your new life?” the priest asked.
He gestured at the camp.
“It’s great, father,” the boy said. “I just wish I could join this expedition with all the rest of you. But the king says I have to stay in Aszkán to guard the eastern frontier, so stay I will, I guess.”
He sighed.
“Uncle Sándy and Uncle Tine will get all the fun, and there won’t be any Walküri left for me to kill.”
Athanasios snorted.
“Oh, I think there’ll be plenty of enemies for you to fight, Val. We never seem to run out. But will you be ready to march on time?”
“Uncle Sándor says we’ll be a week or two late,” the count said, “but ‘we’ll get there just the same.’ He says we’ll try to march for Paltyrrha by the first of May, two weeks from now.”
Athanasios looked up at the dark skies threatening even more rain, and shuddered.
“I think it’s time I returned to the capital,” he said. “I should attend the council meeting scheduled for this afternoon, and I have to report to them on the conditions here. Can I carry any messages from you to court?”
The boy scrunched his face into a grimace.
“I was supposed to write to Stepmamá,” he said, “and tell her how I’m doing, but I’ve been so busy these last two months trying to get the troops organized that....”
“I understand. Do you want me to speak to her?” Athanasios asked.
“Oh, would you?” Val said, much relieved. “I don’t want her to worry about me.”
“I’d be happy to, sir.”
The priest pulled his hood up over his head, and shivered.
“Now, lead me to a dry place with a viridaurum transit mirror, if you please, and let me out of here. I’ll never complain about the heat again.”
CHAPTER THREE
“EVERY HAND WILL BE TURNED AGAINST US”
“...And so, sire,” Arkády concluded, speaking before the assembled council members, “we see the same hallmarks as before: an inexplicable death, an empty mind, and faint signs of tampering, with no indication of who did this or why, or even how it was done.”
“Thank you, Highness,” Gorázd Lord Aboéty said. “Are there any questions?”
The king motioned with his hand, and looked suspiciously around the room with his good eye.
“I want to know who’s behind this. And I want him stopped. Now!”
Arkády just stared at his father.
“Sire,” he said, picking his words carefully, “I’m sure we all share your sentiments, but what do you propose we do? We’ve exhausted our resources.”
“I don’t want excuses,” Kipriyán shouted back, glaring at each one of his ministers in turn. “I don’t want to hear excuses from any of you. Someone’s been tampering with the minds of my men. It’s the Dark-Haired Man, I’ll warrant. And if you’re not capable of finding him, maybe I’d better get someone who can. Well, I know what to do, even if you don’t. All of my ministers and all of my men must be checked regularly again for signs of mental interference.”
“What?” several of the council members shouted in unison.
“Who’ll do it?” asked another.
“Since we can’t trust any of your minds,” the king said, looking furtively around the room, “Melanthrix can validate each of you.”
“That charlatan!” Lord Vydór said. “He’s not even Psairothi. I can’t agree to this.”
“You’ll do what you’re ordered to do,” Kipriyán said.
Vydór slumped in his chair, his skin pale. Finally, he raised his head and looked the king straight in his good eye.
“No, sire, I shall not. I will not continue to participate in this charade, which is contrary both to the laws of God and the laws of man. If that doesn’t meet with your royal approval, then you can have my resignation from this council, effective immediately.”
He rose from his chair, threw his badge of office on the table, and headed toward the door.
“Arrest that man!” Kipriyán thundered.
Two guards surrounded the baron, who shook off their arms. He turned back to the table.
“So,” he said, “now it’s come to this. Those who render their advice honestly are to be called traitors. My king, I have followed you loyally for these past twenty years, through battles and tempests and even the thickets of political strife. Twice I saved your life on the field, once in the Åvarswood, once in Tretélgia. No one has been more steadfast than I. No one. And you’ve had no truer friend, my lord. But I’ll not have my mind tampered with by a non-Psairothi.”
Arkády rose in his place.
“Sire,” he said, seeking a compromise, “surely there must be another way to settle this. Let Fra Jánisar and his trained associates do the checking. They’ve investigated all of these recent deaths, they’re familiar with the hazards, and they’ll do an excellent job.”
Metropolitan Timotheos hurriedly broke in to second Arkády’s proposal.
“A sound idea, sire,” he said. “I assure you that the Church would frown on a non-Christian being involved in such a delicate procedure, particularly when it might affect the innermost workings of the government.”
As others around the council room began to chime in with their agreements, Kipriyán was forced to back down.
“Very well, I can see the wisdom of having more than one person involved in the scanning,” the monarch said, “although Jánisar himself could also be tainted. Therefore, to provide security against that possibility, Doctor Melanthrix will be present as an observer. That’s my final word on the subject. Lord Gorázd, order it done. Father Athanasios, record my words. Guards,” gesturing to the hapless Lord Vydór, “take the prisoner away.
“Now, let us turn to more positive matters,” Kipriyán continued in a more normal voice. “I have confirmed Commander Rónai as General of the Army ad interim, pending your recommendations on a possible replacement. We should probably appoint a high-ranking nobleman as a titular leader, since Rónai comes from common stock. I’ll expect some suggestions before our next meeting. What I need to know now is the general readiness of our forces to meet the May deadline.”
Prince Arkády had been preparing for this moment. Once more he rose in his seat, cleared his throat, and began his summation.
“As of today, sire,” he said, “we have approximately five thousand infantry and cavalry gathered west of the city, with another two thousand troops and mercenaries
