Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

67

"It's a victory, to be sure," said Prince Koren. He jabbed a stubby finger at the map of the Holy City spread out on the council table before him. On it, a section of the city had been outlined in red ink. "This is the street they call Whitestone Row. One of the houses here is where we discovered the underground tunnels ... five days ago, was it? Six? Filthy Arcborn man who lived there nearly died keeping us from searching the place."

"I trust you have put paid to that scheme," said Emperor Korvan. He leaned his elbow on the table, two fingers massaging his right temple. He was tired this morning. Again, he had not slept. Yorek slid a cup of tea toward him, but he ignored it.

"Aye, Father. It took a few days. Then we moved on. We've cleared this whole section of them." Koren grinned smugly.

"For want of space, we have improvised a prison in one of the larger houses there," said Archmage Jaeron. "It is well-guarded, Your Grace."

Korvan met Jaeron's gaze. "And you, Archmage—do you have what you need?"

Jaeron gave a slight nod. "We made quick work of those we found in the Underground for the purposes of your venture to the Duskwood, Your Grace, and I have the same mages beginning work on the newest prisoners. We will waste no time. I expect a bounty of bloodstones from the effort. They will serve the good of the realm."

"We should move on to this area next, Father." Koren pointed. "Some of the fire has spread there, anyway, and we know some of the people flee. But we have barred the gates against them. No one escapes the city."

Korvan waved one hand. One way or another, peace in Karelin would be restored; he would have his city back, better than it was before. And keeping Koren occupied with the purge permitted Korvan to focus on the more important matter of the rebel king. "Very well."

Koren grinned, curling his hand into a fist over this new part of the map and bringing it down with some force, suggesting by the gesture that he intended to crush this next section of the city as he had crushed the first. He snatched up the map and strode to the door, pausing only as an afterthought to bow to his father.

The emperor ignored him. "Archmage, have you any word—any sign? Was it successful?"

"I cannot know, Your Grace. But the old woman lives for now. We can make another attempt if the days pass and he makes no appearance."

"Good. Leave me."

The archmage rose, inclined his head, and swept from the room.

"And you," Korvan said, waving his hand in the direction of the two imperial guards who stood just within the chamber doors. "Leave us."

The guards bowed deeply and followed Jaeron out of the chamber, closing the door behind them.

"Your Grace, you are tired," said Yorek. "You should go to your rest. The city needs you at your best. The empire needs you at your best."

"Perhaps I will," Korvan said. He leaned back against his chair, closing his eyes. "My mind is unsettled, Yorek, and I know not why."

"It is a bloody and exhausting business, this rebellion. It has been a constant thorn in your side since you took the throne from your father, Your Grace. It is no wonder you grow weary; Zanara knows you have borne the weight of it better than any other man alive could have."

"No ... that is not what weighs on my mind," Korvan said.

Yorek waited. Even with his eyes closed, Korvan could sense the councilor watching him, his shrewd eyes trying to read his master's mood. Yorek was sharp, but Korvan did not think even the councilor could guess what troubled him that day.

"It's Koreti." Korvan opened his eyes.

Yorek settled back into his chair. His expression was sympathetic. "Ah ... Your Grace. Your Grace."

"Esaria was a whore, Yorek, and I laid any regard I had for her in the grave with her. But Koreti ... I raised him as my son."

"You were a father to him, Your Grace, in every way but the one," Yorek said.

Even after all these years, the betrayal stung. It had never left him. Never given him peace. "I cast him out."

"How could you do otherwise? The empress' deceit was too deep. Too grave. You wear the crown, Your Grace, but still you are a man."

Korvan was not looking at Yorek now. He gazed across the council table, his eyes unfocused. "I cannot help but wonder if things might have been different if I had kept the secret. If I had let him be my son, he would have lived."

Had he kept his son, perhaps the violence and the bloodshed of the war would never have mounted.

The councilor slid the tea cup closer to Korvan and reached out one hand. He laid it gently on Korvan's forearm for the space of a breath. No other man or woman would dare to be so familiar with the emperor, but Yorek was his closest companion. His friend. "Your Grace," he said, "You had no choice but to cast him out. That the rebels took him was but a cruel twist of fate. Can you not say that his death brought you a measure of peace? Had he lived ..."

"I would have feared him," Korvan said. "I know it. Had he lived, he would have been my undoing. He could have revealed my weakness, or he could have made a bid for the crown. He would have been a leader of men, Yorek. You could see it in him from when he was a small child."

Yorek acknowledged this with a nod. "He was, Your Grace. He would have been dangerous out in the world. His very existence was a threat to your crown. To your sons. You have a father's heart, Your Grace, but you must see this through the eyes of a sovereign. It was the only way." After a pause, he continued, "We are, in a way, fortunate that things—happened as they did."

Korvan knew he was right, but the thought that he was fortunate, that he should be grateful, was hard to bear. He had hated Koreti for all he had represented.

But he had loved Koreti for all he had been.

"It should have been different," he said. "I should never have let my anger take me that night. I should have kept him here. Chosen Kaori, of course—Koreti never could have ruled—but I should have kept him here, where he could be watched. Harmless." Where he could have been safe.

But Korvan knew he never could have looked at the boy the same way. He would never have rested with him in the palace. Not after he knew the truth.

"But he is harmless now, Your Grace. He sleeps in the Tomb of the Sovereigns with his faithless mother. Let it be your consolation that, at the end, you did not turn him away. You raised him as your son, and as your son you laid him to rest. Your conscience is clear."

Korvan looked at Yorek with a weary smile. "You are a good councilor, Yorek. As you served my father, you serve me."

Yorek graciously inclined his head, returning the emperor's smile. "It is an honor to serve the crown, Your Grace."

"It consoles me to know you will serve Koren after me," Korvan said. "You will keep him on a steady path."

Yorek's smile faded. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I do not see beyond your reign. I am old. I will not survive you."

"I hope you do, old friend. The crown would be less without you. There is one measure of peace I am grateful for: you will always have your place."