looked like Claudia.
“By the unicorns,” said Fence, “and by the Outside Powers. The Outside Powers owed the unicorns a boon, and this was what the unicorns asked of them.”
“A joke, then,” said Ted.
“Perhaps. Or in part.”
Ted stood up and stretched. “Fence,” he said, “if King John’s Book is so little use, why did you make such a fuss about using it?”
“It had been of far greater use,” said Randolph out of the depths of his chair, “had we been free to gather intelligence as it bade us during these months the Dragon King hath stumbled about our borders like a cow with the staggers.”
Fence chuckled. “Well, I gathered some little store. And we are free now to gather what we may,” he said. “Edward. We stray from our path. Randolph, the map.”
Now they were silent, and the first thoughtful murmur of awakening birds came in the windows with a stir of morning air. Ted resigned himself to a blind trust in his counselors, and looked at the two of them.
“Well,” said Fence to Randolph, “when will we march?”
“Should we not have the coronation before the battle?”
“I’d rather not,” said Ted, unable to be as blind as he would have liked.
“That is not the question,” said Randolph.
“I, too, had rather not,” said Fence.
Randolph frowned at him.
“There is no time,” said Fence, “and it is not necessary.”
“No?” said Randolph.
“More men believe in the Book of King John than in the speeches of Lord Andrew.”
“Think you not,” said Randolph, with some difficulty, “that to delay the coronation would make men to think we had doubts of the Prince in this matter of the poisoning?”
“To hasten the coronation and damage the war thereby,” said Fence, “would make them to think we had doubts of the Regent.”
“And is doubt of the Regent more damageful than doubt of the Prince?”
“That is not the question,” said Fence.
“No?” said Randolph again. He raised an eyebrow at Ted.
“Randolph,” said Ted, “everybody knows who’s really fighting this war. And everybody has doubts of me anyway.”
“Doubts of your skill perhaps,” said Randolph. “That is nothing. It is the question of who did the murder. If you are not crowned it will be said we think you did it.”
“Randolph,” said Fence, “I tell you there is no time.”
Randolph put the flat of one hand to his forehead and squinted at the opposite wall. “There is,” he said. “We cannot leave here before seven days; we must bury the King; Edward must call a council; and we must collect those troops the King did not make ready. We must wait for Chryse; we must raise Belaparthalion. Our last reports show the Dragon King still but distant.”
“Shan’s mercy,” said Fence. “The coronation of William was months in the making.”
“I don’t want a lot of fuss,” said Ted hastily. What Randolph wanted did, at least, fit in with their bedraggled story. It was as King of the Secret Country that Edward had visited the land of the dead.
Fence’s mouth quirked. “Very well,” he said.
“Could I ask you,” said Ted, “to call the council and arrange about the funeral?”
“Randolph shall call the council,” said Fence; “let him have his duties for the short space left him. I’ll speak to Benjamin touching the funeral.”
“Thank you,” said Ted.
He climbed the cold stairs to his room. Patrick was sound asleep. Ted crawled into bed and lay shivering for a while. When he fell asleep he dreamed vaguely of a herd of unicorns galloping into a purple lake while all the stars fell into it and sent it smoking into the sky. He also dreamed that he was trying to paint this scene, which seemed no more unusual to him than a good sunset, and was vexed because he could not get the right shade of purple.
CHAPTER 5
I T rained when they buried the King. It had rained all night. It was raining when Agatha woke Laura and Ellen at the hideous hour of five and made them dress
“By the unicorns,” said Fence, “and by the Outside Powers. The Outside Powers owed the unicorns a boon, and this was what the unicorns asked of them.”
“A joke, then,” said Ted.
“Perhaps. Or in part.”
Ted stood up and stretched. “Fence,” he said, “if King John’s Book is so little use, why did you make such a fuss about using it?”
“It had been of far greater use,” said Randolph out of the depths of his chair, “had we been free to gather intelligence as it bade us during these months the Dragon King hath stumbled about our borders like a cow with the staggers.”
Fence chuckled. “Well, I gathered some little store. And we are free now to gather what we may,” he said. “Edward. We stray from our path. Randolph, the map.”
Now they were silent, and the first thoughtful murmur of awakening birds came in the windows with a stir of morning air. Ted resigned himself to a blind trust in his counselors, and looked at the two of them.
“Well,” said Fence to Randolph, “when will we march?”
“Should we not have the coronation before the battle?”
“I’d rather not,” said Ted, unable to be as blind as he would have liked.
“That is not the question,” said Randolph.
“I, too, had rather not,” said Fence.
Randolph frowned at him.
“There is no time,” said Fence, “and it is not necessary.”
“No?” said Randolph.
“More men believe in the Book of King John than in the speeches of Lord Andrew.”
“Think you not,” said Randolph, with some difficulty, “that to delay the coronation would make men to think we had doubts of the Prince in this matter of the poisoning?”
“To hasten the coronation and damage the war thereby,” said Fence, “would make them to think we had doubts of the Regent.”
“And is doubt of the Regent more damageful than doubt of the Prince?”
“That is not the question,” said Fence.
“No?” said Randolph again. He raised an eyebrow at Ted.
“Randolph,” said Ted, “everybody knows who’s really fighting this war. And everybody has doubts of me anyway.”
“Doubts of your skill perhaps,” said Randolph. “That is nothing. It is the question of who did the murder. If you are not crowned it will be said we think you did it.”
“Randolph,” said Fence, “I tell you there is no time.”
Randolph put the flat of one hand to his forehead and squinted at the opposite wall. “There is,” he said. “We cannot leave here before seven days; we must bury the King; Edward must call a council; and we must collect those troops the King did not make ready. We must wait for Chryse; we must raise Belaparthalion. Our last reports show the Dragon King still but distant.”
“Shan’s mercy,” said Fence. “The coronation of William was months in the making.”
“I don’t want a lot of fuss,” said Ted hastily. What Randolph wanted did, at least, fit in with their bedraggled story. It was as King of the Secret Country that Edward had visited the land of the dead.
Fence’s mouth quirked. “Very well,” he said.
“Could I ask you,” said Ted, “to call the council and arrange about the funeral?”
“Randolph shall call the council,” said Fence; “let him have his duties for the short space left him. I’ll speak to Benjamin touching the funeral.”
“Thank you,” said Ted.
He climbed the cold stairs to his room. Patrick was sound asleep. Ted crawled into bed and lay shivering for a while. When he fell asleep he dreamed vaguely of a herd of unicorns galloping into a purple lake while all the stars fell into it and sent it smoking into the sky. He also dreamed that he was trying to paint this scene, which seemed no more unusual to him than a good sunset, and was vexed because he could not get the right shade of purple.
CHAPTER 5
I T rained when they buried the King. It had rained all night. It was raining when Agatha woke Laura and Ellen at the hideous hour of five and made them dress
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