Chasing the Prophecy
Page 28
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“Exactly right. He suspects we might be valuable. Did you notice how he tried to plant doubts and build trust? During such conversations, I like to imagine flattering words as a noose being tied round my neck. He gently tried to make you feel he appreciated your worth more than Galloran does. He tried to portray himself as a wise confidant. Nothing too drastic. He settled for patiently nudging our minds toward certain conclusions.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll never trust him.”
Ferrin walked beside her in silence for a moment. “Do you trust me?”
“Not completely.”
“Good.”
* * *
Rachel didn’t get to talk to Galloran on the day of his procession until the companions who had set out together from Mianamon gathered for a private evening meal in the royal chambers. After the parade Galloran had met with a variety of nobles, merchants, scholars, artists, and other influential members of society. Everyone seemed desperate for his attention, and he had patiently greeted the endless flood of well-wishers, giving each as much personal interaction as circumstances permitted.
Galloran had saved Rachel a seat immediately beside him. For the first time that day he put on his blindfold. “We can speak freely here,” he said. “I won’t chance spies reading your lips through my eyes.”
“Did anyone ask about your eyes?” Nollin inquired.
“Not a soul,” Galloran replied. “Everyone noticed. Nobody spoke of it. The lack of commentary suggests they assume I’m ashamed, which I probably should be.”
“No reason to feel shame,” Nedwin said. “You did what was necessary to stay in the fight.”
“I’ll address the matter after my coronation,” Galloran said.
“The coronation will proceed on schedule?” Nollin asked.
“Day after tomorrow,” Galloran replied. “Dolan has already announced my legitimacy. The grand duke will do the honors.”
“This has been a long time coming,” Nollin said. “How do you feel?”
“Like a stranger in my own home. Most of the people I once admired are gone. Many honorable men could once be found among the nobility of Trensicourt. Not so anymore. Those who remain are cautious and compromising at best, plotters and backstabbers at worst. But the kingdom will be mine, and with it a substantial host of soldiers, and that is what we most need at present.”
“Good food,” Io commented.
Rachel had been so attentive to the conversation that she had neglected to start eating. The table was burdened with crispy fowl, peppery venison, delicate fillets of trout, pots of soup, baskets of bread, platters of fruit, and trays of vegetables. A feast fit for a king, which Rachel supposed made sense under the circumstances.
“I’ll agree,” Ferrin said, spreading soft white cheese on a dark hunk of bread. “The road has its charms, but meals like this are scarce. The pleasure of city food prepared by experts nearly excuses the exhausting politics.”
“You had it easy today, displacer,” Kerick grunted. “The sun was hot during the procession, and the progress slow.”
“At least you benefited from better company,” Ferrin countered.
“Am I that boring?” Rachel complained.
“Not you,” Ferrin clarified.
Galloran leaned toward Rachel. “I have meant to ask how you enjoyed the companionship of the acting chancellor.”
Rachel swallowed a bite of bread. “Ferrin compared him to a snake.”
Ferrin bobbed his head. “Copernum was everything you expected, Galloran. He has a definite fixation on Rachel.”
“Unsurprising,” Galloran replied. “His master has shown uncommon interest in her. I don’t want Rachel ever left alone with him. Or anyone, really. Trensicourt is infested with treacherous manipulators. The sooner we’re off to war the better.”
“Agreed,” Io seconded heartily.
“It’s fine with me,” Rachel inserted. “I’d much rather avoid guys like Copernum.” She at least wanted the appearance of having some say in the matter.
“Will the more prominent schemers let you mount a war?” Nollin asked.
“I spent the day investigating attitudes on the subject,” Galloran said. “Some won’t want to make it easy. If I intended to wait a month to start a campaign, it might not be possible. But riding the current tide of high emotion, I expect to succeed. My most cunning enemies will rejoice to find Trensicourt mobilizing for war. The cleverest among them will gladly hurry me out of town. They will find many opportunities in having me away on a doomed offensive.”
“How do you intend to counter them?” Nedwin asked.
“I’ll do what I can,” Galloran replied. “Who knows how the war will progress? Who can say how long it will last? Many options close to us if Trensicourt falls. I’ll leave a trusted steward in command, along with a reliable aide or two. Apart from that I’ll have to lay aside my concerns about the politics of Trensicourt for a season. According to the prophecy, an assault on Felrook is the key to dethroning Maldor. Until that goal is achieved, all other matters are secondary.”
Looking around the table, Rachel wondered who Galloran might leave behind. Hopefully, none of the group who had set out together from Mianamon. She had already said good-bye to too many friends.
“I will grant you one thing,” Nollin said, wadding a napkin and tossing it aside. “You are not asking your allies to assume the greatest risk. Your present course will leave Trensicourt quite vulnerable.”
“This offensive is our last hope,” Galloran said. “I intend to pursue it with every resource I can muster. Sacrifices are inevitable.”
After Rachel finished her meal, she noticed Tark sitting alone at a small table away from the others. She went to him. “How did you enjoy the parade?”
“Not much,” he replied in his deep, raspy voice. “I would have been happier blowing a sousalax than trotting astride an overgrown pony. I disliked leaving you alone with Copernum and Ferrin, but it didn’t seem my place to protest.”
“Copernum wouldn’t have done anything to me with Galloran around,” Rachel said.
Tark lowered his voice. “Isn’t just Copernum I worry about.”
Rachel gave a small grin. “I’m not totally defenseless. I know a few tricks.”
“I’ve seen you knock people flat with a word,” Tark said. “And I saw you set the walking dead aflame. But I vowed to Lord Jason that I would protect you, and I mean to keep my oath. I did that duty poorly today.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll never trust him.”
Ferrin walked beside her in silence for a moment. “Do you trust me?”
“Not completely.”
“Good.”
* * *
Rachel didn’t get to talk to Galloran on the day of his procession until the companions who had set out together from Mianamon gathered for a private evening meal in the royal chambers. After the parade Galloran had met with a variety of nobles, merchants, scholars, artists, and other influential members of society. Everyone seemed desperate for his attention, and he had patiently greeted the endless flood of well-wishers, giving each as much personal interaction as circumstances permitted.
Galloran had saved Rachel a seat immediately beside him. For the first time that day he put on his blindfold. “We can speak freely here,” he said. “I won’t chance spies reading your lips through my eyes.”
“Did anyone ask about your eyes?” Nollin inquired.
“Not a soul,” Galloran replied. “Everyone noticed. Nobody spoke of it. The lack of commentary suggests they assume I’m ashamed, which I probably should be.”
“No reason to feel shame,” Nedwin said. “You did what was necessary to stay in the fight.”
“I’ll address the matter after my coronation,” Galloran said.
“The coronation will proceed on schedule?” Nollin asked.
“Day after tomorrow,” Galloran replied. “Dolan has already announced my legitimacy. The grand duke will do the honors.”
“This has been a long time coming,” Nollin said. “How do you feel?”
“Like a stranger in my own home. Most of the people I once admired are gone. Many honorable men could once be found among the nobility of Trensicourt. Not so anymore. Those who remain are cautious and compromising at best, plotters and backstabbers at worst. But the kingdom will be mine, and with it a substantial host of soldiers, and that is what we most need at present.”
“Good food,” Io commented.
Rachel had been so attentive to the conversation that she had neglected to start eating. The table was burdened with crispy fowl, peppery venison, delicate fillets of trout, pots of soup, baskets of bread, platters of fruit, and trays of vegetables. A feast fit for a king, which Rachel supposed made sense under the circumstances.
“I’ll agree,” Ferrin said, spreading soft white cheese on a dark hunk of bread. “The road has its charms, but meals like this are scarce. The pleasure of city food prepared by experts nearly excuses the exhausting politics.”
“You had it easy today, displacer,” Kerick grunted. “The sun was hot during the procession, and the progress slow.”
“At least you benefited from better company,” Ferrin countered.
“Am I that boring?” Rachel complained.
“Not you,” Ferrin clarified.
Galloran leaned toward Rachel. “I have meant to ask how you enjoyed the companionship of the acting chancellor.”
Rachel swallowed a bite of bread. “Ferrin compared him to a snake.”
Ferrin bobbed his head. “Copernum was everything you expected, Galloran. He has a definite fixation on Rachel.”
“Unsurprising,” Galloran replied. “His master has shown uncommon interest in her. I don’t want Rachel ever left alone with him. Or anyone, really. Trensicourt is infested with treacherous manipulators. The sooner we’re off to war the better.”
“Agreed,” Io seconded heartily.
“It’s fine with me,” Rachel inserted. “I’d much rather avoid guys like Copernum.” She at least wanted the appearance of having some say in the matter.
“Will the more prominent schemers let you mount a war?” Nollin asked.
“I spent the day investigating attitudes on the subject,” Galloran said. “Some won’t want to make it easy. If I intended to wait a month to start a campaign, it might not be possible. But riding the current tide of high emotion, I expect to succeed. My most cunning enemies will rejoice to find Trensicourt mobilizing for war. The cleverest among them will gladly hurry me out of town. They will find many opportunities in having me away on a doomed offensive.”
“How do you intend to counter them?” Nedwin asked.
“I’ll do what I can,” Galloran replied. “Who knows how the war will progress? Who can say how long it will last? Many options close to us if Trensicourt falls. I’ll leave a trusted steward in command, along with a reliable aide or two. Apart from that I’ll have to lay aside my concerns about the politics of Trensicourt for a season. According to the prophecy, an assault on Felrook is the key to dethroning Maldor. Until that goal is achieved, all other matters are secondary.”
Looking around the table, Rachel wondered who Galloran might leave behind. Hopefully, none of the group who had set out together from Mianamon. She had already said good-bye to too many friends.
“I will grant you one thing,” Nollin said, wadding a napkin and tossing it aside. “You are not asking your allies to assume the greatest risk. Your present course will leave Trensicourt quite vulnerable.”
“This offensive is our last hope,” Galloran said. “I intend to pursue it with every resource I can muster. Sacrifices are inevitable.”
After Rachel finished her meal, she noticed Tark sitting alone at a small table away from the others. She went to him. “How did you enjoy the parade?”
“Not much,” he replied in his deep, raspy voice. “I would have been happier blowing a sousalax than trotting astride an overgrown pony. I disliked leaving you alone with Copernum and Ferrin, but it didn’t seem my place to protest.”
“Copernum wouldn’t have done anything to me with Galloran around,” Rachel said.
Tark lowered his voice. “Isn’t just Copernum I worry about.”
Rachel gave a small grin. “I’m not totally defenseless. I know a few tricks.”
“I’ve seen you knock people flat with a word,” Tark said. “And I saw you set the walking dead aflame. But I vowed to Lord Jason that I would protect you, and I mean to keep my oath. I did that duty poorly today.”
