We set off that morning with most of the men of the garrison behind us, some five hundred armed suvari. The men sang rousing marching songs, and farmers along the road cheered us and waved encouragingly. As we rode, I thought about Taisto’s invasion. I wondered what he thought it would accomplish. Did he truly think to rule both nations from one throne? He scarcely had a grasp on the throne of Erdem, much less that of Rikuto. Erdem’s army is much stronger than that of Rikuto, and perhaps, if we threw our entire might into it, we could indeed conquer it.
But there would be no purpose. The Rikutan people would not consent to Erdemen rule. The arm of the Erdemen king is not long enough to enforce obedience in Enkotan, much less the Rikutan countryside. We don’t even share a language with the common people, only Kumar with the warriors. On a map, if one were to look at Erdem and Rikuto as two halves of the same country, the Sefu Mountains would divide it almost impassably, a vertical line through the center of the kingdom. How could one king hope to rule both sides? Erdem is richer and more powerful, but the mountains would make such a kingdom impractical, completely aside from the difficulty of the invasion itself.
Hakan was silent until we were nearly at the open gates of Stonehaven.
“Kemen.” He didn’t look at me. “I imagine at least some of Taisto’s men will be willing to fight for him. We’ll be outnumbered in the palace, and I don’t want a siege outside it. I want to change their minds. I want to confront him in front of everyone.”
My shoulders tightened. “We will fight for you. The army is yours. Use it.”
“I don’t want a fight. They’re good men, at least most of them are. Many of them probably don’t even know I’m alive. They might support me if they knew.” He took a deep breath and kept his eyes forward. “Truth. I will tell them the truth about Taisto and what he has done. Then they can decide.”
The silence between us drew out, broken only by the sound of hooves on the road. He was pale, nervous, and my ribs ached with tension. Fear for him.
“I left a letter with Bakar at Relakato. It says that if something happens to me, I have formally named you as my successor and that the letter stands as my personal singing of the Hero Song for you. I’ve recommended a few changes in the ministerial staff if you take the throne.”
It took me a moment to be sure my voice would be steady when I replied. “If there is a duel, I will fight for you, Hakan. You should not cross swords with a traitor.” He wasn’t ready and we both knew it.
“You told me once I needed to earn the trust of the people. I don’t deserve their trust if I’m afraid to fight for them.”
“He’s a murderer. You don’t have to do it.” My voice sounded flat and hard in my own ears, but in my heart it was a plea.
He swallowed and nodded once. “I know.”
I don’t know when he grew from a boy to a man in my eyes. But that ride was when I realized it.
A boy must be protected, even from himself. A man has the right to risk death for his beliefs, and a king has the right to fight for his people. I did not have the right to deny him that, regardless of how I might fear for him.
All the way to Stonehaven I wrestled with my fear and the questions it raised. He had the right to face Taisto, the right to risk his own life. But for Erdem’s sake, I would sacrifice much. My own life. My honor, perhaps, depending on how you define honor. I had sacrificed men under my command before, and would do it again. I felt torn, shredded, because by then I respected Hakan too much to needlessly tread on his rights as a man and a king, but I could not bear the thought of watching him fight a duel, watching him die, and with him watching Erdem’s hope die. I could not be the king Erdem needed, and no one was more aware of it than I was.
Outside Stonehaven we gathered a small train of cheering commoners drawn by the songs and the distinctive bugle call of the musical corps announcing the royal presence. The gates of the city were already open for the day by the time we arrived, and we entered the city at the head of an impromptu parade. Women and girls threw flowers on us from upper windows and people followed us singing and even dancing to the spirited songs. What they would do when we reached the palace, I had no idea, but the feeling was more than pleasant. The song rang from the stone walls and preceded us into the grand empty space around the palace itself.
The palace was surrounded by a high stone wall which itself was separated from the nearest buildings by some distance, the better to give defenders space to breathe. Guards were stationed along the top of the wall as well as at each gate, and I wondered whether they would let us in. The army could have besieged the palace, but it would take time to get more men and longer for the palace to concede.
Again we were fortunate. The men at the gate saluted respectfully and stood aside. I was glad to find that they had not betrayed their vow of loyalty to the king. Surely only a very few of them could have recognized Hakan personally, but those few were the highest officers. That, and we were accompanied by five hundred suvari in uniform. They bowed low before Hakan, who returned their courtesies with a nod and trotted briskly into the palace grounds.
Hakan strode up the grand front staircase as though he owned the palace already. Hayato and I followed, the suvari following closely behind us. They were suvari swordsmen, and I thought suddenly we would have been better served to have some archers with us. I hoped it would not come to that, and for a while I almost thought we might be so fortunate. We were unopposed at first.
The men at the grand door at the front of the castle also bowed respectfully and backed away. Aside from those few, the halls were deserted, and Hakan hesitated a moment before turning to his left and walking through the great entry hall to a smaller room. It was darkly luxurious, deep green tapestries lining the walls with scenes of the great battles of the past. I recognized one of the most famous scenes of the battle of Liriankano, when the king Piakarto himself defended Fort Kuzeyler with some few picked men from the raging Tarvil barbarians. The white horse was quite distinctive, though who knows what color the horse really was, or whether the king was truly there at all. That was the legend, and it was an inspirational one, for it embodied the idea of great Erdemen kings, the sacrificial love for their people, the great courage that gave them the right to rule, the loyalty that they demanded and received of their brave soldiers.
The suvari followed us in uneven formation through the halls. They were distracted by the luxury, and I hoped that they would not become inattentive and careless. I half expected Taisto to have archers along the raised walkways in the great hall, but there was no one. The halls were empty and our steps echoed on the marble floors. I could see the slightly worn paths that feet had made through the centuries. Hayato set groups of twenty men in several key points to prevent Taisto from fleeing if he were inclined to do so.
Hakan stood in the middle of the smaller hall and thought a moment before continuing to the end and turning down another hall. I wondered at the lack of servants. Surely a palace of this size would have servants to handle the horses and cook the food, clean the floors and light the many candles and lamps at night. Taisto must have eliminated many of them as well; they would not be eager to serve him after seeing his treachery.
There was no one in any of the rooms, and Hakan led the way to the king’s suite of planning rooms, where the real work of ruling is done. The throne is for ceremonies and royal events, but for administration and planning, the king works at a desk like any common administrator.
We found Taisto sitting behind a desk in one of the king’s planning rooms. He looked up and smiled when we entered, a cold and confident smile with no little scorn.