face, my lord, you know you’re too young to rule.”
“Uncle Mar is not regent.”
“The Council will appoint him after the burial. It’s for the regent to give you the key, but certainly you should ask. You’ll find your uncle—”
I growled, “Are you his man or mine, Willem? You must choose.”
A time passed, while Willem’s thick fingers drummed on the massive desk. Then he sighed. “Young Rustin of Stryx, be so kind as to open the door and see my clerk isn’t crouching at the keyhole.”
Swiftly Rustin complied, flinging open the heavy door, peering both directions. “No one.”
The Chamberlain’s voice dropped. “I’m caught between two hooks, Roddy. May I call you that still, for the nonce? Yes, you’ll be King, if your mother’s wishes are followed.”
I shivered. He’d said it so baldly, it somehow made my peril more real.
“And I assure you, it’s my desire as well.” His tone turned pious. “Not that I, a mere clerk, have any say in the matter.”
“You’re of the Council.”
“Well, yes, but I’m one voice among seven, and not much heeded. It was your mother’s edict set me among the great nobles, on her Council of State.” He might be speaking truth, though I couldn’t know, never having been allowed to attend a Council meet. Mar, Grand-uncle Cumber, Lady Soushire and Lord Groenfil, Vessa as Speaker of the City, and Lord Warthen of the Sands were the other Council members. Imposing figures all.
“Go on.” I waved aside the distraction.
“Roddy, I have no dominion of my own, no benefice. I serve at the whim of the throne. If I go against you and you’re crowned, you won’t forget. But if I go against Margenthar and he’s regent—Roddy, he’s almost sure to be appointed, he’s made promises and has the pledges—why, he’ll throw me into the cells without a moment’s thought.”
He looked away. “I loved Elena. Would that I’d had noble blood and could have been her consort.” Abruptly he stood, went to the window. After a time, a melancholy sigh. “Ah, well. That water’s long since flowed to the sea.” He sat again. “I want you crowned king. Do you understand that? Had your mother had her wish”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“I could have been your father.”
“Well, then—”
“But I am a realist. Were you to walk in here with your mother’s key around your neck”—he peered at my open shirt, and it was all I could do to keep from glancing at Rustin—“still, I could not give you mine. Not unless I were sure you were crowned, and Margenthar’s power broken.”
Rustin. “Who guards the vault?”
“Don’t think of it, youngsire. They’d strike you dead.”
“Who?”
“Usually, two men from the household troop. But this morning Margenthar had them replaced by five from his own regiment.”
I said in awe, “So soon?”
For the first time the Chamberlain’s tone was gentle. “Roddy, your mother’s death was not ... unforeseen.”
I swallowed. “Thank you, sir, for forthright speech.” I got to my feet. “Is there any way you could—I mean ...” I blushed.
He waited, eyebrow raised.
“Funds. I mean, my usual stipend doesn’t seem enough.”
“Of course.” He went to a closet, slipped a chain from round his neck, unlocked the door. Inside, a chest. He smiled. “Petty cash.” He counted out twenty gold pieces, tinkled them into a small purse, handed it across.
A full year’s stipend. “Thank you.”
He closed the chest, replaced it in the closet, fished again for his chain. Something glinted, gold. Abruptly he turned his back to us, moved his bulk between me and the lock. When the closet was secure he thrust his hand in his garment
I fingered the purse. “Will Uncle Mar know of this?”
“Lord of Nature, please don’t tell him!” The Chamberlain smiled, weakly. “The accounts will be, um, smoothed.”
“Now, sir.” I leaned over his desk, my face close to his. “Will you vote in Council to crown
“Uncle Mar is not regent.”
“The Council will appoint him after the burial. It’s for the regent to give you the key, but certainly you should ask. You’ll find your uncle—”
I growled, “Are you his man or mine, Willem? You must choose.”
A time passed, while Willem’s thick fingers drummed on the massive desk. Then he sighed. “Young Rustin of Stryx, be so kind as to open the door and see my clerk isn’t crouching at the keyhole.”
Swiftly Rustin complied, flinging open the heavy door, peering both directions. “No one.”
The Chamberlain’s voice dropped. “I’m caught between two hooks, Roddy. May I call you that still, for the nonce? Yes, you’ll be King, if your mother’s wishes are followed.”
I shivered. He’d said it so baldly, it somehow made my peril more real.
“And I assure you, it’s my desire as well.” His tone turned pious. “Not that I, a mere clerk, have any say in the matter.”
“You’re of the Council.”
“Well, yes, but I’m one voice among seven, and not much heeded. It was your mother’s edict set me among the great nobles, on her Council of State.” He might be speaking truth, though I couldn’t know, never having been allowed to attend a Council meet. Mar, Grand-uncle Cumber, Lady Soushire and Lord Groenfil, Vessa as Speaker of the City, and Lord Warthen of the Sands were the other Council members. Imposing figures all.
“Go on.” I waved aside the distraction.
“Roddy, I have no dominion of my own, no benefice. I serve at the whim of the throne. If I go against you and you’re crowned, you won’t forget. But if I go against Margenthar and he’s regent—Roddy, he’s almost sure to be appointed, he’s made promises and has the pledges—why, he’ll throw me into the cells without a moment’s thought.”
He looked away. “I loved Elena. Would that I’d had noble blood and could have been her consort.” Abruptly he stood, went to the window. After a time, a melancholy sigh. “Ah, well. That water’s long since flowed to the sea.” He sat again. “I want you crowned king. Do you understand that? Had your mother had her wish”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“I could have been your father.”
“Well, then—”
“But I am a realist. Were you to walk in here with your mother’s key around your neck”—he peered at my open shirt, and it was all I could do to keep from glancing at Rustin—“still, I could not give you mine. Not unless I were sure you were crowned, and Margenthar’s power broken.”
Rustin. “Who guards the vault?”
“Don’t think of it, youngsire. They’d strike you dead.”
“Who?”
“Usually, two men from the household troop. But this morning Margenthar had them replaced by five from his own regiment.”
I said in awe, “So soon?”
For the first time the Chamberlain’s tone was gentle. “Roddy, your mother’s death was not ... unforeseen.”
I swallowed. “Thank you, sir, for forthright speech.” I got to my feet. “Is there any way you could—I mean ...” I blushed.
He waited, eyebrow raised.
“Funds. I mean, my usual stipend doesn’t seem enough.”
“Of course.” He went to a closet, slipped a chain from round his neck, unlocked the door. Inside, a chest. He smiled. “Petty cash.” He counted out twenty gold pieces, tinkled them into a small purse, handed it across.
A full year’s stipend. “Thank you.”
He closed the chest, replaced it in the closet, fished again for his chain. Something glinted, gold. Abruptly he turned his back to us, moved his bulk between me and the lock. When the closet was secure he thrust his hand in his garment
I fingered the purse. “Will Uncle Mar know of this?”
“Lord of Nature, please don’t tell him!” The Chamberlain smiled, weakly. “The accounts will be, um, smoothed.”
“Now, sir.” I leaned over his desk, my face close to his. “Will you vote in Council to crown
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