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Authors: David B. Coe

Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands (69 page)

BOOK: Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands
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“I’ve told you before, Tavis, I don’t want to be released from my oath.”
“Don’t be a fool, Stinger. You can’t serve me anymore. Let me release you, and you’ll finally be done with all this.”
“Are you going to find the man who murdered Brienne?”
His friend faltered for a moment, then nodded.
“And once you do, you’ll be returning to Curgh, won’t you?”
“I might.”
“So you’ll need a liege man then.”
“That could be years from now, Xaver.”
“Then grant me leave to serve the House of Curgh in your absence, in whatever way your father and I deem appropriate. And when you return, I’ll still be there to fulfill my oath.”
The young lord weighed this briefly. “I guess I could do that.”
“It would be easier. We wouldn’t have to involve our fathers at all.”
Tavis smiled. “A good point.”
It almost seemed that the duke had been waiting for that moment to approach them, for suddenly he was there, his expression grim. Xaver would have liked to leave, having been witness to more than his share of difficult conversations between these two. But there was nowhere for him to go.
“Kearney and I are on our way out of the city,” the duke said to his son. “We’ve done all we can for today, and we have a lot to talk about.”
Tavis nodded, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “What should I do?”
“Come with us, of course.” Javan glanced at Xaver. “You, too, Master MarCullet. This concerns you and your father as well.”
“Yes, my lord. Are we done here, Lord Tavis?”
His friend grinned. “So it would seem.”
The three of them started toward the nearest gate, to be joined a few moments later by Shonah, Xaver’s father, Grinsa, and the duke of Glyndwr and his advisors. Together they left the castle, descended the winding road to the city, and passed through the north gate into the Kentigern countryside. The armies of Glyndwr and Curgh had already started to make camp, and the smells of roasting meat drifted with the light wind, making Xaver’s stomach growl. He could hardly remember the last time he had eaten a decent meal.
“I had started to wonder if I would ever leave that city,” Javan said, drawing a smile from the duchess.
Xaver looked back over his shoulder at the castle, remembering how it looked when he first laid eyes upon it more than a turn ago. The fortress didn’t look as formidable as it had that day. The tor seemed lower, the walls more vulnerable. Still, he felt a chill go through his body. He wasn’t awed by the place anymore, but it would haunt his dreams for the rest of his days. A part of him hoped that he would never have to pass through its gates again.
The two dukes led their parties to Kearney’s tent in the midst of the Glyndwr army. There was no discussion of why, but it seemed clear to Xaver that they did so for Tavis’s benefit. As long as he was with the Curgh army, he was considered to be under his father’s protection and not Kearney’s. As they walked among the soldiers of Glyndwr, however, Xaver wondered if his friend was any safer with Kearney than with Javan. Glyndwr’s men stared at the young lord with such venom and loathing that it made Xaver’s stomach churn. They had made up their minds about him. Tavis was right: he was better off chasing Brienne’s assassin through the Forelands than trying to make a life for himself in the highlands.
The men were cooking venison and fowl provided by Aindreas’s kitchenmaster. No doubt Kentigern had been loath to extend any offer of hospitality to either duke, and certainly Javan would have
refused him if he had. But after Glyndwr and Curgh helped save the castle, Aindreas had little choice but to give them something. Under the circumstances, providing meat, bread, and ale for the two armies was the least he could do.
For a time, Tavis, Xaver, and the rest ate wordlessly, savoring their meal. Xaver was simply too hungry to speak and he guessed that Fotir and the duke felt much the same way. But he also knew that all of them were reluctant to begin this discussion.
“Has either of you given more thought to what I said earlier today?” Grinsa finally asked, eyeing Javan and then Kearney. It was strange that this Qirsi should have felt so comfortable taking charge of their conversations, as he had that day in the castle and again just now. He was a Revel gleaner, nothing more. Yet dukes, ministers, and warriors appeared more than willing to defer to him in these matters, and Xaver could see why. Unlike so many of the Qirsi Xaver had seen over the years, this man had the build of a warrior and carried himself with the confidence of a king. His voice was deep and powerful. Unlike most of the sorcerer race, who seemed to be diminished by the magic they wielded, Grinsa’s presence was enhanced by it. With his bone white hair and pale yellow eyes, he might have been the most formidable man Xaver had ever met.
“I certainly have,” Xaver’s father said, chewing a piece of bread. “It seems to me that the Rules of Ascension demand that a king be chosen by all the houses of Eibithar. Sure the king comes from one of the majors, but the dukes of all twelve houses have a say in this. One house shouldn’t have the power to overturn the will of the rest, particularly when it would also mean ignoring the Order of Ascension.”
Grinsa nodded, his eyes fixed on the flames of the cooking fire. “Usually I’d agree with you. But these are extraordinary times. If the houses follow the traditional order, and give the crown to Javan, it could mean civil war.”
“And what happens the next time we have to choose a king? What’s to stop another duke from threatening war because he doesn’t like the man in line for the throne?”
“He has a point,” Fotir said quietly. “The rules depend upon the consent of all the houses. If we allow one house to withhold consent this time, and thus alter the Order of Ascension, we weaken the entire foundation of the kingdom.”
“Wouldn’t a war weaken it more?”
“Maybe not,” Hagan said. “If the other houses stand together
against Aindreas, it may end up strengthening us. In the past, challenges to the rules have led to civil wars, but only because the challenges have come from more than one of the majors. Aindreas is alone this time.”
“How do you know?” Grinsa asked. “Word of Brienne’s death is still spreading through the land. And Tavis is still being blamed. Hearing of her murder and the evidence against Lord Curgh’s son, other dukes may join Aindreas’s cause.”
“Aren’t they just as likely to view Glyndwr’s ascension with suspicion?” Kearney’s first minister asked. “Particularly when they learn that the duke has granted asylum to Lord Tavis?”
“Not if Aindreas agrees to it. In that case, both Curgh and Kentigern will have been passed over in favor of Glyndwr.”
The Qirsi woman looked down at her hands, which she was rubbing together as if the night were cold. “And what if something happens to him? Thorald won’t have a viable heir for another generation, Galdasten for three. This could all come up again before long.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.”
They all turned to Kearney, who had kept his silence until then.
“I find it a bit curious that those of us who have the most at stake in this are the ones saying the least.”
Javan grinned. “I noticed that, too.”
“Few people in the kingdom would believe it,” Kearney said, “but I meant it when I said today that I don’t want to be king. It would mean leaving my home and my people.” He lowered his gaze. “It would mean giving up much in my life that I treasure. That said,” he went on, looking at the duke of Curgh once more, “my sacrifice would be nothing next to yours. This is not my decision to make.” He paused, looking briefly at Tavis. “I should also tell you, though, that if you decide to take the throne, I can’t stand with you in any conflict with Kentigern. Were I to do so, I would be placing everyone in my court at risk, including your son. Especially your son. I’ve pledged myself to his protection and won’t do anything to undermine that pledge.”
“Well, that’s convenient!” Hagan said, wearing a harsh grin. “You say that you don’t want to be king, but then you turn around and say that if the duke doesn’t cede the crown to you, you’ll do nothing to stop Kentigern from plunging the land into war.”
Glyndwr’s swordmaster bristled. “He said nothing of the sort!”
Xaver’s father started to stand, but Javan gripped his shoulder, stopping him. “That’s enough, Hagan,” he said in a low voice. “Kearney’s right. His promise of asylum to Tavis takes precedence over everything else. You don’t really think I’d want it any other way, do you?”
Hagan shook his head, though he still glared at Gershon Trasker.
“I won’t lie to any of you,” Javan continued. “I do want to be king. I’ve wanted it all my life. It’s been over sixty years since Skeris the Fourth died. And before he took the throne it had been nearly a century since a man of Curgh wore Eibithar’s crown. Who knows when our house will have another opportunity like this one? I regret the tragedies that have placed the House of Curgh in this position, but I’d be a fool not to take advantage of them. At least I would be under different circumstances.” He looked at the duchess, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “More than anything, I wanted you to be my queen. I hope you can forgive me for this.”
Shonah gave a small breathless laugh, her pale green eyes sparkling like gems in the firelight. “There’s nothing to forgive, my love. You’re doing the right thing, not that I expected anything less.”
“Are you sure of this, my lord?” Hagan asked. “As you say, you’ve wanted to be king all your life.”
“Yes, I know. But my ambitions are of little consequence next to the well-being of this kingdom.” He stood, facing Kearney, who climbed to his feet as well. “Lord Kearney of Glyndwr, I, Javan of Curgh, swear this oath to you now, that I will renounce my claim to the throne in favor of your ascension, provided Aindreas of Kentigern does the same.”
“Lord Javan of Curgh,” the duke answered, “I, Kearney of Glyndwr, hear your oath, and swear to you that I will accept the call to ascend when it is issued by the twelve houses of Eibithar.” He bowed, then met Javan’s gaze once more. “I will never forget what you do here tonight, Javan, nor will I allow the rest of Eibithar to forget. You would have been a noble and worthy king. I only hope that I prove myself deserving of the honor you do me here.”
“I believe you will,” Javan said. “And I’ll gladly pledge my sword and my house to your service.”
Watching the two men embrace, Xaver felt his heart expand with pride at what his duke had done. He thought this must have
been what it was like to watch Audun take the throne as Eibithar’s first king. He glanced at his father, who still gazed at Javan.
“He would have been a fine king,” the swordmaster whispered. “A rival to old Skeris himself.”
The two dukes bade each other good night a short while later, the company from Curgh, including Xaver, standing and stretching their legs before starting back toward the Curgh encampment.
Tavis walked with them part of the way, to the edge of Glyndwr’s camp, before embracing his mother and father.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Xaver heard the young lord say as Javan gripped his shoulders. “I’ve cost us the crown.”
“The man who killed Brienne did that, Tavis,” Javan said, looking sad. “And I fear the cost to you has been far greater than it ever will be for me.”
“But I—”
“Don’t think of it anymore. You, your mother, and I have survived two battles now. The gods are smiling on us. I’m duke of the finest house in Eibithar. How much more can a man want?”
The boy nodded, embraced his father again, and pulled away, starting back toward Kearney’s tent.
“It’s only going to get harder for him,” Shonah said, watching her son walk away.
Javan put his arm around her. “Yes, but he’s a Curgh.”
She shook her head. “He’s a boy.”
Keziah stared off to the west, toward the Curgh encampment. She had long since lost sight of Javan and his duchess, but she couldn’t bear to look at Kearney or her brother just then.
It had all happened so quickly that it left her dizzy. Her duke—her lover—was to be king. He hadn’t even asked her counsel. Perhaps he knew how much she wanted him to refuse the crown. Perhaps he knew as well that had he asked, she would have told him to do just what he was doing, and that speaking the words would have hurt her more than anything.
She felt Grinsa’s eyes upon her, and she willed herself not to face him. She could see his expression in her mind. The concern in his furrowed brow, the sorrow in his pale eyes. He would plead for her forgiveness when both of them knew there was nothing to forgive. There was no doubt in Keziah’s mind that by suggesting this compromise,
Grinsa had saved the land from civil war. But she couldn’t bring herself to say this aloud, at least not yet.
So it was that she still faced toward the west when Tavis returned to them, looking pale as the white moon, save for the angry scars Aindreas had given him. However much Kearney’s ascension pained her, she knew, it was nothing compared with what this boy was going through. His mere presence made her ashamed of her self-pity, as it had so many times in the past several days.
BOOK: Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands
12.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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