King's Crown: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 3, page 30
Dax leaned over to Dyk. “Fetch that box under the tent. I want the queen standing up where everyone can see her.” When the box was in place, he helped her up. Once Frieanna stood on the pedestal, Dax backed away and joined the crowd in cheering and applauding. The queen made a stiff little bow, but then she held her hands out to Dax. When he stepped forward to take her hands, she pulled him toward her. “You deserve this too, my love. Come enjoy the moment with me.” He stepped atop the box with her and waved to the crowd. The cheers thrilled him. He had a surge of pride . . . but he began to feel uncomfortable. This was Frieanna’s kingdom, and even though he was her husband now, he did not feel at ease.
Stepping back to the ground, he started congratulating those around him who had helped in the recent struggle. When he came to Renshau, he took the man’s hand, but he pulled him closer so he could make himself heard over the crowd noise. “We must start thinking about negotiating specifics about how we get the Tharans out of these lands. Whom do we hold as guarantee of their pledges? How will we enforce the terms?”
Renshau smiled at him and shook his head. “Well, savor your victory another day,” he observed sardonically.
“It’s not my victory but West . . .” Dax stopped. “No, the kingdom of Landly,” he corrected himself. “And the victory is not won until all has been put right.”
“When you get everything put right in this world, please let me know,” Renshau replied with another smile. “But you are right, there is much yet to do. You and Frieanna must meet as soon as possible with the Kotkel. For the first time since the early days of the dragon-bound, they have inserted themselves into the affairs of our world. I think we must understand the role they mean to play before we make definite plans.”
Dax thought about that for a time. “Yes,” he answered, suppressing a sigh at the thought of another task. “Let’s set something up as soon as possible. However, we need to honor the fallen drakons before me meet.”
“I agree. That will put the Kotkel in a better frame of mind . . .” Renshau paused and shook his head. “I never thought I would be thinking through strategies for negotiations with the Kotkel. Times have changed.”
Dax turned at a tug on his arm. He turned and smiled. It was Frieanna. “I see you two are already planning the next six moves of Knights and Stones. I would wager a good bit of the talk involves the Kotkel.”
Sometimes Frieanna’s insight took Dax’s breath away. She missed nothing that went on around her. “Renshau says they are being assertive,” Dax replied. “We should meet with them after we honor the drakons.”
She nodded. “There is much to do. However . . .” She grabbed Dax’s hand and lifted it into the air again. “We need another cheer!” she cried. The crowd responded lustily.
#
Dax had hoped things would slow down after their triumph, but the pace was at least as pressing as it had been when they had been preparing for the Tharans’ attack. Two days later, the two dead drakons outside of Tazzelton were immolated in a solemn ceremony. The day before the observance, General Dokran had come at Dax’s invitation to pay the Tharans’ respects to the dragons. Dax had been prepared to insist on the gesture to show the Tharans’ intent to address the Kotkel’s concerns, but Dokran agreed immediately when invited.
Seigneur Marny Eggether-a-Effyrod had also arrived that day. The mayor of the Kotkel’s settling displayed a brusque, businesslike manner that differed greatly from the kindly, almost grandfatherly way he had treated Dax as a boy. They had already had two brief meetings with the Kotkel, one to which the Tharans had sent a representative, and all the discussions had centered on plans for talks to be held in Thara about dismantling the Tharans’ operations with captured dragons.
At one point Dax had a chance to talk about the change in Kotkel attitudes with Renshau. The man just shrugged. “I wish I could tell you where this is headed,” he admitted. “They are making demands on the Tharans, but also on the dragon-bound.” He scratched his head. “Will this blow over once peace returns and the Tharans give up their dragons? Will the Kotkel return to their havens and their harmony song?”
“Or,” Dax voiced his own thoughts, “will they insist on being participants in the politics of our time?” That question had no answer now, so he decided to put another question to Renshau that had troubled him. “Do the Kotkel have the means to do anything else but talk?”
Renshau puffed out his cheeks and exhaled audibly. “Not that we know of directly.” He shrugged. “However, years ago they appear to have laid aside many things that they can still use at need—like at Conclave.”
Dax nodded to Renshau in agreement. “For the next few years, the dragon-bound are going to have an interesting time of it as emissaries to the Kotkel.”
“We will be stepping lightly,” Renshau concurred. “By the way, Marny did say they want to have Tharan members of the dragon-bound.”
Dax almost smiled. “That will make for some changes down south, won’t it?”
#
When word came that Markadamous was in control of the Tharan beachhead, Dax, Scarlet, and Renshau flew down for a visit. The situation was pleasantly peaceful. The majority of the Tharans were indeed government functionaries who had made no efforts to challenge the Ugori. Markadamous, for his part, held his troops away from the Tharan encampment—the one exception was the ceremony honoring the dead Tharan dragon, which all attended.
Dax tasked Markadamous with another pressing chore. They needed a rough census of the Tharans present on the beachhead. Back in Tazzelton, they had already started sorting out Tharans of wealth and standing to be held for ransom and a surety bond that Tharan negotiators would bargain in good faith. The details were dizzying, but the first ranks of Tharan troops were already on their way back to the beachhead. Dax wanted to see them well and gone from Landly as quickly as possible.
#
Two weeks later, the city held a solemn ceremony for the mercifully few Landly dead. That day the Great Temple was full, and a large crowd waited outside while the high priestess conducted the service. At the end, all the dignitaries filed outside, and the Great Mother herself gave the final blessing to the crowd from the balcony overlooking the throng.
The royal party lingered after the service at the request of the Great Mother. She had requested a private audience with the king and queen. The Great Mother was the same Sister Hennet Dax had met years ago after he had escaped the treachery in the castle. While the high priestess of the temple had conducted their wedding ceremony, Dax had seen the Great Mother at the service. There had been no time to say anything at the ceremony, but Dax burned to ask her about the destiny the Goddess in her Divinatory Aspect had seen. He had told Frieanna of the priestess who helped him follow the path that had led him to Frieanna and the united kingdom of Landly. Was he finally at the end of the path?
Dax and Frieanna were escorted to the Great Mother’s private residence. Inside her apartment, they knelt to receive the her personal blessing. The woman’s voice was rough from making herself heard to the crowd. After the brief ritual, they sat with the Great Mother in front of a small fireplace. She nodded in respect to the queen, but she spoke to Dax, “The Goddess has led you back to us. Welcome.”
Dax smiled. The woman had the rare gift of making her conversational partners feel like intimate confidants. “I am glad to see you again, Great Mother. You have helped me so much. Now how can we help the Goddess who has done so much to help the people of Landly?”
The Great Mother smiled. “As I said to the crowd, the Temple of the Goddess thanks both the king and queen of Landly for your service. But it is you”—she nodded to Dax—“who has a question for me.”
Dax raised his eyebrows. The Great Mother served the Goddess in her Divinatory Aspect. She had the sight, and Dax did have a question. “Years ago you gave me guidance. I want to thank you for that and ask if you have any more counsel for the queen and me?”
She smiled broadly at him. “You want me to release you from the road you walk through life?” Dax started to object, but found he could not. “Time itself will do that,” she said, “but not for many years yet.”
As one of the dragon-bound, Dax was used to people being intimidated when they talked to him, but he found himself overmatched by this woman. He sighed and felt the weight of responsibility acutely. “It is a burden,” he finally murmured. Frieanna reached over and took his hand.
“Is it a burden to do the right thing?” the Great Mother asked.
“But how do I know what is the right thing?” he protested.
“As long as you ask yourself that question, you will do the right thing.”
Frieanna squeezed his hand, and Dax thought about what the Great Mother had said. He saw the wisdom. “Thank you,” he said and started to get up.
The Great Mother reached out and took their clasped hands in hers. “Your road with the queen is long, and there are challenges you will face together.” She smiled and looked at them both. “But there is great joy too.” She squeezed their hands. “Great joy.”
The audience was over. After a few more pleasant words, they took their leave of the Great Mother. Dax held Frieanna’s hand all the way back to the castle.
#
Shortly after the memorial service for the fallen soldiers, the last of the Tharans’ force left the battlefield for transport back to their empire. At that point the king and queen of Landly declared a victory celebration. For two straight days there was singing, dancing, and general merrymaking throughout the city. Dax and Frieanna attended party after party. Dax shook so many hands that his arm was sore. Frieanna’s injury had healed enough that she could recline on a special chair and be comfortable enough to enjoy the festivities.
Two days after the last of the celebrations, life in the city and the castle had returned to routine. Frieanna started holding audience sessions again, and Dax attended when he could. The public was welcome to seek an audience with the queen, but because many cases for restitution for losses from damage or injury during the invasion were similar, applicants were interviewed ahead of time and comparable claims grouped together.
On the first afternoon of audiences, Castellan Farr requested an appearance. Dax, puzzled that the man did not seek them out through the normal chain of command, sat in on the session. The queen was in her special chair behind a desk. Dax took a seat just behind and to the side of the monarch of West Landly.
Farr did not have a concern himself, but he presented Tre Taibor, a jailer from the guard’s prison block in the castle. Taibor bowed before his queen when introduced, then fingered his uniform cap nervously. When it was his turn to speak, he said, “Your Majesties, I am concerned about the Tharan lady we imprisoned after the attack on the castle.”
Dax could not see Frieanna’s face, but he saw the muscles in her jaw flex. She leaned forward toward Taibor. “You are speaking of Iette, the Tharan agent who sought to open our gates to the enemy? The same person who injured your queen in the attempt?” Her voice was calm, but Dax knew her carefully controlled tone concealed her anger at the memory.
“Oh, she was a bad’un sure enough, Majesty.” Taibor obviously knew the queen was upset, but he pushed on. “It’s just that she’s sufferin’ so in the cell.”
“Suffering? How so? Has someone mistreated her?”
“No, nothing like that.” Taibor shook his head emphatically. “She seems t’be one of them that can’t stand to be shut up in a cell. She cries all the time—just lays there on her bed. Won’t eat or talk to anyone. Yesterday she scratched her fingers bloody on the door after I brought her supper. She was beggin’ and pleadin’ to be let out.” He fingered his cap some more before he added, “Like to break my heart hearing her go on so.”
Dax leaned forward and touched Frieanna on the shoulder. She leaned back and whispered to Dax, “Sounds as if her little show has stirred the tre.”
“Maybe, yes,” agreed Dax, “but there might be more to it. I have heard tell of people who cannot stand to be in an enclosed space.” He kept his voice low, but his own memories of being locked in a casket by the slaver Zodas were still vivid after all these years. Could he have stood it facing day after day in a small, confined space?
“You are not suggesting we let her go, are you?” Frieanna’s voice was still soft, but she spoke with passion. “She would run right back to Thara.”
That statement triggered a thought. “Would she run to Thara?” Dax mused quietly, and the queen shifted around to look at him directly. Dax continued, “Would she be welcomed in Thara? Her father was the source of her power and influence, and now that we have Darjazen’s head posted above the river gate, the Tharan ruling structure will have to change.”
Dax had held many discussions with Renshau and others about what an open throne in Thara would mean. Now he saw a way to get information rather than speculation. “If we change Iette’s cell, say, put her in a larger, guarded room with a window, we might be able to get her to talk to us about the Tharan power structure. Who could take the throne and how? Which, if any, of the former kingdoms will revolt? We have precious little information about the empire. Perhaps a talk with Iette may give us some valuable information.”
“When I see that hellcat,” Frieanna said fiercely, “I will take my knife and carve off a piece of her posterior to make it match my own. That would encourage her to talk.” Dax saw the anger in her eyes.
Dax nodded. “Which is why I think someone like Bindle should make the first approach. Bindle is easy to talk to, and Iette has not met her before.”
Frieanna thought for a moment. The anger went out of her eyes, and she smiled. “Iette does not know Bindle is dragon-bound, does she?”
“Oh,” said Dax blandly, “that could make a difference, couldn’t it?”
The queen smiled again, then turned back to Taibor. The man had been awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other while the monarchs discussed his concern. “Tre Taibor,” she said, “you have done the right thing in bringing this to our attention.” The man nodded in relief, and Frieanna went on to detail the changes they should make to ensure Iette was more comfortable. “We do not like to have people suffer more than they should. To help her recover herself, we will send someone to talk with her.”
Taibor took his formal leave, obviously glad to be finished with his task. The remainder of the audience was filled with more problems and crises, but not for the kingdom. They were troubles for the people affected by them, and the queen offered judgments in disputes over settlements. A few times the queen, or Dax for that matter, was able to offer direct help or a suggestion of where the claiments could find help. Most of the time, however, complaints were entered into the official log of cases to be dealt with by the proper functionaries. The process was time-consuming, but Dax knew this was a moment in time when their subjects could see their monarchs acting directly on their behalf. This was important.
#
The morning of the third day of hearings, Scarlet sought Dax out shortly after breakfast. “You need to come talk to someone,” he told Dax. “Holder has sent us a gift.”
Dax raised his eyebrows in surprise. Holder? he thought. Dax followed Scarlet down to the parade grounds and out to the castle’s east gate overlooking the city. Bloodstains still marked the terraced area at the top of the Serpentine Road where Dax had fought his way to the gate.
A rough-looking man stood outside the gate, holding the reins of two horses. One horse had a man’s body tied across it. “King Dax?” the man asked. When Dax nodded, the man turned to the horse with the body and cut the bindings on the man and let him slide off the horse and fall to the ground.
At first Dax had thought the man was dead, but the man landed on the stone terrace and groaned. Dax looked at the rough man who had put his knife away. “What’s this?” Dax asked.
“Mr. Holder said you would want to talk to this one.” He nodded to the man lying on the terrace. “That’s Yillit. He was head of the castle wood ticks. Seems he was so eager to have a rendezvous with the emperor’s little twins, he let them in your door the other evening.” He nodded to the gate. “Caused you a bit of trouble too, didn’t it?”
Unable to help himself, Dax smiled. Holder, or Snake, had helped tie up a loose end. He nodded to the man. “Give our regards to Mr. Holder. Promise him we will see to a proper settlement.” As the man turned to leave, Dax said, “Oh, and this is for your trouble.” He gave him a gold from the pouch at his waist. The man nodded his thanks, and without another word, he mounted his horse and led the other animal back down the Serpentine Road.
Dax turned back to the gate. Three guardsmen stood over Yillit. Scarlet nodded. “Wrong side of the law or not, Holder did us a favor.”
“We’ll have a talk with this person”—Dax gestured to the man who lay on the ground—“Yillit, to make sure, but it sounds as if the treason was just about what I expected.”
Scarlet sighed, but he winked. “Never underestimate the appeal of a little bout of bobby bounce in the hayloft.”
#
Iette became a bit of a pet project for Treyhorn and Dax. Within a week of being moved to larger quarters, Iette had settled down, and she began to talk freely with Treyhorn. Frieanna stayed away. Not only did she not want to talk to “the little emissary of the Dark One,” but just the mention of the queen’s name terrified Iette. When Dax came to call, Iette insisted on wearing a veil to hide her misshapen nose and missing teeth. Dax, for his part, had already seen her injuries, but he let her keep that much of her vanity intact.
The most interesting information Iette had concerned the Tharan royal court and the likely political situation now that Emperor Darjazen was dead. For as young as she was, Iette had good information. She told them that out of his twenty-two sons from seven of his eight wives, at least six were old enough and had enough political connections to be viable candidates to replace their father on the throne of an empire. Of those, three would certainly try for the throne.
