Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) (17 page)

“King Gayyath sends his condolences and says that the proper ceremonies were held to receive Lord Hebrus’ spirit and that he was also honored in our own ceremonies, being named an honorary citizen of Vacaan, the highest distinction we can grant a foreigner. A suitable public work shall be named after him and I can personally assure you that his killers will be found and dealt with under the harshest sections of the Royal Code, as if Lord Hebrus were a member of the court.”

“Why wasn’t I informed of my factor’s death on my arrival? He was an important part of my household and his death may well have an effect on the matter I’ve come to Vacaan to discuss.”

Chares hesitated. “Since Lord Hebrus
was
an important man, it was deemed necessary for a high court official... myself... to convey the message. Unfortunately, I was occupied with the King’s business in another district, and was unable to break free as promptly as I wished.”

Very thin, I thought. No one else in Gayyath’s huge court could have brought the word? Fortunately, I’d regained control and said nothing. Janela, her hand on my arm, must have felt the muscles tense because her eyes flickered over to me, then back to Chares.

The change in Vacaan was worse than I’d thought. I knew that every thing Chares said had been a lie. Hebrus might’ve fancied younger men but the types he fell in love with were much like he’d once been — ethereal gentle sorts, frequently having their first affair. And Hebrus was monogamous, staying faithful to each lover until the affair died a natural death. When he went seeking new companionship he would frequent libraries, concert halls or art galleries. Finally, Hebrus
never
drank.

I felt a chill. Vacaan had always been dangerous, its deadliness hidden behind a smile. Those who offended most generally simply disappeared and it was as if they’d never existed.

Hebrus had been murdered but not out of any passion. A business difficulty, perhaps. But I thought it interesting that a week ago we would have just been off the coast of Vacaan and Irayas’ magicians would have been sensing our arrival. All my senses were a-tingle. I didn’t think I was being an alarmist. Not after the encounter with the demon who called himself Senac and the certainty we would be opposed seeking the Kingdoms of the Night.

I would find time to investigate the death and, if possible, avenge my friend. But that would be later.

Now all there was time for was King Gayyath.

* * * *

 “Why is it,” Chares asked Janela smoothly as our gondola coursed down the canals toward the king’s palace, “you don’t seem to have ever been presented at court before you left Vacaan? Certainly you would grace any gathering. And your family is more than noble enough.”

Janela’s eyes widened for just a flash, then she recovered. “I thank you for the compliment, Chares. But I was forbidden entry to Vacaan as punishment after I refused a brideoffer because it would have required me to give up my study of magic. I assumed you would have known.”

“I pay little attention to small matters like violations of protocol,” the soldier said. “This times are too parlous for trivialities.”

I interrupted. “Chares, our escort to Vacaan, Rapili, said there had been risings against the King but refused to say more.”

“Rapili is a good soldier,” Chares approved. “It would not have been fitting to discuss such matters with an outlander. He was not, however, aware of your... special relationship to the royal family.”

I doubted that but said nothing.

“Knowing this will not go beyond your ears,” the officer said, “there
have
been some fools deluded enough to think King Gayyath’s mercy is unlimited and to blame him for certain misfortunes the gods have visited on us. There have been false prophets, folk leaders, more than enough trouble to satisfy any soldier for several dozen lifetimes.”

Chares tried to look human, by which I mean wearied, but I sensed relish for such slaughter. I am too old and too rich to be fooled by men such as he.

He continued: “I fear it’s become necessary for certain special measures to be taken and, on occasion, harsh treatment dealt.”

“We saw some signs of that as we traveled,” Janela said.

“Not really,” Chares said. “A ruined city, or an area the King has been forced to embargo from trade... these are but slight examples. We would hardly wish to present the sterner face of our royal master to new arrivals, after all.”

“Could you be more specific,” I asked.

Chares’ gaze was cold. He held my eyes for a long moment, then looked beyond, across the blue-gleaming water as a fountain rose and gushed gold against the sun.

I remembered examples of the magic of Vacaan... a guardian city on its borders manned entirely by resurrected corpses and a land blasted bare by sorcery and the sun’s rays suddenly felt icy.

* * * *

King Gayyath’s palace showed no signs of the kingdom’s troubles. It covered five islands in the center of Irayas and its solid-gold domes still sent the sun’s splendor back into the heavens. The gardens were still a marvel of perfection and the magically-tamed animals and birds that wandered and flew through it were as I remembered. The grounds were crowded with richly-dressed noblemen and women and their retinues, strolling without a care; others, pacing, worried about the fate of their petitions; the hangers-on native to any court peering about, looking for the scent of scandal. Here was another change, though — in other times there would have been commoners and tradesmen waiting on their petitions. Perhaps King Gayyath had other channels for lesser people’s problems or perhaps this was a day when only the upper classes were permitted the palace.

Janela, I could see, in spite of her obvious efforts to appear worldly, was as awed as I’d been the first time I came here... or, to be honest, as I was at that very moment, still caught in the shining wonder.

Our gondola pulled into a dock and we were greeted by an honor guard. When Janos and I had first come to Irayas the palace guard wore gold and white and their weapons were archaic and ceremonial. Now they were Wardens, immaculate in red and black, weaponry polished, modern and well-used. I noted the formal but relaxed manner they saluted Chares and even though I’d never been a soldier, thank the gods, knew this was one sign of an elite, war-experienced unit.

As we walked up the broad winding path, bordered by multi-colored ivory edgings, I asked Chares about his Wardens.

“Our purpose is but one — to serve King Gayyath in any manner he wishes and to hold his life and then the kingdom itself more valuable than anything else, including our own beings.” Chares sounded as if he were reciting from the oath.

I pretended alarm. “The household guards I saw on previous visits were more ceremonial than your unit. I hope no one has been mad enough to consider any... actions against the King himself?”

“Not as yet,” Chares said grimly. “But we stand prepared.”

“So King Gayyath himself created the Warders?” Janela asked.

“No. We were chartered by Lord Modin.”

Neither Janela nor I knew him and there’d been no mention of him in any of Hebrus’s dispatches.

“Forgive me, Chares,” I said. “But I’m embarrassed to say I know nothing of the Lord. Would you tell me a bit about him? I despise appearing ignorant, especially about someone as obviously important as the Lord must be.”

Chares agreed. “Lord Modin is one of King Gayyath’s most trusted advisors. He also takes a great interest in our formation. But he has no use for power or panoply, preferring to remain in the background so as to better help Vacaan and our King.”

Chares didn’t realize it but he was telling me more than he intended, as he had since arriving at our palace. So Modin was, or at any rate fancied himself, a power behind the throne?

Modin, or that there was someone like Modin, didn’t surprise me. King Domas, Gayyath’s father, had been all too typical of a grand monarch. Too many great kings have an equally great failing — they are unable to realize their mortality and hence unable to ensure a proper succession. Thus it was, I’d learned over the years, with his eldest son. I’d only met the Prince once or twice and sensed King Domas was deliberately keeping him away from the throne or from learning just how to rule. I don’t know why Domas felt as he did, whether Gayyath had somehow offended, or simply by his presence reminded Domas that one day he himself would face the Dark Seeker.

I myself was having problems with Cligus at the time, so; frankly, was wary of judging a man and his son. I avoided thinking of the difficulty, other than feeling some concern for the people of Vacaan and how they would be ruled after Domas’ death. I wondered if perhaps Domas, in his last years, understood his error and had realized Gayyath would need some sort of eminence to rule wisely and well. I doubted that, since I would have heard of Modin before now if that were true. But I chanced asking.

“Lord Modin,” Chares answered briefly, “was chief of a remote province until about six or seven years ago. His wisdom and abilities brought him to King Gayyath’s attentions and our King was well pleased when he found Lord Modin was a wizard of the first order who was also drawn to ruling.”

I thought of another being from another remote province I’d faced recently and then forced my mind into another channel. But the thought that came was no more comforting as I noted the dots of red and black that were the Warders moving through the throngs of nobility and their attendees outside the palace.

Red and black... add one color, gold, and those were the house colors of Prince Raveline, Janos’ corrupter, the monster I’d slain atop the black mountain beyond Irayas.

* * * *

I noted something else new as we neared the main palace building, a looming five story building set apart from the main complex. It was also of gold, elaborately filigreed with what looked like ivory. I remarked on it to Chares.

“No,” he said. “You would not have seen that before. It’s new and is King Gayyath’s seraglio.”

I kept my face bland, showing no surprise. Whatever King Domas did for private pleasures had never been known to me — his personal affairs were kept well concealed from outsiders and even from members of his court.

Chares drew a few steps ahead of us and I looked at Janela, who was staring at the building. Now that we were closer I could tell that the filigree was not decorative, but served to conceal bars.

“No doubt guarded by eunuchs as well,” she murmured. “Castrate a man and prison a woman... royal power at its finest.”

* * * *

What I considered the greatest single marvel of Irayas was inside the three-tiered audience chamber. On the bottom level were the commoners and the level which was previously most crowded. Now it was nearly empty. Chares led us up steps to the second level, more populous with nobility, and then to the third level, held for wizards and the highest court officials. Above this stretched the great golden throne of the King.

But what took everyone’s eye filled most of the depression on this third level, a huge simulacrum of Vacaan itself. Everything was there, from the cities to the farms to the river to the Black Mountain behind the city. I knew if you examined the model closely you could find boats, animals, even birds. This was not a conceit or work of art, but a powerful tool that was used to govern, observe and control the realm.

What was done to the simulacrum by sorcery would also be brought to the lands beyond, whether flood, rain, or the finest growing weather. The simulacrum could reward and punish from afar and was, I thought, the greatest work of magic I’d ever seen.

Usually it was an area of calm, with the wizards who controlled the model moving unhurriedly around it, their spells firmly in place. Not so this day. It appeared to me as if the spells were slipping, or had been improperly cast, because certain areas of the kingdom would suddenly shimmer and be hard to make out, as if seen through a heat wave, or else would vanish entirely and reveal the intricately-carved flooring underneath. Different sections were turning slightly without regard to the others and the perspective would change, as it might if the simulacrum were on a turntable.

The problems were not being left untreated — there must’ve been twenty or more sweating magicians, flanked by their acolytes, chanting spells, waving wands or censers. Braziers set along the way let their fragrant smoke waft upward and there were mystical symbols hastily chalked around the simulacrum.

The chief wizard, or the official in charge at any rate, was a slender, handsome man not much older than Janela and an inch or two shorter than I am. He reminded me greatly of a fox and I do not mean this disparagingly, but rather that his sharp face, clean-shaven unlike most in the court, was alert and his eyes darted constantly around, missing nothing. He moved foxlike as well, quickly, with agility, darting from sorcerer to sorcerer and snapping orders. He was frowning, obviously trying to hold back anger.

The man wore a blue silk tunic and pants and had a bright red sash around his waist that also stretched up over one shoulder. He was the only one in that building wearing red, other than the Wardens, and so I knew him instantly.

“That will be Lord Modin,” I guessed.

“It is he,” Chares said, and his voice held great respect.

We were drawing near the throne and I turned my attention to the man who sat, or rather lolled on it. I blinked. King Gayyath had... grown since I’d seen him last. His father, Domas, had been large and bearlike and so too was Gayyath. But where Domas bulked large, dominating by his very presence, Gayyath sprawled, his belly bulging the loose robes he wore, his jowls hanging to either side of his face. His dark hair was cut very short, either for convenience or to encourage it to return quickly to hide his growing baldness. He looked less like a king than like a fabled gourmand at rest.