The struggle for authori.., p.22
The Struggle for Authority, page 22
“You’ve done well, Thomas! We will track down their paid helpers, particularly Alfic and Gretchen. They must be held to account for their actions. The final goal of the plotters seems remarkably selfless. Did you discover any hint of the involvement of this other stone—the Stone of Authority?”
The final question was delivered casually, but Thomas guessed that Will was much more interested in the answer than he might appear.
“It was very strange,” he replied. “Tarestel did go to Rog, but I could discover nothing at all about his time there. It was almost as if his thoughts and memories about it were blocked. I have never seen anything like it.”
Will glanced at Elena, his eyebrows raised questioningly. “Did you have any success?”
She nodded cautiously. “Thomas briefly explained the situation when he gave me the stone. I knew he had explored the matter of the plotters, so I ignored that. I was also confronted by the barrier, and I couldn’t find a way through it either.” She closed her eyes, as if recalling the experience. “I decided to try to go around it. I went back to the young Cedric. That was his name before he became Lord Tarestel.”
“Did that approach work?” asked Thomas eagerly.
“Partially. Cedric has struggled with authority figures throughout his entire life, mainly because of the influence of his father. He learned from an early age that authority figures were greatly to be feared. He could never afford the risk of trusting them. In his mind, the only guaranteed way to be safe was to gain power and exercise it himself. If he was the one holding the power, with no one else in authority over him, he had nothing to fear.
“Eventually he inherited the title of Lord Tarestel. He himself wasn’t at all safe as an authority figure. All his life the young Cedric had seen what his father did, and he instinctively behaved the same way. He exercised power with little concern for the effect it might have on others. King Delmar is a very different person—he doesn’t make a habit of abusing his power—but Lord Tarestel seemed unable to learn from that.”
She paused in an attempt to collect herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, “some of the things I saw...” She shook her head as if to clear it.
“I saw glimpses of King Agon’s effect on Lord Tarestel. King Agon reminded him of his own father, only worse. It reawakened all his fears. His response was to lock himself away, deep inside, for protection.”
She trembled, and Thomas moved to her side once more to offer support.
“That doesn’t seem to explain why his mind is blocked, though. The cause of that might have been the Stone of Authority. It didn’t seem to be anything natural.”
She paused, frowning. “There’s one other thing. Usually when people behave in a certain way, they’re prompted by their hopes or fears, they’re expressing their beliefs, or they’re reacting to things that happened in their past. Some of Lord Tarestel’s decisions didn’t seem to come from any of those motivations. Especially decisions that involve helping King Agon. He decided to act, but he did so for no apparent reason.”
Elena fell silent, and all of them stood pondering her words.
Will finally broke the silence. “There’s only one way we can know for certain what Agon is planning, and whether he has the help of the Stone of Authority. We need to find a way to get access to him directly. If we can do that, the Stone of Knowing will be able to answer all of our questions.”
With nothing further to say, the meeting ended. But Thomas could not get Will’s parting words out of his mind. They continued to haunt him long after the conversation had ended.
Steffan walked the castle battlements with Delmar, squinting against the sun as it climbed over the horizon. Both men had clothed themselves warmly against the cool breeze from the sea.
He gazed up at the gulls as they wheeled above, shattering the stillness of the early morning with their cries.
Delmar turned to him. “I have just received confirmation that Tarestel was executed before dawn.”
Steffan grunted his satisfaction.
He stared into the west in the growing light before shifting his gaze southward, almost expecting to glimpse his enemies if he strained hard enough.
Finally Steffan redirected his attention to his friend. “The challenge now is to arrange a similar fate for Pisander and Eisgold,” he said.
“That is indeed the challenge,” agreed Delmar.
24
“Count Ranauld. King Rupert commands your attendance—I am here to escort you to him.”
Ranauld followed the royal aide out of the building that had become his home, conscious that he had been offered no opportunity to prepare himself. He had at least taken the precaution of abandoning his travel stained garments in favor of the most presentable of the clothing available in his saddlebags.
He had woken on his first morning in the capital of Castel with high hopes of an early audience with the king. That had been more than a week ago. In that time he had seen Lord Mardone once, and only briefly. He was bored beyond words, and ready to welcome change of any kind, be it good or bad.
A squad of royal guards fell in with them as they left the building, and they proceeded quickly to the castle. Once they had arrived, Ranauld was shown into a long reception room with a small throne at one end. With no other chairs in sight, he had no choice but to stand.
After waiting for almost an hour he heard voices, and a group of men entered the reception hall from a door off to one side. Ranauld had never met King Rupert, but it was immediately obvious who he was. More elaborately clad than all of his companions, he was also the only one younger than late middle age.
A surge of compassion rose up in Ranauld at the sight of the young king. What must it have been like, just a few short months ago, to have been thrust into the kingship at the age of seventeen after the violent murder of his father, King Istel? Ranauld knew that both Essanda and Rupert had loved and respected their father. Prince Rupert must have looked forward to many more years of observing and learning from him before his own turn came to ascend the throne. But every opportunity had been snatched away from him.
None of the men entering with the king were known to Ranauld, with one notable exception. When he saw who was whispering in the king’s ear, his jaw dropped in utter astonishment. The king’s confidante was none other than the disgraced former Lord Eisgold, exiled by King Rupert’s father after the Battle of Torbury Scarp.
The young king’s eyes sought Ranauld out and studied him evenly for a moment.
“Count Ranauld,” he said. “I have granted you an audience—against the wishes of my advisors, I must say—only because I know my late father held you in high esteem.”
Ranauld bowed deeply. “I am grateful, Your Majesty. This meeting may be unexpected for us all, but I know that Queen Essanda and King Steffan would wish me to pass on their warm greetings.”
A frown crossed the face of the young king. “Are you loyal to King Steffan, Count Ranauld?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Wholeheartedly.”
“Then perhaps you can explain to me why my brother-in-law’s forces are attacking my kingdom. That is not the action of someone who wishes me well.”
“The army outside Deadman’s Pass is not there on the orders of the king or queen, Your Majesty. After assassins attacked the kings in the barn at Paradise Valley, the man behind the attack took control of Arnost. The army camped at your border is acting on his orders.”
“Then what were you doing there?”
“I was sent by King Steffan to attempt to take control of the army in his name. Your scouts came upon me before I had opportunity to make contact with soldiers loyal to the king.”
“So one of Arvenon’s most senior army commanders was present at Arvenon’s largest army camp, yet he had no connection with that army?”
“Had I been commanding the army, Your Majesty, I would have been in the camp, not peering down at it from a ridge. Your scouts will confirm that they found me doing just that.”
“My scouts returned immediately to the army to defend the pass, so it is pointless to appeal to them. But you should be aware, Count Ranauld, that I received a very different account of your movements.”
Ranauld forced down a surge of frustration. He couldn’t afford to let his anger bubble out. With Eisgold whispering in King Rupert’s ear, it was hardly surprising that the king was hearing warped versions of the truth.
He decided to change tack. “King Steffan and Queen Essanda are victims like you, Your Majesty, not aggressors. King Steffan almost died of his wounds in the attack at Paradise Valley. Your sister was forced to fight for her life and for her unborn baby. I was present, and I witnessed it firsthand.”
The king sighed. “I saw a great deal of Steffan during his time in Castel, and I cannot believe he would have wanted to see my father murdered,” he said. “As for my sister, she is incapable even of imagining such an atrocity.”
He fixed his gaze on Ranauld. “You say you were there. Where was King Delmar during this attack?”
“He was not in the barn. He had been called away briefly.”
King Rupert nodded significantly. “Very convenient, I am sure.”
Ranauld shook his head, struggling to remain calm. “It wasn’t like that, Your Majesty. King Delmar was not involved in the attacks. His army commander, Lord Karevis, risked his life to defend Queen Essanda. She would tell you that she survived only because of his help.”
The young king sighed again. “I may be young and inexperienced, but it is obvious to me that you believe what you are saying, Count Ranauld. That does not mean that you are speaking the truth.”
Ranauld bristled. “One of your own noblemen was also present, Your Majesty. Lord Eravitt if I remember correctly. He can confirm my account.”
“Lord Eravitt has been much occupied on his estate in recent times. After the trauma he endured, I agreed to release him from his duties in the capital. But even if he has a similar perception—and most likely he does—the facts do allow for a very different interpretation. I have been assured that our agents have uncovered compelling evidence about the attack that resulted in the murder of my father. It was planned and carried out on the orders of King Delmar.”
Count Ranauld was too astonished to respond.
“Was Will Prentis present during the attack?” asked the king.
“Sadly he was not, Your Majesty. If he had been, the kings would have been better defended.”
“His absence was indeed significant, although not for the reason you seem to suppose,” the king replied grimly. “We have reason to believe that Prentis colluded with King Delmar in the attack. He hoped to receive as his reward the kingdom of Castel.”
Ranauld furrowed his brows in disbelief. He was unable to fathom what he was hearing.
The youthful king shook his head sadly. “It doesn’t end there. I wonder if you know the whereabouts of your monarchs, Count Ranauld. They are currently in Varacellan, having thrown themselves upon the mercy of King Delmar of Varas, the very man whose scheming brought about the death of my father. We tried to make contact with them during their voyage by sea, but I am told that our overtures were violently rejected. In their minds, friends have apparently become foes, and foes are friends.
“Perhaps their vulnerability has blinded them to Delmar’s true intentions. Or perhaps he has managed to persuade them he avoided the assassins himself only by good fortune. You said that Delmar’s army commander, Lord Karevis, intervened to help my sister. Delmar may have used that to convince them he was not involved in the attack.”
The young king shrugged. “Maybe Steffan and Essanda are simply too desperate to acknowledge to themselves that he is manipulating them. By whatever means it has come about, in making common cause with Delmar they have become a danger to every kingdom that desires only peace.”
Ranauld’s jaw dropped again. The king’s assertions were monstrous. “Who is feeding you these...these distortions, Your Majesty?” He turned his eyes upon Eisgold, glaring openly at him.
Eisgold regarded him disdainfully before turning to the king. “I warned you of the futility of trying to reason with him, did I not, Your Majesty?” he sniffed.
He turned a cold gaze upon Ranauld. “I have no need to justify myself to you,” he said. “Nevertheless you yourself are well aware of the charges leveled against me. Our beloved King Istel never once accused me of treason. My only crime was to have questioned the orders of Prentis, a commoner foisted on King Istel against his better judgment. Recent events have more than vindicated my suspicions about Prentis’s character and integrity. As for his abilities, they were always overblown. The huge loss of life suffered by our forces at Torbury Scarp was entirely unnecessary. In his overweening pride Prentis fancied himself a commander. He refused to listen to my advice, and the army of Castel suffered terrible losses as a result.
“And yet we have seen that granting him the title of commander was only the beginning. Your king made a mockery of nobility everywhere by elevating him to the Arvenian peerage.” Eisgold threw up his hands in disgust. “Recent events have shown that, even after all of this, Prentis’s greedy ambition was still not satisfied.”
Ranauld stared at Eisgold dumbfounded, wide-eyed with shock at the grotesque parody of the truth peddled by the conniving deceiver. He stood paralyzed, helpless to imagine how to begin responding. What could gainfully be said while the truth was being twisted so cynically?
Eisgold shifted his attention to the king. “This Count Ranauld heaped shame upon the nobility when he abased himself so abjectly before Prentis, a commoner. And there are serious questions around his behavior at the border. Nevertheless, Your Majesty has declared him ignorant of the truth rather than intentionally duplicitous, and in doing so I believe you have once again demonstrated wisdom beyond your years. He is a pawn and nothing more. Yet even pawns can be dangerous.”
At that moment an aide came to Eisgold’s side and whispered urgently in his ear.
“Other more important engagements await you, Your Majesty,” Eisgold announced importantly. “Please accept my apologies for failing to alert you sooner.”
When King Rupert offered no protest, Eisgold bustled him from the reception chamber. The entire party hurried away without as much as a backward glance.
Count Ranauld was escorted back to his quarters. The royal aide who accompanied the count made it clear that he was not at liberty to leave the building.
Two dreary days followed, with Ranauld in constant turmoil. What should he do? What could he do? He was no closer to an answer when a soldier appeared at his door early one evening and announced that he had a visitor. He followed the soldier to the uppermost level of the building. His guide came to a halt outside the door of a room at the far end of the passageway. The soldier ran his hands carefully over Ranauld, checking for hidden weapons, then after pointing him to the door, the soldier stepped back. Ranauld noticed several other soldiers positioned nearby, all of them armed and alert.
Was he about to meet with some kind of ‘accident’? After a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged and opened the door. A fire crackled in the hearth and clusters of candles attached to the wall were burning brightly. He saw at a glance that the room was empty apart from a cloaked figure standing beside the window opposite him. The unknown individual was facing away from the door, apparently gazing out over the city. As Ranauld stepped into the room a guard closed the door behind him.
The figure turned toward him, and he sucked in a breath of surprise. His unexpected visitor was King Rupert.
“Count Ranauld,” said the young king with a nod. He sounded weary.
“Your Majesty,” Ranauld replied with a deep bow.
“I am sorry to be the one to make you aware of this, but Castel has declared war on Arvenon.”
Ranauld was aghast, but the king seemed not to notice.
“This outcome is not what I ever wanted. I hope you understand that. But the Arvenian aggression at Deadman’s Pass has forced it upon me. If Steffan and Essanda had remained in control of Arvenon, it would never have come to this. But for all practical purposes my brother-in-law and sister no longer rule, and my advisors have convinced me that a statement is necessary. I cannot afford to allow Castel to appear weak.”
Ranauld clenched his fists. He had no doubt that Eisgold was behind this, almost certainly with the goal of undermining King Rupert’s position.
The king bowed his head, covering his face with his hands and groaning softly. A long moment passed before he recovered himself and looked up again.
When he did, Ranauld saw that his eyes appeared sunken.
A feeling of dread settled over the count. “Your Majesty! Are you well?”
The young king stifled another groan. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Ranauld. My head pounds and my gut clenches tightly. At times it’s so bad I can scarcely bear it. It’s happening most days now. My doctors have no answers.”
Ranauld stared at him uneasily. “Is someone tasting your food and wine before you consume it?”
“I had a boy. But he proved to be a sickly lad, and I had to release him. I have a young woman now. Eisgold found her for me. He tells me she’s reliable.” The king gritted his teeth as another wave of pain seemed to pass over him. “She mostly seems interested in relieving me of my virtue.” He shook his head. “Her brazenness is beginning to weary me.”
“Dismiss her, Your Majesty!” urged Ranauld, thoroughly alarmed. “Go to someone you trust, and command them to find you a new food taster!”
“You’re suggesting I can’t trust Eisgold.” The king gazed up at him quietly. Then he shrugged. “The others are all so...so insipid. Eisgold, at least, is willing to take the risk of expressing a point of view.”
“What of Count Gordan?” asked Ranauld tentatively. “Your father trusted him.”
King Rupert glared at him in sudden anger. “Don’t mention that name in my presence!” he hissed. He straightened himself. “I shouldn’t have come here,” he said, muttering angrily to himself.
