The Dragon of Despair (5 page)

“The last meeting ran overlong,” Dirkin continued, “and the king is wearied of hard chairs and tables.”

Derian offered Sir Dirkin a bow.

“It’s good to see you, Sir Dirkin. Have you wintered well?”

“Well enough. The cold months have flown by, to be honest, with Princess Sapphire and Prince Shad in residence. There has been much going on.”

Derian didn’t doubt it. The sporadic letters that residents of the Norwood estate had received from friends and family in the capital city had been filled with accounts of balls, receptions, and less formal social occasions—enough so that Lady Luella, Earl Kestrel’s wife, had been quite put out that she and her children were isolated in the North Woods. Accounts of how she had scolded her husband had quite livened the servants’ hall.

Earl Kestrel had not given in before Lady Luella’s fury, even though House Kestrel maintained a residence in the capital that could easily have been made ready for them. Doubtless he felt that he had earned enough reputation for his house over the previous summer—and all his children but for Edlin, and perhaps Firekeeper, were too young for him to seriously be playing matchmaker. Even if they had been, it would not have mattered. Norvin Norwood was not one of those who believed that marrying off children was the best way to build social status.

If he had been,
Derian thought,
we never would have gone west a year ago, nor would Earl Kestrel have risked his life leading cavalry in King Allister’s War.

These thoughts flew through Derian’s mind as he followed Sir Dirkin through the conference room and along a minor maze of passages until they came to the king’s winter sitting room.

Derian had never been here before—in the summer the south-facing windows would have made the room stifling. In winter, however, they added a pleasant glow of sunlight to the warmth from the fire blazing on the hearth.

When Derian entered, the king was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs nearest to the blaze. King Tedric was a bent man, well into his eighth decade. His brown eyes might have paled with the years, but their gaze remained sharp and he studied Derian as the youth made his bow.

Without rising, he motioned Derian to a chair facing his own, acknowledging the youth’s deep bow with a friendly nod.

“Pull the chair back from the fire, if you wish,” the king said. “Your blood is still thick and hot, not thinned to whey like mine.”

Derian took King Tedric’s advice. The room seemed overly hot, even when he pulled his chair away from the blaze. In any case, he had learned that King Tedric, unlike some of the other nobles Derian had met, saved his subtle games for serious matters, not wasting his energy on little matters of etiquette and precedence.

Unless, that is,
Derian thought wryly,
he can use those games to set some adversary off balance.

“I’ve asked,” King Tedric went on, “Firekeeper, and my heirs to join us. Queen Elexa would do so as well, but she’s resting. Caught a bad chill this winter. It settled in her chest and she’s having trouble shaking it.”

Derian murmured his concern. It was sincerely felt, though he hardly knew Queen Elexa. All his life and long before that Elexa Wellward had been Tedric’s reliable other self, ruling in his stead when—as last summer—the king had been forced to be away from the capital. Her health had never been sturdy, however, and Derian worried that this illness might be the beginning of a serious downturn. Elexa was younger than her husband, but both were well past the age when the body recovers easily.

King Tedric doubtless read more into Derian’s expression than into his polite words.

“Elexa is doing well enough,” he said, “though we did have a scare a few weeks ago when we were both down ill. There’s no keeping rumors from spreading, not with as many servants as we have, but we’ve managed to keep the locals from thinking that it might be a good idea to lay in a few extra yards of fabric for mourning garb.”

Derian nodded. “I won’t say anything that would cause alarm, Sire.”

“I know you won’t,” King Tedric said, a touch testily. “If you were a jabbermouth, I wouldn’t have given you my ring. You’ve become even closer with your confidences since, if I’m any judge—and I am. Doubtless your activities last winter didn’t hurt your training in discretion. Tell me about them while we wait for the others. I’ve had formal reports from all sides, but another personal report doesn’t ever hurt.”

Derian did as requested, summarizing the events that had led himself, Firekeeper, and several others to suspect Lady Melina Shield of plotting treachery, so that they had followed her across the border into New Kelvin.

He’d told the tale repeatedly by now, editing where appropriate for each audience, so that he had become quite glib. For the king, Derian minimized the details of the journey itself, emphasizing the political aspects. King Tedric nodded, asked an occasional question, but mostly listened.

At first Derian expected the others that the king had mentioned to arrive at any moment, but after a while he realized that the king must have allowed for a private interview in advance. Doubtless this tale—requested so casually, as if to fill an idle moment—was the reason. Derian found part of his mind wondering why, but after he stumbled in his account several times, he forced this distraction from him.

King Tedric waved Derian to a halt as Derian segued from their adventures in New Kelvin to what had happened after they had returned to Hawk Haven.

“I’ve heard those stories,” he said with a sigh, “over and over, set to song, even acted out in a play—if you can believe it. Everyone in Eagle’s Nest seems determined to flatter my heirs by praising their heroism.”

“I wonder if it’s gone to their heads?” Derian thought, then clapped his hand over his lips as he realized he’d spoken aloud.

King Tedric chortled at Derian’s expression.

“Sapphire might be tempted that way,” the king said, “but two things keep her steady. Three, actually, for her young husband is no fool.”

The king looked suddenly sad.

“No. Shad is not a fool,” he said, “but it looks as if Sapphire’s sister, young Citrine, might have become one. Citrine’s mind was weakened by what she endured when she was taken to the Smuggler’s Light. Her mother’s abandonment threw the scales of reason completely off balance and Citrine has grown worse, not better, since her release.

“Initially, Jet Shield had Citrine’s custody—he’s the oldest of the family. He has inherited since I declared Melina outlawed—but Citrine worsened under his care. Sapphire requested that she be permitted to bring Citrine here to the castle, saying that she could not easily forget her youngest sister, though by law they are now no longer anything but cousins.”

Derian nodded. He tried to think how he would feel if for some unknown reason he was adopted out of his birth family and knew that there would be no way that he would feel that Damita and Brock were any less his siblings.

Nor,
he thought,
would my parents seem any less my parents, not even if the king himself made me his son.

Derian felt uncomfortable at this last thought, then soothed himself by remembering that Sapphire had grown to hate Melina long before the reputed sorceress had connived at theft and treason for her own mysterious ends. Surely the crown princess didn’t think fondly of Melina—especially after what Melina had allowed to be done to Citrine.

At least he hoped she didn’t.

The focus of Derian’s musings entered the king’s sitting room shortly thereafter. Crown Princess Sapphire—formerly Sapphire Shield—was a buxom young woman in her mid-twenties. Her pointed chin robbed her of classic beauty, but most were willing to overlook that defect in light of her lustrous blue-black hair, clear blue eyes, and graceful bearing. It didn’t hurt that she knew how to dress to make the best of her assets—Melina had been a good mother in that matter at least.

Sapphire’s husband, Crown Prince Shad, entered the king’s sitting room with his wife. Shad wasn’t as physically striking as Sapphire. Fair, with rounded lines that he had inherited from his mother, a noblewoman of Bright Bay’s Great House Oyster, Shad was far more serious than someone in his early twenties should be, but then he’d trained at sea, fought in several major battles within the last year, and now was taking on the challenge of an arranged marriage with a very strong-willed woman.

Derian—his thoughts still fixed on family relationships—wondered how Shad felt about being away from his parents and siblings. He’d seemed particularly close to his father, the recently coronated King Allister of Bright Bay, but his relationship with his brother, Tavis, and twin sisters, Minnow and Anemone, had seemed free and easy, more like relationships in Derian’s own family than what he’d observed in those noble families he’d been close enough to observe.

Maybe it’s because Shad’s siblings didn’t really have prospects to compete over,
Derian thought.
And maybe Shad’s doing all right, here in an alien land. Those Bright Bay families can’t feel the same about proximity as we do. They’re always going off on sea voyages and things like that.

Derian didn’t really believe it. He’d spent a good deal of the last year away from his family, and he was aware of an almost physical tug of eagerness to be back among them.

All these thoughts darted through his mind as Derian rose, made his bows, answered a few polite inquires after his health, about travel conditions, and the health of Duchess Kestrel and her family. When such gossip was taken care of King Tedric brought matters around to business.

“We here are all aware,” he said to Derian, “of the contents of the letters Firekeeper brought from House Kestrel—the information regarding Melina’s remarriage and such. Do you have anything specific to add on that point?”

Derian shook his head.

“No, Your Majesty. Duchess and Earl Kestrel requested that I discreetly probe for rumors regarding Melina’s doings as I made my journey here. I did my best—and without boasting I’ll say I’m pretty good at gathering roadhouse gossip—and I heard nothing new, nor any indication that the news of Melina’s remarriage is common gossip.”

The king nodded gravely.

“That, at least, is good.”

Derian continued, “If I had your permission to bring my parents—or at least my father—in on this matter, I could find out if he has heard anything. Lots of travelers come through our stables—and not just our stables here, but our affiliates as well. While we do have connections to the south, one of our busiest lines is between here and Port Haven. Rumor may have traveled by sea that has taken longer to cross the White Water River.”

“By sea and over the Sword of Kelvin Mountains,” Sapphire reminded him. “That would be a long haul, especially if the passes are closed by snow.”

Derian acknowledge her words with a short bow.

“Yes, Princess. I wasn’t saying that there
would
be any rumors from that direction, only that if there were any rumors my father and mother may well have heard them.”

The king and his two heirs debated this point for a few minutes, reaching the conclusion that Colby and Vernita Carter were known to be loyal subjects and, as their interests were intertwined with those of their son, they would be certain not to begin rumors themselves.

Derian listened, evincing more patience than he felt. He couldn’t help but feel that if he’d been dealing only with King Tedric the king would have given him a direct and decisive answer. This discussion, weighing and considering, seemed somehow to diminish the monarch.

Then again,
Derian thought,
maybe I wouldn’t feel that way if it wasn’t my folks they were discussing.

“Thank you for your patience,” King Tedric said then, causing Derian to flush, suddenly terribly certain that the old king had seen how very impatient Derian had been. “Your parents’ knowledge will be of value to us.”

Shad leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“You see, Derian,” he said, and Derian was reminded of the young man’s earnest preparation in the days before he led a small group of which Derian had been part into the Smuggler’s Light, “we’ve been a bit worried about what might be going on in New Kelvin, even before the Kestrels’ report reached us.”

Derian frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Your Highness.”

Shad waved the formalities aside with an impatient hand.

“There’s no way you could, Derian. Sapphire and I didn’t understand until King Tedric explained to us. New Kelvin has been an ally of Hawk Haven for years—basically since borders stabilized after the Civil War. We’ve had an embassy there…”

Derian noted with approval how easily Shad spoke of Hawk Haven as “we.” It reflected well the prince’s identification with his new country.

“…and a regular ambassador who attends their government sessions. Not only have we had an embassy there—mostly to facilitate trade—but we have had a handful of unofficial observers within the Earth Spires.”

“Spies,” Sapphire clarified bluntly. “Not to steal anything, just to provide information to balance against what we were being told through official channels.”

A year before Derian would have pretended not to be shocked, but would have been. Now he wasn’t precisely shocked, but he was curious, and he didn’t hesitate to let his puzzlement show.

“How could we have spies inside Thendulla Lypella?” he asked, lapsing into the New Kelvinese name for their capital city. “The New Kelvinese are so
different
, their manners, their way of dressing, their face paints…. If my group hadn’t gotten in and out as quickly as possible, and had the guidance of Grateful Peace, we would have been doomed.”

King Tedric gave a dry chuckle that ended in a wet cough that made Derian worry that perhaps the old man should be joining his wife under the physicians’ care.

“Most of our informants,” the king said, “a term I prefer to ‘spy’ in this case, are New Kelvinese. Don’t look so shocked, boy. They’re not betraying anything, not as they see it. Trot out your lessons and tell me about how the New Kelvinese structure their government.”