Goldman paused and looked about the room, pretending to gather his thoughts.
“Yet if Askam’s taxation measures affect poor and wealthy, peasant and noble alike,” he continued, “these taxes do differentiate between types of people.”
The entire table stilled. Heavorand, who knew what was coming, looked hard at the napkin in his lap. But the other three men’s eyes were riveted on Goldman’s face.
“Continue, good Master Goldman,” Zared said.
“Sir Prince, Askam’s measures affect those people living in the West and North, not those living in the rest of Tencendor.”
“And your point is…?”
Goldman took a deep breath. “Sir Prince, the Icarii and Avar do not feel the strain of Askam’s petty taxation, yet the Acharites –”
“Be careful with your phraseology,” Zared said quietly.
“– yet the human population of the West and the North, good Prince, are direly affected by it. Sir Prince, there are many among the Achar – ah, the western and northern populations of Tencendor – who stoutly believe that Askam’s taxations are unfair in that they discriminate against one race out of three.”
“The Ravensbundmen are affected by it as well,” Herme put in carefully.
“Sir Duke, the Ravensbund only trade with the people of the North. They care not if Askam starts demanding a life per cargo of goods transported through the West.”
Zared steepled his fingers before his face and pretended an interest in them. “And so your request is…?”
“That you raise the issue with StarSon Caelum at the Council of Five, Sir Prince. StarSon is the only one with the authority to rebuke Askam. To force him to rescind the tax.”
That had not been the original request that Goldman and Heavorand had come north with. Their plans had been hastily revised with the news of the Council of Five. But they were not dismayed. Far from it. StarSon Caelum had played right into their hands.
“The tax is the very reason Caelum has called the Council, and Caelum is a reasonable man,” Zared said. “I am sure he will listen to what I have to say. So your lengthy trip north was needless, Goldman. I have ever intended to raise this issue.”
“Zared,” Herme began, “I will not rest until I know that Caelum has clearly understood what hardship this tax will impose –”
“Do you doubt my ability to state the case, Herme?”
“Not at all, my friend. But I think it important that Caelum listens to someone from Askam’s own province, as well as your objections. If only you speak against it, well…”
All knew what he meant. The history of conflict between Askam and Zared was well known.
Zared opened his mouth to speak, but was forestalled by Goldman.
“Sir Prince, Earl Herme speaks wisely. Caelum needs to hear from the peoples of the West, as much as from you. I suggest that Heavorand and myself will be as suitable witnesses as the Duke and Earl.”
“Are you saying that I should take you all with me to Sigholt?”
Zared’s four guests looked at him steadily.
“Ah!” he said, giving in. “Very well. Your support will be useful.”
“There is one other associated issue, Sir Prince.” Goldman’s voice was tense, and Zared looked at him sharply.
“Out with it, then.” He waved his servants forward to clean away the plates.
Goldman waited until the men had gone. “Sir Prince, many among the human race of Tencendor, the Acharites, my Lord Zared, for I am not afraid to use the term, feel that Askam’s taxes are not only unfair, but illegal.”
“And why is that, Goldman?”
“The talk of the taverns and the streets of Carlon argues that Askam is not the legal overlord of the West, Sir Prince.” Goldman paused, gathered his courage and spoke his treason. “Most Acharites believe that you are.”
Silence.
Zared’s eyes regarded Goldman closely over his fingers. “Yes?”
“Sir Prince, when Axis created the nation of Tencendor he created Belial as Prince of the West. Few were loath to speak out against that. Belial was a loved man, and remains a loved memory. But his elevation essentially replaced the office of King of Achar. Axis destroyed the throne of Achar after he defeated his brother, Borneheld. Zared, you are the only legitimate heir to the throne of Achar.”
Herme leaned back in his chair. True, true and true, good Goldman, he thought. I could not have put it better myself. Speak on, man.
Goldman did indeed hurry on. “Sir Prince, you may have been disinherited of a crown, but more importantly, the Acharites have been disinherited of their throne and their nationhood.”
Zared spoke again, his voice now noticeably tight. “Continue.”
“Have not the Icarii, the Avar and the Ravensbund their leaders, their titular heads? Yet the Acharites have lost their monarchy and, in so losing, their pride. Sir Prince, why is it that the Icarii, Avar and Ravensbund retained or gained kings when the Acharites lost theirs?”
“Perhaps,” Herme put in carefully, for this was something Zared could not say without proving disloyal to at least one of his brothers, “it is because Borneheld, as King of Achar, was far too closely allied with the Seneschal and pursued a policy of hatred and war towards the Avar and Icarii. Axis rightly wanted to ensure that would never happen again.”
Goldman looked directly at Zared. “Sir Prince, I am not asking you to resurrect the beliefs of the Seneschal, only your people’s pride and nationhood. Prince Zared,” his voice slowed and he stressed every word, “your people want you back. They want their King. With few exceptions, western Tencendor would rise up to back your claim.”
Goldman glanced at Herme and Theod, hoping he had not read them incorrectly. “True, Sir Duke? Sir Earl?”
“We would not speak against it,” Theod said slowly.
Herme hesitated, then said curtly, “No king of Achar ever treated us as vilely as Askam does.”
“You all mouth treason!” Zared said, and pushed his chair back as if he intended to stand. “I do not intend to –”
“Treason?” Heavorand repeated. “Is it treason to speak of that which is our wish and your inheritance?”
Zared had stilled, his face expressionless.
“They are right, Zared,” Theod added. “Right! Achar needs its King back! Look how Askam is tearing the heart and soul out of the West!”
“May I remind you, Theod,” Zared said very carefully, “that as a Duke of the West, you are under Askam’s direct overlordship?”
“As am I,” Herme said, “and yet I find myself agreeing with both Theod and these two good merchants here.”
“Recreating the position of King of Achar would tear Tencendor apart,” Zared observed, but his tone was milder, and his eyes thoughtful.
“It is going to tear apart anyway,” Goldman said very quietly. “The tensions between Acharite and the other races would see war within a generation. You understand the Acharite perception of injustice, Zared. You share it. Sir Prince, you are rightful heir to the throne of Achar. Take it. Take it and direct some of this tension rather than letting it swell out of control. Take it…sire.”
When Goldman and Heavorand retired, Zared waved at Herme and Theod to remain.
He sat motionless, silent, for a long time before he finally spoke.
“My friends, I do not know what to think. My parents raised me to believe in Tencendor, in Axis’ and then Caelum’s right to rule over all races. They raised me to believe that the Achar nation, and its monarchy, was dead.”
“Zared,” Herme said. “Re-establishing the monarchy of Achar is not treason. As with FreeFall, Isfrael and Sa’Domai, an Acharite king would still owe homage and fealty to the Throne of the Stars. Any discussion of reclaiming the throne of Achar is not mouthing treason against Caelum, only discussing what many – nay, most – people in the West and North want.”
Zared was silent, remembering how he had looked at the circlet on Priam’s brow and wondered how well
it – and the throne – would fit him.
“Where do your loyalties lie, Herme? Theod?” he eventually asked. “With whom?”
“With StarSon Caelum,” Herme said unhesitatingly. “First.”
“And then with you,” Theod finished. “Goldman has said much of what was in our hearts as well. Zared, if both the Master of the Guilds in Carlon, as well as two of the West’s most powerful nobles, have come to your doorstep with the same speeches on their lips and hopes in their hearts, how can you refuse to consider their words?”
“This whole issue has been prompted by Askam’s taxes,” Zared said. “What happens if Caelum forces him to rescind them? What then?”
“No!” Theod said. “These taxes are but the final straw. Zared, the ‘issue’ is fed by the fact that for decades resentment has grown among the Acharites at the way they have been treated. Yes, the SunSoar order is great and good, but it doesn’t change the fact that the Acharites have been denuded of their monarch and their nationhood. Man, listen to me! In you they can see the legitimate heir, and in the North they can see what prosperity awaits them under your rule!”
“This problem is not going to go away, Zared,” Herme said. “Not so long as Askam – or a Prince of the West – remains.”
“I will think on what you have said this evening,” Zared said, then raised his eyes from the fork he’d been fidgeting with. “There is something else I think should be considered.”
“Yes?” Herme asked.
“How will Askam react at this Council? We all know how bad his debts are, we know he needs the monies the taxes will raise.”
“And we all know how he hates you…and your success,” Theod said. “Look how he has striven to frustrate your heart these past years.”
Zared looked at him sharply, then chose to ignore the last remark. He did not like to think of what implications this evening’s conversation had for himself and Leagh, nor even for the peace of Tencendor itself. How would Caelum react? “My friends, I think it best to be prepared for whatever this Council might bring.”
Zared paused, then spoke his own treason. “I have given orders to move the bulk of my troops out of Severin to within several leagues of Jervois Landing. If I might suggest…”
Herme grinned. “Where would you like our troops moved?”
6
The SunSoars at Home
Leagh sat with Zenith, watching RiverStar preen before her mirror. Leagh wished she were in any chamber but this one – even Drago must surely be a less disagreeable companion than Zenith’s elder sister! She shifted herself into a more comfortable position in her chair, and let her mind wander from the sisters’ conversation.
She had been in Sigholt over two weeks. Waiting. Waiting for the other heads of the Five Families to arrive. Waiting for Caelum to put her out of her misery and tell her his decision regarding her marriage. Waiting for Zared.
Once Askam had sent his escort north via riverboat and horse, Zenith had led Leagh, Askam and their two body servants into Spiredore. Leagh had never been in the tower previously, and its magic – as also the evidence of Zenith’s power – had almost overwhelmed her. Askam had remained stoutly silent, but Leagh had noticed that even he had paled when, emerging at the top of one of the bizarre stairwells, they had beheld Sigholt at the end of an enchanted corridor of blue mist.
On her first day in Sigholt, Leagh had been consumed with excitement. What would Caelum say? Where was Zared? But apparently it was only she and Askam granted such an unconventional (and speedy) conveyance to Sigholt; everyone else called to the Council had to arrive by more mundane means. Zared was still far distant. And Caelum proved as great a disappointment. At first Leagh had managed to convince herself that Caelum had asked her to Sigholt for good news – surely he would have preferred to have sent bad via a courier? But Caelum remained steadfastly silent at her repeated pleas for his word. He would wait until Zared was here. Then he would inform them of his decision.
Bad news, then. Leagh was miserably sure of it.
So she spent her days either wandering the shores of the lake by herself, or talking with Zenith. Askam was almost as unreachable as Caelum; her brother spent many hours each day either closeted with Caelum, or at weapon practice with Sigholt’s master-of-arms.
But surely her waiting was almost over. Over the past two days FreeFall SunSoar, Talon of the Icarii, Prince Yllgaine of Nor and the Ravensbund Chief Sa’Domai had all arrived. Sigholt awaited only Isfrael (if he chose to appear) and Zared – how far could he be?
Zared. How could she live life without him?
Leagh could not answer that question, and preferred not to think on it, thus here she was this afternoon, sitting with Zenith, listening to RiverStar prattle on about love.
RiverStar tilted her lovely head before her looking glass, admiring the curve of her throat. Her fingers lingered at the base of throat and breast, remembering the touch of her lover. She smiled and shifted her gaze in the glass, first looking at Leagh, sitting still and disconsolate, and then her sister.
“Poor Leagh is in no position to discuss the arts of love, Zenith,” she said. “But tell me, sister, have you taken a lover yet, or do you yet cling to your chastity?”
“I have not yet met the man of my heart, sister,” Zenith said, sitting by a small fire.
RiverStar’s eyes hardened at the implied criticism in Zenith’s tone. Zenith was truly a prude if she did not while away the time at Sigholt with a lover. Stars! But what else was there to do in Sigholt? And what else was the body for but to be used? All Zenith ever did was murmur incoherent words about the right lover every time some birdman dared touch her flesh or invite her into his bed.
RiverStar twisted about on her stool and stared at her younger sister. Zenith had all of their mother’s dark good looks, and more. So where had she inherited the reluctance to put them to enjoyable use?
“All this yearning for your imaginary lover will see you in your grave before you are bedded, Zenith. Let me find you a lover.” RiverStar paused. “And you, too, Leagh. Zared is a lean man, and reaching mortal middle age. No doubt he will tire early in bed. Let me find you an Icarii lover.”
Embarrassed, Leagh dropped her eyes, and Zenith glanced at her before responding to RiverStar’s taunt. “Spare your energies, sister, and find one for yourself.”
RiverStar chuckled deep in her throat. “I have found me a lover. The best yet. He kept me awake far into last night and exhausted me all over again at first light. There is none that can match him.”
Zenith was not very interested. RiverStar claimed every month that she had found a better lover than the last. Besides, this conversation could hardly be doing Leagh any good. Before she could say anything to redirect RiverStar’s mind, her sister continued.
“I think I shall wed him,” she said, and smiled in satisfaction as she watched Zenith’s surprise.
“Marry him? Is he an Enchanter? What is his name?”
RiverStar toyed with a curl of her hair and tried to look mysterious. “Well…he is an Enchanter of sorts, and he has unimaginable power. Can you guess his name?”
Zenith frowned and shook her head. “RiverStar, come on, tell me. Are you serious about taking a husband?” She couldn’t imagine RiverStar making anything but a very bad wife. What vows of fidelity she managed to mouth at the marriage would undoubtedly be broken within weeks.
“No, you are wrong, Zenith. I could be faithful to this man for an eternity. He is…” she shivered theatrically, and ran one hand down her thigh, “…more than enough to keep me satisfied. Dangerous. Darkly esoteric. Insatiable.” She almost growled the last word, and ran her tongue about her lips.
Gods, thought Leagh. He must have the stamina of an ox and a wall of steel about his heart to survive RiverStar! Leagh hoped RiverStar did not think to use her Enchanter powers to read her mind – the images jumbling about there were not very complimentary to RiverStar.
“Surely such a lover could only be a SunSoar,” Ze
nith observed, more than a little suspicious. “Who?”
Zenith was sure RiverStar was making this up. SunSoars were fated to truly love only another SunSoar, cursed to desire only their own blood. RiverStar could not be this satisfied with anyone but a SunSoar male – and who was available for them in Sigholt? No-one but first blood, their brothers and their father, and first blood was Forbidden.
She paused with her mouth half-open. No, not quite. There was always –
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” RiverStar said, and Zenith stood up in frustration, determined to find another topic of conversation. Did RiverStar think of nothing but the pleasures of a bedding?
“What else is there to think of in this foggy palace?” RiverStar asked, looking out the window to where the magical blue mists shrouded Sigholt.
“There are mysteries to contemplate,” Zenith said quietly, moving over to the window. “Dreams to examine.” Her voice had faded, and she was lost in her own thoughts now, not listening to RiverStar.
“Mysteries, bah!” RiverStar waved her hand impatiently. “The only mystery I wish to explore exists in the junction of –”
“In you the Icarii inclination towards obscenity has flowered into its full, foul-smelling ripeness, RiverStar,” a man’s voice said from the doorway.
“Drago,” RiverStar said, and leaned back in her chair, smoothing her filmy gown over her body. “My dear, sweet twin brother, what bitterness you display! Ever since our mother reversed your blood order and disinherited you from your Icarii powers you have been absolutely incapable of bedding anyone save the girls who sweep the kitchens. Think, Zenith, of all the Icarii female Enchanters he must covet,” she ran her hand over a breast, “and yet whom he cannot hope to bed in the face of their laughter and rejection.”
“RiverStar –” Zenith began.
“Would you beg to have me, Drago?” RiverStar pinched out her nipple. “Would you roll on the floor before me and beg?”
“Whore,” Drago said flatly, and stepped into the room. He turned as if to speak to Leagh, sitting in such embarrassed silence she wished all the SunSoar siblings would just go and find somewhere else to quarrel, but RiverStar had not yet finished with her brother.