, and at the cost of only seven lives in all, counting from the day after Vond’s sudden acquisition of access to the Lumeth power source.
But it all made Sterren very uneasy. He knew that it could not possibly last, and even while it did last, he did not trust Vond to remain as harmless as he had been so far.
He had more or less decided on a course of action already, but he was not happy with it. He liked Vond; the warlock was like a child with a new toy, or really, an entire new playroom. Still, Sterren intended to do all he could to remove Vond from power in Semma, not on behalf of any foolish king, but because Vond was clearly very dangerous indeed.
What would happen if the Wizards’ Guild did decide to remove Vond? A magical battle on the scale Vond operated on might lay waste to the entire area.
What if other warlocks did come along and take part in ruling the empire? No matter how benevolent Vond might be, a question that was still in doubt, sooner or later, a warlock would come along who was not.
And Vond would not always be there to stop such a warlock.
Better, Sterren thought, if Vond were to go quickly, before any other warlocks arrived.
He sighed and decided to go sleep at the Citadel, as Vond’s palace was now known, rather than Semma Castle. The warlock had said he was always welcome there, though he had not yet been given a room specifically for his own use or moved in any of his belongings. Phenvel, on the other hand, was no longer making Sterren feel welcome at all.
He said nothing to the warlock of what had happened.
It was only coincidence that the next day Vond came to Semma Castle, smashed every door that was closed against him to splinters, and demanded Phenvel’s formal surrender of authority.
Phenvel, Third of that Name, King of Semma, agreed immediately, and the Kingdom of Semma ceased to exist, becoming instead the Capital Province of the Empire of Vond.
CHAPTER 31
By the first of Greengrowth in the year 5221 Vond’s palace was complete, furnished inside and out. The streets of his capital were laid out and paved. His new courtiers, recruited from his three provinces, could all hold a simple conversation in Ethsharitic and were teaching the tongue to others.
Sterren of Semma, once Sterren of Ethshar, was now Lord Chancellor of the Empire of Vond.
His reaction to Vond’s announcement of this honor had been, “What’s a chancellor?”
Vond had shrugged. “Whatever you like. I don’t need a warlord, since I do my own fighting, and that Ophkarite warlord is in charge of my guards, but I wanted to keep you around the palace, so you needed a title. That was the vaguest high title I could think of. Make of it what you will.”
Sterren had kept it vague. His primary duty, he knew, was to provide someone Vond could speak to freely. Beyond that, he set himself no definite duties, but managed to imply that he was Vond’s second in command, an implication the warlock supported.
Despite his new title, he still maintained his quarters in the tower of Semma Castle, as well as in the new citadel, and had managed to retain command of what had been the Semman army. His men, or at any rate those who had not gone over to the citadel to sign up with the Palace Guard, were now the Chancellor’s Guard.
All three of his officers had resigned, at different times and giving different reasons. Captain Arl had submitted his resignation two days after Vond’s storm had routed the invading armies; that had been the earliest he had been able to speak to Sterren. He had done so on the grounds that his men had been inadequately prepared for battle, which meant he had failed in his duties.
Sterren suspected that Arl had expected to be asked to stay on, but he had accepted the resignation. Arl had failed in his duties. Besides, Sterren preferred not to have his great-uncle’s officers around.
Captain Shemder had resigned when King Phenvel surrendered, refusing to serve a foreign sovereign.
Lord Anduron had finally resigned when Sterren accepted the title of chancellor, saying he no longer understood what his position was supposed to be.
Sterren had named Dogal and Alder as his aides and lieutenants, but did not replace his captains.
His soldiers seemed to accept the new order, and Sterren’s place in it, readily enough. The Semman nobility were another matter. When Sterren encountered any of them in the corridors of the castle he was usually snubbed, or presented with a ferocious glare. Phenvel’s son Dereth, no longer a prince, spat on Sterren’s best tunic. Shirrin, upon seeing him, invariably broke into tears and ran, she obviously felt her hero had betrayed her. Nissitha sneered, but then, she always had. Even Lura seemed subdued and told him, “I’m not supposed to like you any more, but I don’t really see why.”
Sterren caught whispers in the hallways, whispers he thought he was meant to overhear, whispers containing words like “traitor,” “barbarian,” and “coward.” Mutters about his unfortunate ancestry, three-fourths Ethsharitic, were common. “Money-grubbing merchant’s brat!” was one epithet he encountered often. “Blood will tell” was another favorite.
Sterren did not let any of this bother him. He had chosen his path and he was committed to it. The only things that bothered him were Shirrin’s tears, and he thought that if he could manage a moment alone with her, he would explain to her why he was doing what he was doing. She was a very pretty girl, after all, and just turned fourteen, not that much younger than he was himself.
But no opportunity to explain himself to her ever came along.
Every so often Sterren wondered why he didn’t just leave and go home to Ethshar, but he always arrived at the same answer. He had brought Vond here, so he was partly responsible for him. He was the only one in Semma except Vond himself who knew anything about warlockry, which meant that he was the only one who could see and understand everything that was happening.
And he also thought he was a restraining influence on Vond. The warlock had no other friends or confidants at all. Besides, now that he was no longer the warlord, there was no great hurry about getting out of Semma, and there were clearly historical events happening that were interesting to observe.