Read Online The King of Forever (Scarlet and the White Wolf, #4) by Kirby Crow - Free Book Online
Authors: Kirby Crow
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Prince of the Kalaxes Isles, and Rightful King of Rshan na Ostre!”
The crowd parted smoothly and bowed low. Liall swept past them, wondering how many of the assembled found Theor’s proclamation as pompous as he did. Alexyin followed him to the dais.
Tesk was present. The man had an obvious manner for a spy, always prating of paintings and art, his perfume announcing him louder than even Theor could have managed. Such a peacock’s mask would fool most, but not everyone.
Still, Tesk had saved Scarlet. Such a service could not be forgotten.
The high, domed blue ceiling was dotted with gold and silver in the patterns of the stars, the Longwalker constellation glittering in crystal and silver directly above the carved wooden platform of the king’s dais. An enormous casement window in the north wall was thrown open to reveal the land spreading out below the heights of the Nauhinir, and the walls were lined with panels of silk tapestries and the banners of noble houses.
A small lacquered chest rested on a table on the dais.
As he mounted the steps, Liall was keenly aware that he did so alone. None of the western barons were present themselves, even though Uzna Minor and Sul were far closer to the Nauhinir than far-flung eastern holdings like Tebet. Liall had at least expected baronial emissaries from Jadizek, but though the baron of Jadizek was the crown’s staunchest eastern ally, none had arrived. All those gathered in the hall were lesser nobles, equerries, secretaries, and the poor relations of nobility sent to listen and report. And Tesk, of course, whose yellow silk virca flashed with brilliant embroidered birds.
There are no teeth in this hall, Liall thought. Whatever he decided, it was obvious that no one wanted to share the responsibility and the resulting blame—or even glory— that might follow. As a Kasiri atya, he had wielded absolute power over his krait, the final word in all disputes. In Rshan, control of the sprawling continent was parceled out to the barons, to govern as the king’s vassal-princes under his justice. But it was still a monarchy, and whether here in the chambers or in the yurts of the krait, both the burden and the blame would fall to him alone.
He was surprised that being the Wolf of Omara and being king of Rshan could feel so similar. My old wolf fangs will have to serve me today.
He looked down on the milling crowd and raised his arm to show them his palm. At once, all eyes were on him.
“Last year, in the months before my return to Rshan, there was a revolt in Magur,” Liall said, pitching his deep voice to reach all corners of the room. “Vladei’s rebellion was his final, failed bid to become king. It was a treasonous plot that cost Prince Cestimir his life. Most of you know that there were reports of Ava Thule fighting alongside those rebels. We thought there were only a handful of tribal warriors in Magur, perhaps a few hundred at most.” He paused. “I have been informed that during the revolt, Vladei paid Tribesmen to cross the Greatrift in the thousands.”
Alexyin stood just below the dais. He shot Liall a look of caution as the chamber buzzed like a kicked beehive.
Liall rapped his knuckles on the wood of the dais for quiet.
“You should have put a sword through every living thing in Magur!” a man shouted. “Spit them like mad dogs! Hang them from the trees and put the entire city to the torch!”
“And then shall I command my army to spit infants on lances like Ramung did in the black years?” Liall scorned. The man wore the purple colors of Tebet, but Liall did not recognize his face. “I am not Ramung. So long as I am king we will not butcher women and children for the crime of being in the wrong place, or having the wrong fathers or husbands. And the city was put to the torch. Khatai Jarek assures me that every man who bore arms against us was killed in battle, incinerated, or executed afterward.”
“Every man,” the Tebeti stressed. “Not
The crowd parted smoothly and bowed low. Liall swept past them, wondering how many of the assembled found Theor’s proclamation as pompous as he did. Alexyin followed him to the dais.
Tesk was present. The man had an obvious manner for a spy, always prating of paintings and art, his perfume announcing him louder than even Theor could have managed. Such a peacock’s mask would fool most, but not everyone.
Still, Tesk had saved Scarlet. Such a service could not be forgotten.
The high, domed blue ceiling was dotted with gold and silver in the patterns of the stars, the Longwalker constellation glittering in crystal and silver directly above the carved wooden platform of the king’s dais. An enormous casement window in the north wall was thrown open to reveal the land spreading out below the heights of the Nauhinir, and the walls were lined with panels of silk tapestries and the banners of noble houses.
A small lacquered chest rested on a table on the dais.
As he mounted the steps, Liall was keenly aware that he did so alone. None of the western barons were present themselves, even though Uzna Minor and Sul were far closer to the Nauhinir than far-flung eastern holdings like Tebet. Liall had at least expected baronial emissaries from Jadizek, but though the baron of Jadizek was the crown’s staunchest eastern ally, none had arrived. All those gathered in the hall were lesser nobles, equerries, secretaries, and the poor relations of nobility sent to listen and report. And Tesk, of course, whose yellow silk virca flashed with brilliant embroidered birds.
There are no teeth in this hall, Liall thought. Whatever he decided, it was obvious that no one wanted to share the responsibility and the resulting blame—or even glory— that might follow. As a Kasiri atya, he had wielded absolute power over his krait, the final word in all disputes. In Rshan, control of the sprawling continent was parceled out to the barons, to govern as the king’s vassal-princes under his justice. But it was still a monarchy, and whether here in the chambers or in the yurts of the krait, both the burden and the blame would fall to him alone.
He was surprised that being the Wolf of Omara and being king of Rshan could feel so similar. My old wolf fangs will have to serve me today.
He looked down on the milling crowd and raised his arm to show them his palm. At once, all eyes were on him.
“Last year, in the months before my return to Rshan, there was a revolt in Magur,” Liall said, pitching his deep voice to reach all corners of the room. “Vladei’s rebellion was his final, failed bid to become king. It was a treasonous plot that cost Prince Cestimir his life. Most of you know that there were reports of Ava Thule fighting alongside those rebels. We thought there were only a handful of tribal warriors in Magur, perhaps a few hundred at most.” He paused. “I have been informed that during the revolt, Vladei paid Tribesmen to cross the Greatrift in the thousands.”
Alexyin stood just below the dais. He shot Liall a look of caution as the chamber buzzed like a kicked beehive.
Liall rapped his knuckles on the wood of the dais for quiet.
“You should have put a sword through every living thing in Magur!” a man shouted. “Spit them like mad dogs! Hang them from the trees and put the entire city to the torch!”
“And then shall I command my army to spit infants on lances like Ramung did in the black years?” Liall scorned. The man wore the purple colors of Tebet, but Liall did not recognize his face. “I am not Ramung. So long as I am king we will not butcher women and children for the crime of being in the wrong place, or having the wrong fathers or husbands. And the city was put to the torch. Khatai Jarek assures me that every man who bore arms against us was killed in battle, incinerated, or executed afterward.”
“Every man,” the Tebeti stressed. “Not
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