The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (60 page)

Stormaway sipped his tea slowly, keeping his eyes on Waterstone,  “I have already apologised to His Highness for staying away too long this time. As to the other occasions when you might have expected me to be standing by his side…I have deliberately kept away.”

Autumn leaves frowned at him, “But I thought your job was to stand by him and advise him.”

“Think back to when you were nineteen and first making your way in the world of adults. Would you have wanted an old man at your elbow guiding your every move? I think not.” He gave a gentle smile, “The Tamadils are hard enough to handle, without deliberately antagonising them.”

“He’s not so bad,” protested Running Feet. “He just loses his temper occasionally.”

“He’s not bad, provided you don’t try to tell him what to do,” rumbled Thunder Storm.

“Exactly,” said Stormaway. “So I save my advice for when it really matters.” He shrugged, “Besides, how much respect would you have accorded a young lord, wet behind the ears in the ways of the forest, who was always reliant on his advisor?”

Waterstone looked at him with dawning respect, “So you forfeited your place at his side in his cause? Didn’t you fear that he would not meet your expectations? I remember you saying that one man against a nation was uneven odds, even with the oath. Didn’t you feel the need to protect him against us all?”

Stormaway studied his cup of tea, “Yes, I feared for his consequence and I didn’t agree with some of his decisions.” He looked up, “I’m sure you can remember a few occasions when I expressed my opposition, but I suspect you didn’t realise that, on several of those occasions, His Highness used his power to direct private tidal waves of anger at me. He saved me the public humiliation of the full extent of his displeasure but still made his position abundantly clear.” He shrugged, “But in the end, people must make their own mistakes and find their own ways to repair them if they can. I would find it very difficult to stand beside him without trying to interfere, while he made those mistakes. Besides, all I can ever do is state my opinion and provide knowledge and advice.”

“I would have thought you were more controlling than that,” mused Danton, used as he was to the deviousness of the politics around the royal family.

The wizard flashed a smile at him, “You are very astute, my lord. I am as controlling as I know how to be. Everything I do, particularly my recent sojourn at the encampment, is carefully considered to gain the greatest possible benefit for His Highness. Even when I oppose him, aware that I may have to endure a public berating for it, I know that fighting me will either challenge or strengthen his own decisions and make him stronger.” Stormaway glanced around the woodfolk in the group deciding how much he could trust them before adding, “And sometimes his opposition to me has improved his image in your eyes.”

Thunder Storm let out a sigh, “I don’t know how you can risk inciting his anger like that. It makes me want to shrivel up and hide in a corner. I’m not used to anyone speaking to me as he does when he’s angry.”

Danton patted him on the back with a friendly smile, “That’s royalty for you. It’s the price you pay for the privilege of being near them.”

“That’s why we’ve never gone near Tormadell,” put in Bean.

“Yeah, true,” agreed String, “And look at us now. Stuck right in it.”

“Bean, you may say that, but I remember last night you were prepared to risk Tarkyn’s ire to protect him,” said Waterstone with a smile.

Bean put down his empty cup and gave a wry smile. “You have to keep things in perspective. I mightn’t like being on the end of a tongue lashing but it doesn’t bother me enough to risk someone’s life to avoid it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, he seems to have forgotten all about it. So I think I got away with it.”

Stormaway frowned. “He should have thanked you for it. I’m surprised at his lapse in manners.”

String snorted, “As you say, that’s royalty for you. Angry at you when you don’t perform to expectation, ignore you when you do.”

“I don’t think that is fair, young man,” snapped Dry Berry. “Tarkyn went through a very taxing experience on our behalf last night. He could barely stand up by the end of it, let alone address your social niceties.” She waved her hand in the direction of the stream. “And look at him this morning. It’s late morning and he still couldn’t hold a conversation together, I suspect.”

Bean nodded, “She’s right, you know, String. Anyway, why should he thank us? We owe him one for allowing us to put our case to you woodfolk. And besides, we’re just doing the same as all of you, serving our sovereign lord, whether we like it or not. Mightn’t have been something we’d have chosen to do, but now that we’re here and he’s here….well,  it’s just part of the deal, isn’t it?”

Despite his words, they all knew that the potential tongue lashing had been the least of the dangers he had faced when he gone to the support of his prince and that, in view of Tarkyn’s clear instructions, he could easily have justified avoiding it.

“Bean, as his older brother, I would like to thank you,” said Watertone solemnly. “If you hadn’t been there, I might have had to endanger the forest to be by his side myself. He needed you. He had begun to look very insubstantial and I am not sure that he could have returned to himself without your help.” The woodman gave a bitter laugh, “There are times when the oath prevents us from helping him, serving him, whatever you want to call it, as much as we would like to. He told us in no uncertain terms that he would endanger himself to protect us as he saw fit, but yesterday he removed our right to endanger ourselves to protect him.” Waterstone shook his head, “I’m going to have to talk to him about this. It’s not good enough.”

Thunder Storm smiled at him, “Go for it, Waterstone. You tell the prince what we’ll put up with. He needs a firm hand like yours to keep him in line.”

Danton’s purple eyes surveyed them in some amusement, “So, you’re going to bring him into line, are you, by insisting that you be allowed to serve him better? That’s really telling him then, isn’t it?”

A ripple of laughter greeted this sally.

“He’s a feisty bastard,” chuckled Running Feet, “but we wouldn’t  be without him. So we want to be able to protect him, even if we don’t have to.”

Autumn Leaves turned to Stormaway and asked, “Are they all like that? Harsh at times but inspiring loyalty? What are his brothers like? And what was his father like, compared with him? Usually, I mean, not when we saw him in the forest.”

“Danton will know better than I about Tarkyn’s brothers now,” replied Stormaway. “I haven’t seen them for over ten years. When I last saw them they were fifteen years old and competing in everything. They would never have roused your displeasure by preventing you from taking risks on their behalf. They would have assumed that you would be glad to die for them. They spent more time vying with each other than taking any notice of the people around them. They saw everyone as a tool or an audience to gain points in their ongoing competition with each other.” A shadow crossed the wizard’s face, “While Markazon was king,  it was just friendly sport between brothers. But as soon as he died, the jackals gathered.”

“Wouldn’t there have been factions around the brothers before that?” asked Autumn Leaves.

Stormaway shook his head. “Not really. No one expected Markazon to die. The twins were still young and their father should have reigned for another twenty years or more. When Kosar ascended the throne, many people who had been friends with both of them, abandoned Jarand to work on gaining favour with the new king. Those who couldn’t find a way in with Kosar, turned their attention to Jarand by sympathising with his loss and fuelling his understandable chagrin. To support their own interests, the lords of the land used the twins’ rivalry to drive a wedge between them, and the brothers were too young to understand what was being done to them.”

“And are Tarkyn’s brothers any different now?” asked Bean. “It doesn’t sound like it from all that I have heard.”

Danton shook his head, “They are far worse. A childhood rivalry has been manipulated into an ongoing dangerous feud.  They now hate each other, and with just cause. Each has worked against the other to destroy him. In public, they assume an icy courtesy towards each other that chills the blood to witness. Their betrayal of Tarkyn was one of only a handful of occasions when they have worked in concert.”

“And how are they with their liegemen?” asked String.

Danton thought carefully before replying, “They are very similar to each other. Kosar is perhaps more authoritative, Jarand more silky and devious. But I suspect each would act as the other does, if their positions were reversed. They both anger easily and humiliate people at will, particularly if it will throw their brother’s decisions or actions into a poor light. Because of their exalted status, the slightest smile or gesture of approval is received with fervent gratitude by their retainers. Everyone at court knows that their future life and prosperity depends on the whim of these two men. More than that, the prosperity and safety of courtiers’ families depends on them as well.” Danton shook his head, “No, I was not sorry to leave there. But many people thrive on that sort of treatment. They would lay down their lives willingly for the slightest sign of favour.”

Waterstone smiled wryly, “You would lay down your life for Tarkyn. I know you.”

Danton gave a gentle smile, “Yes, I would. Without a moment’s hesitation. But not because Tarkyn threatens me or throws me the odd favour. In fact, by supporting him, I have placed my family at risk and I hope they don’t pay a price for my loyalty to him.”

“So what has he done to inspire this degree of loyalty in you?” asked Bean. “I know he is a forest guardian and a legend for the woodfolk but as I understand it, your loyalty to him predates all of this and has lost you any influence you may have had at court and has effectively exiled you.”

“Not to mention making me a figure of ridicule for the woodfolk,” added Danton. He raised his hand as a wave of protest broke forth and shook his head, smiling. “It’s no good denying it. You know perfectly well that it’s true.” He shrugged, “Anyway, to answer your question…”

“No, wait,” intervened String, “Let me work it out.” He waved his hand around the circle of woodfolk. “If this lot who were recently forced into his service are trying to make him accept more from them, one can reasonably assume that a lifetime of knowing him would inspire even greater dedication.”

“Something like that. But there have been particular things he has done for me for which I could never repay him.” Seeing them all waiting for further information, Danton sighed and dropped his eyes to stare steadfastly into his teacup as he remembered, “When I was first sent away from my family to the palace to go into Tarkyn’s service, I was eight years old and he was six. I cried every day for a week.”  At the audible intake of breath that greeted this revelation, Danton glanced up in time to see shocked sympathy on the faces of his audience. He smiled wryly but didn’t comment, “Every day, Tarkyn would bring me a new toy or a game to try to cheer me up. Eventually when none of this worked, he disappeared for half a morning and when he came back with his nanny in tow, he had a little fluffy puppy in his arms. He thrust it at me, stood back and smiled hopefully. Actually, to be honest, I didn’t like dogs very much then, but I couldn’t refuse his gift both because he had tried so hard and because of his position. We named that little puppy Rollabout. We named it together and played with it together and gradually I came to terms with losing my family.” He shrugged, “And I suppose I transferred all the affection I would have given them onto Tarkyn. He was my staunch ally. He wouldn’t let me take the blame for anything he had done.”

“Obviously not,” interrupted Autumn Leaves, “Not with his code of ethics.”

“No, you don’t understand. That was part of my role, to take his punishments. When he did something wrong, I was supposed to be held responsible, and berated or whipped for it.”

There was another shocked intake of breath but Waterstone, who had discussed this with Tarkyn before, protested, “But Tarkyn told me himself that you were publicly berated when he had drunk excessively on one occasion. He let you take the blame then.”

“We were older then and it was in court in front of the King and his courtiers. If Tarkyn had stood up to his brother in that forum, I would have been whipped or even imprisoned for his insubordination. There was nothing he could do. But he never let it happen again.”

Dry Berry frowned, “So what happened when you were younger?”

Danton laughed at the memory, “Even as a chubby little six year old, he was pretty feisty. When I was to be punished, he would stand in front of me, with his arms folded and a forbidding expression on his face. When his nanny or manservant tried to pull him aside, he would demand that they unhand him on pain of severe punishment. They were no more allowed to treat him disrespectfully as a six year old than they were as an adult, you see. Their only option was then to fetch his father, mother or brother who would remonstrate with him and would themselves remove him from in front of me.”

“Then what would happen?”

Danton smiled, “Then I would be berated or flogged while Tarkyn stood by, yelling and crying and struggling to get away to protect me. He couldn’t stand to see me suffer on his behalf. He would be absolutely beside himself.”

“All a bit pointless though, I would have thought,” remarked Autumn Leaves astutely. “You still ended up with the punishment and, I suspect, probably more for his unruly behaviour.”