David Drake - Master of the Cauldron

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"Lemiel!" said Mab.

The mirror disintegrated, falling as dust instead of breaking into visible pieces. The last of the Made Men leaped for the stairs up which it had come. Cashel stepped through the shimmering ruin and struck the creature. His quarterstaff broke its hips rather than its chest as he'd intended, but the weight of the blow hurled it well out from the side of Ronn. Cashel wasn't sure how far below the ground was, but it was surely miles rather than furlongs.

The fight was over. Cashel sank to his knees, gasping and blowing. He'd have fallen on his face except it he hadn't planted his staff straight up and down to support his sagging torso.

Behind him Mab cried in a voice of despair, "The King's now proved to his creatures that the Heroes walking the walls of Ronn are phantasms. They'll attack soon, perhaps in a matter of days!"

Cashel's vision blurred momentarily. Colors faded to shades of gray, then slowly steadied and returned to their soft pastel hues.

"Lord Ardane and Lady Thaida!" Mab said. Her voice had become firm and imperative. The wailing despair of a moment ago had faded into the past. "Summon your fellow Councillors and call an emergency Assembly at once. The King and his creatures are coming. If Ronn isn't ready to receive them, may the Gods have mercy on the city and her residents; for be assured, the King will have none!"

***

"It's been months since I've seen the palace," Sharina said as an usher led her, Waldron, and-just behind in a sedan chair-Tenoctris through the walled compound which encircled a sprawling collection of buildings on the northern edge of Valles. "It's completely different now."

They were approaching the Chancellery, the largest single structure in the compound. It'd been reroofed with tiles whose red hadn't had time to soften in the sun, and the grounds in front had been cleaned to display the mosaic pavement underlying what Sharina remembered as an expanse of sod and leaf litter. She'd never have imagined it…

"A waste of money better spent on the army, I'd say," Waldron muttered. He glanced at the pair of workmen repairing a corner of the mosaic, rebuilding with new tesserae the picture of a fox leaping at a quail. "A waste of men who could be holding spears, too."

Sharina smiled. The landscaping had run riot during the last decade of Valence III's reign, and many of the separate bungalows had fallen into ruin. The effort being expended on reversing the decay since Garric became regent was a paradigm for the even greater efforts the new administration was making to recover the kingdom's unity.

"People can't really comprehend the changes in something as large as the Kingdom of the Isles," she said. "They can see the changes here in the palace, though, and they're changes for the better. It's worth the money, milord."

Chancellor Royhas stood at the main entrance alone. There were guards for the building, but Royhas didn't presume to meet Princess Sharina and Lord Waldron with a retinue when they'd arrived without one.

Royhas was the quietly competent man who'd led the conspiracy that made Garric regent when the king's mind gave way under the threats facing him. He'd acted for the sake of the Isles, certainly; and in his own interest, because Royhas and all the members of the royal court faced death if the kingdom tottered to total collapse. But he'd acted for the sake of Valence III as well, saving his friend the king from the certain destruction which his own inability to act doomed him.

Today Royhas looked worn. His cheeks sagged and his eyes had dark circles. While he hadn't made a fetish of physical fitness the way Waldron did, he'd struck Sharina as remarkably healthy looking for a man whose duties didn't involve physical exercise. Strain had robbed him of that.

"I don't know what wind brought you here at this moment, your highness," Royhas said, bowing to Sharina, "but it was a fair one. And you, milord-"

He clasped arms with Waldron, who'd winced at mention of their passage to Ornifal.

"-you're even more welcome. Did you bring the whole army? There've been terrible developments. My dispatches won't have had time to reach Erdin, but-"

"We know about the imposter Valgard," Waldron said. He'd allowed the Chancellor's greeting, but he remained stiffly unbending to discourage further intimacy. The army commander generally didn't like either civilians or nobles from the mercantile families of Valles, and he didn't like Royhas as an individual. "And I know about my cousin Bolor's involvement. As for the army, I'm here with sufficient troops for the purpose; you needn't trouble yourself on that matter."

Royhas stepped back. He gave Waldron a smile of wry amusement that brought the familiar glow of health back to his face. "Milord," he said, "it's still a pleasure to see you. But please, won't you all join me in my private office where we can discuss the details?"

He bowed again to Sharina, said, "If I may precede you, your highness?" and without really waiting for an answer led his guests through the central hall. It was lined with batteries of low-ranking clerks reading out names and numbers as they copied them into ledgers. The noise reminded Sharina of feeding chickens at the kitchen door of her father's inn: a thin, purposeless babble that vanished even as it was spoken.

A light well in the center of the room provided illumination during daylight. On this fine day, the roof transoms of bulls-eye glass set in lead frames were swung back. To the sides of the central hall were the offices of senior clerks. Every door was open so that the officials within could catch a glimpse of Princess Sharina.

If they'd seen me two years ago in Barca's Hamlet, Sharina thought, they wouldn't have paid me any more notice than they would the table. And that was very likely true, but it didn't mean there was anything wrong with the officials' behavior-at either time. You couldn't understand anything apart from its surroundings.

The buildings in the palace compound sprawled rather than rising as they'd have had to do in the heart of the city. Royhas' office was on the upper of the two floors running the width of the back. Its pillared loggia overlooked an enclosed garden set off from the rest of rest of the grounds so that the Chancellor could entertain ranking visitors among flowers and statuary if he chose.

Sharina helped Tenoctris to a place on the loggia, then seated herself beside the older woman. The chairs had frames of bronze filigree with wicker cushions, artistic and comfortable but unlikely to be harmed if a storm blew up before the servants got them inside. They were arranged in an arc so that those seated could see one another while looking out onto the garden.

It was a civilized and peaceful setting in which to hold tense discussions. Sharina noted again that Royhas was a very intelligent man in addition to being wealthy and well-born.

Royhas took the end chair to the left. "I'm glad you know about the situation," he said bluntly, "because I knew almost nothing about it until ten days ago. There were rumors that another son of Valence Stronghand was returning to take the throne-silly nonsense, but widespread. Reports came from the city markets and in from outlying districts as well. Then real trouble started. Royal officials in the north were set upon; beaten and driven out. Even a few imprisoned I gather."

"'Royal officials,'" Waldron repeated. "You mean tax gatherers."

Royhas looked at him with a determinedly blank expression. "Yes," he said. "Officials who collect the taxes out of which the Royal Army is paid, if you like. That was rebellion or next to it. In the eastern districts it's approaching anarchy-bandits, really. The gangs have gathered every bad man in the island as well as a lot of farm laborers who decided burning the squire's fields was better fun than stacking his ricks in the hot sun. Some of the bands are supposed to be large-several hundred apiece, though I doubt there's anything like that number of armed men in them."

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