Chronicles of the Last Days Chapter 10

Chapter 9

H

ot, sweaty air wafted out of the council chamber. Most of the princes and guild chiefs were already assembled.

“We’d better go in,” Vigda said, which made Darna realize that she’d stopped at the door. A hill bandit was advising her on how to behave in court.

She was smiling at the absurdity of it when she stepped into the council chamber. Her uncle and cousin were seated directly across from her, and she had a clear view of their faces for the first time. They’d been placed a few seats away from Parnet and Tiagasa, separated from the governor by a phalanx of dark-robed men and women with sheaves of parchment and writing implements. Myril was there, standing just behind the Chief Chronicler. The palace scribes stood in front. All around the rest of the room stood the princes of the provinces with their consorts and heirs.

Darna turned to make her obeisance to the governor and his consort, keeping her gaze away from her usurping uncle. Tiagasa looked down on her, stony-faced. Had her help that day been some kind of complicated ruse? Tiagasa could be simply hedging her bets. Darna decided that the later possibility was most likely.

“Darnasa it is, then,” Tiagasa said, adding the honorific to Darna’s name for possibly the first time ever. “Welcome to our court. You come to present your case?”

Darna stood straight and turned slightly so that she could keep half an eye on Calar and Renar. The two older women, bandit and keep mistress, stood behind her. Vigda would be keeping watch. “I come to challenge my uncle” Darna said. “He has unjustly murdered my father. He and his allies drove the dragon of Tiadun to the deepest stream. He is a murderer and despoils the heart of the land he claims to want to rule. He is unfit.”

“It is ridiculous to say that about the dragon, who may not even exist,” Calar said.

“Nonetheless, it is part of your challenger’s accusation,” Parnet said.

“Also, you know nothing of me,” Calar said to Darna.

“I know enough.”

“Please,” Parnet said. “Take your places.”

He waved Darna to a place opposite Calar’s, a bench with a narrow table before it. Vigda and Gallia flanked her. Darna was fairly sure that Vigda had at least three blades hidden under her robes. That was reassuring.

She focused on Calar as Tiagasa and Parnet took their seats. Girizit stood behind them, regarding her through narrowed eyes and with a slight sneer on his lips. She resisted the urge to sneer back at him. There were some advantages to priestess training – she was able to keep her face blank when she had to.

Calar wore Tiadun’s colors too, a bright blue tunic and an orange cape embroidered more thickly than Darna’s borrowed robes. He was tall, but his son Renar towered over him. It took Darna a moment to realize that although they were both tall, Renar was wearing Cerean boots. Calar had had just enough sense not to come to the tribunal dressed like a foreigner.

Various palace dignitaries and gossips had crammed into the room, leaving a central spot open for whoever was speaking. Darna had to look twice before she spotted Thorat standing in the shadows behind Parnet and Giri. One of the maids she’d worked alongside was leaning in at the doorway. Near her, she saw Kinner standing behind the prince of Galamun and Harzet the Cerean. Harzet smiled at her ruefully.

Some of the onlookers were clearly ranged on Calar’s side, including the princes of Kiralun, Naramun, and Seiganum. Most stood a bit apart, undecided.

The governor thudded his table for attention.

“I open this evening’s tribunal in the name of Anara and all the dragons. We come here tonight at the behest of Gallia, once keep mistress of Tiadun. She alleges that Calar, brother of the late prince Terenet, is unfit to rule, and that Terenet’s daughter should serve as regent in his stead until she bears a son and raises him to adulthood.”

Darna blanched at the thought of conceiving an heir, let alone birthing and raising one, but it was better than seeing Calar on the throne.

“First, we will hear challenges to Calar’s right to the throne. Gallia brought this suit. Please come forward.”

Gallia stepped into the center of the room. She was doing her best to maintain the calm air of command she’d used when they’d arrived at Tiagasa’s rooms that morning, but her shaking voice betrayed her.

“Your Excellency, Blessed One.” She bowed to the Parnet and Tiagasa. “I thank you for hearing my case. In the springtime of the past year, my most beloved prince set out on a hunting expedition with his brother and a group of Cereans, who, as we know, have plentiful boar in their own country but no dragons or dragon stones. That is what they were hunting, though my beloved Terenet went with them in order to try to keep them to their stated goal of hunting boar and other wild game in our hills.

“They brought him back to me pierced with an arrow and dying. On his deathbed, he told me of his daughter, sired not long after I first met him. As you can see, she is now a woman grown and a respected member of her guild.”

Across the room, someone coughed to cover a laugh. Darna – and many others – turned to see who it was. Standing opposite the chief of the planner’s guild, Tevan stood near Calar and Renar, looking odious. She’d thought he liked her better than this. He had always been greedy and selfish. She should never have tolerated him so long.

“Unfortunately,” Gallia continued, “Calar overheard us. After Terenet died, he broke with custom and blocked the priestesses from their right to rule until a new prince was confirmed. There was some unrest in the villages, but the Cereans who had come to steal the dragons’ stones – those who had not died in the attempt – helped him to put the protests down.”

At the mention of the death of the Cereans, Calar’s Cerean advisor shuddered a little. Perhaps he did not like to lose his armsmen to creatures he did not quite believe in, or to shadowy warriors from the hills, dressed in rags.

“And then,” Parnet put in, “Calar is said to have put a price on Darnasa’s life. Can any confirm this?”

There was a long silence.

“No? Then perhaps that rumor is false?”

Thorat stepped out of the shadows. “Pardon me, Your Excellency, may I speak?”

Parnet glanced at Tiagasa who gave him an almost-imperceptible nod as she frowned. The governor directed his guardsman to step forward.

Thorat was playing a part, Darna realized as he walked out to the center of the room. His shoulders were more hunched than usual, and he glanced at the courtiers around him out of the corners of his eyes, as if he were intimidated by them. He’d faced dragons, and he must know that he could match and surpass anyone in the room in a contest of arms. He was not intimidated, but he wanted to look the part of an obedient servant.

He cleared his throat. “I served as a guardsman at Tiadun keep starting the Midsummer before last. I was not there when this hunting party went out, having been called back to the family farm.” He might be thinking of Raina’s place, but he was coloring the truth quite liberally. “When I arrived, it seemed I’d be better off back at my old work, so I returned to Anamat to take up guarding again. I met another Tiadun guardsman in the tavern out there on the square, and he told me about the price on Darnasa’s head.” He glanced up at Darna quickly, then stared at the floor in front of his feet.

“Then what was the price?” the governor prompted.

“The price? He offered a land grant and Cerean slave girls, I think.”

“You didn’t pursue this?”

Darna felt Vigda tense beside her, but Thorat answered in character.

“No, Your Excellency. I don’t like the thought of killing women who’ve done me no harm, and Calar hadn’t shown himself to honor his word before.” He looked up, as if he were warming to the topic.

“Thank you; that will be all,” Tiagasa said. She whispered something in Parnet’s ear. She must know or suspect that Thorat knew Darna as a friend.

Thorat bowed and returned to his place in the shadows.

“Who else speaks for Darnasa, allegedly of Tiadun, or against Calar?”

The princes of Getedun and Galamun stepped forward. “Calar rode roughshod over our lands, letting his foreign allies abuse our people. Anyone who can unseat him would be better.”

Calar sneered. “Even a girl?” he said.

Parnet picked up a heavy dagger with a jewel-encrusted hilt and raised it for attention. Calar was out of turn. Parnet gestured to Darna.

“Darnasa. Have you any other allies?”

Darna could not name her bandit allies from the hills and the governor wouldn’t accept their testimony, anyway. “I do not know what other allies I have,” she said, “but I submit to the governor that I am not a girl but a grown woman, an initiated priestess of Ara’s Landing and a full member of the Planners’ Guild.”

Two men stepped out of the crowd – the planner’s guild chief and the chief of the swordsmiths’ guild. Three more joined them, which meant that most of the chiefs of the higher guilds of Anamat stood for her side. The Chronicler stayed beside the governor, hand poised over a piece of parchment, recording the proceedings.

“The guilds, then,” Parnet said. He sounded slightly nervous at that. “Do any of the guilds stand for Calar?”

No one stepped forward.

“That is irrelevant!” Calar said. “I have my village chiefs. What should the guildmasters of Anamat care for a faraway province like mine?”

The guildsmen grumbled among themselves. “We care that we haven’t been paid our due in two years!” someone shouted from the back of the room.

“Order!” Parnet pounded his jewel-hilted dagger on the table, crushing the wood beneath it. “Calar’s point is taken. Guildsmen, stand down.”

Tiagasa looked nervous.

Parnet gestured for Darna to come forward. “Do you have any more to say about the basis of your claim?”

Darna felt her racing heart calm as she stepped into what felt like a role in a play. She did not feel at all like her own self. “I am said to be Terenet’s daughter,” she said, “though I have never quite believed it. Seeing my cousin there, I don’t doubt that we’re related somehow.”

She could see people nodding and felt them looking at her. Renar rested his hand on his sword hilt. She was grateful that she had guards. Myril’s presence among the Chroniclers was reassuring, too.

“I know that I was born in a village in Tiadun. I was raised a fosterling and sent to the keep to be a servant after my foster parents had a child of their own and I was – I was damaged. I had a limp for many years. It’s cured now, thanks to the winged ones.” Let them think it was ordinary piety. She didn’t need to tell them about Salara. They wouldn’t believe her, anyway.

Tiagasa nodded slowly. “Your cure came after many years,” she remarked.

“It did,” Darna said. “But I stand here, most likely Terenet’s daughter, now that it seems to matter. I am not accused of murder.”

“That is not the object of our inquiry at present,” the governor said. “You may return to your place, Lady Darnasa. Who speaks in favor of Calar?”

“I do,” said Renar, not waiting to be acknowledged. He teetered forward on his high heels. “I would take a challenger to establish my father’s right to rule, by right of arms.”

Parnet nodded. “That would have been acceptable last year, had your challenger brought a champion of her own. Have you a champion?”

Darna nodded. She didn’t know who would stand to fight Renar, but Thorat might, or one of the others. Gallia had said that Renar was handy with a sword, and an excellent archer, but she thought any of the men in the Defenders’ hall could probably match him.

“At this juncture, however, there are complications,” the governor said. “Let us hear from another.” He gave a nod to the prince of Naramun, who stepped forward.

“You cannot give rule to a woman and a priestess,” said the prince. “It would upset the balance.”

“She would rule as regent only, with her consort. She would need to choose a consort,” Tiagasa said, “but we will take that into consideration.”

Darna felt acid rise in her gorge at the thought of choosing a consort. She wasn’t ready for that. Most likely, she never would be.

The princes of Seiganum and Kiralun presented themselves as Calar’s backers, too.

“Are there any others?” Parnet asked.

Calar’s Cerean advisor stepped forward. “As the emissary of the Duke of the Southern Reaches –”

Parnet slapped his hand down on the table. “No,” he said. “We thank your countrymen for the gifts they have brought and for their allegiance –” Girizit leaned forward to whisper in the governor’s ear, but Parnet brushed him away like one of the errant flies buzzing around the remnants of a feast. “We thank you and your countrymen for your interest in our affairs, but this must be decided by our own laws.”

Girizit smiled at Darna and shrugged. She looked away. She did not want his allegiance, useful as it might be. She hoped that she wouldn’t need it.

“Any others? Men – or women – of Theranis?”

Someone stepped out from behind Calar. It took Darna a long moment to recognize her.

“I was a priestess of Salara,” she said. “I say that this woman is no true priestess of the dragons, that she is an impostor in this, too.” Ciffolga was not the weeping, ragged-robed figure from a cottage hearthside in a village anymore. She’d been transformed into an Anamat priestess, albeit one from Conn’s Coop, not Ara’s landing. She wore robes nearly as rich as Darna’s borrowed ones and was wreathed in a heady perfume.

“I present my consort, Ciffolga,” Renar said. “I propose that if my father is deemed unfit to rule, that I take his place in Tiadun keep, with this consort, a true priestess, by my side.” His eyes flicked over to Darna but he looked away before his gaze could settle. They did look alike. Darna avoided looking at Ciffolga. She was alive – Darna would have rejoiced at that, but she’d betrayed the dragons after all those years of working in secret. Calar’s son must have promised her wealth, power, and security. Those were prizes Ciffolga had never been offered before, so it seemed that she had turned.

The governor nodded. A young man with a consort and skill at arms fit the part of a candidate for a princedom in dispute. Darna could feel the sense of the room turning against her.

“Others?” Parnet said.

Tevan stepped forward.

Curse him!

Darna thought. He sauntered to the center of the floor as Ciffolga dropped back. He looked up at his old lover.

“Darna’s just a guildswoman,” he said. “I’ve known her well for many years. She never said anything about being a princess, and she doesn’t act like one.”

There were titters of amusement from around the room. Anyone could see that Darna, despite her fine robes, was not like the other noblewomen.

“And how many princesses have you known, young man?” Vigda shouted.

The laughter stopped. Everyone turned to look at her. “Would you speak, lady… What is your name and title?” Parnet asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Vigda said as she shouldered past Darna and stood in the center of the room. Her voice carried better than Renar’s had – priestess training. She held her head high.

“I was a priestess at a village temple in Tiadun,” she began. “When the prince made his rounds, he visited me, my only petitioner that moon-round. I was already growing weary of temple life and considering going to my hermitage in the hills. I am pleased to have met my daughter again at last, and if there are any of you who say that she is not a true priestess, ask Tiada, if you can find her, or Salara, or Anara. All three of these dragons know this young woman for who she is, the rightful ruler of Tiadun. I gave birth to her, and I stand with her.”

Darna barely heard the voices around her. It was like a distant wind, like a storm, roaring in her ears like so much meaningless noise.

“Are you?”

Vigda nodded. “I knew it the moment I saw you, up in the mountains. I used to have a mirror to gaze in before I went into the hills, and of course I knew your father when he was a younger man too, even before he chose Gallia for his consort. Better her than me. I prefer the hills. You must take the keep.”

Parnet banged his dagger again. Tiagasa looked like she might faint and took a long drink from the goblet in front of her. The servant standing behind her refilled it.

Tiagasa stepped up. “I have one further piece of evidence,” she said.

“Speak, then,” Parnet said, but he was unhappy with the prospect, as was Girizit. Giri even reached out as if to hold Tiagasa back, but, seeing that the rest of the room waited on Tiagasa’s word, he tucked his many-ringed fingers back into the folds of his tunic.

“When Darna first came to Ara’s Landing, she was called Darnasa. I was a novice priestess there at the time, only a year ahead of Darnasa. She was as ragged as any foul-footed scrappling I ever saw, and lame, too. I did not think that she was a fit priestess. All of us – the well-born girls who once went to the priestesses to learn their arts – all of us thought that she was only a peasant until she left the temple only a single season after her initiation, clear of debt and without scandal. It seemed odd that she was not bound to the temple, as scrappling novices must be. I learned that the prince of Tiadun had paid her fees from the beginning and had in fact compelled the priestesses to bring her in for training despite her deformities.” Tiagasa shook her head. “So, you see that for all her peasant-like ways, she must be a princess by birth. Much as I hate to say it, it’s true.”

Giri looked uncomfortable. Darna smiled.

“Thank you, my sister,” she said to Tiagasa.

Tiagasa nodded, as if to say,

Remember it; I’ll collect my payment later.

“Where is the Aralel, then, to confirm or deny all this?” Parnet demanded.

“Wise to keep her nose out of this farce. We’ll take our due!” The voice came from Calar’s side, but Darna wasn’t sure who had spoken.

The Chronicler rested his writing hand and looked in that general direction. “It is unseemly to threaten the ladies of the dragons, and unwise,” he said.

“Keep to your work, man,” Parnet said.

The Chronicler did not react except to pick up his pen again.

“We will retire to consult on this matter,” Parnet said. “Council!”

The chiefs of the greater guilds and those princes who had not taken sides in the dispute followed the governor into a neighboring chamber. Girizit leaned over to whisper in Tiagasa’s ear. She shook her head and followed the council into their chamber, leaving Girizit alone beside the governor’s chair, flanked by half of his guardsmen. Darna was glad to see Thorat among them. She hoped that Myril would be able to hear what was said in that council, to tell her later. She glanced across at Myril, who gave her a quick smile before turning back to her work.

Something else was happening. Girizit met the gaze of Calar’s Cerean advisor. The two foreigners approached each other, meeting in the neutral center of the room.

“Your Duke is in disgrace,” Giri said in Cerean.

“It does not matter. We have an army here.” He glanced up at Darna, who looked away. “A woman and a cripple,” he said. “Shameful.”

“Shameful, yes,” Girizit said. “A thief, too, but she understands what you say, you know.”

Then Giri turned to Darna and smiled, a broad smile that melded a triumphant grin with a sneer of derision.

“You can take your army and sail it home,” Darna said in Cerean. “I advise you to.”

“Boldly spoken,” Giri said. “But it is I, and the king, who will bring our own down. I leave your so-called uncle to you, whore’s spawn.”

“Slave,” Darna countered. She turned away.

“What was that?” Vigda asked her.

“He insulted you, and all priestesses, in the way they usually do. Also, the duke’s man there, Calar’s Cerean, threatens me with his army, but he has his own countrymen ranged against him, so maybe they’ll hold him back.”

“His own countrymen will take his side if it comes to losing Tiadun,” Gallia said. “We must be on guard.”

Before Darna could reply, Tiagasa returned to the council chamber. All hushed as the councilors filed in behind her. Parnet took his place behind the table with his dagger in his hand.

“It is decided,” he said. “Calar and his sons – if Hedrin can be found – will be given over to the princes of Galamun and Getedun, who between them may demand such penance as they see fit. Their guardsmen are released from their contracts. Should they wish to remain in their posts, they may negotiate that with Darnasa as regent of Tiadun. She will take that place in the return journey, beginning on Midsummer morning, until such time as she produces a fitting heir.”

Darna’s belly clenched and cramped. The edges of her vision grew dark but she took a deep breath and did not faint. She bowed, and barely heard as the governor dismissed the meeting.

Tiagasa and Parnet cut through the throng that was gathering around her as Calar and Renar were ushered out roughly by the prince of Getedun and his armsmen.

“I’ll have Calar’s things moved out of the Tiadun prince’s apartments. You and your retinue may move in now,” Tiagasa said.

“My retinue?” Darna said.

Tiagasa waved her hand vaguely. “Oh, you know. Princesses are born knowing these things. You need a chamberlain, a secretary, a captain of the guard, and perhaps a Cerean tutor. You must arrange all of that.”

“I don’t need a Cerean tutor.” People were crowding around her, princes and their consorts who Darna recognized only by the colors of their robes, which corresponded to the realm colors she’d learned as a priestess. She didn’t know any of them. None of them knew her. That would all have to change.

“You may find that you do need one,” Tiagasa said. “And you can’t have mine.”

“I wouldn’t want him, as he knows.” There were other men she didn’t need. She could still see Tevan arguing with their guildmaster. Their words were inaudible through the din, but she could see the color rising in Tevan’s face. Would he be dismissed from the guild? She felt faint.

“We’ll see to it that our regent is properly attended,” Gallia said, taking command. “Thank you, Your Ladyship, for your gracious hospitality.”

“You have been most generous,” Darna added as an afterthought.

Vigda gave the slightest of bows. “Let’s go out into the courtyard,” she said to Darna as Tiagasa turned away.

“Yes, let’s,” Darna said. She looked over her shoulder for Myril and gestured for her to come join them, then escaped the crowded council chamber as quickly as she could.

The courtyard was only slightly less crowded, but at least there was a cool breeze.

“You must assemble your people quickly,” Gallia said. “Are there any here?”

Darna looked behind her to see that Myril was approaching. Thorat had gone off with the governor already. Forlan and Ferrent stood on either side of her, visibly watchful and intimidating. Calar’s Cerean saw them, frowned, and walked away.

“Those two should stay with you,” Gallia said, gesturing to the brothers.

Vigda nodded. “They’ll guard you well. That girl Eppie might help too.”

“You know her?” Gallia asked.

Vigda shrugged. “May the winged ones go with you, daughter. I’ll see you in Tiadun.”

“But –” Darna protested. Myril caught up with her just then and wrapped her in a warm embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Myril said. “I lost the sound of you the night before last. I was worried.”

Darna pulled away, looking for Vigda. “My mother,” she said. “She just left.”

“I’m sorry,” Myril said. “What happened the other night?”

“I was all right. Didn’t Thorat tell you?”

Myril shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since.”

After one more look for Vigda, Darna reached for Myril’s hand. “Would you join my…would you be my secretary, or chamberlain, now that I’m a regent?”

Myril looked down and shook her head. “I’m sorry; I have other work to do, and the palace here…”

Darna understood, but she wished that Myril would have faced it for her.

“I’ll help you however I can, but I have to go now. I’ll visit you every day while you’re here.”

Darna thanked her. Myril hurried off as the prince of Helanum and his mistress came to greet her.

“I knew as soon as we met at Midwinter that you were no ordinary guildswoman,” the prince said. “I am most pleased to see that you have prevailed. Would you breakfast with us tomorrow?”

Darna agreed, but then the Getedun prince’s mistress asked her to breakfast, too, and she had to demur. Another invitation followed, and another.

“Don’t accept them all,” Gallia coached her. “Remember you’ll have the councils in the evenings.”

Darna took a deep breath. “How long do they last?”

“Until the night before Midsummer Eve,” a man to her left said. He turned out to be the prince of Coradun, a man somewhat past his prime but kindly-looking. “I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Darna returned his bow, and as she was rising, she finally recognized the young man who’d been lingering nearby. “Kinner!” she called to him. “Would you be my secretary?”

Kinner blushed. “I don’t know that I’m ready, but I’ll try.”

“I feel the same way,” she told him. As more and more of the nobles and guild chiefs came to greet her, Kinner stayed by her side. By the time Tiagasa returned to say that their rooms were ready, Darna’s head was in a whirl, trying to remember all of the names and faces. Myril returned then too.

“I’m sorry I had to go,” she said. “I spoke with Thorat.”

“Will you walk with me to my new chambers?” Darna asked. “Wait, though. Can you hear Vigda?”

Myril paused to listen, then shook her head. “She’s gone. She went out the kitchen gate while I was talking to Thorat.”

Darna’s heart sank. She’d spent her whole life trying not to imagine her mother, but she liked Vigda, and Vigda seemed to like her. It was too soon to say goodbye.

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