David Farland - The Sum of All Men

Captain Tempest said, “I—must base my report on hearsay. I myself was forced to give an endowment, and so was housed in the Dedicates' Keep when the revolt took place.”

“You say Raj Ahten 'forced' you to give an endowment?”

A strange look came over Captain Tempest, one of revulsion mingled with worship. “You must understand, I gave myself willingly. When Raj Ahten asked for my endowment, his words seemed to be daggers that pierced me. When I looked at his face, it seemed more beautiful than a rose or the sun rising over a mountain lake. He seemed beauty itself; everything else I've ever thought noble or beautiful seemed a dim forgery.

“But after I gave the endowment, after his men dragged my body down to the Dedicates' Keep, I felt as if I awoke from a dream. I realized what I'd lost, how I'd been used.”

“I see,” King Orden said, wondering idly how many endowments of glamour and Voice Raj Ahten had, that he could gain such power over men. “So, what happened here? How did the Duchess manage this coup?”

“I am not certain, for I was weak as a pup in the Dedicates' Keep, and could not stay awake. I heard only snatches of reports.

“As I understand, the Duke apparently got paid to let Raj Ahten pass through the Dunnwood. But he dared not let his wife know of the payment, and so kept it hidden in his private apartments, not daring to show it.

“After his death, when the Duchess realized that he must have been paid for his treason, she searched his private apartments and found some hundred forcibles.”

“I see,” King Orden said. “So she used the forcibles to furnish some assassins?”

“Yes,” Tempest answered. “When Raj Ahten entered the city, not all our guard was in the keep. Four young soldiers were in the wilds, investigating a report that a woodcutter in Greenton had spotted a reaver—”

“Have you had many reports of reavers hereabouts?” Orden asked, for this was important news.

“No, but last spring we tracked a trio in the Dunnwood.”

Orden thought. “How large were the tracks?”

“Twenty to thirty inches long.”

“Four-toed, or three-toed tracks?”

“Two were three-toed. The largest was four-toed.”

Orden licked his lips, found his mouth suddenly dry. “You knew what that meant, didn't you?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Captain Tempest said. “We had a mating triad.”

“And you did not kill them? You didn't find them?”

“Sylvarresta knew of it. He sent hunters after them.”

No doubt Sylvarresta would have told Orden of the reavers. We might have hunted more than boars this year, Orden thought. Yet this news bothered him, for he'd heard other troubling reports of reavers moving through the mountains along the borders of Mystarria—war bands of nines and eighty-ones. Not since his great-grandfather's day had he heard so many reports. And on his journey north, while traveling through Fleeds, Queen Herin the Red mentioned problems with reavers killing her horses. But Orden had not expected the depredations to extend so far north.

“So,” Orden said, “you had soldiers on patrol when Raj Ahten took possession...”

“Right. They stayed out of the city, until Raj Ahten left. They saw the Duke hanged, so they sent a note to the Duchess, asking her orders. She sent her facilitator into town with the forcibles, and the soldiers took endowments from whomever would grant them, until they had enough to attack.”

“So they performed an escalade?” Orden asked.

“Hardly. They entered casually enough, after Raj Ahten left. They played at being candlemakers and weavers, bringing in goods to display to the Duchess. But they hid daggers beneath the candles, and chain mail beneath folds of cloth.

“Raj Ahten had only two hundred loyal soldiers here, and those young lads—well, they handled the situation.”

“Where are they now?”

“Dead,” Captain Tempest said, “all dead. They broke into the Dedicates' Keep and killed half a dozen vectors. That's when the rest of us joined the fray. It wasn't easy.”

Orden nodded thoughtfully.

“Captain Tempest, I suppose you know why my men and I have come?” It was a delicate subject, but Orden needed to know if Tempest had captured the forcibles, moved them from Bredsfor Manor. Though he'd sent a man to find them, Orden didn't want to be kept waiting, especially if he waited only for bad news.

The captain stared up at him, incurious. “You heard we were under attack?”

“Yes,” Orden said, “but that is not why I came. All of Heredon is under attack, and I'd have preferred to bend my efforts to freeing Castle Sylvarresta. I came for the treasure.”

“Treasure?” Captain Tempest asked. His eyes widened. Almost, Orden believed the man knew nothing about it. But he didn't quite trust that response. Tempest was working too hard to control his emotions, to show no reaction.

“You know what I'm talking about?”

“What treasure?” Tempest asked, with no hint of deception in his eyes.

Had the Duchess kept the existence of the forcibles hidden even from her own aide-de-camp? Orden had expected so, had hoped so.

“You knew the Duke was a forger, didn't you?” Orden asked. He let just a little of the power of his Voice slide into the question, in a tone that would elicit guilt.

“No!” Tempest protested, but his eyes flickered, and his pupils contracted.

The dishonest, miserable cur, Orden thought. The man lies to me now. When I asked about treasure, he thought I spoke of the gold blanks in the treasury. Truly, he had not heard of Raj Ahten's forcibles. That interested Orden.

So the Duchess had not trusted Tempest. Which meant Orden could not trust him, either.

King Orden forged ahead with a half-truth. “King Sylvarresta sent a message, saying the Duchess had overthrown Raj Ahten's forces here, and she had hidden or buried a treasure here in the castle. Have you seen signs of digging hereabout? Has anyone recovered the treasure?”

Tempest shook his head, eyes wide. Orden felt sure Tempest's men would be digging within the hour.

“Who did the Duchess trust most? Who would she have had bury the treasure?”

“The chamberlain,” Tempest said quickly.

“Where is he now?”

“Gone! He left the castle shortly after the uprising. He—I haven't seen him since!” From the tone of Tempest's voice, he seemed worried that the chamberlain had made off with the treasure.

“What did he look like?”

“A thin fellow, like a willow switch, with blond hair and no beard.”

The very messenger Orden had found slain. So the Duchess had sent the message to Sylvarresta using the man who'd hidden the forcibles, then told no one else about them. Captain Tempest might be a fine soldier, capable of defending the castle, but he was obviously dishonest. Knowledge of the treasure would have tempted him, and the Duchess had not wanted to let her king get betrayed again.

This news filled King Orden with sadness, a heaviness. Such a waste, that a fine king like Sylvarresta could suffer from such disloyalty. A whole nation compromised.

If a fine man like Sylvarresta was so little loved by his lords, Orden wondered, how can I trust my own vassals?

“Thank you, Captain Tempest,” King Orden said, in a tone of dismissal.

“Oh, and Captain,” Orden added, as Tempest hesitated in the doorway, strapping on his helm, “relief will come from Groverman and Dreis, as soon as they make arrangements. I sent a message asking for aid, and I told them of the treasure. The armies of the North will gather here!”

Tempest nodded, breathed a sigh of relief, departed. The matronly Days followed him out.

Orden sat for a long hour in the darkness, in a chair carved of dark walnut, finely wrought—too finely. The chiseled emblems of feasting men on its backboard dug into his flesh. One could not rest in these chairs.