The King's Name (8 page)

I stared at this dumbfounded for a moment. This was something I had wanted for years,
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proof of Morthu's treachery which Urdo must believe. Yet it said nothing of the alliance I knew of, with Marchel, and everything about a different alliance nobody knew about, with Arling.

"With this I send my respects to you and to your family, and to Urdo and his queen, wishing her safe increase. I should say that Lukas and the girls join me in these good wishes, and I am sure they would if they only knew I was writing. The girls are too young yet to understand secrets. The younger I have called Laris after my aunt who was your grandmother, so you see family is not forgotten even so far away! The elder is called Helena after Lukas's mother. Oh, but we had a fight about that and I let Lukas win that time. They are riding already. The new baby will be born soon, and I am weary with waiting. I am warleader of Sabbatian's cavalry, what time I am not too great with child to ride. My horses are well and also foaling. I will send this letter with a friend of mine who will be going to Jarnholme with the devices, and he will contrive to send it across the narrow seas on a Narlahenan ship. So you will have this news not long after they have their machines."

I would have to send this news to Urdo at once. An alliance with our open enemies would condemn Morthu even in the eyes of his supporters. Flavien and Cinon might hate Urdo, but surely they must hate Arling more? I blessed Rigg in my heart and was glad she was happy and thriving in distant Caer Custenn.

There was only one letter left and it was a great, thick one. My heart sank to see it. I had to turn it to the light to read the salutation.

"From Gwyn ap Talorgen, Lord of Angas, King of Demedia, at Dun Idyn, to Sulien ap Gwien, Lord and King of

Derwen, at Derwen, or to her hand wherever she may be."

Angas. I knew there must be something terribly wrong for him to write to me at this length. I opened it reluctantly.

"Sulien, this is the hardest letter I've ever had to write, and it doesn't seem right I have to write it twice. It was bad enough the first time. It seems impossible not to trust you, but then it would have seemed impossible not to trust Urdo, or other people I trusted and had proof, real proof, before my eyes, that they were deceiving me and in league against me.

"But Sulien, old comrade, even if I don't trust myself or my own judgment, I still trust you. I remember when I

first met you, you were gangly and overgrown and your hair was all spiky and you came out of nowhere with your sword in your hand ready to fight anyone as long as you got to fight.

Everything seemed so simple then.

I was young and there wasn't any question who the enemy was. In those days I thought Urdo was true and just and honorable—I can't believe he wasn't, however much he may have changed since. We were all so young, you and me and Osvran, dear Osvran, and Eirann, so beautiful.

"Forgive me rambling, Sulien, but you probably have the other letter that says it all clearly. The mead helped me write that one, but I'm not sure it's helping me now, because I'm wishing I was that young decurio prince

with nothing to worry about but keeping my lance pointed in the right direction. Yet they call me "the Lucky"

because of Quintien. Nobody is lucky who has to live in a house with Morthu and hear his poison in my ears all day long. And once you give in to him, even a little way, then you give in more and more until he has fingers everywhere, he will not be content with enough. I don't know whom to trust!"

I could feel his pain coming through the words. But what could Morthu have done to turn him against Urdo? I

skimmed down the page; more pain, examples of friends who had betrayed him, warnings against trusting the mails because Urdo was interfering with them. Urdo? How could he believe
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that? He said Urdo had come to want power and control. I just shook my head reading it. Then I came to a piece about Bregheda and read more slowly.

"This latest insult is meant to take me straight in the teeth. I have written and written to him about it and he either ignores my letters entirely or writes to me slightingly ignoring my concerns and saying he is sure I will understand. Penda of Bregheda died, as you will have heard. His son and heir Cyndylan died before him, having no children. Cyndylan died in Dun Idyn in fact, he had come here with his wife to make a pilgrimage to Thandeilo in the hope she might conceive. So there is nobody living with an undisputed claim to be king of

Bregheda. Naturally Urdo must choose, and of those possible he chooses a commoner, and not just a commoner but his own man, a nobody he has raised to be great, whose wife was a groom and who will be loyal to Urdo only and not to the land. This Glyn has an older brother who is lord of Clidar, a part of Bregheda.

He could not rule the whole land, but he had children who would be suitable, with the lord of Clidar as regent.

Or if this did not suit Urdo, my own grandmother, though not his, Avren's first wife Branwen, was Minmanton's daughter, and so all my kin have a claim on Bregheda. Any of my children save my heir would be ideal, or any of Penarwen's save the eldest, or, as my first thought was, it would be something for Morthu to do which would give him responsibility suited to his station and get him out of my house! He could even marry one of

Clidar's girls, when they're old enough. But no. I wrote to Urdo suggesting this, and I know Morthu has written. He has not even refused it, he has ignored me and appointed a man of low breeding without consultation, either with me or with the land. You know how important it is that the land consents, and Urdo must know, yet he appoints some quartermaster who has not lived there since he was fifteen years old."

He went on in this vein for some time. Angas was clearly wounded deeply. It was all nonsense.

He did not know Glyn as I did; if he had he would have put aside all this talk of low breeding. I remembered him throwing an acorn cake out of the window and bellowing on the night before his wedding. I remembered him laughing with Osvran in camp. How had that joy gone to this bitterness? He was right that the land of Bregheda would have to consent to any king, but the land was more likely to want a grown man with children of his own than a half-grown boy. And how could he know? Nobody could speak for the land without being the king already, except Urdo, who was high king of the whole island. As for Morthu, I couldn't see why Angas didn't realize what a terrible idea it would be to give him power. I would have to reply to this straight away. Angas was confused and unhappy, he could be set straight—if only I could get through to him. I realized that any letter I

sent would not reach him, as this had not reached me. Morthu was like an impenetrable barrier between us. I

would have to send someone I trusted, and someone Angas trusted too, all the way to Demedia, before any message could get through.

I shook my head. The feeble proof of Urdo's "tyranny" was all invented by Morthu, cleverly playing on Angas's weaknesses; his pride, the intolerance of the low born he had inherited from his parents, his loneliness.

"There is nobody I can turn to," I read. "Osvran and Eirann are dead, Marchel is exiled, and you and

Penarwen are far away. My decurios are not my equals. My children are too young to understand my mind.

Hivlian is gone to Thandeilo to be a monk. I would not let her go, but when Eirann's fourth birth was twins she said that Quintien was a replacement for her in the family and a miracle. I could not keep her back then. She would not stay even when Eirann weakened and died. She has powers, like my mother, and she said she would be safest inside a monastery. I do not know
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if she feared madness like my mother. Sometimes I fear that even though I have no such powers.

I have thought to taking the pebble myself, in memory of Eirann and as a shield against the night."

Poor Angas. What he needed was a strong friend nearby to talk sense into him. Morthu was enough to drive anyone mad. Urdo should have thought of that before sending him to Demedia.

I wished I had killed him when

I first saw him. Angas couldn't do it himself, of course. If only Osvran had lived and been there to do it for him.

"Maybe Morthu is mad; I have often thought so. He tells me he knows through his powers that Urdo means to diminish all the kings, and there is other evidence as I have said. But he has grown a hatred against you that is beyond all rationality. He says, forgive me Sullen, that your son Darien is not Urdo's son but was conceived incestuously with your brother Darien. No matter how many times I tell him that we all know you spent the night with Urdo at Caer Gloran, and no matter how often I remark on the resemblance between Urdo and Darien, whose skin is half as pale as a Jarn, like his father, Morthu will not listen. I fear that people who do not know you and do not know Darien may believe him. But I know this is a lie, and it makes me distrust other things that my brother tells me.

"This is why lam sending two copies of this impossible letter. (I will never call you tactless again after the things I have written here!) The first copy I will send by the red-cloaks. If it does not reach you and this does, then you will know that Morthu is speaking the truth when he says that Urdo is reading everything they carry and that is why some letters I send to the kings go ever unanswered. This one I shall entrust to my servant, Vigen the Dumb. You, with your famous memory, may remember Vigen from when we were stationed at Caer Gloran—I had found him work in the bathhouse there. He lost a leg long ago fighting the Isamagans, and then my father cut out his tongue because he would not speak against me and Osvran when we were boys. I have looked after him ever since, and I know he would not betray me. He is not much of a counselor, as he can neither speak nor write, but he can hear and he is loyal without doubt. Give him your answer and let him bring it to me."

I dropped the letter and cried out. Vigen was dead. Daldaf had accused him of attacking him to rob him late at night in the town on a day after a market, almost a month before. I had indeed recognized him from long before at Caer Gloran, but a tongueless stranger can ill defend himself in court against a respected local liar.

He had grunted fiercely and made threatening gestures toward Daldaf and imploring ones to me. Nobody had spoken for him and one of the merchants from a ship said he had caught him thieving in the market and sent him off with a beating. I had not thought long before I condemned him; I thought him a landless outlaw of the type I least wanted in Derwen. Angas had sent me the last person he could trust, and I had killed him in form of law. I could not even think what he must think of me now, what he must believe. If only I could go to Demedia myself, or Urdo could, I knew Angas would believe us. I wondered what Morthu would do if we did.

But we could not, we were needed at home. Marchel was about to invade, and possibly Arling as well.

I finished the letter, read it through again, then took my lamp into the accounts room. The hall was dark;

everyone was in bed. I had to write to Urdo. Yet was there any point? Would a letter get through? How much correspondence was being stopped, and where? I realized I was baring my teeth and hissing. None of those letters I had spent the afternoon on could be sent, or if they were then there was a strong chance it would be only Morthu who would read them. I sat down and wrote to Urdo—a brief account of what had happened, and enclosing the letters I had
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found. I sealed it, then I went out to the barracks. There was a chill in the night air, even though it was summer. The sky was dark except in the west, where it was deep blue and the evening star burned as bright as a beacon.

The guard greeted me with surprise. I wished I could take a horse and ride straight out the six days to Caer

Tanaga. Brighteyes was rested, and so was Evenstar. Yet I could not; my duty to my land and people prevented it. I went into the barracks and looked at the sleeping armigers.

Who among them could I trust utterly with this message of life and death? I had meant to wake Flerian ap Cado, my best scout, but seeing her asleep I remembered seeing her father dead only that morning, fighting for Aurien against me. The man in the bed next to her had a pebble of the White God gently rising up and down with his breathing. Who among these my people might have ties and allegiances elsewhere that meant they might betray me? After only one day I already hated civil war, hated it with all my heart.

I prayed to the Lord Messenger to guide my choice, to get my message through. Then I knew I could trust them all, or none of them; those were my choices. I could be like poor Angas and retreat into trusting nobody, in which case Morthu would have won already. Or I could trust my people, my oath-sworn armigers, who had sworn to have no enemies save as they were Urdo's enemies and to harm none of his friends, to strike and go and do as he should command. I should not be foolish with traitors, but unless I knew them for such I should trust them. If I trusted them not to betray me then that trust would bind us all, bind the kingdom together. Rigg and Ayl and Angas had all written because they trusted me. I would be as worthy of that as I

could. I bent and shook Flerian's shoulder gently.

"Wake up," I said quietly. "I want you to take an urgent message to Urdo at Caer Tanaga, to go at once and as fast as you can, and to give it only to him, do you understand?"

She struggled into wakefulness and sat up carefully. "Yes, sir," she said, pushing back her hair sleepily. "I

will go at once."

—5—

What did you think the sun meant

poking up so cheekily not decently veiled, dappling her trail of flaming glory far out across the sky?