Bertrice Small - Lara

“It is better, my lord,” Jonah said. “We have work to do.”

“Have you any idea of what has happened? I lost complete control of the High Council. The Squire voted against me! Why he has suddenly gained a conscience I do not know,” Gaius Prospero said irritably. “And the Coastal Kings were more than well-informed, Jonah. They knew everything, and so did those damned Shadow Princes! And the people cry out against me as if I was responsible for the deaths of our mercenaries, but I did not kill them. The Outlanders killed them. If anything good at all came out of this, it is that I have learned the Forest Lords have a great secret, and the Shadow Princes know it. I want to know it, Jonah! If the Outlands are out of my reach for now, perhaps the Forest realm is not. There has always been too much of it in my opinion. If I can learn this secret then perhaps I can control the Forest Lords.”

“Indeed, my lord, you could,” Jonah murmured, his facile brain contemplating the possibilities. There were trees to be cut and turned into lumber for the booming building trade. They would harvest the trees on the edge of the Forest first which would open up more land for the Midland farmers. The Squire would stop complaining about the incursion the City was beginning to make into his Midlands, and they could regain his trust-and more importantly, one hundred percent of the Midlands vote in the High Council. So much to do, Jonah thought. And then he recalled the motto he would take one day. Make haste slowly. He smiled and then, remembering where he was, he said, “Perhaps, my lord, we acted too hastily in beginning our annexation of the Outlands. Let us consider our other alternatives.”

“What of the people?” Gaius Prospero wanted to know.

“We will soothe them, but not quite yet. Allow them the opportunity to express their anger. Then at the midwinter festival you will release some foodstuffs from your warehouses. You will recall the festival was established long ago to help take people’s minds off the gloom and scarcity of the season. This generous gesture on your part will go a long way to easing the tensions now between you and our citizens.”

“You must go to the Guild of Mercenaries for me,” Gaius Prospero said.

“Of course, my lord,” Jonah responded smoothly. “Tell me what the council desires done, and I will speak with them.”

“I could not do without you, Jonah,” Gaius Prospero said.

“Of course you could, my lord,” the secretary flattered. “All I have learned I have learned from you. And you are the most respected man in Hetar.”

Gaius Prospero smiled, well pleased. “I am, aren’t I?” he agreed. “If Vilia is not here then perhaps I shall return to Anora’s arms for another day or two. You have enough to keep you busy, do you not?”

“Indeed, my lord, I do,” Jonah agreed. His clever mind already pondered the opportunities presenting themselves with this new turn of events.

“I WILL GO TO THE OUTLANDS,” Archeron, the current head of the High Council, told his brothers, Delphinus and Pelias. “My term of office ends with the next moon cycle.”

“Let Lothair transport you,” Pelias said. “I do not trust Gaius Prospero in general, but right now he suffers from the people’s displeasure, and may try to seek revenge on those he feels have wronged him. I understand a mob attempted to storm the Golden District yesterday. They were shouting his name combined with some most unfavorable epithets. They seem to be holding him entirely responsible for what happened to the mercenaries. The Crusader Knights were called out to keep order, for the Guild of Mercenaries would not. Their ranks are weakened, and they must house and feed the widows and orphans of those killed in the Outlands. They are not happy about it.”

“They can afford it,” Delphinus responded. “They received a fair portion of Gaius Prospero’s thievery. But I agree with Pelias. Let Lothair use his magic to send you home.”

“Very well,” Archeron replied. He was a tall handsome man with wavy silver hair, and eyes the color of aquamarines.

He disliked the City, and would not mind avoiding a long trek through the winter landscape back to his own province where winter came only gently. Winter in the province of the Coastal Kings was a short season when the rains arrived. On fair days the sun sparkled on the sea making it almost seem like a basket of the finest sapphires, aquamarines and emeralds had been tipped among the waves.

“With whom will you speak in the Outlands?” Pelias asked.

“It would seem that the one they call Lord Vartan is their leader. This lack of a centralized government in the Outlands makes it difficult to know how to deal with them, but I shall ask Lord Rendor of the Felan for his counsel.”

“Will you go to this Lord Vartan?” Pelias wondered.

“I do not know,” Archeron replied. “It is Rendor who must guide us in this matter so we do not offend the Outlanders in our attempts to make peace again. It would be so much easier to deal with them if we were cognizant of their customs.”

“But Hetar has never before wanted to deal with them,” Pelias said. “It has always been considered they were barbarians, and best left alone.”

“Yet we knew differently, didn’t we?” Delphinus said.

Archeron grimaced. “Aye, we did, and so, I suspect, did the Shadow Princes. Yet there was never any need for us to share our knowledge, was there? How could we have imagined that any among us would attempt to invade the Outlands? We underestimated Gaius Prospero and his colossal greed. Something is changing in our world, my brothers. We have been too prosperous, I fear, and now the balance is tilting the other way. There are more beggars in the streets now than ever before in my memory. There are too many mercenaries, and not enough work for them. The farmers of the Midlands seem unable to feed us as generously as they once did. Their land is worn out, and the cost of our foodstuffs is rising, yet the farmers see no new profits.

“When the people grow unhappy and hungry they also become restless. They begin to huddle with one another and talk on matters they do not fully understand. Eventually some among them will decide that our way of governing is responsible for their misery. They will revolt against that government, and whether they triumph or do not triumph matters not at all. Many will be killed, which will relieve some of the problem for there will be fewer mouths to feed. The damage, wherever it is, will have to be repaired so there will be work to be had. A new government for good or evil will arise. And prosperity will eventually return to put our world once again in balance.” He signed. “May the Celestial Actuary have mercy upon us, my brothers.”

“You will be home shortly, Archeron,” Pelias attempted to soothe him. “This has been a difficult time for us all. Once you walk along the golden sands by the sea, and feel the clean wind on your face it will seem less distressing.”

“Aye, but the problem will still be there,” Archeron said. “It will not go away. Hetar’s way of life, the Outlands’ way of life-it is all changing.”

“I will speak with Prince Lothair,” Delphinus said, and hurried off.

The Shadow Prince was more than happy to take Archeron home, especially when he heard of the dark mood that had descended upon the Coastal King.

“His words frighten me,” Delphinus admitted to the prince. “He has lived longer than any of us, and we revere his wisdom. Sometimes he sees things, as I believe he does now. Is this a vision of what the future of Hetar is to be?”

“He is correct that things are changing,” Lothair said, “but do not be afraid, King Delphinus. Everything changes eventually. Sometimes the change is so swift we do not really notice it, and at other times the change is so slow that we can see it coming, and we are afraid. Change, whether for good or evil, cannot be stopped, I fear.”