Janny Wurts - To Ride Hell’s Chasm

The commander of King Isendon’s guard did not rise, which caused his royal caller a flare of stifled pique. The fact that no servant had been sent in advance should have said, stark as words, that the business that brought him was sensitive.

‘Your Highness?’ said Taskin. ‘I regret, without notice, steps could not be taken to seat you in proper comfort.’

There were no chairs. No fool, the Commander of the Guard did not volunteer to surrender his own. The High Prince of Devall swiftly realized he was required to stand, and his dignitary with him, like any other drill sergeant taken to task on the subordinate’s side of the desk. He met the challenge of that opening play with an unruffled smile, though his gold eyes showed no amusement.

‘I will not apologize for my inconvenience, your lordship.’ The heir apparent snapped his ringed fingers, and a lackey jumped, removed his velvet mantle, and draped the lush cloth over the railing that fronted the gallery. There, still smiling, the lowcountry prince sat down. Throughout, he stayed untouched by the rancour that smoked off his dour court advocate.

That worthy held to his bristling stance, his caustic glare fixed upon Sessalie’s titled defender. ‘We have a complaint,’ he announced, only to find himself cut off by the suave voice of his prince.

‘Not a complaint, Lord Taskin. Rather, I bring you a heartfelt appeal.’ Settled without a visible qualm for the twenty-foot drop at his back, the high prince handled himself with the aplomb of a sovereign enthroned in his own hall of audience. ‘Princess Anja would not have us at odds over quibbling points of propriety. She is precious to me. This scandal has already shadowed our wedding. Should I not want her found, and restored to my side with all speed?’

‘Precisely where do we stand at odds, your Highness?’ Taskin steepled his fingers before him, eyes open in unflinching inquiry.

Rubies flashed to the High Prince of Devall’s deprecating gesture. ‘Your response to the crisis has been diligent, of course.’ His handsome face shaded into uncertainty, a reminder that he was yet a young man, brilliantly accomplished, but with heart and mind still tender with inexperience. ‘I refer to the fact that my help has been rejected at every turn.’

The dangerous insult, by indirect implication, that perhaps King Isendon’s daughter had been fickle by design , had no chance to stay hanging between them. The smouldering advocate snatched at the opening to vent his affront.

‘Not simply rejected, my lord commander!’ Chalky, all but trembling, he served up his accusation. ‘Your gutter-bred cur of a garrison captain had the gall to draw naked steel in my presence. I want him punished! Let him be publicly stripped of his rank for threatening an accredited royal diplomat.’

‘He’s owed a stripe, I’ll grant you that much,’ Taskin said, unmoved rock, against which hysteria dashed without impact. ‘Not in public, however. In Sessalie, a soldier’s chastisement is always determined by closed hearing. Nor will I ask my king to remove the captain from his post. My sh kael keeps his oath as a competent officer. Question that, though I warn, if you open that issue, you had better bring me hard proof.’

‘I will not mince words.’ The High Prince of Devall regarded his hands, clasped in jewelled elegance on his knee. ‘Captain My sh kael came in from an unspecified errand, his clothing still wet from the moat. There, we are also given to understand, the seeress who started the rumour of Anja’s disappearance had been drowned. Her corpse was recovered soon afterwards. Scarcely proof,’ he admitted. His brass-coloured eyes flickered up to meet Taskin straight on. ‘Perhaps those events suggest grounds for an inquest, at your discretion, of course.’ His scalding censure suggested that in Devall, no ranking captaincy was ever made the prize of a public contest at arms.

Throughout, the commander maintained his taut patience. ‘Sessalie’s small, remote, and at peace for so long, our instinct for warring has atrophied. The Lowergate garrison in fact patrols the streets for thieves and disorderly conduct. An unsavoury pursuit, on our best days, and the crown’s pay for the job is a pittance. Not having strife, without conquests or prospects for further expansion, we’ve maintained the summer tourney as hard training to mature the ambitious younger sons of our nobility. We have never, before this, attracted any foreigner, far less one approaching Captain My sh kael’s martial prowess. Believe me, the upset has caused dog pack snarling aplenty, and no small measure of chagrin.’

‘But now Sessalie has a missing princess, a tragedy also without precedent.’ The High Prince of Devall held the commander’s regard, no easy feat even for a man born royal. ‘Dare you trust her life that this is a coincidence?’

Taskin cut to the chase. ‘You’re asking me to allow your men leave to lead inquires below Highgate?’

His Highness eased at once with relief. ‘Can that hurt? You would benefit. If your garrison man is innocent, my outside observation will clear him. I, in my turn, seek relief from helpless worry. I can’t pace the carpet through another sleepless night! Not when we speak of the princess I would cherish as my wife, an intelligent partner befitted to rule Devall as a crowned queen at my side. Anja will raise the heir who carries my rule into the next generation. Her worth to me is beyond all price. Why should Sessalie stand on ancient pride, and refuse to acknowledge the fact that my future’s at risk?’

‘The authority you ask for must come from the crown,’ Taskin said, unequivocal. ‘Why did you come here, and not to King Isendon?’

‘Have you seen the press in the audience hall today?’ the prince’s delegate broke in, scathing. ‘His Majesty has been closeted with subjects all morning. Everyone from wealthy merchants’ hired muscle to uncultured farmhand’s sons—you have the whole countryside importuning the council for their chance to shoulder the adventure.’

‘Princess Anja is beloved,’ Taskin allowed. ‘Is Devall’s crown advocate surprised that Sessalie’s people should respond in heartfelt concern?’ He shifted his regard back to the distraught prince, then made his summary disposition. ‘I’ll give you one of my royal honour guards with a writ for Collain Herald. That should advance your Highness’s petition to the head of the line.’

The commander stood, a clear signal the interview was ended.

Yet his Highness of Devall made no move to arise. His page exchanged a surreptitious glance with a lackey, and the advocate stared primly straight ahead.

‘What else?’ Taskin’s frigid question met a pall of strained quiet.

Then, ‘His Highness, Prince Kailen,’ the heir apparent broached. Discomfited enough to have broken his poise, he twisted the rings on his hands. ‘I’m sorry. Bad manners. But Anja is threatened. Her safety demands forthright speech.’

Taskin’s mien softened, almost paternal with encouragement. ‘Say what you’ve seen. Where lives are at stake, plain words will do nicely’

The Prince of Devall quieted his fretful fingers, then unburdened himself in appeal. ‘Kailen went down to a Falls Gate tavern to make inquiries after his sister. He was still there, and sober, when the servant I sent to buy wine for my retinue saw him. That meeting occurred some time after midnight.’

Taskin absorbed this, each item of testimony set against the report from the rigid-faced guard at his back. The commander was, if anything, too well informed on the outcome of that disgraceful affray: Prince Kailen had been plucked from the Cockatrice Tavern by Mykkael’s duty sergeant, making his rounds. The royal person had been turned over to the palace guard, whence Sessalie’s longsuffering seneschal had seen his Highness to bed.