“Is Aydor feared?” I asked.
“Is. Aydor. Feared.” The old man stared into the fire. “In the way of a brute he is. Feared the way you fear a wild animal. His mother though?” He chuckled. “If she’d been a man we’d all be in trouble.”
“What about the king?”
“Feared and respected, once. But now he is dying, and dying men scare no one. They do nothing.”
“But he is still king.”
“For now.” He fed the lizard another bit of meat. “I hear your family are rich, young Girton, that they own growing lands and breed fine mounts like the beast you ride.” I nodded. “Then think on this, boy. When Doran ap Mennix dies, Aydor will take the throne. He will not answer to his mother’s rein then, no matter what she thinks. His father was hard but he knew there were lines not to be crossed. Aydor will not see those lines, and when he pushes too hard the people will push back.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He ignored me.
“There was a rising during Doran’s time—over food.” He fed another scrap to his lizard. “It always starts over food. Some blessed saw their chance and allied themselves with thankful rebels to try and take the crown. If kings are not clever and feared and respected such risings are an excellent time for castles and crowns to change hands.”
“And your family has a claim to the throne.”
“Aye, we do. My father was king but he passed the throne to his sister’s husband, Ostir ap Mennix, to punish my mother for an imagined infidelity.” The old man’s eyes were grey, like flecks of stone. “I watched her burn on a fool’s throne.”
“But you did not try and take the crown back?”
“No. I had watched Doran grow into a king, and a good one, though that is not the reason we sided with him.”
“What was?”
“I’d seen Doran fight.” Another bit of meat to the lizard. “With triple his numbers it would have been a struggle to beat him, and there were rumours about a sorcerer having risen in the south.”
“The Black Sorcerer?” I said. We all knew the story of the last sorcerer. He had promised to heal the land, bringing about balance and the rebirth of the gods. Instead he had maimed the land afresh and would have done worse if Doran ap Mennix had not cut him down.
“Yes, the Black Sorcerer. So the ap Dhyrrin sided with Doran ap Mennix against the rebels, and even though I lost my eldest son I am sure we did right. But if there is another rising, Girton? What then? Is Aydor a genius? Is there some threat that would make us look past our own ambitions?” He fed more meat to the lizard. “I think there is not.”
“This is treason,” I whispered. “Talk like this will get us both a pyre and a fool’s throne, like your mother.”
“You’ve gone moonwhite, boy.” He let out a quiet chuckle, almost a growl. “Don’t worry, boy. Adran knows I speak like this—” he raised his voice “—and if her spies are at my door then they can tell their mistress to teach her boy some control before it is too late.” He sat down with a sigh. “We all want Maniyadoc and the Long Tides to be stable, Girton. It is good for trade, and that is good for us all. Adran will not move against me and I will not move against her, we know too much about one another. If Aydor becomes high king all is solved anyway. Adran has already agreed Maniyadoc will come to Tomas, and we will part as allies.”
“But I have heard the high king’s sister has little interest in men.”
He shrugged.
“Adran has ways of getting what she wants. If these were the old times, and queens could rule, then she’d be formidable.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He leaned forward so he could whisper to me. His breath smelled like old books.
“The heir already dislikes you, Girton. You should choose your friends wisely and with an eye to the future, give some thought to rebuilding bridges you have broken. Do not make a hedgings deal.” He lifted a finger gnarled with arthritis. “Sometimes, Girton ap Gwynr, when we are young we do not realise the way the decisions we make will weigh upon us as adults. Look at me, Girton, bent over by choices made in youth. Make choices now that will help you stand tall as a man, do you understand?”
I did not reply, I did not think the youngest son of a country blessed would know how to reply to what Daana ap Dhyrrin said.
“I have made you uncomfortable,” he said with a false smile. “I apologise, but politics is an uncomfortable business, young Girton. Think on what I have said. Even when Aydor becomes high king strife is coming, boy, and you have made choices likely to leave you lonely when it does. Think of what best benefits your family if you cannot think of yourself.” He sat back in his well padded chair. “I tire now.” He held out his hand and the lizard jumped from his shoulder to it. “If you could place my lizard back in its cage I would be obliged.”
I took the lizard from him and its tiny claws dug into my skin as I took it to its cage. It jumped in and then hissed at me. When I turned, Daana ap Dhyrrin was asleep, so I snuck out of his room and made my way back to my own. My master waited there, curled up on her truckle bed and covered only by a thin blanket. She looked very small and tired.
“Girton,” she said quietly, her voice as dead-sounding as her make-up made her look.
“I have had my meetings with Bryan ap Mennix and Daana ap Dhyrrin.”
She pulled herself up to sit cross-legged. “And?”
“I do not think Bryan ap Mennix has the wit to plan an assassination, but Daana ap Dhyrrin talks quite openly of treason.”
“Aye,” she said, pushing back her hood and starting to undo the plait in her hair, which had become tangled and knotted. I felt a little crestfallen. What I had said was clearly not new information to her. “And do you think him capable of planning a killing?”
“Undoubtedly.” I sat by her and pushed her hand aside, then started to untangle her plait. “But he is clever and believes Aydor, if he does not become high king, will be the architect of his own destruction by turning the people against him.”
“I have heard him say as much.”
“One thing, Master. He said, ‘when Aydor becomes high king,’ though he does not seem to think Aydor will marry the high king’s sister.”
“A slip of the tongue?”
“Maybe, but he sounded very sure of it, and he seemed like a very precise man so it struck me as odd. He talked as if Aydor would be high king, marriage or not. But he is old. Maybe his mind wandered.”
“Do you think him a likely assassin?”
I tried to put myself in the old man’s shoes.