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

“What?” she exploded, those already big eyes even larger.

This caught the attention of those around them, who gathered to hear. One was Aiden, whom Mawyndul? hadn’t seen arrive, but who joined their little circle, which was quickly becoming the center of the meeting.

“Makareta,” Aiden said. “What’s going on?”

She put one hand on her hip and pointed at Mawyndul? with the other. “Vidar kicked the prince, humiliated him in the Aquila, and then threatened him.”

“What?” Aiden said, appalled.

“I was there for part of it,” Makareta said. “I heard, well everyone heard, him call Mawyndul? a fool. Can you believe it?”

“He said that? In the Aquila?”

Makareta nodded so hard she spilled a bit of her wine.

More and more people gathered. Mawyndul? saw faces behind faces all looking at him, all struggling to hear what he had to say.

“He promised that he’d ruin my reputation. Guess he has connections or something.”

“You’re the prince!” Aiden sounded just as outraged as Makareta. “That’s horrible. Am I right?”

“Yeah,” Orlene said. “That’s outrageous.”

“Thing is,” Tandur said, “Vidar is a wasted seat in the council. He wasn’t meant to be a voice of the Miralyith. He was just an assistant—there to fetch water if Gryndal got thirsty. But now…”

“I agree with Orlene,” Makareta said. “That isn’t right. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Last week he made an utter fool of himself and gave Imaly another victory.”

Mawyndul? took a second sip of wine as people around him gathered to voice their anger at his mistreatment. Once again, Makareta was standing close, so near that he brushed her asica with his hand.

“What makes me angry,” Aiden said, with a shake of his fist that appeared a bit too showy, “is that Mawyndul? was Gryndal’s student, so he should be the one taking a place in the Aquila. He should be the senior councilor, not Vidar. Am I right?”

Mawyndul? wasn’t certain if Aiden was really upset or just acting the part. Aiden might be the sort who would feign emotion to make himself look better.

“Vidar only got the seat because he’s older. This is a travesty of timing and politics. The fane doesn’t want to be seen as favoring his son, so he’s forced to allow a fool to be the voice of the Miralyith in the council.”

“We should do something about it,” Tandur said while looking at Aiden.

As if any of them could do anything. Mawyndul? chuckled, hiding his laughter behind his wine cup. Did they really think he’d put up with such indignities if something could be done?

“What do you mean?” Orlene asked. “What can we do?”

Congratulations to Orlene! You win first prize for stating the obvious.

“What can we do?” Aiden laughed. “What can’t we do? We’re Miralyith!”

Mawyndul? got the feeling that was his answer to everything. Maybe he lived in a part of Erivan, in one of the more distant cities or villages, where the Art was worshipped. He certainly didn’t live in the Talwara.

“And what are these meetings for, if not to do something? Each week we come and talk about the superiority of the Miralyith. Is it just talk? Do we just drink wine and complain?”

“What are you saying?” Makareta asked.

“This is our chance to do something. I mean really do something. Am I right?”

Mawyndul? laughed again, but noticed several of the heads in the crowd nodded, their faces intent and serious.

Makareta was nodding, too. “Like what?”

“Mawyndul? is the heir, not only to the Forest Throne, but to Gryndal’s seat in the Aquila. Vidar is a disgrace to everything we stand for. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s quick to compromise because he doesn’t embrace the same values we do. The values of a real Miralyith.” Aiden’s voice was growing louder, taking on a rhythm. And as he spoke, he punched the air with that fist of his, or poked his finger at some invisible foe. “He’s working to diminish us to appease the lesser tribes, when he should be convincing everyone of the inevitability, and the wisdom, of a world dominated by the Miralyith.”

“Instead of demonstrating how all Miralyith should be viewed as gods”—Tandur raised his own finger, pointing toward the heavens, or at least the underside of the bridge—“he only confirms everyone’s belief that all Fhrey are equal. His term in the Aquila will only retard our advancement.”

All around him, Mawyndul? heard shouts of agreement. Some were hopping, bouncing with excitement. A nervous energy that might have been due to the wine. By the end of the meetings, everyone always did get a little loopy.

“But what can we do?” someone else asked, someone Mawyndul? couldn’t even see due to the growing cluster of people squeezing him and Makareta closer together.

“We should replace him,” Aiden said. “Am I right?”

All heads nodded and there were murmurs of agreement.

“Just think,” Aiden went on, “once we’ve replaced Vidar with Mawyndul?, we Gray Cloaks will have a direct voice in the grand council. And power to enhance our position.”

People cheered, and at that moment Mawyndul? felt Makareta take his hand. “Here,” she said, handing him a cloak. “You’re one of us now.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Caric




With few exceptions, I hold no love for the Dherg. They are deceitful, greedy, and cruel. They epitomize the worst traits imaginable. But of all the Dherg, one stands out as the most despicable. Read on…I am just getting started.

—THE BOOK OF BRIN





The grunting stopped. The ship no longer jerked forward at regular intervals, for which Persephone was immensely grateful. Looking over the side, she saw the oars rising into the air like bony wings. They dripped seawater that sprayed in the wind. Twelve dwarf-sized sailors pulled the poles inside, sliding them across their tiny laps, and securing the handles with leather straps. Six big, dirty metal pots and five smaller ones dangled from hooks and clanged against the side of the ship. A pair of giant rudders was controlled by a single dwarf, who sat on a stool holding one lever with each arm. Persephone had counted just about everything on the ship, which turned out to be smaller than she’d first imagined, but any place became cramped when you were trapped on it.