Chasing the Prophecy
Page 19
The visitor stood near the table. Tall and thin with stooped shoulders, he had a prominent, bony nose and wore a stern expression. A dagger hung from his belt, but no other weapon was apparent. He had hung his cloak on a peg and had replaced his hood with a large tricornered hat.
“Who has come?” Galloran whispered.
“Chancellor Copernum,” Bartley and Rachel murmured in unison.
Kerick had led Copernum’s large steed into a stall and was now rubbing it down. Copernum regarded the four newcomers in silence, his body still, his alert eyes in constant motion.
His gaze made Rachel uncomfortable. He was renowned for his clever mind. He had tried to have Jason killed.
“Welcome, Chancellor,” Galloran said, doing his best to sound upbeat with his raspy voice, ruined by the same caustic powder that had blinded him. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”
“How could I ignore an opportunity to meet the renowned heir to Trensicourt?” Copernum replied dryly. “Bartley, good of you to host the evening, although the accommodations leave something to be desired.”
“Lay the blame on me,” Galloran insisted as Rachel led him to the table. “The viscount offered his home. Considering the purpose of our discussion, I opted for discretion over comfort.”
“An option to which you have undoubtedly grown accustomed,” Copernum replied.
Io took Galloran’s wet cloak. Galloran sat down, and Copernum mirrored him on the far side of the table. “I have endured some trying years,” Galloran agreed amiably, as if missing the condescension behind the remark.
“I’m afraid I don’t know your companions,” Copernum said.
Io collected Rachel’s cloak.
“This is Rachel, a Beyonder and a skilled Edomic adept,” Galloran said.
Copernum turned his shrewd eyes to her with sudden interest. “She wears the robe of the oracles.”
Galloran had suggested she wear the fine robe because it might make her appear more impressive. She hoped she wouldn’t come across as an imposter instead.
“Rachel has trained with multiple masters,” Galloran said. “The man hanging our cloaks is Io, future chief of the wild clan of drinlings. And you met Kerick, of the Amar Kabal, who is tending to your horse.”
“You travel with quite a menagerie,” Copernum said.
“You came alone,” Galloran replied.
Copernum nodded, picking up a dark roll and cracking it open. “The invitation did not allow for bodyguards. The Grand Duke of Edgemont sends his regards, as does the regent.” He took a bite.
“Was the weather too much for them?” Galloran asked.
“They have empowered me to speak on their behalf,” Copernum answered. “You have a reputation of impeccable honor, but years in Felrook have been known to alter a man. The duke and the regent did not feel it was prudent for the three of us to meet unguarded in a place of your choosing.”
“Regrettable, but I understand,” Galloran said.
Copernum poured himself a drink and took a sip. “Tell me: Why, after all these years, has the Blind King decided to come out of hiding?” The comment was clearly meant to imply that Copernum had known all along that Galloran was concealed in plain sight as the Blind King. Rachel supposed it was possible, since Maldor had known, and Copernum reportedly had strong connections with Felrook.
Galloran touched his blindfold. “I did not wish to emerge from exile until I felt whole and ready for the responsibilities ahead of me.”
“Are you whole, then?” Copernum asked.
“As close as I can ever expect to be,” Galloran replied. He half turned in his chair. “Rachel, Bartley, Io, please relax and be seated.”
Rachel realized that she still stood near Galloran’s chair, riveted into stillness by the tension underlying the conversation. She sat down to one side of Galloran; Bartley sat on the other. Io claimed the seat at the end of the table near Rachel.
Across the table Copernum set aside his roll. He leaned forward, narrow shoulders hunched, eyes intent. “What do you propose?”
“I am here to claim my birthright,” Galloran said. “For years you and Dolan have managed Trensicourt in my absence. You have my gratitude for keeping Trensicourt independent. Now, for the good of the kingdom, I hope you will help make this a smooth transition.”
Copernum folded his hands. “Do you believe that your ascension to the throne will benefit Trensicourt?”
“Who else could properly fill the role?” Galloran asked. “No other sons of Dromidus remain. I am the undisputed heir.”
“If you are the rightful king, I don’t see why you need my permission.”
“Don’t play the fool with me, Copernum,” Galloran said. “We never knew each other well. As I recall, the former Marquess of Jansington was a distant cousin of yours. Lacking heirs, he bequeathed his title to you over his nephews. You and I only met briefly during the latter years of my father’s reign. Yet I have observed you from afar. You combine a scholarly background with a knack for deft political maneuvering. You and Dolan have nearly rid the nobility of all who openly speak against Felrook. Nobles who hope to appease the emperor will be reluctant to install me as their new monarch.”
“Would they be right to worry?” Copernum asked.
“I don’t intend to court the emperor,” Galloran said flatly. “I will not pay him tribute. I will not let him dictate policy. I will not ignore his aggressive expansion. I will not enter into lopsided compromises. Those kingdoms who have tried to appease Felrook have all fallen. A gentle approach toward the rising empire will inevitably bring an end to our sovereignty.”
“Have you considered that perhaps you are a decade too late?” Copernum asked. “Have you recognized that the only remaining option besides aligning ourselves with the emperor is obliteration?”
“I will never submit to Maldor,” Galloran stated.
“Interesting. I have been led to believe that you no longer require that blindfold.”
“I accepted eyes from Maldor,” Galloran admitted assertively. “He offered them years ago. I finally claimed them. But I made no pledge of fealty.”
“And yet some of his top spies now share your eyes,” Copernum chuckled. “How do you intend to resist an enemy who can watch your every move?”
“With a blindfold in place.”
“Then why accept the eyes?”
“For those moments when I need to see in order to kill.”
“Who has come?” Galloran whispered.
“Chancellor Copernum,” Bartley and Rachel murmured in unison.
Kerick had led Copernum’s large steed into a stall and was now rubbing it down. Copernum regarded the four newcomers in silence, his body still, his alert eyes in constant motion.
His gaze made Rachel uncomfortable. He was renowned for his clever mind. He had tried to have Jason killed.
“Welcome, Chancellor,” Galloran said, doing his best to sound upbeat with his raspy voice, ruined by the same caustic powder that had blinded him. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”
“How could I ignore an opportunity to meet the renowned heir to Trensicourt?” Copernum replied dryly. “Bartley, good of you to host the evening, although the accommodations leave something to be desired.”
“Lay the blame on me,” Galloran insisted as Rachel led him to the table. “The viscount offered his home. Considering the purpose of our discussion, I opted for discretion over comfort.”
“An option to which you have undoubtedly grown accustomed,” Copernum replied.
Io took Galloran’s wet cloak. Galloran sat down, and Copernum mirrored him on the far side of the table. “I have endured some trying years,” Galloran agreed amiably, as if missing the condescension behind the remark.
“I’m afraid I don’t know your companions,” Copernum said.
Io collected Rachel’s cloak.
“This is Rachel, a Beyonder and a skilled Edomic adept,” Galloran said.
Copernum turned his shrewd eyes to her with sudden interest. “She wears the robe of the oracles.”
Galloran had suggested she wear the fine robe because it might make her appear more impressive. She hoped she wouldn’t come across as an imposter instead.
“Rachel has trained with multiple masters,” Galloran said. “The man hanging our cloaks is Io, future chief of the wild clan of drinlings. And you met Kerick, of the Amar Kabal, who is tending to your horse.”
“You travel with quite a menagerie,” Copernum said.
“You came alone,” Galloran replied.
Copernum nodded, picking up a dark roll and cracking it open. “The invitation did not allow for bodyguards. The Grand Duke of Edgemont sends his regards, as does the regent.” He took a bite.
“Was the weather too much for them?” Galloran asked.
“They have empowered me to speak on their behalf,” Copernum answered. “You have a reputation of impeccable honor, but years in Felrook have been known to alter a man. The duke and the regent did not feel it was prudent for the three of us to meet unguarded in a place of your choosing.”
“Regrettable, but I understand,” Galloran said.
Copernum poured himself a drink and took a sip. “Tell me: Why, after all these years, has the Blind King decided to come out of hiding?” The comment was clearly meant to imply that Copernum had known all along that Galloran was concealed in plain sight as the Blind King. Rachel supposed it was possible, since Maldor had known, and Copernum reportedly had strong connections with Felrook.
Galloran touched his blindfold. “I did not wish to emerge from exile until I felt whole and ready for the responsibilities ahead of me.”
“Are you whole, then?” Copernum asked.
“As close as I can ever expect to be,” Galloran replied. He half turned in his chair. “Rachel, Bartley, Io, please relax and be seated.”
Rachel realized that she still stood near Galloran’s chair, riveted into stillness by the tension underlying the conversation. She sat down to one side of Galloran; Bartley sat on the other. Io claimed the seat at the end of the table near Rachel.
Across the table Copernum set aside his roll. He leaned forward, narrow shoulders hunched, eyes intent. “What do you propose?”
“I am here to claim my birthright,” Galloran said. “For years you and Dolan have managed Trensicourt in my absence. You have my gratitude for keeping Trensicourt independent. Now, for the good of the kingdom, I hope you will help make this a smooth transition.”
Copernum folded his hands. “Do you believe that your ascension to the throne will benefit Trensicourt?”
“Who else could properly fill the role?” Galloran asked. “No other sons of Dromidus remain. I am the undisputed heir.”
“If you are the rightful king, I don’t see why you need my permission.”
“Don’t play the fool with me, Copernum,” Galloran said. “We never knew each other well. As I recall, the former Marquess of Jansington was a distant cousin of yours. Lacking heirs, he bequeathed his title to you over his nephews. You and I only met briefly during the latter years of my father’s reign. Yet I have observed you from afar. You combine a scholarly background with a knack for deft political maneuvering. You and Dolan have nearly rid the nobility of all who openly speak against Felrook. Nobles who hope to appease the emperor will be reluctant to install me as their new monarch.”
“Would they be right to worry?” Copernum asked.
“I don’t intend to court the emperor,” Galloran said flatly. “I will not pay him tribute. I will not let him dictate policy. I will not ignore his aggressive expansion. I will not enter into lopsided compromises. Those kingdoms who have tried to appease Felrook have all fallen. A gentle approach toward the rising empire will inevitably bring an end to our sovereignty.”
“Have you considered that perhaps you are a decade too late?” Copernum asked. “Have you recognized that the only remaining option besides aligning ourselves with the emperor is obliteration?”
“I will never submit to Maldor,” Galloran stated.
“Interesting. I have been led to believe that you no longer require that blindfold.”
“I accepted eyes from Maldor,” Galloran admitted assertively. “He offered them years ago. I finally claimed them. But I made no pledge of fealty.”
“And yet some of his top spies now share your eyes,” Copernum chuckled. “How do you intend to resist an enemy who can watch your every move?”
“With a blindfold in place.”
“Then why accept the eyes?”
“For those moments when I need to see in order to kill.”
