Two Kingdoms 28: Rules of the Game

[DoctorM]

TWO KINGDOMS 28: RULES OF THE GAME

Author's Note: This is the twenty-sixth part of an AU construction about a very different post-1120 Gwynedd where the coronation challenge at Kelson's coronation went rather differently--- very differently. This episode falls simultaneously with "Hand and Eye" and "Farmhouse". As always, input and comments are very much appreciated. I do like hearing from anyone who reads these episodes.


The Shadow Queen is waiting for her alone in a little close just off the long corridor. Edmund Loris' old palace is studded with these things, little walled gardens with a bench or two, waiting behind doors set with Beldour glass. The Duchess of Marley and Eastmarch presses her lips together and steps past the bowing servitors in their royal livery.

Richenda of Marley bows. Whatever's going to happen, she has no intention of allowing the Witch Queen to see her anxious. "Your Grace," she says. Not Your Majesty, and it never will be, but still perfectly formal.

Charissa is there on one of the benches.  There's a table set up, too. A silver serving set is on it, and the scent of kahwa is in the crisp air.  It's still early enough in the spring, but no Tolan girl— no Rheljan girl, either —is ever going to admit to being cold in Valoret.

The Shadow Queen is all in dark green this morning, green dark as a mountain forest. She's in a high-collared khilat robe worn over hose and boots. She crosses her legs and looks at Marley's woman. The duchess is in a sleek grey Bremagni gown set along the cuffs and collar with pearls. There's a ghost of a smile from the queen. The women at court are divided into parties by dress these days— the Shadow Queen's supporters in khilats, those still looking back to the old order of things dressed in gowns.

"Why, Lady Marley," Charissa says. "Whatever is the matter? My people say you've been stalking through the palace all morning. Can I help?"

Richenda's hands are clenched in the folds of her dress. She keeps her voice level and quiet. "My son, Your Grace. My son has run away from his idiot tutor. I'm looking for him."

Charissa grins. "Boys do that. I used to do it, too— run off from my governesses. By the time I was nine or ten, my father had pretty much given up on trying to keep me in one place.  So good for young Brendan."

"Does Your Grace know where my son is?" It's all Richenda can do to keep her voice halfway polite.

Charissa shrugs. "The last I heard, he'd gone down to the stables with al-Fayturi to look at the horses. Brendan's going to be a fine rider. You and Marley should be proud of him. After that, I hear he'll be learning chess with Aurelian."

Richenda's face goes pale. "Keep that monster away from my son. Keep him away."

Charissa is feigning shock. "Lady Marley— monster? Aurelian? Now how can you think that?"

"Because he's your kept torturer. I know what he does."

The Shadow Queen sighs. "I suppose I shouldn't laugh, but I just may. Aurelian is my Inquisitor of State. His job is to keep me on the throne— to ferret out enemy spies and put down treason. What he does, he does inside the laws. You may wish to consult Bishop Brechlin on that."

"The most corrupt priest in all the Eleven Kingdoms."

Charissa gives her one of her more dazzling smiles. "Maybe— though there's a lot of competition. Still, my lord Brechlin is one of the finest administrators anybody's seen in the last fifty years or so. Not a bad general, either."

"I'm from the Rheljans. We know what he is."

"Aurelian, though— he's a good administrator, too. And a very good intelligencer. Foreign, yes, but I suppose so am I, really. Speaks all sorts of languages. And he's perfectly polite. He's well-read, skilled at just about everything, and a dear friend. Your son has a lot to learn from him."

"He tortures people to death. I've seen the heads on the walls. I've seen the bodies on gibbets.  I've heard all the stories. Keep him away from my son."

The queen shakes her head. "Oh, the stories. Well, one day I must ask you to tell me all the stories you know about me. The ones about Aurelian are mostly wrong, the ones about me are probably about half true."  Charissa gestures at the serving set on the table.  Her voice is still pleasant, but there's a crispness to it. "Pour us both kahwa and then sit down. It's time for the two of us to talk."

****

The Shadow Queen leans back on the bench. There's a silver cup cradled in her hands. The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg comes up from the rich darkness of the kahwa.  She tilts her head. "Let's be clear on something. You've been dashing about looking for your son. I can understand that; he's very young. But you seem to think we'd do something awful to Brendan. That would never happen here. Not ever. Brendan's a lovely boy. I adore him, and so does Christian. We all do. He's smart, he's kind, he's brave, and he wants to learn about everything, Your husband spends a lot of his time thinking that Brendan should be my son-in-law one day. Which isn't out of the question."

Richenda is sitting rigid on the next bench, kahwa growing cold in her cup. She's staring bleakly at the queen. "You'd ruin him," she says. "You want to take my son and turn him into one of your kind. You want him to think he should be like you."

Charissa raises an eyebrow. "My kind," she echoes.  "But he's already my kind, and yours, too. Does he even know he's Deryni yet?"

It takes Richenda a moment to  respond. "No," she says. "He's too young."

"I was his age when my father started showing me what we were. and what we could do. I won''t ask how old you were." She sips at the cup. "You've been taught well. Don't bother trying to deny it. So your family know, and they'll be Deryni, too. Let's talk about that. The Rheljans are Deryni, and they haven't told anyone. They haven't told their Deryni queen."

"We're not Deryni like you are."

The Shadow Queen rolls her eyes. "Of course you are. Ask the Church. Ask Warin de Grey. We're all of a kind to them.  And here at court— we don't have any secrets. I've told you that before. You're Deryni, and so is Brendan. So is your family. Bran doesn't need to know, but I do. I'm not Wencit of Torenth. I don't keep lists of Deryni to see who's useful and who's suspect. But hiding being Deryni when you're at court? There are people who could argue that doing that is like carrying an undeclared weapon near a ruler. That's something to think about. I don't think like a lawyer, but it's a colorable argument."

Richenda looks down and then up again. She looks hard at Charissa. "I'll fight for my son. Whatever it means, I'll fight for my son."

The queen considers. "Of course you would. However not? But no one is threatening him here." Charissa stands to re-fill her cup. She looks down at Richenda. "I know what you think about me, and I know you believe Kelson Haldane should be king of Gwynedd and I should be dead in a ditch. I don't care much about any of that. But let's be clear. When we argued out by the old walls, you started calling up your powers. If you'd gone through with it, even if you didn't start launching strikes it would be attempted regicide at law. Again— talk to Brechlin. The regicide laws in Gwynedd are as harsh as they are in Torenth.  The law would have to take its course. Not for your son; I'd never do that. But the law reaches out to a regicide's family. Executions and attainders, confiscation of all property. Gallows and gibbet for men, burning for women— those laws have been in place since Gwynedd was ever a kingdom. Brechlin's not a monster, either, but he's justiciar. He'd have to enforce the law."

Richenda puts her cup down. "If you weren't there, though, who'd enforce the law?"

"I told you once. Whatever you'd bring, whatever skills you have, they won't be enough. I don't know who trained you, or what they taught you, but  I want you to be very clear that it wouldn't be enough."

"You're arrogant. That's what Festils always are— they're arrogant and that's their weakness."

The Shadow Queen sits back on the bench with her legs crossed. "I don't underestimate you. I want you to know that. But you wouldn't win." She holds up one hand and moves her fingers in a pattern. "Aurelian tells me that what you started to do has a Moorish flavor to it. Yusuf al-Fayturi agrees. We'll talk about that one day. I think you'd know what you were doing. But it wouldn't be enough." She lifts her cup to Richenda. "You might do better with a dagger. You still wouldn't win, but you'd do better."

Charissa looks back at the door to the close. "Your family," she says. "Your father is doing well out on the Beldour River line. Cut up a pair of raiding columns out of Truvorsk, snapped up a couple of towns inside Torenth. Lady Marley, I'm aware that he has very little use for me and my House. He fights for me because he hates the Torenthi, not because he likes me. Which is fair enough. But he's doing well these days. When you write him next, tell him that he has my gratitude. As long as he's fighting Torenthi, he'll be making House Rheljan's fortunes."

"I'll tell him that. I'll tell him that you want to corrupt my son into your puppet, too."

Charissa sighs. "When your son is a duke and commanding armies for Tolan and the West, ask yourself if he's been corrupted.  Ask yourself what sort of duke he is, too.  And learn not to be dramatic. Not about your husband's affairs with women and not about politics. House Rheljan could end up with an earldom— or maybe I'll call it a county if enough of it's over in Truvorsk or Sasovna.  I like count better than earl."

"You think you can buy me and my family."

"No, I don't. I don't care about buying you. Feel free to hate me. But don't throw away your family's fortunes. Don't do anything dramatic. Hate me if you want, but remember that there are laws about regicide and treason. My advice stands: ask Brechlin about the laws."

Richenda draws in a breath. "I hear that the Duke of Carthmoor is about to seize Rhemuth. I hear that you'll lose everything from Rhemuth south within weeks. You and your bought bishop may not be here, soon enough."

The Shadow Queen shrugs with one shoulder. "I've counted Rhemuth lost since the night we all got on barges north. I don't even miss it, really. It's the north that matters. And I'll be here at Valoret for a long time. You can hate me if you like, but I'll still be here."

The Duchess of Marley gathers her skirts around herself. "I'll fight you," she says. "Everyone knows what you are. And other Deryni know, too. There are Deryni who want to stop you—"

"Oh, now— are we talking about the Council?" The queen smiles another bright smile. "I like it that you know about them. The Council's one of the worst-kept secrets in the Eleven Kingdoms. I know what most of them think about me. But I'll still be ruling at Valoret in ten years. The Council just may not be in their hidden lair, though." 

"Not if King Kelson comes north. Not if you're outlawed by the Council."

"I'll still be here."  The Shadow Queen reaches up to touch the scar across her nose. "Fight me if you want. You're smart, you're skilled, you're well-connected. You're even— God help us all —an idealist.  But drama isn't what you think it is. You grew up at Rhemuth; you should've grown up in Beldour.  You'd know better now.  Fighting me is pointless, and you'll only unmake your family's fortunes. Go think about that. Go pack, too. We leave for Tolan soon. You and Brendan will be coming by Portal. Now go find your son. Look at Aurelian's rooms. He'll be learning about the chessboard. You should learn that, too."

[Jerusha]

I'm not sure what to think about Richenda.  She should be playing a smarter game.

[DoctorM]

I'm not sure what to think about Richenda.  She should be playing a smarter game.

I think she's learning as she goes. And she has her pride. We'll have to see what she recalls from her teachers.