The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (35 page)

Emelasuntha growled.

“Maybe we should have,” she agreed after a while. “We will wait a few minutes longer. Then we leave.”

Sobrathi didn't know how to respond. She was still trying hard to think of something that would placate her friend, when the great doors began opening.

“That must be him. Remember, dear, stay calm,” she said. “Don't embarrass him in front of his men. He's not your little boy anymore, so don't you go cuddling and chiding him as if he were a child.”

Emelasuntha looked at the baroness, surprise mingled with deri— sion in her eyes.

“When have I ever done that?” she asked. “I never treated him as a child. Not even when he was one.”

The doors were wide open now, and out of them Anaxantis appeared, with behind him Ehandar, Hemarchidas, Lethoras and several others. He was smiling broadly and seemed completely at ease and happy.

He alone descended the few stairs. Sobrathi ran up to him and took him into a smothering embrace, pressing his face in her ample bosom.

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“Oh, my little Anaxantis, how I've missed you. More than a year it

has been. Have you missed us too? Of course you have. Oh, my poor baby, I'm sure you must have missed us frightfully, all alone in the cold North, without your Aunt Sobrathi. But we have been looking out for you all these months. You have no idea—”

“Aunt Sobrathi, please, you're suffocating me,” the warlord mumbled with a voice dampened because his face was being buried between two huge breasts.

The baroness let go, just a little bit, but it was enough for Anaxantis to free himself and kiss her on both cheeks.

“Of course I missed you both like crazy,” he said.

“You've become so tall. I miss the time when you came to sit on my lap and made your Aunt Sobrathi tell you a story.” Her eyes became moist. “So tall… just look how tall you've become.”

“Eh… I loved your stories — still do — but that was a long time ago, Aunt Sobrathi. Excuse me, but I have to go greet Mother.”

“Who? Ah, yes. Go. Go, already. Then come back, you hear?”

Anaxantis chuckled and with quick, resolute steps walked up to Emelasuntha. For a moment the queen remained standing rigid, as if hewn out of cold marble. Then she seemed to melt. A Goddess merging into her statue, making it come alive.

Anaxantis opened his arms wide.

“Mother. Welcome. It's so good to see you after all these months.

We have so much to talk about.”

He embraced her, and for a brief moment he laid his head on her chest and sighed.

“Come,” he said, with a radiant smile, resting his blue-gray eyes on her. “Come with me to the great hall to meet my friends. There are 29
refreshments. And then we'll go up to our… to my private apartments

and have that long, long talk.”

Whatever bitterness or resentments she had harbored just moments ago, they were all gone instantly. Dispersed by the glorious re— fulgency of her handsome, strong, and most of all, healthy son.

“You've let your hair grow,” she said, softly smiling. “It's almost as long as mine.”

Anaxantis laughed.

“I've got your hair. It would be a shame not to show it off. You, you look beautiful as always, even more so, if that were possible.”

“Flatterer. You've grown quite a lot.”

“The last time you saw me was almost two years ago, Mother. You can't stop nature.”

Emelasuntha didn't answer.

“Elmshill wasn't a year ago. You've grown even more since then.

You've been through your first major struggle, and it left you more in
control of yourself. More self-assured. And it seems to make you
contented.”

They walked up the stairs that led to the antechamber of the great hall. Sobrathi followed them. They passed through the great gates, while everybody was looking at the pair with the golden hair.

Emelasuntha's eyes suddenly caught a particular figure among the many attendants. She leaned over to her son.

“Ehandar. Why is he still breathing?” she whispered into his ear.

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“Verial, by now you should know better. Do you really think that
kings and monarchs just need to issue orders for them to be obeyed
as a matter of course? Nothing could be further from the truth. Every
time a ruler, no matter how exalted his title, issues a command he
runs the risk of being defied. With each instance of defiance, his authority, his power, erodes. It is the resulting appearance of weakness
itself that could make him weak.”

…

“He had been astute enough to appoint his closest friends into key
positions. He tried to look out for their safety, and they knew that
was behind most of what he did. But more importantly, he had that
indefinable quality that made people love him. That made them want
to bask in his smile. He inspired loyalty, friendship, and even love,
and that made them overlook his faults. They were prepared to forgive him anything and everything, if only he would look kindly upon
them. They wanted to see him happy, because being with him made
them happy to begin with. They knew they were more than they had
been before they knew him. All the rest, in final analysis, didn't
matter.”

…

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“No, it was not enough. Because, Verial, he couldn't know everybody personally, and in some of those he hadn't a personal relationship with, he inspired envy rather than admiration. There are always
people who can't stand good fortune, competence, happiness, and
beauty. And yet, they weren't the problem at this time. As much as he
had wanted to avoid it, he couldn't prevent becoming involved in a
deadly struggle, and he wasn't certain he was up to it.”

…

“Great Renuvia was newly drawn on the map. Only time could
fuse, amalgamate, it from lands under one ruler into a nation. That
needed time, and shared burdens and memories. Isn't that how relationships, great and small, grow and become stronger? With the Zin-chara, Anaxantis had given Great Renuvia its first childhood remin-iscence, but as a country it was still weak. Its problems were mani-fold. A scarce population. Vast, undeveloped stretches of land. An old
aristocracy, jealous of its privileges and at loggerheads with the
prince's new nobility. Proud, and fiercely independent cities. Anaxantis had only ropes of gossamer at his disposal to tie them together.

No wonder he was afraid Great Renuvia would be overrun and anni-hilated, leaving barely a trace in the chronicles. History doesn't care
about gardens.”

…

“Alliances. That was the answer. The inevitable, difficult answer.

Great Renuvia on its own would be as flotsam on the vagrant waves
of the times. It needed friends. Staunch allies. And it needed them
fast. The search for them proved to be a path fraught with pitfalls.

Seeking help against the bears, Great Renuvia ran into a pack of
wolves.”

…

“Ah, yes, Ehandar. I wondered what took you so long to mention
him. It was another conundrum, almost impossible to solve.

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Anaxantis wanted to restore him. He wanted to be loved for himself,
and he wanted that love to be freely given by a free man, as he gave
it himself. Ehandar knew this, but at the same time he couldn't disentangle himself from his guilt. He tried to be everything at once. Not
only what he thought Anaxantis wanted, but what he was certain the
love of his life needed. A lover, a friend, an older brother, a protector,
and a servant. And someone to feed the monsters Ehandar knew
were still there. It was confusing for both, to say the least.”

…

“Their family. Indeed. It looked as if each and every one of their
siblings and parents wanted one of them, or both, to die. The private
lives of princes and kings have always been surrounded by gossip
and malignant hearsay. The irony was, that although in their case
the rumors would have been true, they had managed to keep the true
nature of their relationship private. But how long could that last?”

…

You are right, Verial. The demands and responsibilities of the position fate had placed him in would have been overwhelming in times
of peace and otherwise normal circumstances. As things stood, it was
asking much of one so young. Maybe too much.”

…

“No. Not tonight. I will continue tomorrow. You know where the
bedroom is.”

“I'm genuinely curious,” Emelasuntha said. “We know something happened between the two of you, though we don't know exactly what.

A lot of it is conjecture, and although Master Dram is rather efficient at ferreting out hidden truths, even he didn't get very far. All we know for certain is that first you disappeared out of the public eye, then Ehandar. We also know you somehow made him renounce his titles and lineage. Then it was made out to be a scam all along. But, from what I've seen, if only during this past hour, you still seem to have a certain hold over him.”

The prince had invited his mother into the room of the ducal apartments he had appropriated as his temporary workplace. They were standing, with a large oaken table, covered in documents and maps, between them.

Anaxantis put his two fists on the table, his head bowed down. His long, thick hair obscured his face.

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“We came to an understanding,” he replied, speaking every word

slowly and separately from behind the blond curtain.

“I know you have designs on the Devil's Crown. So, why didn't you go all the way, I wonder,” the queen added, trying to goad him on.

“Let me make this as clear as I know how,” the prince answered in cold, measured tones, his face still hidden. “Whosoever touches Ehandar, dies.”

“Hm.”

Anaxantis looked up, flipping his hair out of his face with a brusque gesture. His steel-blue eyes bored deep into his mother's.