In the Eye of Heaven Part 53

"Have we spoken to you of our Radomor?" squirmed the voices in Durand's skull. squirmed the voices in Durand's skull.

"Then we will hold the vote," said Ragnal.

"There he was on the battlefield Among the Heithan barrows. Struck down doing his king's bidding. Struck down by chance. His career was a star rising, Durand Dashed in a moment."

The arbiter's beard waggled. "There are several systems. The black and white stones. The split wands. The-"

"Is the choice mine?"The arbiter blinked up into his king's face.

"Not wounded, only, but dying, you see. This is how we found him. Not a limb could he move, nor a finger lift. Everything he had made was laid waste in the Heithan muck. All lost."

"The choice is yours, Majesty."Ragnal's savage grin spread, flickering in the stormy night.

"It is in such moments that a man takes up his doom. What is the sacrifice of a few picked men? Who would miss them or guess where they went in a battle?"

Creation raged at the windows like a city on fire, like refugees screaming over the walls before an invader's wrath.

"Then it will be an open vote. We will ask and each will answer. This is no time or place for games."

"It is permitted, Majesty," the arbiter hedged, but Ragnal only nodded his grim satisfaction. His liegemen must deny him to his face.

"Then," the king said, "we will begin.

"My Duke of Garelyn, we will put our question first to you. Come forward."

The tall lord walked through a paroxysm of thunderclaps, but fought his way around the table to kneel before his lord.

"We have pet.i.tioned this, our Great Council, that our debt be lifted. You must answer us, 'yea' it should be as we desire or 'nay' it should not. How say you Garelyn?"

"Garelyn answers 'yea.'" Durand could scarcely hear him, even without the storm and the Rooks rustling in his brains. "The debt should be forgiven."

Ragnal nodded sternly.

"He is wise to call first upon his allies. Perhaps he will cow the weak-willed among his enemies. The Book of Moons The Book of Moons tells us that a slender reed cannot stand against the gale." tells us that a slender reed cannot stand against the gale."

"We thank you Garelyn and call upon Windhover to answer."

A short dark man-not the blond Prince of Windhover- stalked through the howls of the Heavens and dropped to his knee.

"What is this?" the spinning words gabbled. the spinning words gabbled. Is Prince Eodan not a tall man and blond as his brother? Where is our poor king's brother, do you think? Why does he linger in Windhover at such a time ? " Is Prince Eodan not a tall man and blond as his brother? Where is our poor king's brother, do you think? Why does he linger in Windhover at such a time ? "

Durand strained to watch the dais as the Rooks' whisperings rattled at his mind, round and round. The dark man handed up a scroll under a black clot of sealing wax. He saw it swung to Ragnal's arbiter. "I bear a writ under the prince's seal, Majesty, and have been sent to speak his will."

The arbiter gave his nod.

"We have pet.i.tioned this council that our debt be lifted," said Ragnal. "You must answer us, 'yea' or 'nay.' How says Windhover?"

"How this question rings with double meaning now."

"Windhover answers 'yea,' Majesty," said the messenger. "The debt should be forgiven."

"How relieved our king must be. To have been put in such a place by his brother? It is beyond imagining."

Ragnal only nodded, calling the next duke to stand before him. Lamoric's elder brother took his father's place. Lord Moryn knelt at the feet of his liege lord, pale and rigid with the effort. h.e.l.lebore and Highs.h.i.+elds cast their lots-this time, with apologies, against the king.

The Rooks teased the widow Maud as she surprised the Council with her steadfastness, lowering herself before the king and casting the votes of Germander and Saerdana both for forgiveness. Durand breathed like a runner, thinking that this was real hope.

"And she had them all guessing, while they fawned and circled her" said the thronging whispers. said the thronging whispers. "Pride again, or vanity. Look at h.e.l.lebore there. The man makes faces as though someone has poked a lemon past his lips. Your king must be pleased It has all gone as he would hope." "Pride again, or vanity. Look at h.e.l.lebore there. The man makes faces as though someone has poked a lemon past his lips. Your king must be pleased It has all gone as he would hope."

Heremund, who'd been making the rounds in silence, touched Durand's shoulder, not saying a word. The touch went through Durand like a shock on a cold morning. A shattering pain shot through his skull.

Radomor sat as grim as ever. The Rooks were smug. The big Champion sat near the high table. The bloom of mildew over the walls had spread still further. In the s.p.a.ce of a few breaths, the whole hall would be smothered over. They must get Deorwen from the castle.

But Duke Ludegar of Beoran was walking around the high table, a blade bobbing in fittings of black leather and bright steel.

The man knelt, and Ragnal spoke the formula.

"We have pet.i.tioned this council that our debt be lifted. You must answer us, 'yea' or 'nay.' How says Beoran?"

Durand tried to wring thoughts from his crowded mind, even as he felt blood slip from his nose. With the tide turned, now was the duke's chance to save face. Without Maud, the best he could hope for was a tie. They could not vote the king down.

Durand pawed a drop from his lip. The black smear-it was not blood-glistened for an instant, then flew like dry soot. Another wet drop landed.

"Beoran answers 'nay,' Majesty, and says the debt should be paid."

Ragnal nodded slowly, his face all stiff slashes under his beard.

"Now it comes," said the whispers, each syllable creaking at the sutures of his skull. said the whispers, each syllable creaking at the sutures of his skull. "Now it comes." "Now it comes."

Heremund and Berchard were speaking to him. He felt the not-blood running from his chin. The storm outside was madness now, howling fit to tear the stones from the old headland. His friends' hands were on him.

"We thank you Beoran, and call upon Yrlac to answer."

Now, Duke Radomor took his feet, slowly. Grime streaked his face. Tattered armor hung from his twisted shoulders. He crossed the dais and, locking the dark lodestones of his eyes on Ragnal's face, lowered one knee to the stone, and twitched a broad mantle wide over the dais.

"What will he say-will he say-will he say? "

"We have pet.i.tioned that our debt be lifted," said the king. "How say you, my Duke of Yrlac?"

Candles lashed and shuddered as Radomor stared up, his face br.i.m.m.i.n.g with defiance. "Yrlac answers 'nay,' cousin," Radomor said. "A man should pay his debts." He stood then, face-to-face with Ragnal. Even with his twisted back, the Duke of Yrlac looked down on his king. Somewhere outside, a great ma.s.s of stones fell thundering into the sea.

"Now watch, friend. Watch."Durand caught hold of his blade once more."What is the vote?"

But it was tied. Unless Radomor meant to cut the king down before them all, it was finished. Beoran and Yrlac had both voted against their king, knowing they didn't have the numbers to carry it. You could not vote a man down with a stalemate.

A confused murmur arose in Tern Gyre as realization dawned among those loyal to the king: They had won.

"I don't understand," said Heremund. "I don't understand." Then, "G.o.ds, Durand, are you all right? What's the matter?" Radomor had not left the dais.

"Sit down, Duke Radomor," said Ragnal, "you have not won today."

Radomor's bald skull tilted, only a fraction.

"You have been a loyal man," continued the king. "Now you must see where Beoran has led you."

Radomor looked from Ragnal without turning. "Priest," he said, "what is the vote?"

The arbiter, surprised, glanced to the parchment where he had been recording the events. "There are fourteen votes cast: seven for forgiveness, seven against."

Radomor hardly moved, simply listening: the only solid thing in the storm.

"And is a pet.i.tion granted by a tied vote such as this?""G.o.ds," said Heremund; Durand did not understand. said Heremund; Durand did not understand.

"Does a motion pa.s.s when it does not prevail in the vote?" Radomor pressed.

The arbiter stammered. "It... it does not."

Durand felt the world falling from under him, but only Radomor's dark eyes moved-a spark.

"Then, you have lost lost your bid for clemency, I think. You have asked, but your Great Council has not agreed." your bid for clemency, I think. You have asked, but your Great Council has not agreed."

As the duke smiled-a stained row of pearls-a dark wind bowled through the feasting hall, s.n.a.t.c.hing flame from candles, and causing the blaze in the hearth to cringe against the stones. Radomor's cloak opened like wings.

A man could see little but the wink of the duke's teeth. Durand could hardly watch for the crus.h.i.+ng pain in his skull.

"Here, here we have it. Now it is come."

"I have defended you," Radomor said. "I have shed my blood, and thrown my life in the balance to save yours. And, all the while, you have tripped and blundered and raged and stumbled until our realm is strained to the point of breaking, cousin." No king could have foreseen the chain of petty rebellions and hard harvests Errest had weathered. "Now, you have risked the very crown of our realm on a fool's wager."

It was happening, despite all they had done to stop it. Every window screamed like the climax of torture. Under the floor, the rock itself groaned. Through the bone-breaking agony in his skull, Durand imagined the entire realm quaking. He saw the hag stir under the walls of High Ashes. He saw the monks of Cop Alder, walking their glyph of soil. He saw the blackthorn men and the mad folk in the wastelands.

"There will be no new last chances. The time has come, cousin," Radomor said and raised his hands for the crown.

Then, as though some monstrous thing had settled its wings over the headland, a vast silence fell over Creation. It bulged at Durand's ears.

Durand blinked through flashes of pain, gulping to keep air in his chest. He thought of lands torn from Creation by smaller things than this. He had walked the trails of Hesperand and seen the duke and his lady lost. Somehow, he must do something. He was halfway to his feet, groping for his blade when a chance glimpse of Deorwen reached through the confusion.

Without Deorwen, that Lost Duke of Hesperand would have had him.

He touched the Green Lady's veil. If Deorwen had not saved him, the bit of green would have been another knot on old Duke Eorcan's lance.

He remembered.Into the silence, Durand roared "No!"

He held the green knot in his fist. The voices were still. Even Radomor himself looked.

A dappled light s.h.i.+mmered through the arrow loops: a light full of beech trees and late summer evenings. Already, he could smell it in the air: the candle wax scent of Bower Mead.

He heard footfalls on the stair.

"What?" growled Radomor. The Rooks stared like carved monsters.

"One vote " stumbled Durand. "One vote is not cast."

Every eye abandoned Durand for the stairway, where a light swelled, and the ghostly warriors of Bower Mead had already made their way to the top of the stair-a twin file of dead men, silver-pale and young. How long had they been marching? When had they set out? In their wake came the Lady of the Bower, alive and glowing as though moonlight touched her flesh. The Lost knights bore her upon a palanquin.

She looked to Durand. He saw the clouded expression of someone struggling to recall a dream.

"The Lady," Durand whispered. "The Lady of Hesperand. She has come."

She pa.s.sed through the silent hall, borne above the fighting men. As Radomor and Ragnal and every member of the Great Council stared, her bearers mounted the dais to set the palanquin on the tile before the king and his enemy. Both men had the hunched look of animals caught between snapping and fleeing for the trees.

"King of Errest," she said, looking up to Ragnal."I am," said the king, warily.

"I am the Lady of Hesperand. I bear a writ under the duke's seal, Great King, and I will speak his will." She produced a parchment under a clot of dark wax.

Ragnal glanced to his arbiter, and the prelate took the parchment, nodding. Hesperand had always had a seat at the Great Council.

Durand held his knot of veil and spoke. "You must cast your vote, my lady. You must cast your vote." "Ask your question, my king," said the Lady. Ragnal slowly nodded.

"There is a debt owing," he said. "I have pet.i.tioned this council that it be forgiven. You must answer, 'yea' or 'nay,' madam. How says ... Hesperand?"

"Hesperand answers 'yea,' Majesty," said the Lady. Her eyes met Durand's then, down the length of the feasting hall, but she hardly faltered. "The debt should be forgiven."

No one heard the verdict, then. Knights and lords from every corner of Errest leapt to their feet-outrage and triumph both ringing from the vaults. Durand felt a hard grin spread across his face. The wh.o.r.esons hadn't expected this. Radomor lurched away from the king, clutching at his blade, but wise enough to see he could not live a heartbeat if he struck out with the Septarim and Bower knights all around. Beoran caught up with Radomor, still on the dais, catching hold of his arm, ducking like a peasant and babbling apologies or rea.s.surance. Very nearly, Radomor swept the man's head from his shoulders. A good foot of steel had left its scabbard before the enraged duke mastered himself enough to let the sword go and storm from the hall. Rooks and Champion and green knights all followed after.

In the next few moments, fully a third of the room emptied into the courtyard.

Friends clapped each other on the shoulders in rough jubilation, but Durand left them to it. He crossed to the dais where the Bower knights had lifted the palanquin once more.

He approached like a sickroom visitor. The Lady looked at him, clouds of confusion-of suspicion-drifting in the world beyond her eyes. He had the green veil in his fist "Ladys.h.i.+p, you left this with me," he said.

The Lost woman's lips parted a coin's width. She reached out her hand to touch and then to take the stiff and twisted bit of linen from his fingers.

The Bower knights were already turning. Some looked at him, almost accusing. He could see the wounds that had felled them, dark mouths and sockets cold and empty now. Remorselessly, they shouldered their burden and turned toward the stair. Their care of this woman was more than half a jailor's concern for his prisoner. She had been their deaths.

He looked away before he could find Cerlac's face."Thank you," said the Bower Lady. said the Bower Lady.

He risked a glance, and saw her eyes, first looking at him, and then through him. The knights had begun their pallbearer's march. Though he could easily have stretched out his hand, Durand could see that they were already gone, the old circle closing around them. But she had followed her token from Hesperand, and perhaps this one new thing could start the old wheel wobbling. He hoped it might

30. Peace in Moonlight

Durand limped outside where the waning Blood Moon rode high and bright above Creation. He and Tern Gyre had both had a rough time. The round watchtower above the Broken Crown had fallen, dropping Coensar's postern door to the waves. The wall was open to the wind. He saw serving men on the run nearby. A corner tower of Biedin's keep looked like a half-felled tree, and, when they scrambled to brace it, Durand joined them. They set to work ramming timbers tight between the wall and the living stone, and soon Durand and the castle men had a dozen st.u.r.dy beams meant for the prince's ceilings propping the tower.