A/N: Apparently some people were having trouble accessing this chapter, so I'm reposting it. I'm sorry about the delay, but I went out partying for Saint Patrick's Day, and the whole subsequent week I had to work on a huge formal lab report due Friday. So this weekend I actually got around to writing this chapter. To make it up to you, it's rather long. We've had enough peace and happiness in the Old Kingdom, and it's time for Trouble to rear its ugly head. As you can probably tell by the title, this won't be an action-packed chapter. But Trouble will be there all the same!
To anonymous reviewer Dragonchad4: Glad you're enjoying it so far! I don't think there would have been dragons in the Old Kingdom, as they would surely have been mentioned. Other mythological creatures do not exist in the Old Kingdom either, but this doesn't rule out the possibility of there being "dragon-like" creatures.
To anonymous reviewer Violinboy: You and LimeJuiceTub both thought of Holehallow, and I nearly hit myself for forgetting something so important! As such, I've altered the setting of one of my chapters, and we should be seeing the famous burial place of the Kings and Queens in… about 3 chapters. Thanks for reviewing!
The King's Council
"It's beautiful here."
Cassiel turned to smile at his wife, who was walking beside him down a sandy path. She was looking around at the russet leaves in rapture. "I quite agree. Why can't we have gardens like these?" he teased.
Lessandra rolled her eyes. "Perhaps because we don't have Royal gardeners. Although," she added with a thoughtful expression, "if you did ask the king, he would probably let you borrow them."
"Should I?" Cassiel pretended to consider. "I cannot ask too many favours of my King, you know. They must be chosen with great care. What if I were to request a company of soldiers to help fend off an army of Dead, and he were to say, 'I'm sorry, but you did borrow my gardeners last year. Some other time, perhaps.' What then?"
Lessandra punched him – hard – on the arm.
"Mommy is beating up daddy again!" A dark-haired boy poked his head out of a large patch of sunflowers.
Cassiel instantly hitched a happy-go-lucky grin onto his face. "Nonsense, Turiel," he scolded his younger son. "Mommy never beats up daddy. You keep saying that and daddy will be forced to give you up for adoption."
Lessandra punched him again, which caused Turiel to let out an incriminating squeal. Cassiel turned to his wife. "Well, he's your son," he said.
The woman smiled and shook her head, but flung up her hands. A hundred balls of multicoloured light shot from her fingers, and went bouncing among the sunflowers. "Go on, Turiel!" she encouraged. "Go chase the lights!" The little boy took off and was soon lost amidst the thick green stems. Only a slight quivering of a few sunflower heads indicated his location.
Cassiel stared after his son, who had been so cheerfully distracted. "Do you think our Turiel is a bit dim?" he asked with mock seriousness.
Lessandra frowned with equal gravity. "No, I do not think so. He just likes to chase little balls of light, which is quite useful if you want your child to leave you alone. It's too bad that trick does not work anymore on Vichael – I tried it last week, and he gave me a look of pure disgust."
They carried on down the garden path, and came to a small clearing where a jade fountain held pride of place. And there on the steps of the fountain was their older son.
"Vichael!" Lessandra said in that sharp voice that seems to come naturally to all mothers. "What are you doing?"
The boy paused in the act of reaching for something, which Cassiel realized was a ball of crystal. The elaborate jade fountain was topped by an intricately-carved fish, which held the gleaming orb in its mouth. It was altogether too tempting to be passed up by a ten-year-old boy.
"Get down from there," Lessandra scolded. "You shouldn't touch those things."
"That's right," Cassiel chimed in, endeavouring to look stern. "Only adults are allowed to do that." He marched past his son and up the fountain steps, reaching out for the alluring crystal ball. His fingers were three inches away… two…
"Lord Cassiel Abhorsen!"
The man withdrew his hand as if scalded, and whirled around, half-drawing his sword. He relaxed marginally when he saw that the speaker was one of five palace guards. The officer was staring at him incredulously. Cassiel was suddenly all-to-aware of how ridiculous he must have looked, caught in the act of stealing one of the King's garden decorations. He hopped off the steps, and endeavoured to appear as dignified as he possibly could under the circumstances. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
The officer recovered from his shock with admirable celerity. "You can come with us."
Cassiel exchanged a worried glance with his wife, but winked reassuringly at his son before following the officer. The other guards immediately surrounded him in a protective box, and they marched together towards the palace. The Abhorsen started to become seriously worried. Surely he wasn't going to be arrested for trying to steal palace property? The man's worries escalated when they entered the palace from a side door. Was this what happened to the unfortunate souls who broke the laws of hospitality at the palace? Were they thrown into a secret dungeon and never heard from again?
He followed the officer through winding corridors and lost track of the twists and turns. Despite this, the journey was becoming familiar. When the officer finally threw open a pair of doors and bowed him into a room, Cassiel knew that he was not in trouble – the Kingdom was. It was the very conference room where he had decided the fate of Alocas years and years ago. Dantalion had since turned it into a clandestine meeting-place for his Council, and Cassiel had been in attendance on many occasions.
Dantalion glanced up at his entrance and motioned him towards the chair to his left. Guards stood by every door, and scribes sat unnoticed against the walls. Cassiel was surprised that the full Council had been summoned. It was something serious, then.
There were twenty-one other Councillors in the room, over half of whom were members of prominent families of impeccable lineage. The King appointed his Councillors, and as there were so many noble families in the Kingdom the requisite twelve seats had been filled with people of generally good sense. Most of them were rather introvert, something that Cassiel suspected was deliberate – it certainly cut down on the amount of bickering and generally childish and wasteful behaviour.
The other members of the Council were much more interesting, and had all been appointed to the Council due to their responsibilities within the palace or Kingdom, such as Cassiel Abhorsen. The ten of them were clustered at one end of the table with the King like and exclusive club, and the divide between them and the twelve nobles was so obvious it was almost painful.
Glancing at the empty chair at the foot of the table, Cassiel spoke to the man seated across from him. "No mediator today, Master Bieryn?"
The beanpole-thin Master of the Household peered down a nose so sharp you could cut paper with it. "I'm afraid not, Lord Abhorsen," he said with a wry smile. "Queen Penemue is on a goodwill visit to Estwael, and Crown Princess Farelle is at petty court."
"Mediator" was what many of the Councillors called the Queen or Crown Princess during such meetings. Their regular contributions to the debate prevented the conversation from being entirely dominated by the ten individuals seated near the King. The Queen or Princess also encouraged involvement from the twelve nobles. There had always been tensions between the two factions, and today it looked like not one of the twelve nobles would get a word in edgeways. Cassiel felt smug – leave the talking to the main players.
His spirits took a sudden nosedive when he saw Sir Falgon of Olmond taking a seat as far up the table as he could, practically rubbing elbows with a Lieutenant of the Royal Guard. Usually, Cassiel was amused when a noble attempted to join the conversation, but this particular man irritated him.
When the last person had taken their seat, the Dantalion stood to speak: "Thank you for coming." The men and women ceased their chatter, and Dantalion nodded at the woman who headed the spy ring in Ancelstierre. She was sporting a sour expression; obviously something of consequence had happened in the neighbouring country. "Lady Rilmea, if you would."
The woman stood and cleared her throat, rolling back the sleeves of her severe black robes. "Council members," she greeted them with an ironic inclination of the head. "I bring grave news. Earlier today at noon it was announced that Sir Tralusan has been elected to be the third Chief Minister of Ancelstierre." An incredulous babble broke out, but was instantly hushed when the woman raised her arms. "He is being sworn in by the Hereditary Arbiter as we speak. I assure you that this information came from our own consul in Corvere, a reliable source."
"What has been done in the meantime?" demanded General Paleon from the seat beside Cassiel. As usual, his military uniform was spotless, and the ebony baton that marked his station gleamed on the table before him.
"No direct action has been taken," said King Dantalion. He looked tired, but his voice was strong. "Rilmea's agents in Ancelstierre await our orders. A message has been sent to the Clayr at the Glacier, as well as Master Felio at the Wall. This Council must decide our course of action."
"What do we know of this Tralusan person?" Cassiel tried not to wince when he heard that voice. It was Sir Falgon, the pathetic one-eyed noble who always tried to muscle in on their discussions. Master Bieryn shot Cassiel a significant look, and Cassiel gave a slight nod – Falgon was only a member of the Council because his father had been a valued advisor of King Berillan.
Lady Rilmea looked very cross at having to answer to Falgon, a mere seat-filler. "We know that Sir Tralusan is Anti-Wall, like many Ancelstierrans," she said, scowling. "He is spreading the belief that the Bloodlines are using the Bright Shiners to augment their own powers, and that completing the Wall is act of violence against them. Tralusan does not sympathize with the Kingdom. He is not a Charter Mage, and thinks that necromancers and the Dead are superstition." Lady Rilmea cast an apologetic glance at Cassiel with that last comment. He waved it off, but inwardly decided that he did not like the sound of this Tralusan person.
"We need to know more," declared the one-eyed knight, knuckling his eye patch in a way that made Cassiel vaguely queasy. The Abhorsen was tempted to congratulate him for stating the obvious, but Dantalion usually did not appreciate sarcasm.
The King elected to ignore Sir Falgon. "Rilmea, have our contacts in Ancelstierre find everything they can on Tralusan. Use all of our agents – consuls, Lords who are faithful to us, informants in noble households – everybody. Focus on his relations with the other members of the Moot. I want to know who he has for allies in there."
"We will know soon enough," Bieryn remarked bitterly. "As Chief Minister, Tralusan will elect his own supporters as the Twelve Ministers in the Moot." Murmurs broke out among the Council members, but Cassiel said nothing; he had no head for politics, and did not want to risk sounding stupid. If only his wife had come along – she could have advised him.
"You say that Tralusan is Anti-Wall," spoke up a man in red and gold livery. Dantalion gave the speaker a dark glare that he reserved only for Javen, Captain of the Royal Guard. Javen also happened to be the King's son-in-law, something for which Dantalion might never forgive him. The young man had Cassiel's sympathy. "Surely now that he has been elected, his extreme supporters will be encouraged to take action."
"The Captain is right," declared General Paleon. "The Wallmakers are vulnerable right now. We should send a force to protect them."
Heads turned to regard the palace Wallmaker Eilune, one of the few who were not at the Wall. "I agree," she confirmed grimly. "We can defend ourselves, but we cannot afford any delay in the Wall's construction. It has been dragging on long enough."
"Which Companies are closest to the Wall?" asked the King of the room at large.
The General's aide spoke up with alacrity: "Blue, White, and Gold Companies of the Twelfth Regiment, and Green and Gold Companies of the Sixteenth. All no more than two days' ride."
Dantalion did not hesitate. "Have them abort their missions and report directly to the Wall, until such time that we can post some Companies there permanently." The General glanced at his aide, who sprang to her feet and executed a smart salute before leaving through one of the doors, accompanied by a scribe.
The King turned back to the table and Cassiel, who sat at his left, could tell that he was exhausted. But of course, Dantalion would not show it. "Let's move on. What reaction can we expect from our people?"
Madam Ophwin leaned forward, interlacing spindly fingers covered in hideous antique rings. Cassiel wondered if all archivists were so enmeshed in history that they shunned modern fashions. "It may be similar to conditions during the Civil War," the old lady croaked. "Some of the citizens of the Kingdom will move, in this case to Ancelstierre. There are many who do not agree with the Wall. One need only look at the petitions we have been receiving."
Sir Falgon snorted. "We never received criticism regarding the Wall before that cursed Tralusan started his campaign." He pounded his fist on the tabletop to make his point, and Cassiel resisted the urge to draw his sword and lunge over the table. From the way the General and Captain Javen were glaring, he was not alone.
The archivist cast a disdainful look at the one-eyed knight, and continued. "The Kingdom will also lose a great number of our alchemists, astronomers, and philosophers, who will seek patronage from the Ancelstierre Moot to continue their work."
"That is true," added Lady Rilmea, pausing in the act of drafting a letter on a scrap of parchment. "It is rumoured that Tralusan is planning to establish a gathering place in Wyverly for people of learning. We could lose some of our most brilliant minds to Ancelstierre."
"The outlook cannot be as bleak as you are all making it out to be," boomed General Paleon, causing everyone to jump as if they were on the parade ground. Captain Javen and his Lieutenant actually sat up to attention. "If some of our people cross the Wall to Ancelstierre, then others will come over to our side."
"The northern villagers certainly might," said Lady Rilmea. A rare smile diffused over her features, making her look quite sinister. "They use Charter magic and are faithful to the Kingdom."
"Perhaps we shouldn't continue building the Wall," said Madam Ophwin suddenly. "After all, we did not agree to such an enormous undertaking. It was the Ancelstierrans who originally requested, to King Berillan early in his rule, that the Wall be built."
The members of the Council turned to stare at the historian as she played with her rings. Even the twelve lords and ladies looked flabbergasted, when usually they could be counted upon not to have any opinions. Except, of course, Sir Falgon. "Are you daft?" Falgon roared, glaring with a fury that more than made up for the fact that he had only one eye. "If we stop building the Wall, then Tralusan has already won!"
"Actually, that's not such a bad idea," muttered Captain Javen, "at least in part." He explained to the Council, who had turned their glares on him for having the audacity to side with Falgon. "Tralusan's first target as Chief Minister will be the Wall. It might be wise to halt construction for a few months until the tumult dies down."
"It will make the Wall easier to guard," agreed the General, coming to the younger man's aid. Cassiel sometime thought that if it wasn't for General Paleon, Javen would have been assassinated in the night at the King's behest.
The King, however, was frowning. "Madam Ophwin," said Dantalion, "we already agreed that any delay in the building of the Wall would be costly. Sir Falgon, kindly keep a civil tongue in your head when speaking to other members of this Council. Captain, I would appreciate it if you confined your voiced opinions to matters concerning your station. General, I have no doubt in the competence of our soldiers, and am certain they will perform their duties admirably." Cassiel marvelled at the King's rapid-fire delivery, and how he had managed to alternately gratify and offend the members of his Council governed by his personal opinion of them. Ophwin and Falgon looked abashed, Javen looked affronted, and General Paleon looked complacent. Cassiel wished he had the King's powers of speech.
Dantalion carried on. "What we need," he said, "is to dispel this ridiculous notion that the three Bloodlines have enslaved the Bright Shiners. Much of Tralusan's support is derived from this allegation. If we show that the Bright Shiners willingly put themselves into the Bloodlines and Stones, then Tralusan will have to abandon his attack against the Wall. This is our primary objective. The movement of our scholars into Ancelstierre is secondary at this point." Elderly Madam Ophwin looked as though she would like to disagree, but she held her tongue.
"Perhaps we should go to the Bright Shiners for help," suggested Lady Rilmea. "One of them could speak to Tralusan."
"He would claim that we forced the Bright Shiner to defend the Wall," Bieryn pointed out with his trademark pessimism.
Dantalion gave a grim smile. "If you speak to a Bright Shiner, Master Bieryn, you know that nobody can force them to do anything. It is a good plan, but nobody knows where any of the Bright Shiners are. They come and go as they please and cannot be summoned."
"Wait a moment." said the Head Charter Mage, waving his hands for attention. Girvase's predecessor had lost her place on the Council by marrying Princess Farelle and Captain Javen without the King's express permission. The newest Councillor pointed at Cassiel. "Doesn't one of the Seven reside beneath your house?"
"Astarael does," Cassiel confirmed, shuddering at the thought. "But I value my life. If any of you feel like chatting with the Weeper and asking her to speak with Tralusan, you're welcome to try. But keep in mind that every person she speaks to tends to die."
That suggestion quashed, the Council had nothing more to say on the matter.
"General Paleon," said the King offhandedly. "Considering what you know of the fighting men in Ancelstierre, what would our chances be should war break out?"
The Councillors stared at their King, either surprised that he was even considering the possibility of war, or shocked at the careless tone he had employed when speaking of it. Cassiel was one of the former. He suddenly realized that the threat of war was very real. Bad feelings still existed between the Ancelstierrans and the citizens of the Kingdom from the Civil War. That had been in his grandfather's time, but Cassiel could not deny that stigmas were widespread in both countries.
"…difficult to say," the General was replying when Cassiel returned to the conversation. "We are a proper Army, whereas Ancelstierre's fighting force consists of the Lords and their Knights, and a few private armies. But our forces are stretched across the Kingdom and take days to muster. If our soldiers can access the Charter as they fight, then victory will be ours. If not, there will be heavy losses on both sides."
"Bieryn?"
The Master of the Household shook his head. "War would be detrimental at this point, Your Highness. Our treasuries are far from full, and the people would object to the taxation, if not the bloodshed. My advice to you is to avoid war at all costs."
The King nodded and sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes for nearly ten seconds, during which time everyone sat silently and held their breath. Finally, he opened his eyes and clasped his hands, having come to a decision. "Rilmea," he said briskly. "Have our consul in Corvere contact Sir Tralusan with the message that I wish to meet with him personally, as soon as possible, in any place that he should choose." He regarded the watching Councillors, offering no explanation. "Dismissed."
In the bustle as people got up, stretched, and talked, Cassiel turned to the King. "This is completely unrelated," he said in a hushed whisper, uncomfortably aware of Bieryn listening in, "but Lessandra adores the palace gardens. I was wondering if you could possibly–"
"Bieryn," said Dantalion, fully aware of the eavesdropping Master of the Household, "send four of our gardeners to the Abhorsen's House." He clapped Cassiel on the shoulder. "Of course, you do understand that the next time you ask for a company of soldiers, you're not getting it."
"I did explain that to her," said Cassiel with a sigh. "But she resorted to physical violence." Dantalion grinned and turned to address the General.
As the King walked away, Master Bieryn snorted. "You must be the only person other than Queen Penemue who understands our King's sense of humour."
A/N: So, how is Ancelstierre going to agree with Dantalion and his subjects? How are the citizens going to react to this election? And who is this Tralusan guy, anyway?
Okay, want to know how much of a geek I am? I basically created all twenty-two members of the King's Council (the twelve nobles and the ten other Councillors), and worked out their seating arrangement around the table. Talk about overkill! By the way, the ten Councillors who sit at the King's end of the table were all mentioned, eight of them by name. Can you spot them?