‘Who’s the closest conDoin male?’
Eric said, ‘That’s the difficult part. Lord Henry of Crydee is. Harry’s a grand fellow, but his ancestor, King Lyam’s brother Lord Martin, swore an oath on his own and his descendants’ behalf never to claim the crown. I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time, but right now I wish he’d kept his big mouth shut.’ Erik’s frustration was evident. ‘Harry would have the unconditional support of the Western Nobles, and not a few of the Eastern rulers as well. But without a legitimate claim, many who would have supported him will oppose him because of that oath. So, the one fellow who could keep the kingdom from civil war is the one most likely to cause it should anyone press his claim.’
Miranda said, ‘I don’t envy you.’
‘The only other conDoin male right now is a child, Prince Oliver, the son of the King’s dead brother, Richard. He’s six.’
Miranda turned towards the window. Night was falling. ‘I will leave you, Lord Erik. When can you come to aid the Tsurani?’
‘I have put my affairs in order and my successor will be here tomorrow. Lord John deVres of Bas-Tyra will arrive sometime before noon by hard ride from Salador. I will be forced to endure one of Edmund’s receptions and tomorrow will be the formal investiture and my retirement from office. The Prince will insist on giving me titles to lands I’ll never have time to see, and from which I’ll get income I will never have time to spend. In short, I’ll be ready to join you in three days’ time.’
Miranda said, ‘I will come myself to take you to the rift.’ She paused. ‘A suggestion?’
‘Yes?’
‘If the King does not survive, it might be politic for Prince Edmund to go to Rillanon and propose himself as—’
‘Prince Oliver’s regent,’ said Erik with a grin. ‘I’ve already discussed it with Lord James of Rillanon.’
Miranda said, ‘Nakor told me you were very clever for a blacksmith.’
Erik looked regretful. ‘There are days, and tomorrow is shaping up to be one of them, when I wish I had never left the forge.’
‘I understand. Three days, then.’
‘Three days.’
Miranda vanished and Erik sat down to think.
Kaspar moved his knight. ‘Check.’
General Prakesh Alenburga sighed. ‘I concede.’ He sat back. ‘You’re still the best opponent I’ve faced in years, Kaspar.’
‘I got lucky,’ said Kaspar. ‘And you’re distracted, General.’
‘True. I’ve spoken to the Maharajah about your… suggestion.’ Kaspar had been waiting to hear the Maharajah’s response. He had arrived two days earlier and found the capital of the new, vigorous Kingdom of Muboya enjoying a period of prosperity. A new palace was being constructed on a bluff overlooking the city, replacing an ancient citadel that reminded Kaspar a little of his own home in Olasko. It seemed centuries since he had lived there.
‘What was his reaction?’ Kaspar asked.
Alenburga sat back, his craggy features set in a thoughtful expression. ‘Given that you have never even met our beloved ruler, you certainly know how to gauge a man.’
‘Comes from years of trying to keep your neighbours from crushing you while trying to crush them in return,’ said Kaspar dryly.
Alenburga laughed. ‘Very well put. As you suggested, last time we met, the Maharajah married off his youngest sister to the second son of the King of Okanala and secured our southern border.
‘But as it happens, the new Princess of Okanala can’t abide the Prince’s touch – and he apparently isn’t all that interested in touching her in any event, preferring to go whoring with his chums, gambling his father’s kingdom away, or sailing boats that are built for racing – if you can imagine such a waste of gold – and so our ruler is not happy with the circumstances as they stand.
‘Your suggestion that we take in an army willing to swear fealty to him – and the prospect of settling such an army down south, very close to the Okanala border – is very appealing to the Maharajah, but it is counterbalanced by the concern over where the loyalty of such soldiers may lie – to their own leaders or to the Maharajah?’ He spread his hands in a gesture of uncertainty.
Kaspar shrugged. The reaction was much as he had expected. ‘I don’t suppose the word of an outlander would count for much? They are the most oath-bound bunch I’ve ever encountered. If they swear fealty to the Maharajah, they’d cut off their own thumbs at his order.’
‘I believe you, Kaspar. In our brief encounters I have come to judge you accurately, I think. You were once a very proud man who was humbled, and you are a more than capable military man. A ruler, too, I think at one time, or someone placed very high by birth.’
‘You read me well,’ said Kaspar.