The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [171]
As the few armored figures approached and ascended the steps, the Dwaer above the regent's head began to shine more brightly, until they were like golden stars. Blackgult glanced up at them, puzzlement clear on his face, and then looked around the huddle of anxious baronial faces, saw both anger and fear in them, and muttered, "I've no desire to become a tyrant. All of you, go home and set your baronies in order. Offer no violence to my heralds when they come; they report to me, aye, but they'd rather hear your frank complaints and requests than a lot of sugared nothing-words. If you plot and conspire against each other, or trade with the Serpents, I'll simply close your borders to the rest of Aglirta until your own people tear you apart. Tell me as fast as you can send word of strange magic or stranger mages, and Serpent-worship, and aid shall be sent. Overdukes, will you be my heralds?"
"If you can find us," Craer said carelessly. "We prefer adventuring."
One of the barons gasped at this rudeness, but Blackgult merely smiled and shook his head in appreciative envy. "Go then," he chuckled. "You've earned that, and more."
The regent looked around the faces of the barons again, and added, "One last thing. Watch around you always for faceless men-the Koglaur who can change their features as swiftly as a lady dons a new gown. Offer them no violence, for they seem to guard Aglirta as dearly as our king, but try to know of their presence, lest you need warn them of something-or warn us of them."
Then he grinned suddenly and asked, "Heard enough, Flaeros?"
The flower of the Delcampers had been standing silent and goggle-eyed, part of the ring, having wormed his way into the group with a deftness more worthy of a procurer than a bard. He now blushed deeply, and started to stammer a reply, but the baron next to him reached out angrily and took him by the throat.
Hawkril Anharu took that baronial wrist in a grip of iron and said softly to its owner, "Good rulers keep a minimum of secrets from their subjects. Think: your people will draw comfort from truly knowing what words passed here, out of their hearing."
There were slow and reluctant murmurs of agreement from around the ring-before all the barons looked to the regent for his reaction. Blackgult smiled slowly, and said to the armaragor who towered over them all, "My thanks, good Hawk. You're right, and I was not."
Embra deliberately reached up then, her eyes on his, and took her Dwaer out of the air. She knew it was the one she'd borne without even looking at it.
Blackgult's eyes narrowed, his brows drew together darkly-and then he shrugged and waved at her to keep it. "Go, now," he told the Four, "and rule. We've a kingdom to rebuild."
Together the Band of Four strode down the long carpet, and the guards threw open the doors before them. As one, they turned for a last look back at the River Throne, and the black-armored man standing beside it.
As the Golden Griffon raised his hand to give the new Overdukes of Aglirta a salute, the face of a doorguard slid into smooth flesh for a brief moment, faceless except for a wry grin. The Koglaur were watching-as they always did.
Epilogue
Moonlight was bright white and silver as it fell upon the River Throne-an empty chair now, standing still and silent in the room that held only three kneeling, scrubbing maids, several splendidly armored guards… and one dark-eyed young man.
As Raulin Castlecloaks gazed at the place where the Risen King had sat and the tall, dark Baron Blackgult had stood, unshed tears glimmered in his eyes. He barely saw the squat armored bulk moving to stand before him.
"Lad, 'twas wondrous to see, aye," the guard growled, "but it's time and past time for you to go. We'll be barring the doors now. Go and get some sleep. Aglirta will need strong younglings like you,