“A man came to me tonight, a man I trust.” Vaelin paused, gathering his will for the risk he knew he had to take. “A man who knows much of the troubles besetting Deniers in the Realm.”
“Ah. For a member of an Order you choose unusual friends.”
“The Faith teaches us that a man’s mind should be open to truth, wherever he finds it.”
“It seems you have your mother’s way with words as well.” The King pulled a fresh piece of parchment from a stack on his desk, dipped his quill in a bottle of black ink and wrote a short passage. He then wiped the quill on his shirt sleeve, dipped it in a pot of red ink and wrote a list below the black text. He completed the document with an elaborate signature, then took a candle and a block of sealing wax, touching the flame to the wax to melt a droplet onto the bottom of the parchment. He blew softly on the wax for a moment then pressed his signet ring into it.
“Every time I sign my name to one of these,” he said putting his quill aside, “I have to amend my map.” Vaelin turned back to the chart on the wall, looking again at the list, black words crossed through with red. Names, he realised. Names of men he’s killed. Nortah’s father must be there somewhere.
“I’ll execute these men,” the King said. “On the strength of what you’ve told me. There will be no trial, the King’s Word is above all law. Their families will hate me for what I’ve done, but since I intend to confiscate their property and render them penniless it matters not.”
Vaelin met the King’s gaze, trying to decide if this was some kind of bluff, but saw no deception. “A family should not be punished for the crimes of but one of its members.”
“It is how it must be with nobles, leave the family its wealth and they’ll use it against me sooner or later. Besides, I know these men and their families. They’re a vile, greedy lot by and large. Life in the gutter will suit them well.”
“You put much stock in my word, highness. I could be lying…”
“You’re not. Thirty years a King teaches a man how to hear lies.”
A King’s justice is hard indeed, Vaelin decided. Could he stomach it? Seeing the certainty in the King’s expression he realised he had no choice. The course had already been set as soon as he opened his mouth. “And the man’s wife?”
“Well there we have a problem. She’s an unrepentant Denier. Aspect Tendris will no doubt seek to hang her from the walls in a cage. If she doesn’t die under questioning first, of course.”
“Highness, you are the King of this Realm and the Champion of the Faith. There must be some influence…”
“Must there?” The King's expression was a mix of anger and amusement. “I have done what I must this night.” He gestured to the death warrant he had written. “It is a King’s duty to dispense justice where he can. I will kill these men because they have broken the laws of this Realm and deserve their end. As for their victim’s wife, her crimes fall outside my jurisdiction. Therefore, it is not a question of what I must do, but what I may do, if it serves my purpose. So, Vaelin Al Sorna, tell me how saving this woman’s life will serve my purpose. You used your name to get in here, do you have nothing else to say?”
Mother, forgive me. “I know your Highness had plans for me, before my father sent me to the Order. If it pleases you, I will submit to your plans if you will secure the release of Urlian’s wife.”
The King’s reached for a crystal decanter on his desk and poured a measure of red wine into a glass. “Cumbraelin, ten years old. One of the benefits of Kingship is a well stocked cellar.” He offered the decanter to Vaelin. “Would you care for some?”
Vaelin’s head still ached from his binge in the ale house. “No thank you, Highness.”
“You father wouldn’t drink with me either.” The King sipped his wine slowly. “But then he never sought to bargain with me. I commanded and he followed.”
“Loyalty is our strength.”
“Yes. A fine motto, one of my best. I chose it for him, even chose the hawk as your family crest. It was something of a joke actually. Your father hated hawking, it’s a sport for nobles after all.” He took another sip from his wine, wiping the red stain from his lips with an ink spattered sleeve. “Do you know why he left my service?”
“I had heard there was discord between you over his wish to marry and legitimise my sister.”
“Know about her, eh? That must’ve been a shock. It’s true enough that I refused your father’s request to marry and he was angry over it. But in truth I believe he had resolved to leave my side when I had to kill my First Minister. They were at each other’s throats for years but when Al Sendahl’s thievery came to light it was your father that spoke for him when no other would. He had to die of course, although it was a grievous loss. Few other men knew finance so well as Artis Al Sendahl.”