(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters, A. Ellas [primary phonics books .txt] 📗

Jethain’s eyes were glued on the mare and foal. He carefully got out of bed and took the three steps to the mare. Then his hands did the inspecting.

Rak stood back and winked at Jisten. “The stable boys told me how much Jethain had been looking forward to this foal. So I thought, now that he is stronger, there was no reason to deprive Jethain of the pleasure of seeing them.”

Jisten nodded, a rare true smile on his face as he watched the prince and his horses.

Chapter Seven: Council Meeting

“Son, I know you are the crown prince, but skipping council meetings is not one of your prerogatives,” Owain said as he laid a ringed hand on Rak’s shoulder.

“I was indisposed,” replied Rak, resisting the urge to thrust that hand off him. The king had cornered him on the way back from returning Nielle to the stables, and he hadn't been quick enough to think of a graceful dodge. “If you require my attendance, hold the meetings at night.”

“Hmm, that might discourage Lord Breavey,” Owain mused. “He arises when the sun does and goes to bed soon after dinner. He is a pain in my royal ass.”

“And also, I am not the crown prince. Jethain is very much alive.”

“Yes, you’ve kept your half-brother alive. Very dedicated of you,” Owain approved. “Strong, smart, powerful.”

“That is my place. His is to sit on that gaudy chunk of metal.”

Owain laughed. “You can reconfigure it. The queen did, and it looks worse for the wear, I think.”

Rak ran a hand through his hair, damp from sweat and high humidity. “I think it suits Jethain just fine. He will sit on the throne, and I shall dwell in the shadow he casts.”

“Son, son.” Owain shook his head. “That will never do. Jethain is too weak to hold the throne. We’ve been over and over this. Now, the council meeting. I’ve soothed Peneron and Maziel is on your side. Baorik is in love with your gold and silk. Kion is a lost cause. I don’t know why or how you’ve alienated Virien, but that must change. To that end, I will see to it personally that he attends the next council meeting.”

“Jethain is not too weak to hold the throne, for I am his brother and his ally and I will defend him, to the death if need be.”

Owain shook Rak slightly with that hand on his shoulder. “Bah, just take the throne, son. It’s yours by birth and by right. No death needed.”

“I cannot, Sire.” Rak gripped Owain’s shoulder in return. “Listen to me, please. I am a high priest of Zotien. That takes all of my time and attention. I would be a very, very bad king, even if my vows permitted it, which they do not.”

“We’ll speak of this later,” Owain conceded.

“If you insist,” said Rak, wishing his father would just concede defeat. “When is the next council meeting? I need to make certain Jethain and I attend.”

“Ah, it starts when we get there,” Owain said, his expression thoughtful. “Hmm, shall I change it to after dinner? Lord Breavey will be asleep.”

“I will send a message to Jethain,” said Rak. Trelo crawled out of his hook and clicked expectantly. Rak stroked the lizard, jotted a quick note, which the lizard took and flew off with.

“I do hope he’s in a reasonable mode,” Owain said. “He can go on and on at times.”

“Let us speak with your council,” Rak then said.

Owain strode ahead, towards the council chamber.

Rak straightened his stole and rewrapped his sash to buy himself time. Then he walked in and took his seat at the foot of the table. He wished Jethain would hurry, but as the councilors gathered, Rak began to think his note had been disregarded. He also wondered where the king had gone, because for all his talk of attending meetings, his seat stood empty.

“His Majesty asked me to stand in his stead for this meeting. He was called away on an urgent matter involving the newly arrived diplomatic party from Zoth.” As Virien finished speaking, his eyes rested on Rak. His smile was not a pleasant one. The meeting got under way, and Rak tried to stifle his boredom as the councilors droned on about tax revenues, the planting season, the demands on the guilds, the problems in the exchanges, and numerous other necessary topics.

Rak stood when it came his turn to speak, and announced, “As a gesture of goodwill, we have destroyed the hive of the katrami flies that so menace your people.”

“You’ve done no such thing,” Kion sneered. “And we have no way to check your lying tongue.”

“I do not lie,” replied Rak in an ice cold voice. “I have a witness. Your Captain of the Guard, Jisten, was there.”

“That half-breed Lythadi?” Kion’s laugh was nasty and several councilors shifted uneasily.

“He’s a Valer,” Maziel said in a tired tone.

“There’s a difference?” Kion sneered. Two men laughed, but one covered it with a cough.

“You wouldn’t say that if Jethain were here,” Maziel said.

“Jethain would

be

here if his halfbreed Captain were half competent!”

Rak stared at Kion for a long moment. Then he turned to Lord Peneron. “What incompetent moron permitted this vile excuse for a human onto the ruling council of Koilatha?”

Peneron smiled, and replied silkily, “That would be Chancellor Virien, I believe.”

Virien glared at Rak, but Kion erupted. “I claim insult!” Kion slammed his hand down. “My champion will disembowel you!”

“Your champion? You are too much of a coward to answer your own challenges?” Rak sniffed in disdain.

“I am far too important,” Kion replied.

“Your self-importance is only in your own head. I far outrank you, and I answer my own challenges. The real issue is that you are terrified to cross blades with me. You know it would be your death.”

“Lord Kion is wise to be terrified to cross blades with you,” Baorik said. “Now onto the trading!”

“Indeed, we are