The GodSpill: Threadweavers, Book 2 Page 13

  The doublets of the lords and the dresses of the ladies were worth seeing. More colorful than the banners of their homelands, the nobles were arrayed in the finest cloth that gold could buy. It was as much a fashion parade as a room of politics.

  Mershayn might have enjoyed the parade of pretties once upon a time. He remembered the stories he’d heard as a child in his father’s house. The Teni’sian court was where the lords and ladies of the realm met to discuss the future of the kingdom. It was a place of power, intrigue, and romance where the noble of heart rose to defend the downtrodden.

  All lies, of course, but he hadn’t known that at age seven.

  Mershayn wished he could go back to those childhood days. He wished he could believe that again, but the noble of heart rarely wore titles. Lords and ladies were ambitious people who, rather than taking care of those who relied on them, only exploited them for their own enrichment and comfort.

  He unconsciously flicked a glance at Grendis Sym, who wasn’t in his seat as he should have been, but stood on Collus’s other side, like Mershayn. It indicated his status as a valuable advisor. Mershayn could be described as the king’s right hand, but if that were true, then Sym was the king’s left.

  He should never have been allowed so close. And that’s my fault.

  If he had involved himself in these distasteful meetings earlier, and actually paid attention, perhaps he could have stopped the slippery viper from gaining Collus’s trust.

  “Then that is that,” Grendis Sym said as the doors closed behind last petitioner, a farmer from the north, who had come to hear the king’s wisdom about his sister, who had been imprisoned because she had made a bucket of water float through the air.

  Entertaining the requests of the common folk was a custom that Queen Tyndiria had begun. It was something that had made her beloved to the common folk, but under Collus’s rule, it had become an opportunity for most of the nobles to disparage the very people who came seeking their help. Each day sparked new conversations about how the lower classes simply didn’t understand what was best for them, and couldn’t understand the many challenges that the nobles faced. Mershayn had a hard time believing that these audiences had ended in such a fashion when Tyndiria ruled.

  Unfortunately, Collus let these remarks pass unchallenged. He believed he had bigger problems to handle, but Mershayn felt the sour attitude of the nobles was more important than it seemed. Anyone who would make fun of disparage common folk once they left the room would certainly show the same lack of respect to the king when he wasn’t around. Mershayn thought he might be imagining it, but the most vocal grumblers seemed to traffic a great deal with Grendis Sym.

  “Perhaps we could move along to matters of import now.” Sym smiled at the various chuckles from the assemblage. “I believe it is almost time for the midday meal.”

  More laughter.

  “Our people who are exhibiting these strange new powers is of vital import, I think,” Mershayn said, berating himself for having forgotten the farmer’s name already. I am a poor opponent for Sym here. I’m a swordsman, not a statesman. I am not trained in these weapons of the court.

  But he had to say something. The smug look on Sym’s face was insufferable. What if it were Sym’s sister who had been quarantined for exhibiting strange powers? He might sing a different tune then. But then, Sym had no sisters, nor any brothers. He’d probably eaten them as they’d come out of his mother’s womb.

  Sym turned a tolerant glance upon Mershayn, like he would to a slow-witted little brother. “I’m not certain what you mean, Royal Arms Inspector. Do you think we should impose even more guards upon those we have quarantined for study?”

  As always, Mershayn felt uncomfortable as every eye turned to watch him. Sym had a way of responding that made him seem like an idiot.

  “No, I didn’t mean that,” Mershayn said. “What I meant was that it...” He paused, his tongue tumbling over his thoughts. “Perhaps we were wrong in quarantining them in the first place. The...the, uh, farmer’s sister has been detained for some weeks now. She and many others. Are we any closer to finding out what we must do to assure their safety and the safety of those they come in contact with?”

  “We cannot simply let them loose!” Lord Framden boomed in his heavy voice. He shot Mershayn a contemptuous look. “It would be better to put them to the sword than to let them loose.”

  Mershayn wanted to put Lord Framden to the sword. His fear-mongering had already made half the kingdom paranoid about people who had been changed by The Wave.

  “We are working as fast as we might to determine the nature of their freakish abilities,” Lord Balis said in his soft voice. “We care for them well. They are fed and housed. They have all they need.”

  “They’re not animals,” Mershayn said. That gained him a sour expression from Lord Balis. Mershayn tried not to be daunted. He certainly was making enemies fast. “You say they have everything they need. They need freedom. They need their families, and their families wonder what the crown will do with them. It’s creating fear where fear isn’t necessary. Could we not simply check up on them from time to time? Let them go back to their homes?”

  “Did you know that the sister you speak of started a fire merely by touching a thatch of dry straw?” Lord Framden growled.

  Mershayn had not heard that. He’d heard she’d lofted a bucket. It was possible he got the story mixed up, but he couldn’t help wondering if the fire was a fiction made up by Lord Framden.

  “If we let her loose, half the city could be in ashes by tomorrow night,” Lord Framden finished.

  “Mershayn,” Collus turned to his half-brother. “This is something that—”

  “Allow me, your majesty,” Sym interrupted Collus smoothly, then faced Mershayn. “This is something we all debated at length a long time ago, Royal Arms Inspector. I think you may have been absent that day.”

  Mershayn seethed at the condescending tone. Of course Mershayn had been absent. Sym knew Mershayn had been absent. He’d only begun attending these meetings recently.

  “The king decided it would be best to quarantine these aberrations until we could determine how dangerous they are to the rest of the populace,” Sym continued. “And now we have moved on to other issues. We cannot dwell so long upon one small problem. There are many challenges we face in Teni’sia. Sometimes we do not even have enough time to attend properly to the greater issues.” Sym turned from Mershayn as though the conversation was over. “Your Majesty,” he said. “You must be famished. Let us break for our midday meal, shall we?”

  Collus seemed about to say something. He looked at Mershayn, but then nodded. “Of course,” he said in a strong voice. “Let us eat.”

  Mershayn stood rigidly as Collus rose to leave. Every moment in this chamber made him feel like he’d eaten rotten meat. Watching Collus fumble and flounder made him feel ashamed for his brother, but watching him dismiss Mershayn’s counsel in favor of Lord Sym’s pushed a cold dread into his stomach. Mershayn couldn’t stay away. Collus was failing, revealing his weakness more with each passing day, and the wolves were gathered to devour him. Mershayn longed to forego these meetings and go back to his swordplay, drinking, and wenching...

  His gaze fell upon Lady Ari’cyiane, who watched him. Her curly, strawberry-blond hair fancifully framed her oval face. Her blue eyes glittered, and she gave him a dimpled smile. Her husband, Lord Vullieth, was oblivious to the flirtatious glance. He rose from his seat, his black cape swirling about him, and she stood with him. They were a mismatched pair—Vullieth tall and slender, Ari’cyiane barely as tall as his shoulder, rounded with delicious curves Mershayn longed to touch again.

  With an effort, he put his libido back in its drawer and focused on the politics of the situation. Vullieth had not said a word during the entire audience. Mershayn had only heard him speak once, during one of the first meetings Mershayn had attended, back when he hadn’t been paying attention at all. He remembered thinking Vullieth was pompous
and needed to pull the stick out of his posterior. The more Collus fumbled, the less Vullieth spoke, as though he were as ashamed for the king as Mershayn was. Mershayn wondered if Vullieth would have been an ally for the king, a lord who could have offered real counsel, if he could just get through the ring of wolves surrounding the king. Ironically, Lord Vullieth seemed like a man Mershayn could have respected, if he had paid more attention. In fact, the few lords and ladies who seemed the most thoughtful spoke less and less at court.

  That was a horrible sign.

  Vullieth and Ari’cyiane walked down the aisle toward the door with the rest of the nobles, and Ari’cyiane turned her gaze casually away from Mershayn.

  Mershayn watched the pair for a second and then turned away...

  ...to find Sym staring at him from just beyond the throne. He glanced purposefully at Ari’cyiane’s retreating backside as though appraising it, then purposefully looked at Mershayn. He nodded in approval as though congratulating Mershayn.

  Then he smiled the thin smile of a lizard.

  16

  Mershayn

  Mershayn kept his features stoic and left the throne room. He hurried to catch up with his brother and drew alongside him as they passed an antechamber. Two royal guards followed them and posted themselves at either side of the door as Mershayn closed it.

  Collus set the crown down upon the table and sighed.

  “Don’t say it, Mershayn,” he said, leaning heavily on the thick oak table and rubbing his closed eyes with two fingers.

  “If I do not, then who will?” he said.

  “Sym is right. That issue was dealt with weeks ago.” Collus turned, and his eyes flashed. “You remember? Weeks ago? When I was struggling to find my place here and you didn’t want to come to those meetings because they were ‘tragically boring.’”

  “Well, they’re tragically something,” Mershayn countered, trying to keep his voice even.

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that I am your brother, Collus. You allowed Sym to dismiss what I said in there. You let him get away with that. Whose side do you think I am on? I’m trying to help you here, and you let him cut me off at the knees!”

  “You make too much of it, Mershayn. Sym was right. Everyone knew it. And time is so precious. It seems to become ever more precious with every day that passes. We cannot go over the same problem again and again. Sym knows that.”

  “He is not right.” Mershayn growled. “But he wants to make you believe he is right, and he is succeeding! I told you to be careful of him. And yet you bend to his whim like a reed bends in the wind.”

  “You go too far, Mershayn—”

  “No, you do not go far enough. Did you hear what you just said as we began speaking? That you are ‘struggling to find your place’ here?” Mershayn threw his hands into the air. “You are king! If you do not know your place, then no one else does. If you say that the quarantined peasants are to be released, then they shall be released. Sym does not dictate this to you. You dictate to him. If you tell Sym to shut up, he will shut up.”

  “His counsel is invaluable. You do not understand—”

  “I cannot believe my ears. Has he ensorcelled you? We grew up together, you and I. And I’m telling you this greasy noble is a rat. I tell you again and again, and it is as though you cannot hear me.”

  “He knows more about Teni’sia than you do,” Collus said.

  “You are locking up your own people—good people—who have only the misfortune to have been altered by The Wave. You should be courting these people as allies. They can help us understand this new world. Instead, you’re making them enemies. We have enough guards. Post them and watch these people. Interview them. Help them understand what has happened to them, and they will help you. Do you think it is right that they be separated from their families though they have done nothing wrong?”

  “It is more complicated than that. Sym says that—”

  “Damn Sym! I want to know what you say. Is it right to keep these people against their will?”

  “Of course not, Mershayn, but there are more variables than that. Lord Framden is correct. They could be dangerous.”

  “Traveling to Buravar is dangerous. Sailing the Inland Ocean is dangerous. There are dangers everywhere we look. But we don’t stand by injustice because we’re afraid. That’s exactly what a king should not do. You have to stand for something, Collus. What do you stand for?”

  Collus slammed his fist on the table. “I stand for keeping this kingdom together!”

  “Well, you are failing,” Mershayn blurted. “Do you watch the faces of your nobles? They do not trust you. They do not believe in you—”

  “And how would you know?” Collus growled.

  “Because I watch them.”

  “Lord Framden and Lord Balis support me. Ry’lyrio and Mekenest. And see how you treat them? You angered both of them with no more than three sentences today. You work against what I have been working for. As you say, the power in the realm begins with the nobles. I have been striving to make inroads with these people.”

  Mershayn shook his head. “These men... These ones you pick as your supporters... Don’t you see that they belong to Sym? By Thalius, I have only been watching them for a matter of days, and it is obvious to me.”

  “You say that as though there is a plot against me. These are men who want to see the kingdom mended as much as I do.”

  “So you say. Will you do me a favor?”

  Collus threw his hands up and marched to the other side of the room. “Oh, certainly. Whatever you wish. I’m chock-full of favors, you know. I’m king, after all.”

  “Remove Sym from the court.”

  Collus threw him a withering glance and opened his mouth to speak.

  Mershayn held his hands up beseechingly. “Just as a fantasy. Imagine in your mind that Sym was not at court.”

  “Mershayn—”

  “And imagine all those who agree wholeheartedly with his ideas and take them away as well. Take Balis and Framden, Ry’lyrio and Mekenest, Cayriol and Kuh’ter. Remove them in your mind.”

  “Wonderful. You have just hacked off half the court.”

  “Yes. Who is left?”

  “Is this a test, Mershayn? I know who the major nobles are, for Thalius’s sake.”

  “Who is left?” Mershayn pressed.

  “Lord Vullieth, Lord Kari’Dar, Lord Baerst, Lord Giri’Mar, and Lady Mae’lith.”

  “These are the nobles you should befriend,” Mershayn said quietly. “These and any of the minor nobles who do not sleep in Sym’s pocket.”

  Collus squinted at Mershayn. “Where does this venom for Sym come from?” he asked incredulously. “Is it because he made some quip about you being the court fool when you first arrived? It was a joke.”

  “It’s because he undermines your power.”

  “He aids me with volumes of information about the kingdom, information I have no other means to acquire.”

  “No doubt he tells you this.”

  “Stop it!” Collus boomed.

  “It didn’t bother you that he cut you off today, when you were about to address me? Did you even notice?”

  “He was only trying to help you understand why the Wave-altered must be kept quarantined.”

  “As if I could not understand if you explained it? Nobody should interrupt the king, yet he does it to you regularly, in the guise of ‘assisting’ you. Don’t you see how that makes you appear? You seem as though you cannot answer the simplest questions by yourself.”

  “Sym is a loyal servant to the crown.”

  Mershayn closed his eyes and let out a long breath. How could Collus be so blind?

  “I am not the only one who dislikes Sym,” he said.

  “Oh?” Collus said.

  “Lord Grimbresht despised him. And Lord Baerst, jolly as he seemed, never agreed with Sym.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Collus warned him.

  “Well you don�
�t get to look only at what you like. You’re the king. You have to face all challenges head-on.”

  “Are you saying that Grimbresht’s death was murder? That Baerst’s illness is premeditated? You’re concocting conspiracies to suit your ire. It’s madness! Grimbresht’s vessel was overturned by a freak storm. Baerst is notorious for slumming in the seedy areas of the city and eating whatever pleases him. Sym says it’s not the first time he’s been poisoned by bad meat.”

  “Sym says. Sym says...” Mershayn clenched his teeth. “They were Sym’s greatest opponents. And now they have been removed from court.”

  “My brother, the great and brave swordsman, jumping at shadows.” Collus gave a bark of ugly laughter. “It is a good thing I am king and not you. You’d have half our nobles hanging from the gibbet by now, and the kingdom in open war.”

  Mershayn clenched his fists and concentrated on breathing evenly.

  Collus picked up his crown and set it upon his head once more. “I am going to the dining hall. I am famished, and I would like to eat before I fall over.”

  Mershayn hesitated, then dutifully bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  “Oh stop it,” Collus said. “By the gods, I thought I was the worrier of the two of us. Shouldn’t you be tempting me to debauchery, not finding more worries to pile on my head?” Collus moved past him. “Things are not so bad as you say.” He left the room with his guards in tow.

  You’re right. They’re worse.

  17

  Mershayn

  Mershayn snapped the twig in two and tossed one piece into the lightly cascading fountain. A sculpture of a young woman stood in the pool of the main tier, balancing the second tier on one hand while holding some kind of sea flower in the other. She looked determined, strong. Ari’cyiane explained to him that the woman’s name was Teni’sia, who supposedly walked out of the Inland Ocean one day and founded the kingdom. The craftsmanship was as fine as any Mershayn had seen, but he didn’t like it much at the moment, because it reminded him of one of his three problems.