shorter guard said, and led the way; the taller followed with Arcolin’s weapons.
He had been in the palace many times, carrying messages from the Duke to the Council and even to the crown prince as he grew olderand more active in the government. He sensed at once the change in atmosphere, the tension showing in the way servants, guards, and nobles moved, the glances cast at him.
A young man in Marrakai red and green with the shoulder knot of the kirgan stopped him. “Sir—aren’t you one of Phelan’s captains? Is there news of him?”
“I’m Arcolin, his senior captain, yes—but I’m just in from the north and only now learning what has happened. I’ve had no news from the Duke—the king—since before he left here.”
The kirgan gave a short nod. “Thank you. I believe my father has met you before. I wondered why you were here—”
“The prince asked for him,” said Arcolin’s escort. “And we had best be going there, by your leave, Kirgan.”
“Certainly, certainly.” The kirgan bowed. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
Arcolin smiled, returned the bow, and went on, following his escort. The Marrakaien had always been Kieri’s particular friends, and Arcolin had seen the young Marrakai before. He’d then appeared to be one of the prince’s friends content to leave Council business to his elders. Now he, too, looked different.
The crown prince was in his office, with armed guards at the door and inside both. Though it had been almost two years since Arcolin had seen him, Arcolin had not expected to find him looking so much more a king. Arcolin bowed.
“My lord prince.”
“Captain Arcolin! I’m glad to see you arrived safely. Did you have any trouble on the road?”
“No, my lord. But then, I traveled with a full cohort. When I left the Duke’s stronghold, I knew only that he had been proclaimed king of Lyonya.”
“You know about the assassinations?”
“Only what your Royal Guard told me.”
“You will need to know all of it; please sit down.” He looked at the guard carrying Arcolin’s weapons. “Return Captain Arcolin’s weapons to him; I know him personally and he is not a threat.”
Arcolin sensed the guard’s reluctance and ventured a suggestion. “Perhaps you would prefer that my sword, at least, be in custody?”
“No, no,” the prince said. “If we had not been armed, we wouldhave died. You are known to me, and I will be happier when I see that sword on your hip.”
Arcolin belted it back on, rearranged his other weapons, and sat down where the prince indicated.
“My Council would agree to my coronation being advanced,” the prince said. “But I have chosen to wait until Midsummer, as is traditional. However, I have taken over additional powers in this time of emergency. Let me brief you on what happened.”
Arcolin listened, horrified but fascinated, as the prince explained everything from Duke Phelan’s arrival at court, having been summoned by the Regency Council, to the present. And all while he, Arcolin, had been up at the stronghold, unaware.
“Did you, did anyone in his Company, have any idea of his parentage?” the prince asked, finally.
“No, my lord,” Arcolin said. “I was with him twenty years and more; we all thought him remarkable, but as for this—born to a throne and half-elven—it’s hardly believable.”
“If I had not seen the sword come alight in his hands, I would not have believed it myself. I cannot—I cannot comprehend the years he was lost, or how he was found, and once found, not recognized.”
“Nor I, my lord.”
“Well. You know most of what has happened here. To complete the story, we discovered lairs of Liart’s worshippers in the Thieves’ Guild, and with the help of the city granges, these were exposed. Certain of the Thieves’ Guild have cooperated with the Crown … not all were happy to have overlords of any kind. That appears to be mostly through Paksenarrion’s influence with a thief—or Thieves’
He had been in the palace many times, carrying messages from the Duke to the Council and even to the crown prince as he grew olderand more active in the government. He sensed at once the change in atmosphere, the tension showing in the way servants, guards, and nobles moved, the glances cast at him.
A young man in Marrakai red and green with the shoulder knot of the kirgan stopped him. “Sir—aren’t you one of Phelan’s captains? Is there news of him?”
“I’m Arcolin, his senior captain, yes—but I’m just in from the north and only now learning what has happened. I’ve had no news from the Duke—the king—since before he left here.”
The kirgan gave a short nod. “Thank you. I believe my father has met you before. I wondered why you were here—”
“The prince asked for him,” said Arcolin’s escort. “And we had best be going there, by your leave, Kirgan.”
“Certainly, certainly.” The kirgan bowed. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
Arcolin smiled, returned the bow, and went on, following his escort. The Marrakaien had always been Kieri’s particular friends, and Arcolin had seen the young Marrakai before. He’d then appeared to be one of the prince’s friends content to leave Council business to his elders. Now he, too, looked different.
The crown prince was in his office, with armed guards at the door and inside both. Though it had been almost two years since Arcolin had seen him, Arcolin had not expected to find him looking so much more a king. Arcolin bowed.
“My lord prince.”
“Captain Arcolin! I’m glad to see you arrived safely. Did you have any trouble on the road?”
“No, my lord. But then, I traveled with a full cohort. When I left the Duke’s stronghold, I knew only that he had been proclaimed king of Lyonya.”
“You know about the assassinations?”
“Only what your Royal Guard told me.”
“You will need to know all of it; please sit down.” He looked at the guard carrying Arcolin’s weapons. “Return Captain Arcolin’s weapons to him; I know him personally and he is not a threat.”
Arcolin sensed the guard’s reluctance and ventured a suggestion. “Perhaps you would prefer that my sword, at least, be in custody?”
“No, no,” the prince said. “If we had not been armed, we wouldhave died. You are known to me, and I will be happier when I see that sword on your hip.”
Arcolin belted it back on, rearranged his other weapons, and sat down where the prince indicated.
“My Council would agree to my coronation being advanced,” the prince said. “But I have chosen to wait until Midsummer, as is traditional. However, I have taken over additional powers in this time of emergency. Let me brief you on what happened.”
Arcolin listened, horrified but fascinated, as the prince explained everything from Duke Phelan’s arrival at court, having been summoned by the Regency Council, to the present. And all while he, Arcolin, had been up at the stronghold, unaware.
“Did you, did anyone in his Company, have any idea of his parentage?” the prince asked, finally.
“No, my lord,” Arcolin said. “I was with him twenty years and more; we all thought him remarkable, but as for this—born to a throne and half-elven—it’s hardly believable.”
“If I had not seen the sword come alight in his hands, I would not have believed it myself. I cannot—I cannot comprehend the years he was lost, or how he was found, and once found, not recognized.”
“Nor I, my lord.”
“Well. You know most of what has happened here. To complete the story, we discovered lairs of Liart’s worshippers in the Thieves’ Guild, and with the help of the city granges, these were exposed. Certain of the Thieves’ Guild have cooperated with the Crown … not all were happy to have overlords of any kind. That appears to be mostly through Paksenarrion’s influence with a thief—or Thieves’
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