Sovereign

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Authors: Simon Brown
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy, Action & Adventure
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into his shirt.
    'It is a wonderful badge. It is the most famous badge in all of Grenda Lear.'
    'It means I am a Rosetheme,' Olio added.
    'You are Olio Rosetheme, prince of Grenda Lear.'
    Olio frowned. 'Yes. Yes I am.'
    'And do you remember what the Rosetheme family has that no other family has?'
    'The crown,' he said immediately.
    Edaytor laughed. It was a nice sound, and for the first time Olio decided that maybe he would like this man.
    'I mean other than the crown. Even greater symbols of royal authority, filled with magik and power.'
    Olio creased his forehead in thought again. He was silent for a long time. 'Can you give me a clue?'
    'There are four of them.'
    Olio's eyes lit up. 'Oh, I know! I know! The Keys of Power! Mother wears them on chains around her neck.'
    Edaytor nodded, and licked his lips. 'Can you tell me what the four Keys are?'
    'Whew,' Olio gushed.
    'I know it's a hard question.'
    'There's one for fighting. It's got a sword. That's my favourite. There's one with a sceptre. That's the most important Key. There's one with a circle. That's the most boring one. And there's one with…'
    'Yes?'
    'It has…' Olio shook his head as if he could loosen the answer from his brain. 'It has…' He glared at his feet, mouthing a word that would not come. He started to blush with anger.
    'That's very good,' Edaytor said hurriedly. 'Three out of four. Do you want me to tell you what is on the fourth Key?'
    'No,' Olio said, unconvincingly feigning disinterest.
    'Well, I'll tell you anyway. The fourth Key has a heart on it.'
    Olio slumped then, as if his whole body had been under great tension. 'Yes,' he said weakly. 'I remember now. The Key of the Heart.' He looked up at Edaytor, and the prelate saw something of the old Olio flicker across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Olio looked past Edaytor. 'The kestrel is gone,' he said flatly. 'I don't expect we'll see it again today.'
     
    A message had come from Aman for Orkid, carried by pigeon. He did not open it until his office was empty, his clerks and secretaries all gone. The small scroll of paper had only a dozen words on it.
    Amemun convinced Southern Chetts.
    You love the queen; Aman can still reign.
     
    Orkid stood up heavily and let the message burn over a candle flame. The meaning behind the words of his brother, King Marin, were plain enough, and they both frightened and exulted him.
    The first part of the message meant his friend Amemun had made contact with the fierce Southern Chetts and somehow persuaded them to side with the Kingdom against their northern cousins on the Oceans of Grass. Orkid had never doubted that Grenda Lear would defeat Lynan and his allies in the long run, but forcing the rebel Chetts to protect their southern border would hasten the inevitable.
    The second part of the message was equally clear. The grand plan—to have Marin's son Sendarus wed Areava and produce heirs to the throne of Grenda Lear with Amanite blood—had collapsed tragically with the death of Sendarus and his daughter. Some other way must be found to ensure the blood of Aman shared the throne of Grenda Lear. Marin was saying that way must now be found through Orkid himself.
    How did he know my feelings towards Areava ? he wondered with something like alarm. Were they that obvious ?
    Then Orkid remembered those long conversations with Amemun when he had escorted Sendarus to Usharna's court for the first time. Amemun had plied him with questions about Areava, had helped Orkid finalise the last details of the grand plan.
    And then reported everything back to Marin, of course. I did not have to say the words to Amemun; he always knew how to read my mind.
    He sat down again. He could never marry Areava. The council would not allow it, and the Twenty Houses would pull even further away from supporting the throne, and he would not do that to her. And yet…
    His own thoughts flagged his divided loyalty, something else Amemun had probably guessed at. He

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