Changing the World: All-New Tales of Valdemar

Before Doladan could move to spread out his pages of sketchings on a stone-wall-in-progress to show them off, Harleth snickered at some thought Navar could not guess and clapped Doladan on the back. “Come,” he said, shifting his gaze to Navar to include him in the invitation. “The king and queen and the Heralds’ Council are eager to hear your report.”

The phrasing made Navar wince inwardly, for Harleth had never before seemed the type of man to take it upon himself to speak for the baron-turned-king. Heralds’ Council? Had the worst of Navar’s fears come to pass, and King Valdemar had been influenced into letting power pass from his control so quickly? And who, of the men and women who had been moving to secure their position in Valdemar’s new kingdom, had been named to such a governing council, and how had Valdemar judged them worthy? How could any man be satisfied that he had properly taken the measure of another without resorting to the same mind- magic coercion the empire had used so freely and King Valdemar had decried so fiercely? Had King Valdemar set principle aside for expedience?

Have we fallen so far, so quickly?

Doladan either did not notice or did not think General Harleth’s words troublesome, for he simply fell into step beside Harleth as the general reached for his discarded tunic and set out for the manor house. Navar would have chosen rather to wash and change his travel-stained clothes before showing himself before the king, but Harleth seemed to see no reason for delay. He led them straight to where King Valdemar and Queen Terilee were holding court, and the moment their small party stepped into the salon, Valdemar rose and held out his hands. “Welcome back!” he said, in his warm and booming voice that always inspired such trust and confidence in those who heard it. “We had feared you lost!”

“Not lost,” Navar said, his mind unquiet, looking around to see who was in the room. He recognized but half of the two dozen men and women present, and his heart sank further at the sight of so many, for how could so many have fairly been judged? It seemed frighteningly likely that Valdemar had chosen but one or two or five, and they had filled his court with their own partisans, for of those he recognized, half were those he would not think to name to any council he would be comfortable obeying, and he could name at least as many more who he would have thought should be present and weren’t.

Juuso Beltran was there, of course, now King’s Chancellor, and young Prince Restil, now entering his fifteenth year, and those were to be expected. But so was Mistress Emolde, who had been wetnurse to both Restil and Dethwyn, his elder brother. Lorton, one of Valdemar’s journeyman- mages, was present, but not Blydel or Imryn, the others. Mistress Karilgrass, the chief gardener and Doladan’s old master, was present, but Captain Arwulf was not.

It was not that Navar thought all of those present were poor choices. How could he? He did not know them all. Yet it seemed that these people were King Valdemar’s chosen Council. How could so many who had joined the exodus as it proceeded have risen to such power?

“Tell us everything,” King Valdemar urged. “What of your travels? Is the danger containable?”

And that was a curious thing to hear from the King, for Navar had mentioned the loss of his men and women to General Harleth, but he had not had time to speak of it here. Perhaps King Valdemar had been able to intuit the danger from the fact that their return had been so delayed.

Or perhaps King Valdemar was listening to his mind even now.

Navar blanked his face and did all he could to bury his thoughts, reporting briefly on what they had found. In contrast to Navar’s taciturnity, Doladan chattered so energetically it seemed he scarce drew a breath. His maps were passed from hand to hand, and each man and woman who saw them had some thoughtful thing to contribute. Lorton pointed out a range of hills that might prove to contain iron for mining; a woman whose name Navar did not know spoke of the possibility that the valley to the north might be suitable for a farming settlement in another year or several. Navar could fault none of the questions or observations made, but neither could he shake the sense of unease that surrounded him like a cloak’s mantle.

He listened carefully, and he watched even more carefully, for since the day that Captain Harleth had taken him from the ranks of Valdemar’s household guard and set him the task of going forth and gathering information—not spying, never that, for spying was quite another matter than simply walking over the land and seeing what was to be seen—Navar had been able to see all before him and remember what he saw. And as he watched Doladan’s speech before Valdemar’s new Council, Navar saw a great riddle lying at the Council’s heart.