The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [3]
"Yet," the Tersept of Yarsimbra snarled, from the other side of the River Throne, "Your Majesty can hardly fail to have noticed that fires struck the barges of Yarsimbra at their docks on three successive nights. Lightning strikes, Helvand claims-yet no storms rode the sky on those nights. Lightnings out of a clear sky? When Helvand just happens to have opened a new shipyard? Me, I doubt the Risen King is quite so stupid as Helvand seems to think he is!"
"Majesty," the Tersept of Helvand hissed, "must we listen to the unbridled lies this man speaks? Does his title give him leave to impugn and sneer and slander freely?"
King Snowsar kept his face as blankand calmly patient as stone, moving only his eyes to fix a dark and level gaze on each of the two wrangling tersepts in turn. Anger and the desire to yawn rose together behind his face, but he let that inward roiling touch only his eyes.
Helvand took no notice of such subtle warnings. Like the men he served, Ul-Ulgund, that was the man's name!-strode straight forward through life, trampling or thrusting aside anyone who stood in the way. Helvand was the north shore of the Silverflow just upriver of Sirlptar, a succession of wooded estates owned by merchants rich enough to rise out of the crowding of the Glittering City and build secure castles of their own. Not that such pursuits meant they were retiring from the slap-and-dagger ways of Sirlptar… or bending their knees overmuch to a king who stepped out of legend to sit on a dusty throne far upriver. "What Helvand wants, Helvand gets," this strutting tersept had warned the king a few breaths ago, his tone adding the unspoken threat or else loudly enough for some of the surrounding courtiers to wince visibly.
Yarsimbra was hardly better. The long-independent point of land that jutted north from Sart to force the Silverflow into one last pair of bends ere it reached the sea had years ago attained the wealth and sophistication the merchants of Helvand were now so eagerly seizing-and it seemed Yarsimbra would do just about anything to keep not only its abundant coins, but its dominance over lower river trade. Poisonings and the summoning of hireswords had already befallen-and the king could well believe no one had paused for an instant to consider the danger such things brought to Aglirta.
Not caring about consequences: a problem for a king when almost all of his appointed rulers, as well as every last swaggering one of the nobility, suffered from this disease. These two tersepts had probably forgotten that he could dismiss them at will-or were prepared to ignore any dismissal he might order, according him all the authority granted to the flapping mouth of a dowager aunt shut up somewhere alone to rail at servants where once she'd lectured a baron daily.
Abruptly he was very tired of it all. King Kelgrael Snowsar rose like a rearing lion, in a single graceful bound, and spread his hands, flat and palms down, in a vicious chopping motion that brought sudden silence to the room.
This, at least, he was able to do: dominate his court by sheer presence and the heavy threat of his displeasure. A hundred eyes were locked on him now, seeking to read meaning into his smallest movement, gesture, utterance, or shift in expression.
He left them little room for sly interpretations. "Both of you have raised valid points, lords-points a wise ruler needs time to ponder, so as to dispense justice as fair and farsighted as it is royal. Blustering will not bring me to decisions any the faster, my Lord of Yarsimbra-"
He bent a colder gaze than before on the older, shorter tersept, who met it with an impassive stare that held far too little fear… or respect.
"Nor, my Lord of Helvand, is threatening your king likely to force his tongue into wagging the way you want it to."
The younger tersept was seething with boiling rage, and looked it; the king had expected no shame or deference in those glittering eyes, and found none.
He continued on, his voice calmer than he felt. "You may