Children of Enchantment (16 page)

“I was sent from Ahga to establish a congregation. And I guess I did. But the ones who made up my flock weren’t the people
I was sent to minister to, and so, when I refused to stop, I was placed under interdict by the Bishop of Ahga. That’s why
I needed an escort into Ahga. There’s the possibility that if the Bishop catches me there, I could be imprisoned, or worse.
Certainly I’d never see my congregation again.”

“I’ve heard of the work you do.” Vere shifted his position. “I was proud to be your brother.” Their eyes met across the fire,
and Jesselyn felt hers fill with tears. The breeze whipped a loose strand of hair across her face, and she brushed it away,
pulling her cloak closer.

“I suppose we ought to sleep.”

Vere nodded. “Go on. I’ll keep watch for a little. In the morning, we should be on our way. This road goes straight to Ahga—we’ll
meet Roderic’s escort on the way.”

“But—I’m going back the way I came in the morning. You’re here, and there’s no reason for me to go to Ahga now,” said Jesselyn.

Vere shook his head. “I’m afraid that knowing what you do, Jessie, even though that’s not so very much, it may not be safe
for you to go back.”

“Not safe? The Children have never harmed me—even on our journey through the lands torn by the rebellion, I had no trouble.
It’s not the Children I fear.”

Vere sighed. “There’re some things about the Children you don’t know. Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood?”

“No.”

The silence lengthened between them and Jesselyn waited for Vere to explain. But finally, when he rose to his feet, all he
said was, “You’ll be safer in Ahga, Jessie. As safe as anyplace is likely to be.” Troubled, she watched him pace across the
beach and stand like a gray ghost at the dark water’s edge.

“
A
nd that’s your last word?” Phineas spoke with such clipped precision Roderic looked from his brother Phillip to Phineas with
surprise. He had never heard Phineas speak so coldly to anyone. Halfway down the long council table, Phillip glanced around
the empty council room and stifled a sigh. At least, thought Roderic, he had the grace to look uncomfortable: shifting restlessly
in the rigid confines of his chair, plucking at the wide band of gold embroidery on the sleeve of his flowing blue tunic with
fingers heavy with rings of every description. Not only had Phillip something of Abelard’s coloring, and Abelard’s build,
he had something of Abelard’s presence as well. In the daily sessions of the Congress, among the more soberly dressed Senadors
of the Arkan Plains and the war-ravaged mountain estates, Phillip with his bright blond hair and flamboyant clothes stood
our like a swan among sparrows. A pity, thought Roderic, that Phillip apparently lacked Abelard’s commitment to the unity
of the realm.

Phillip’s gaze darted from Phineas to Roderic and back. “Lord Phineas, please.” He spoke with the slow, patient tone used
with invalids, and Roderic writhed inwardly. How could Phillip so underrate Phineas?

“Try to understand,” continued Phillip, “I know the perception you midlanders have—that Nourk is rich, with men enough to
satisfy every demand. But we too have had to strengthen our borders against the Muten threat—Nourk has—“

“Nourk has ever held back,” Phineas interrupted, his voice so dangerously soft that Roderic automatically straightened in
his chair. “We only ask you for reserves. The Congress may have acclaimed Roderic Regent, but this country is far from settled.
We only ask you for reserves, reserves to be held at Ithan Ford, in the event they are needed for the defense of Arken.”

“But Ithan is much too far away for my needs. What if the Muten tribes in the North rebel? My own lands will be vulnerable.
Surely you can’t expect me to send men when my own situation may change at any time?” Phillip met Phineas’s tone with a biting
edge of his own. His blue eyes flashed and he looked so much like the King, something twisted in Roderic’s chest. Abruptly
Phillip pushed his chair back from the table, and Roderic noticed for the first time the hint of a paunch beneath his ornate
robes. Life must be easy in Nourk for a man of fighting age to run to fat.

“The losses in Atland were heavy,” answered Phineas.

“And why was that? I beg your pardon, Lord Prince, but perhaps it had something to do with your inexperience in the field.
Or maybe your indifference to slaughter.”

Roderic flinched and lowered his eyes. That day in Atland would haunt him for a long time.

Phillip stood up, placed his fists on the table, and leaned on the glass-topped surface. A bright shaft of light reflected
off the glass, cutting across his face. “I renewed my Pledge of Allegiance. I will honor my oath if and when I must. But I
will think long and hard before I commit my men.” He looked at Roderic and inclined his head in a brief bow. “And that is
my last word.”

Phillip strode out of the room, his runic swirling in rich folds around his ankles. When the door had closed behind him, Roderic
stole a glance at Phineas. The old man’s hands were laced across his chest and his lips were pursed. “We’ve never talked about
what happened in Atland.”

Phineas’s eyes flickered and he drew a deep breath. “I don’t blame you for the losses in Atland.”

“That’s not what Phillip meant.” Roderic twisted his hands together. “It’s the day Ebram-taw—the day I had—” He broke off
and bit his lip so hard he tasted the salty-sweet tang of blood.

“Why did you do it, my son?”

“I don’t know!” The answer burst from his throat, and he clenched his fists. “By Dad’s throne, I don’t know, Phineas. I don’t
understand why I did what I did. I guess—I guess I thought there was no other way.”

“And perhaps there wasn’t.”

Roderic stared at the old man, not certain he had heard correctly.

“Perhaps there wasn’t any other way to end it, Roderic. I’m not saying what you did was right—I can hear in your voice how
wrong you thought it was. But every one of us—your father, Brand, even Phillip, the sanctimonious fool—have done things we
are not proud of. Things we’ve lived tc regret. There are always consequences, Roderic. Always. No matter what the choice.”

Roderic spread the palms of his hands flat against the cool glass surface of the council table. Beneath his hands, preserved
under the glass, were maps of ancient Meriga, so old that if they were ever moved they would crumble into dust. Sunlight made
rainbow prisms on the walls, and his eyes fell on a grayed banner hanging limp and tattered in the corner. Legend said it
was the flag of Old Meriga, and still barely discernible in the frayed fabric were thirteen stripes and fifty stars. What
choices had the men of Old Meriga made that their children had lived to regret? “What are we to do?”

“About Phillip? Let him posture all he pleases. If we do need his troops, his oath will require him to send them. And if his
conscience requires him to stir himself from behind his mountains and ride to war, so much the better. Phillip is hardly the
one to talk to you about inexperience.”

Roderic suppressed a smile. Nourk’s natural defenses made the possibility of invasion remote, and Roderic could not recall
a time when the Senadors of Nourk had called upon the throne for aid. Abelard had thought to bring Nourk’s resources into
the sphere of his control when Phillip had been married to the old Senador’s daughter. But apparently, Abelard had been wrong.

The moment lengthened, and finally Phineas roused himself with a sigh. “Have all the dispatches we discussed yesterday gone
out?”

“This morning.” Roderic was glad to change the subject. “I never realized, Phineas, that so much of my time would be spent
signing my name.”

“Now you understand why your father, who loved to hunt, went so seldom to Minnis.”

Roderic narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think I should leave to meet Jesselyn.” It was a statement, not a question, and Phineas
was silent for what seemed like a long time.

“Jesselyn’s message troubles me,” he said at last.

Roderic rose and paced to the window, where the late afternoon sun had broken through the low-hanging clouds and the light
glinted on the sea. The white sails of the fishing boats bobbed over the whitecaps. Less than a week after he had been acclaimed
Regent, he could not deny that he had begun to think of the dark green forests and cool lakes of Minnis Saul with longing.
Dispatches from every corner of the realm were pouring into Ahga, an unstoppable flood that carried no regard for youth or
inexperience, only requests for supplies and men and justice—the King’s justice to settle the endless disputes of a thousand
competing interests.

As Phineas and Brand had anticipated, the Harleyriders who, for the last twenty years, had been more or less confined to the
deserts of Loma and Dlas, had taken the opportunity of the Muten Rebellion to try and wrest back control of a greater portion
of the Arkan Plains. Now they rode their shaggy ponies with greater and greater impunity, daring to press deeper and deeper
into Arkan, into lands which had not seen the ravages of their raids for two decades.

During the three days of the Convening, Senadors, who had grown more or less quiescent under Abelard’s firm grip, raised their
voices experimentally, as if to test his heir, and acting under Phineas’s advice, Roderic dismissed tie Congress. With Roderic’s
confirmation as Regent, the reason for the emergency Convening had been addressed; there was no need, said Phineas, to continue.
Daily more and more petitioners appeared in the outer wards, seeking a hearing at the King’s Court of Appeals.

That very morning, Amanander had left for Dlas with orders to suppress the Harleyriders by whatever means necessary. Roderic
had spent many hours with old Gredahl, the First of the Senadors of the Arkan Plains. The men of Arkan were tough and proud
and bent the knee to few, but Roderic knew that among all the Senadors in the Congress, he could number them among his closest
allies. But the men of Arkan could not stand alone, and Phineas had hoped to hear a firm promise of help from Phillip.

He hooked his thumbs in his belt. “It troubles me, too, Phineas,” he said, watching the boats skim over the water. At this
height, seven stories above the ground, even the largest of the fishing boats looked toy-sized. “And I don’t want to antagonize
the Bishop—“

Phineas waved a hand in dismissal. “She’s old, Roderic. The fight went out of her a long time ago. But perhaps—” Phineas paused.

“Yes?” Roderic prompted.

“No matter, boy. Go to Minnis. After everything in these last few months, you deserve a few days respite. Call for my bearers,
please?”

“Phineas—” Roderic hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject he wanted to discuss. “Last night, Gartred asked me for permission
to leave Ahga in order to visit Elsemone. Do you think I should let her go?” He had already told Phineas of the advances the
woman had made and his discovery of how she had treated Peregrine and his child. Her request had come as a relief. Her daughter,
his youngest half-sister, Elsemone, was married to the heir of one of the Lords of Mondana. It would be an easy thing for
Gartred to ride with Nevin Vantigorn.

Phineas spread his hands. “Why not?”

“Then—“

“Say what you must, boy.”

“I need a First Lady, do I not?”

Phineas nodded. “I suppose.” He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head. “And you have someone in mind?”

“Peregrine Anuriel—you know, the daughter of—“

“I know who she is,” Phineas interrupted sharply, so sharply Roderic was surprised.

“Well, I was thinking, you see. She’s borne my child, and I thought perhaps, with my father’s consort gone, I could make Peregrine
the First Lady of my household, and then, perhaps—“

“Are you thinking of marrying this girl?”

Roderic cocked his head. “I—I thought it should be considered. Do you think Dad would object?”

What little color there was in the old man’s leathery cheeks drained away. Phineas laced his fingers together and rubbed the
palms of his hands together. “In the first place, you have no heir. And the subject of your marriage—” Phineas paused, obviously
groping for words. Roderic narrowed his eyes. He had never seen Phineas so upset. “Make her your First Lady, if you will.
The subject of your marriage—” Once more, Phineas seemed to hesitate. “Must wait. Now, please. Call for my bearers. It’s time
we went down to the hall. The first of the Courts of Appeal is scheduled, and if you are intent on going to Minnis, we must
try to hear as many cases as possible before you leave.”

As he followed Phineas’s litter down the stairs, Roderic pondered the strange reaction to the subject of his marriage. Perhaps,
he decided, as he reached the hall, and saw the petitioners lining the walls, it was only a response to all that had happened
in the last weeks. Enough had happened, he thought, as he assumed his father’s place on the dais. Phineas was right. He would
not broach the subject of marriage again. At least, he thought, as the scribe handed him a scroll pertaining to the first
matter, not until he had something tangible to offer Peregrine. Gartred would go, Amanander had gone. The business of the
government seemed well in hand.