Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [16]
“But very few dukes,” Dorrin said.
“Yes. Well, that’s natural. King at the top of the mountain, dukes next. More counts than dukes, more barons than counts, more commoners than anyone else.”
“But are there only we four?”
“There’s Gerstad,” Marrakai said. “But he’s old and never leaves home. Had no children—well, he did, but they all died in a fever. Bitter as gall, and I can’t wonder at it, but he’s never at court and his domain’s in sad state. If it weren’t for Count Rundgren—and you, Serrostin—”
Serrostin shrugged. “I do what I can,” he said. “It isn’t much; he won’t allow it.”
“So it is mostly we four,” Mahieran said. “At this level, anyway. Which made it very difficult when your uncle was Duke, as we were not exactly close.”
Next morning, all the nobles appeared for the Council meeting: the king named his new officers of the court, confirmed the new Marshal-Judicar officially as a royal appointment and Juris Kostvan as the new Knight-Commander of the Bells—a popular choice, Dorrin gathered, from the reaction. Then he named his Council. The others stood and applauded, then filed out, while the Council gathered around the table.
“I welcome you all,” the king said, “both those who were on my Regency Council and those who are new to this gathering. As events this year have proved, threats loom over Tsaia, but together and with Gird’s aid we will prevail.” He looked around the table; Dorrin saw the others smile and nod. “Now,” the king said, “Duke Verrakai will report on the danger we face from Verrakaien magery.”
Dorrin repeated what she had explained before about the transference of personality into unwilling victims. “And as I wrote the king, we found children—” she said.
“Their own children?” asked Oktar, the new Marshal-Judicar.
“I am not sure.” Dorrin explained what she suspected about the parentage of at least some of the children who had suffered the death-sickness and “recovered.”
“I do not know how you found the courage to kill them,” Mahieran said softly, looking down. “I am not sure I could have, in your place.”
Dorrin felt tears burning her eyes again. “My lord—I cannot say—only that the real children—the child they had been—had already died and this was a usurper. I fixed my mind on that, but it was not easy.”
“I imagine not, even for a seasoned soldier like yourself.” Mahieran paused, then went on. “Do you know, I think you may have more military experience than any other peer—at least until Phelan’s other captain, Arcolin, comes to be confirmed at the Autumn Court.”
Dorrin’s heart rose. “Will he, then? I am glad to hear it. He’s a fine man, Jandelir Arcolin.”
“Surely you knew—”
“That he was given temporary authority, yes, but not that he would be confirmed in the grant.”
“It is the king’s decision, with the Council’s advice—and we are now the Council.” A murmur of agreement from around the table. “I favor it myself, though whether he should be made duke at once—”
“It’s a big step, from captain to duke,” one of the barons said, looking at Dorrin. Brenvor, she remembered after a moment. “What do you think?” His voice was challenging.
“Me?” Dorrin had not expected to be asked. “Arcolin has more years with the Company than I, and he was Kieri’s senior captain all those years. He’s served as his agent with all his business; he knows it thoroughly. If not a duke, what would you?”
“Count, perhaps,” Brenvor said. “Even I can see the domain—and the Pargunese danger—needs a higher rank than baron to head it. But I’d like to see proof he can meet the challenge, before we grant the higher title.”
Dorrin wondered what challenges Baron Brenvor had ever met, but knew she was being unfair. They had seen Arcolin only as a loyal subordinate, not in command.
“But as to the danger of those hidden Verrakaien,” the king said. “Duke Verrakai, do you know any way to identify them, other than