Part 38 (1/2)

Dilrap shook his head and then poured out his complex mixture of doubts and fears. Sylvriss let the words flow unhindered into the scented air of her chamber, until he fell silent. She stared at herself in a small mirror on her table, watching as a hand reached up and fingered a worried line etching itself permanently into her face.

'I've no answers, Dilrap,' she said eventually. 'Who can say what motivates the man?'

Of late she had been trying to pursue Dan-Tor's actions to their logical end, but had given up in despair.

They seemed to lead to some form of Kings.h.i.+p. Not the cautious, thoughtful Kings.h.i.+p of Rgoric and his predecessors, but some appalling, unfettered authority over everyone and everything. But why?

Why should anyone want such authority? And it could only be over a cowed and damaged people, for damaged they would be. The people of Vakloss were already too afraid to speak publicly in opposition to Dan-Tor, and sooner or later he would have to face the Lords in battle. Lords who would probablyfight to a bitter end. The man's mind was beyond her.

She turned away from the mirror, with its wretched intimations of her own mortality. She too was afraid.

The fear and mistrust that soaked the City had seeped into the Palace. Her many contacts were dwindling and she had no way of knowing whether this was through increased caution or whether they had been arrested and had revealed their secrets to their interrogators.

She clung to what she knew and what she could reasonably infer; conjecture was infinite. Certainly, none of the Lords still in the City could be safely trusted. Those with whom she had made discreet contact had quietly slipped away, and those who were left kept an uncertain neutrality or sided openly with Dan-Tor, for a variety of reasons.

It came to her gradually that whether or not Dan-Tor discovered her covert opposition to him was irrelevant. She was effectively imprisoned in the Palace, guarded as she was on the increasingly rare occasions she was allowed into the City. Her ability to influence affairs or even to know of them was diminis.h.i.+ng rapidly. He doesn't need to expose any of my deeds, she thought. Save one. His every action stifles opposition and isolates me.

But her one ma.s.sive act of defiance was gathering a momentum of its own, and slipping beyond her control. It was a blessing turned fearful bane. As Dan-Tor had moved forwards more openly to greater power, his need for the King had declined, and consequently so had the attention lavished on him.

However, as an iron ring of warriors had once guarded Ethriss, so Sylvriss had encompa.s.sed her husband with a silken ring of trusted attendants, herself its jewelled clasp, affecting the role of demure nursewife. Slowly she had continued weaning him from Dan-Tor's potions and slowly, uncertainly, the King had gained strength and well-being.

She glanced at her face in the mirror again and smoothed out the offending line. Her eyes shone wet for a moment as she knew that the concerns impressed on her face had not been primarily for herself, but for the King, and the constant worry about what he could and could not safely be told of outside events, and how he could be restrained from interfering without too much lying.

It had always been difficult, but now he was improving daily and all her decisions caused her torment.

Was he or was he not strong enough to hear the full truth of what had happened? Would her very deceit destroy him and his love for her? Would he be pitched back into his black dependence on Dan-Tor? Or would he be prompted to some dire action against the man, here, with his own Palace infested with alien guards, and with his loyal Lords so far away?

Abruptly, she said, 'We must escape.'

Dilrap looked up, eyes wide. 'Escape, Majesty?' he echoed.

'Yes,' she said slowly. The words had slipped out almost unnoticed while she was preoccupied, but hanging in the air they crystallized her thoughts. 'Dan-Tor may tire of you soon, Dilrap. He may discover our schemes to hinder him. He'll surely find out about the King's health soon, and when that happens, where are we?' She swept her arm around the room, soft and comforting, a haven amidst the turmoil.

'We're already imprisoned. Trussed like market chickens. Helpless and impotent.'

Dilrap fluttered. Sylvriss's remarks had brutally summarized their predicament. He clutched at a straw.

'If the King is stronger, Majesty, cannot he help us?'

Sylvriss shook her head, but offered no other comment. Dilrap fell silent. This was a domain that he knew the Queen kept even from him, for his own sake. 'But where could we go, Majesty?' he said eventually. 'And what of the King? And all the people who've helped us?' There was a hint of reproach in his voice.

The Queen replied without hesitation. 'We go to the Lords in the east,' she said. 'And the King goes with us. As for our helpers, we do them no great service in receiving their loyalty in this way. Not now.

From now on they must watch and wait. Keep the old ways alive quietly, against the coming of happier times.'

Dilrap's eye flickered restlessly around the room as he tried to free Sylvriss's sudden determination from images of s.h.i.+ning blades and hard, indifferent faces approaching him purposefully at the behest of some trivial signal from Dan-Tor. 'But how, Majesty? And when?' he asked plaintively.

'The how should present no serious problem,' Sylvriss replied. 'You're allowed to move freely in and out of the Palace and I'm still allowed to move freely inside. A rendezvous and a small cache of supplies can be arranged inconspicuously enough then it'll just be a matter of surprise and speed when a suitable opportunity presents itself.'

Dilrap's hands b.u.t.terflied up in spite of himself. Sylvriss looked at him. 'Majesty. . .' he began awkwardly, 'I . . . can't ride.'

Sylvriss could not prevent a smile. 'I've held more inept than you on a saddle at full gallop, Dilrap,' she said, with a soft laugh. 'You won't enjoy it, but you'll survive.'

Dilrap bowed his head. 'I'm a poor support to you, Majesty. In constant need of encouragement and courage.'

Sylvriss's hands took his and she looked directly at him, all humour gone. 'No, Dilrap,' she said. 'You work daily by the side of that man, deceiving him, lying to his evil, cracked face, delaying and gently hindering him. And you do this in the face of your own fear. Your courage and strength have sustained me over all these dark months. You belong among the very greatest who've ever held your office.'

Dilrap stood. No courtier, he was at a loss what to say. He bowed deeply to hide his face.

Sylvriss stood up also. 'There is one thing, however, that I must ask of you,' she said. Dilrap's eyes remained downcast. 'If the King and I are thwarted in this, you must keep yourself clear of all blame.

Speak against us if you must.'

Dilrap looked up sharply.

Sylvriss raised her hand to prevent his protest. 'This is my order, Honoured Secretary,' she said. 'My Royal Command. I leave you no discretion. If all goes against us, it's imperative that you stay by Dan-Tor as long as you can and work for a time when you can make links with the Lords in the east.

You understand?'

Dilrap bowed again.

When he had gone, Sylvriss reached out and extinguished the torches that illuminated her room. The darkness was restful. For a long time she sat on the broad sill of the window and stared up at the stars. Now she would have to tell the King.

Chapter 52.

Although Dan-Tor now controlled Vakloss and various other towns and villages, he was not sanguine about the Lords gathering their forces in the east. He knew that, quite rightly, Arinndier and the other Lords would never trust him to honour any treaty he might offer, so armed conflict seemed inevitable. He had little doubt that his forces would ultimately be victorious, but while the prospect of these creatures slaughtering one another was not without its appeal, he would have preferred a quieter, more subtle approach. Chance rampaged too wildly through the ranks of war no matter what powers were ranged, and it was a way chosen by Him only as a last extremity.

Nor was his mind eased by the paucity of information that reached him from the east. With the birds bound he had, reluctantly, to rely on human spies, and these either never returned or brought him vague and contradictory information, thanks to the watchfulness and diligent deceit of the Goraidin.

Urssain fretted noisily. 'We've men enough, Ffyrst,' he said. 'Trained, disciplined and willing. More than enough. We should move now and overwhelm the Lords before they can build up their strength further.'

'Commander,' said Dan-Tor benignly, 'you must learn patience. Consider the consequences of such a venture. How many men would you need to keep this City subdued? There's little point winning a great victory against the Lords to find your back a.s.sailed by a rebellious Vakloss. And how many would you need to protect our flanks as you moved through increasingly debatable areas of the country?' Urssain looked inclined to answer but Dan-Tor continued, his tone becoming more severe. 'And who do you think you'll be facing? It won't be their ornamental regiments. It'll be the kindred of those you saw fight in Orthlund. And they were youths led by a youth. You'll be facing skilled fighters on their own ground, led by battle-hardened veterans from the Morlider War.' Dan-Tor brought his face close to Urssain's. 'And say you break them, what then? They'll scatter into the mountains before they're damaged beyond repair, and we'll never be rid of them.'

Urssain bridled. This was defeatist talk. He would have killed any other man for less. The given word was that the Mathidrin were the new hope. They had brought peace back to the streets, and would now sustain a New Order that would make Fyorlund great again. The old High Guards had fled before them unequivocal proof of the guilty part they had played in the decay of the country, and an unequivocal demonstration of the invincibility of the Mathidrin. With difficulty he swallowed his reply.

Dan-Tor noted the conflict in his protege, and permitted himself a white-lined smile which made Urssain offer up a prayer to whatever spirit had bidden him keep his tongue still.

'Surely we can't leave them alone, Ffyrst?' he risked.

Dan-Tor turned and walked away from him. 'Can't we?' he said casually. 'We'll see what your fellows think, Urssain. Arrange a meeting of all the City Commanders. It's time we discussed the matter. Perhaps it would be appropriate to call it a Council of War.'

Urssain spent the time waiting for the meeting pacing his room or sitting sprawled in his chair rapt in thought. He still couldn't read the brown devil. What had he missed? Why had Dan-Tor so mocked the idea of attacking the Lords, and why had he answered so enigmatically when he'd suggested they shouldn't be left there unhindered? He had still reached no conclusion when he accompanied Dan-Tor into the spa.r.s.e, cold room where the Commanders were gathered, but he had determined to play a very cautious hand. This would be another time for watching and learning. He might not be able to read the man completely, but he could read him a d.a.m.n sight better than any of the others.

He was disconcerted, however, to find that several of the waiting men were completely unknown to him, and he was only a little rea.s.sured when a quick glance at their faces showed that everyone, strangers included, seem to be unsettled to find themselves amongst unfamiliar faces.