The Seven Towers (25 page)

“Look, onion brain—”

“Wait a minute,” Eltiron interrupted. He looked at Amberglas. “What did you mean a moment ago, about telling the truth and people misunderstanding?”

“I said it was frequently an awkward thing to do at court,” Amberglas said calmly. “Which might explain why Terrel did such an extremely poor job of it, though of course it might be just that he hasn’t practiced very much.”

The others looked from Eltiron to Amberglas in astonishment; Eltiron ignored them. “Are you saying Terrel’s right? Vandaris really did poison my father? That’s impossible!”

“Not exactly, though I suppose you could look at it that way. Of course, there aren’t many things that are completely impossible, though I believe a few exist. Touching one’s chin to the back of one’s neck, for instance, and picking up a hole, and giving orders to a cat. At least, one could give the orders, but it’s very unlikely that the cat would follow them. Still, I doubt very much that Vandaris is the person who was poisoning King Marreth.”

There was a brief stunned silence; then Vandaris said, “You’re sure he was poisoned, Amberglas? It looked more like too much wine and too much temper to me.”

“And I don’t see how anyone could have done it,” Crystalorn said. “I’ve been sitting next to him since he got here, and everyone at the table drank the same wine he did.”

“Just not as much,” Vandaris muttered.

Terrel looked at Crystalorn and bowed slightly. “Barinash has always watched Sevairn with great interest.”

An angry flush rose in Crystalorn’s face, and Eltiron felt his own temper fraying. Crystalorn was certainly not responsible for any of the “border incidents” that kept a constant friction between the two countries! Or was Terrel trying to imply that
Crystalorn
was the one who had poisoned . . .?

“Under the circumstances,” Eltiron heard himself say coldly, “I do not find it odd that the Princess of Barinash should wish to observe her prospective father-in-law closely. And I will remind you again, Lord Lassond, that you were my father’s adviser, not mine. I think you had better leave us.”

Terrel’s eyes flickered. “As Your Majesty wishes.” He bowed and turned to leave.

“Not so fast,” Vandaris said. “Eltiron, I hate to say it, but you can’t let him leave. If he starts telling people that Marreth died of poisoning . . .”

“He would be quite wrong,” Amberglas said firmly. “Of course, he might not mind being wrong, though people generally do, which I suppose could be rather unpleasant for you.”

“But Amberglas!” Crystalorn’s voice was sharp with irritation. “You said just a minute ago that King Marreth was poisoned!”

“I didn’t say he died of poison,” Amberglas corrected her gently. “I said he was being poisoned, which is not at all the same thing, though it would have been if he hadn’t died of something else first. Of course, it wasn’t exactly something else; he probably wouldn’t have collapsed at all if someone hadn’t been giving him herrilseed.”

Eltiron stared. Herrilseed was a rare poison with unique effects: a large dose killed quickly, painfully, and obviously, but a series of smaller doses was just as certain, and nearly undetectable until death came. In addition, such small doses could be given years apart and still have the same effects. Eltiron felt sick; he’d eaten the same things as Marreth. Had he been poisoned as well?

Vandaris gave a low whistle. “Herrilseed! You’re sure?”

“Quite sure. There was the odor of lilacs, for instance, which are quite out of season just now, though not by much, and that unpleasant blue tinge in his fingernails. And of course herrilseed does tend to make one’s temper extremely uncertain, though I understand Marreth’s temper wasn’t particularly certain to begin with, so it may not matter.”

“It would certainly explain a lot,” Vandaris said thoughtfully. “We’ll have to have someone take a closer look at him. How long do you suppose it’s been going on?”

“Probably two or three months, though of course it’s very difficult to say for certain; herrilseed is so very unpredictable. That is, unless one knows exactly how strong it is and how much someone has been eating, which is quite difficult to do if one isn’t the person who’s been giving it to someone.”

Terrel was watching Amberglas narrowly, and as she finished speaking he smiled. “And how long have you known of this, my lady? Or is that, too, an awkward thing to say to a citizen of the country that is the source of herrilseed?”

“Dear me, what an extremely odd idea,” Amberglas said, tilting her head to one side and studying the air three feet in front of Terrel’s head with mild curiosity. “Whatever made you think I am a citizen of Barinash?”

Terrel’s eyes moved from Amberglas to Crystalorn, and then to Salentor. “It was a natural assumption, my lady,” he said without looking back at Amberglas.

“How very interesting,” Amberglas murmured. “And which one of you made that assumption?”

Terrel’s attention came back to her with a jerk, but before he could respond Crystalorn frowned and said, “Well, if somebody really was poisoning King Marreth, I think you’re the one who did it! Nobody thought of poison until you started accusing people of things.”

“King Marreth was my friend and patron, Your Highness; I would never have done anything to harm him. Besides, if I had been poisoning the King it would be foolish indeed for me to mention poison when no one else was looking for it.”

Crystalorn eyed him for a moment. “I’m not so sure. You have the slinkiest mind I’ve ever seen; I’ll bet you could come up with a good reason.”

Terrel’s eyes narrowed, but as he started to speak a dull knock echoed through the hall. He stopped short as the doors swung open and Tarilane appeared, followed closely by the tall figure of Wendril Anareme, commander of Sevairn’s armies. They came forward, and Wendril bowed. “Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, my lords and ladies.”

“Took you long enough to get here,” Vandaris said, looking at Tarilane.

“I had trouble finding her in the crowd,” Tarilane said crossly, “and then everyone we passed wanted to know what was happening in here.”

“Well, now you can go find Lord Farris, Lord Reistron, and Lord Hensel,” Vandaris said without sympathy. “And while you’re looking for them, you might listen for anyone suggesting that Marreth’s death wasn’t natural. It’d be useful to know whether there are any rumors, and if so, who’s spreading them. Oh, and do try to be a little more inconspicuous.”

Tarilane scowled as she left, and Vandaris turned to talk to Wendril. Eltiron hardly noticed. He was too busy watching Terrel and Salentor watch Amberglas. If he could only get rid of Terrel, and Salentor along with him! But Vandaris was right; they would only cause trouble if they weren’t watched. Eltiron frowned and looked at Wendril, and inspiration struck.

“Commander Anareme,” he said, “you’re just the person I need. Could you find one or two trustworthy men to escort Lord Lassond and Lord Parel to their rooms? For their own protection, of course; I don’t want someone to mistakenly blame one of them for the unfortunate events this evening.”

A ghost of a smile touched Wendril’s lips as she bowed again. “Of course, Your Majesty.” She went to the door and exchanged a word or two with the guards outside. A moment later she returned with two large guards, who politely but firmly escorted Terrel and Salentor from the hall.

Eltiron watched them go with feelings of profound relief. It was only when he looked back at his companions that he realized they were all staring at him. “I wanted to get rid of them,” he said defensively.

“So did we, numb wit,” Vandaris said. “I wasn’t criticizing; I was just surprised you picked that way of doing it.”

“If you had a better idea, why didn’t you do something?” Crystalorn said.

“Does it matter now?” Vandaris transferred her attention to Wendril. “There’s one other thing, though; make sure those guards don’t let either of those two out of their rooms until tomorrow morning.”

Wendril raised an eyebrow. “Won’t that start a lot of rumors?”

Vandaris shrugged. “Would you rather have rumors of poison running all over the city? We can decide what to do with them when we’ve had a chance to talk.”

“Poison? But I thought—I mean, everyone knows that Darinhal’s been warning Marreth about his heart for years; I thought it was obvious what happened.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Vandaris said. “Someone was giving Marreth herrilseed; I’ll explain more when the Council is over.”

“I would think you ought to discuss it with the lords Farris, Reistron, and Hensel as well.”

“Not tonight; we’d have to give too many explanations. I’ll tell Darinhal to take a close look at the body, and he can make the discovery. Then we’ll have another Council and a formal announcement. We need all the time we can get.”

Wendril inclined her head, then looked at Eltiron. It was a moment before he realized that she was waiting for his approval; then he nodded. Wendril went to the door to pass the orders on to her guards.

“I still think Terrel was the one poisoning Marreth,” Crystalorn said as Wendril left.

“He has the temperament for it,” Vandaris agreed. “But I doubt that he’s behind this.”

“Why?”

“The only reason Terrel Lassond has for doing anything is that it benefits Terrel Lassond. He wouldn’t gain a thing by poisoning Marreth; he’d lose. He’s not enough of an idiot to think Eltiron will let him run the kingdom the way Marreth did.”

Wendril rejoined them, and a moment later Tarilane returned with the three lords. Vandaris immediately began enumerating the decisions to be made. By the time she finished, Eltiron was profoundly depressed. There seemed to be an enormous number of things to be done, most of them in an impossibly short time. Funeral arrangements had to be made as soon as possible, and plans for Eltiron’s coronation. The wedding would have to be delayed; it simply could not be held until after the funeral, and Eltiron would probably want to wait until after the coronation. In the meantime, formal messages and apologies must be sent to the ambassadors and lords who had come so far for the wedding.

Then there was the matter of the army, which still had not departed for the southern part of the kingdom. The lords Farris and Hensel disagreed strongly over where the army ought to go; Lord Reistron did not think it ought to leave Leshiya at all until after the coronation. At first, Eltiron had difficulty keeping his temper; by the time the discussion was over, he was having difficulty staying awake.

At last the conference ended. A few of the most pressing issues—notably the funeral arrangements and the postponement of the wedding—had been dealt with enough to allow others to begin work. The remaining decisions had been put off until a more formal meeting could be called. Eltiron groaned inwardly, foreseeing more days spent in interminable meetings. As soon as the conference was over, Vandaris hauled Eltiron off to the Long Hall to make reassuring comments to whatever guests still remained. Not until the last of the nobles had left was Eltiron able to go to his rooms and consider all the implications of his sudden change in status.

The following day was even worse. Eltiron spent most of it accepting condolences from the nobles of Sevairn and wondering when Darinhal would burst in with the news of Marreth’s poisoning. He saw little of Vandaris and nothing of Crystalorn or Amberglas. He would have liked to order everyone else out of the room so he could talk to Vandaris or Crystalorn, but these were the most important lords of Sevairn and he could not justify insulting them just to serve his own whims. Besides, that was exactly the sort of thing Marreth had done all too often, and Eltiron did not want to start his reign by behaving in the same arbitrary manner as his father.

The only good thing about the day was that he did not have to deal with Terrel. Vandaris, it appeared, had slipped sleeping drops into his morning meal, then put about the story that Terrel was keeping to his rooms, overcome with grief for the King. Eltiron did not think it was a terribly convincing story; Vandaris cheerfully admitted that he was right.

“But it doesn’t matter,” she told him. “Lassond was Marreth’s adviser; people expect advisers to change when there’s a new king. They won’t believe he’s grieving, but no one will be surprised that he’s keeping out of the way, either.”

It was a relief not to have Terrel around, but Eltiron continued to worry about him during odd moments of the day. Terrel could not be kept away from the court for much longer, and when he finally did appear, he would have more to complain about than Marreth’s poisoning. Something would have to be done.

Unfortunately, all Eltiron’s worrying did not give him any idea of what the something should be. By the time he returned to his rooms at the end of the day, he was too exhausted even to think clearly about the problem. His thoughts developed an uncomfortable tendency to focus on the memories of Marreth’s red, strained face, of Vandaris’s frozen calm, of the limp mound of the body as it was carried away. Finally, Eltiron gave up and went to bed, but it was a long time before he fell asleep at last.

J
ermain awoke to darkness. He lay still for a moment, trying to identify the source of the uneasiness he felt, but he was unsuccessful. He sat up, and behind him Blackflame moved restlessly. Jermain sniffed; there was a faint smell of burning in the air. Feeling more uneasy than ever, he put out a hand toward the small pile of belongings that contained his dagger.

A dark shape at the foot of a tree stirred, and Ranlyn’s voice, disembodied by the darkness, said, “Your time of watching is not yet.”

Jermain stopped in midreach. “You’ve seen nothing?”

“No more than the common restlessness of a forest. Had it been otherwise, I would have roused you.”

Feeling slightly foolish, Jermain sat back. It was true; nothing seemed unusual except the uneasy feeling that had receded but not yet vanished. After a moment, he shook himself. “I thought I smelled smoke.”