Age of Swords (The Legends of the First Empire #2)

As he did, Mawyndul? noticed the gleam of sweat on Vidar’s ample forehead. He’s pretending to teach me, but the dusty old relic is really out of breath from the climb.

“Gylindora had always asked the leaders of each tribe their opinions on matters of governance. They worked as her general council, and their role, as she explained it, was to present problems, make suggestions, and assist in the overall administration of our people. At the time, the Fhrey nation was small, but she knew it would grow. One person couldn’t hope to effectively run the whole thing.”

He thinks he’s being so clever, but if he’s stopping to catch his breath, why does he talk so much?

Mawyndul? stood with one foot on the next step, wondering what would happen if he just went on ahead; the two wore identical purple-and-white asicas, which Mawyndul? believed was the only requirement to gain entrance to the main floor. Instead, he tapped his foot to show impatience. Vidar, being the oblivious lout that he was, didn’t notice.

“The Aquila is still composed of six councilors and the fane, but he doesn’t attend often. The councilors usually have assistants, like yourself.”

Assistants? As Mawyndul?’s father had explained it, the prince was to be the junior councilor. Since he was paired with Vidar, Mawyndul? saw his responsibilities more along the lines of making sure the older Fhrey didn’t embarrass himself by drooling or forgetting his own name.

Forget you are the prince while you are with Vidar, his father had said. Learn from him, from all of them. See firsthand how the Aquila works. This will be invaluable to you in the future when you are fane.

Mawyndul? didn’t know why he should listen, especially given that the fane was under no obligation to take advice from the Aquila. Gryndal wouldn’t have cared what they thought. Mawyndul? wished he could have been made junior councilor when Gryndal represented the Miralyith in the Aquila, one of only a few First Ministers to share the dual roles. Serving with Gryndal, Mawyndul? would have certainly learned things, lots of things.

Vidar prattled on, “Imaly is the Curator of the Aquila and presides when the fane isn’t present. She’s very clever for a Nilyndd, and not to be trusted. In the event the Curator is unable to conduct the responsibilities of their office, the Conservator of the Horn appoints a new one.”

Mawyndul? had lost interest, if he ever had any to begin with. Not his fault, he reasoned. The old Fhrey had a droning manner that could put a rushing river to sleep. The prince’s gaze strayed, as did his thoughts. Since he’d never had any interest in the meetings of the Aquila, Mawyndul? had never bothered to climb the stairs to the Airenthenon, where the council met. Although the stairs were not above the forest canopy, they nevertheless granted an impressive view of the capital. The city was nestled in the valley amid three hills: the one where the Airenthenon sat, the one where the palace stood, and the one with the Garden. At the foot of the hills, the Shinara River snaked its way among great trees, homes, and shops. In several places, it was crossed by bridges, the largest near Florella Plaza where artisans set up stands to hawk their wares.

From this vantage point, Mawyndul? saw the Garden as a small ring of rich green surrounding a great edifice of stone. The most sacred place in the world was how the Garden had always been described. Mawyndul? had never thought much of the Garden, or of the wall at its center that supported a great dome. The wall had only one entrance, a permanently sealed door. From above, it didn’t look so sacred. It looked small.

He soon grew bored with even the bird’s-eye view and his attention was drawn to the nearby fountain built as a decoration on the marble steps. The excessively noble-looking statue of a stag stood within a gurgling pool of water, its head bent down as if to drink. With a flick of his wrist and a swirl of his fingers, Mawyndul? summoned up three balls of water the size of fists. He made them whirl in the air, chasing one another in a circle. So much easier to do with the Art. The Traitor was a fool to force me to juggle by hand like a common Fhrey.

“Stop that!” Vidar snapped.

Mawyndul? let the balls drop, splashing on the steps. A few drops sprayed the bottom of Vidar’s asica, causing him to glare. “This isn’t playtime, my prince. And it is forbidden to use the Art in the chambers, so restrain yourself.”

Should have dropped the balls on his head.

“Now, back to what I was saying. The Aquila holds no direct power, since the fane’s authority is absolute, ordained by Ferrol. However, this esteemed body has an important role in determining who shall be given the right to blow the Horn of Gylindora. They don’t decide who will be fane. Ferrol does that. But they determine who gets the opportunity to challenge, and this makes them very powerful.”

For the first time, Vidar had caught Mawyndul?’s attention.

“How is that done?” Mawyndul? asked, and he noted a superior smile on the senior councilor’s lips as if the old Fhrey had won something. Then Mawyndul? realized Vidar had done just that. How could the prince maintain an air of indifference, proclaim he already knows everything worth knowing, if he asks questions? This defeat—his thoughtless misstep—irritated Mawyndul?, and Vidar’s little smile was a gloating insult.

“The Horn of Gylindora is kept by the Conservator who is charged with keeping it safe and producing it when, under the leadership of the Curator, a decision is made as to who shall blow it. In theory, anyone of Fhrey ancestry has a right to challenge, but since only one Fhrey can do that every three thousand years, it is an important responsibility to determine who that will be. Challengers must apply to the Aquila for the right. Then from those applicants, the council decides. Applicants appear before the council to argue their case. All this is done confidentially. No identity is revealed until the horn is blown. Those who aren’t chosen remain anonymous, and the deliberations and the proceedings are never disclosed. This hill, on which the Airenthenon sits, gives our council its name. Aquila literally means ‘place of choosing.’?”

So endeth the lesson, Mawyndul? thought when Vidar finally resumed his climb.

Mawyndul? didn’t follow immediately. He remained on the step staring up at the marble columns of the Airenthenon, wondering about the list of applicants. His father had been challenged by Zephyron, the leader of the Instarya. Until that moment, Mawyndul? had assumed he had been the only challenger.

Were there others? How many? Who were they? Since Gryndal had been a senior member of the Aquila, had he known who they were?

Mawyndul? turned to look back at the city. Below him, the Fhrey went about their lives on that beautiful summer morning, and the prince wondered how many of them were his enemies.