By Darkness Hid (48 page)

Lord Nathak sat in silence for a long moment. “As you know,” he finally said, “I found the prince child near Allowntown, just over thirteen years ago.”

“Remind the court how you knew the child was Prince Gidon,” Lord Levy said.

“He wore the king’s signet ring on a chain ’round his neck. I took him home, uncertain of what to do at first. He was King Axel’s son, and I sensed his father’s weakness in him.”

A murmur rose in the court. Achan’s eyes widened. He’d never heard anyone claim King Axel had been weak.

Someone yelled, “Traitor!”

“Silence!” the chairman cried. “Lord Nathak, you will refrain from insulting our fallen king in this Council room.”

Lord Nathak bowed his head. “My apologies, Chairman Levy.”

“Continue.”

“My own son, Esek, had just turned four. Prince Gidon, I guessed, was nearly three. I kept the prince for several weeks, praying to the gods for guidance. Despite the age difference, the boys looked like twins. As they played together, Esek pounded the prince daily. He knocked him down, took his food and playthings. The gods’ message was clear. King Axel had ruled the same way: weak and apathetic.”

Murmurs rose again, but Lord Nathak spoke over them. “He allowed neighboring peoples to pillage our lands, our foods, our gold. If I allowed this weak prince to take the throne, I would be responsible for another generation of the same in Er’Rets.”

Fury rose in Achan’s chest. Weak? He’d been merely a babe!

Then he shook his head, surprised at his own thoughts. So now he believed this incredible story?

“Nearly six months passed before I sent word that I’d found the boy,” Lord Nathak said, with a glance at the mediators. “When I brought him to Mahanaim, I presented Esek, my son, as the prince, wearing Hadar’s signet ring. Those closest to the king had died in the attack. No one suspected. The ring was all that mattered.”

Achan glanced at Gidon, who sat with one leg casually thrown over the other as if this tale bored him. But his hands betrayed his true emotions. They gripped the sides of his throne, knuckles white.

He hadn’t known the truth either.

The chairman asked, “What became of the real Prince Gidon?”

“My cook lost his wife and child in childbirth.” Lord Nathak’s voice softened, as if trying to convince the court he was kind and thoughtful. “I urged him to raise the boy as his own. In this, they would have each other, and I would be able to watch over the boy’s safety.”

Achan scoffed. Safe at the end of Poril’s belt. Why hadn’t Lord Nathak just drowned him? There had to be more to this story than Lord Nathak was revealing. Why keep him alive?

“And you branded him a stray to hide his birthmark?” the chairman asked.

“He had food and a place to sleep. Death would have been worse.”

“And this is when you gave him the âleh tonic?”

“I have given him the âleh tonic since his first day in my household.”

Achan squeezed his fists until the veins popped out on his inner wrists.

“Why did you do this?” Lord Levy asked.

“It was well known the prince had the gift. If my plan was to work, I couldn’t have people sensing his ability.”

Lord Levy folded his hands on the tabletop. “Remind the Council how you came to the responsibility of raising the prince. You found him, yes, and presented your son in his place. But the boy should’ve passed to Prince Oren. Remind us why he was given to you to raise.”

“Nearly everyone who cared for the child had been killed along with the king and queen, or sent to IceIsland. Prince Oren took the boy in for a short period, but he sent him back.”

“Because the prince knew the boy was a fake,” Sir Gavin mumbled.

Achan looked to Prince Oren. The man sat silent, one hand gripping his chin.

Lord Nathak shrugged. “My son missed me and his mother. His silence and depression worried the advisors. With the king dead and the heir so young, this Council was formed to rule until the prince grew to manhood. This same Council granted my plea to raise the boy. I built the stronghold in Sitna to keep the child away from prying eyes. I have taught him how to be a great king. He is shrewd and wise and quick with a sword. We have negotiated his betrothal to Lady Averella Amal of Carmine, and, once wed, he will move to Armonguard to take the throne.”

Sparrow squeaked and turned pink over this latest declaration.

What was wrong with him? Achan frowned at this latest information from Lord Nathak. The Duchess of Carm had a daughter? He did not recall ever seeing the lady visit Sitna. Bran was from Carmine. Achan wondered if Bran knew of her.

A murmur rose in the fifth row of the stands. There was Bran, on his feet, face redder than from sunburn alone. Sir Rigil, the young knight Bran served, stood beside him. He whispered and tugged Bran’s elbow. Suddenly Achan could hear their conversation as if he were a fly on Bran’s shoulder. Or maybe he was looking though Bran…

I will speak, but I will not make accusations,
Sir Rigil said.

Then I will,
Bran said.
Lord Nathak is a usurper and traitor. He holds the Duchess hostage! Her daughter has fled to avoid his son’s hand. I will not stand here and let him claim he has obtained Averella’s hand by her own choosing!

This is not a battle for today.
Sir Rigil pushed down on Bran’s shoulder.
Sit yourself down or I shall be forced to drag you out.

Bran fell into his chair and crossed his arms like a sullen child.

“Sir Rigil?” Lord Levy said.

Achan noticed that everyone in the chamber seemed to be watching Bran and Rigil. Even Lord Nathak had fallen silent to observe the knight and his squire.

Sir Rigil turned to the high table. “Yes, my lord chairman?”

“Have you something to add to our discussions?” Lord Levy asked.

Sir Rigil raised his voice. “I beg the Council’s pardon. Duchess Amal spoke to me of this matter, this ‘arrangement’ for marriage, when I stopped in Carmine on my way to the tournament for the prince’s coming-of-age celebration.”

The chairman banged his gavel. “The Council recognizes Sir Rigil Barak of Zerah Rock. What do you know of this matter?”

“That she has consented to no such match.”

Nor will she,
Bran said at the exact moment that Achan heard Sparrow mumble it under his breath.

Sparrow glanced up at Achan and stammered. “I m-mean, she’d have to be crazy to marry him, right?”

Achan turned back to Bran. A familiar fury filled his friend’s visage. So Gidon had tried to take the woman
he
loved also. Achan wished the lady well, wherever she had hidden herself.

Chairman Levy sighed. He turned to face the witness stand. “Bloodvoicers, what say you? Has this man been truthful?”

The men on either side of Lord Nathak stood. One said, “He has. Though I sense he is withholding something greater. We would need more time to discern what that might be.”

“I agree,” said the second bloodvoice mediator. “I request additional time to question him further.”

Lord Levy nodded. “Very well. Lord Nathak, you are dismissed until further notice.” He addressed the audience. “We shall postpone any marital arrangements until this matter of identity is settled. The Council must take time to deliberate. We will reconvene when we have a majority vote.”

The chairman rose and left the platform, heading to the side chamber. The rest of the Council members went after him. Lord Nathak left the interrogation platform and followed the Council.

“Why does Lord Nathak go to consult?” Sparrow asked. “What part does he play in the Council of Seven?”

“He was being seated on the platform when we were arriving,” Inko said. “Something is being amiss. I shall be discovering it.” Inko slinked toward the grandstands.

Achan watched Sir Gavin. The knight stood against the wall, eyes half closed as if in a trance, despite the noise of the crowd. Achan recalled that day in the dungeon when he had “jumped” through Sparrow’s mind and witnessed Hadar and Lord Nathak’s discussion. Could he do the same now with Sir Gavin?

Achan walked to the knight’s side and stood so their shoulders touched.

Sir Gavin stirred, reached up, and gripped Achan’s shoulder. “All will be well, lad.”

Achan nodded. When Sir Gavin’s mind drifted again, Achan closed his eyes and reached.

It came easily this time. Instantly he was in a florid chamber. Carved bronze sconces pinned massive torches to the wall between vibrant tapestries. An equally impressive bronze chandelier hung above a circular table, its flickering candles illuminating the faces of the Council members. Sir Gavin was watching the Council’s deliberations! Achan was not certain whose eyes he looked out from.

The men all spoke at once, but Chairman Levy silenced them. “I want to hear from you all, one at a time. What is your will?”

The man whose mind Achan and Sir Gavin shared spoke, and Prince Oren’s voice came forth. “Esek is not the prince. He is false. He is not who we thought him to be and has no claim to the throne. He cannot rule. There is nothing to discuss.”

“Agreed,” Duke Pitney said.

Duke Pitney? Achan studied the bronze-skinned man with black hair and mustache, then glanced at each face around the table, suddenly aware of each man’s name, their duchy, their manor. He seemed privy to Prince Oren’s knowledge. How strange.

“Then we should elect you, Prince Oren?” Duke Hamartano said. Achan recognized Silvo’s father—he looked like an older version of his sons. His black hair was slicked back over his olive skin and was tied back in a tail.

“Not I,” Prince Oren said. “Our true king sits in the courtroom. He is a good, strong young man who only needs a bit of instruction.”

Achan wanted to believe that about himself, but his doubt was stronger than his desire.

Lord Nathak banged a fist on the table. “Esek has been trained to rule his whole life. The stray knows nothing of being king.”

“He is not a stray,” Prince Oren said. “And I myself shall train the boy to rule rightly. Chairman Levy, why is Lord Nathak even here? His deceit should have banned him from this debate.”

“I concur,” Duke Pitney said.

“We’ve all seen his letter of proxy,” Lord Levy said. “Duchess Amal has sent him as her emissary.”

“Rubbish,” Duke Pitney said.

Prince Oren persisted. “Shouldn’t his deceit void such a letter? I was not aware the Council was so forgiving where treason was concerned.”

“Treason!” Lord Nathak leaned past Duke Orson’s hairy profile to glare at Prince Oren.

Duke Hamartano’s voice came smooth. “Your brother’s lax rule nearly destroyed Er’Rets, Prince Oren. The Council has only just managed to set a level of order.”

“Do not confuse compassion with neglect, Duke Hamartano. My brother was loved by the people.”

Grey-skinned Duke Falkson murmured, “Peasants and slaves.”

“It was illegal to keep slaves when King Axel ruled,” Prince Oren said.

“My point exactly,” Duke Hamartano said. “King Axel was soft, and his son, raised as a stray, will have pity on every lowlife in the land. It will be his father’s reign, only worse.”

Prince Oren folded his hands and stared at a mound of wax that had formed in the center of the table, having dripped from the candelabra above. “Chairman Levy,” he glanced at the chairman, “the throne has never been open for debate. We must obey Arman in this matter. Achan is rightful king.”

“Hang Arman and hang the stray!” Lord Nathak yelled. “It will take years to train that nitwit. You forget, I know the boy—he was
my
stray. He’s stubborn, rude, thick-skulled, and temperamental. Esek is ready for the throne, and Er’Rets needs a king. Let the Council vote.”

Duke Falkson grunted in agreement.

“The Council was only created to serve until the prince was of age,” Prince Oren said. “He sits there, of age, ready to serve. There is nothing to vote on.”

“He knows only the life of a stray!” Lord Nathak cried. “He’s at best a cook’s apprentice.”

“He is a squire,” Prince Oren said, “and a good one, trained by Sir Gavin Lukos. And very worthy of much more.”

“And we are to trust Sir Gavin?” Lord Nathak threw up his hands. “King Axel was murdered on
his
watch. He is lucky not to live on IceIsland with his friends! Let us not repeat mistakes of the past by placing fools and sentimentals in positions of power.”

Achan jerked loose and floated back into his own eyes. King Axel was murdered on Sir Gavin’s watch? He stood in a daze, contemplating all he had heard, unhinged that a roomful of men debated his future.

“I shall tell you my side of it someday,” Sir Gavin said.

Achan wrenched his gaze to Sir Gavin. He knew Achan had been jumping through him? They stared at each other a moment, neither speaking.

A crowd had gathered on the floor, milling about and staring at Achan. Sir Rigil and Bran dodged through the crowd to where Achan and Sir Gavin stood. Sir Caleb approached them from the bench.

“What news?” Sir Rigil asked. His short blond hair stuck out in all directions. If it were longer, he might look like a younger Sir Caleb.

Inko slid between Sir Rigil and Sir Gavin. “Lord Nathak is having a letter of proxy from the Duchess of Carm. He is sitting in her place today because of it.”

“The letter is false,” Sir Rigil said. “Lord Nathak holds the Duchess hostage in her home. I had hoped to raise a party of knights to run off Nathak’s thugs, but it is still difficult to tell who serves who. Perhaps this vote will help define the sides.”