My guard shrugged. “I retired. Evidently that’s one of those decisions that the Eldest can unmake, if he wishes. He placed me with Lord Dura. I’m sure it must be penance for something, I just can’t remember anything I did that would warrant it.”
“Nice,” I muttered.
Boclar stared at me. If Laidir had the ability to measure a man with a glance, I could only say that Boclar did that and more, but at last he turned from me with a smile for Gael. “Lady, you grace us with your presence.”
“Your Majesty.” Gael curtsied.
“You are unknown to me,” the king said to Mirren. “Time is in short supply, else I would attempt to interpret your identity by your actions. Who are you?”
Mirren glanced at me and I nodded. “I am Lord Dura’s apprentice.”
I cleared my throat. “The most recent addition to the Vigil, actually.”
The king looked at me. “Truly? You found one of them.”
“We did.”
“I’m sure there’s a tale there, but it too will have to wait.” He turned to Rory. “I’d heard you’d taken an apprentice, Bolt.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said. “This is Rory. He’s still new to our company, but he’s already one of the deadliest men I’ve ever met.”
Herregina gave Rory another of those appraising glances that he went to some length to ignore. Then the king of Caisel turned his attention to her. “Your presence in this company is a surprise. Do I have the honor of addressing the rightful queen of Aille?”
She bowed from the neck. “Your Majesty. I am Herregina Gestaella, daughter of the second minister of internal protocol in the court of Cynestol.”
Boclar smiled. “The traditions of your kingdom are known to me, though I confess that I’m unfamiliar with the exact duties of the ministry of protocol.”
Herregina made a discarding motion with one hand. “It’s of no import, Your Majesty. Few outside the court of Cynestol would have any reason to know it. We spend an inordinate amount of time on matters of little consequence to keep ourselves out of trouble.”
The king laughed. “Well spoken, sister.” He turned to the rest of us. “You all look road weary, which I can only attribute to haste and, in these times, fear. Tell me, Lord Dura, what makes a man with your unique talents and gifts fearful enough to come to me in such haste?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Any hope of summoning the Fayit hinged on convincing Boclar of our need, and my ability to dissemble with him was probably about as close to zero as it could be. “We need to gather the kings and queens of the north, Your Majesty,” I said. “The defeat of the Darkwater depends on it.”
He glanced at Herregina. “That you would risk bringing the new queen of Aille here attests to the fact that you believe what you say, but that doesn’t make it true. How will having us all in one place accomplish our enemy’s defeat?”
At my side, Bolt leaned in to whisper to me. “I hope you’ve found a way to say this that doesn’t sound completely insane.”
Chapter 50
I hadn’t, but I decided it might be a good idea to offer a bit of explanation first. “As you know, Your Majesty, the gift of kings can’t be split, even though it’s been tried any number of times.”
Boclar nodded. “I’ve often wondered why that might be. In my experience, Lord Dura, there’s a reason for everything and I consider it the greatest frustration of my life that there are mysteries left unexplained. Are you telling me you’ve discovered the ‘why’ behind this particular one?”
“It’s still not going to sound good,” Bolt mumbled.
“Suppose you found yourself in circumstances you’d never encountered before, Your Majesty.”
He shrugged. “By strictest definition, that’s a daily occurrence.”
I smiled, but inside I was scrambling to find a way to lead Boclar to the same conclusion I’d come to without sounding insane. “Suppose, Your Majesty, you prepared for a distant future as best as possible, but at the last, you were uncertain of your descendants ability to survive. What would you do?”
To his credit, and my relief, Boclar entertained my question instead of laughing. “I would do all I could to ensure that my posterity might live.” He leaned forward to rest an elbow on one knee, a gesture that reminded me of Laidir. “Are you telling me, Lord Dura, that you believe the gift of kings is nothing more than a means of ensuring our survival?”
I nodded.
He gave me a thin smile, his eyes bright with the reflected light of the powder. “You’ve spent a lot of words trying not to say something that you’re going to have to say eventually.” He leaned back and waved a hand at me to continue. “Let’s suppose for the moment that the gift of kings is unique for the reasons you postulate—though you’ve yet to tell me exactly what those are. Exactly what is it you want us to do?”
I took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to work. I didn’t know the king of Caisel well enough to interpret his lack of expression, but it was impossible to miss the signs of impatience. “Suppose, Your Majesty—”
“Lord Dura, I find your repeated use of that phrase tiresome. Answer my question. Now.”
“Here it comes,” Bolt muttered.
I met the king’s gaze as best I could. “I want you and the rest of the rulers of the north to help me summon the Fayit.”
To Boclar’s right, Erendella gasped as if she’d been about to laugh and then thought better of it. Boclar held my gaze for the space of a dozen heartbeats while I tried not to look away. Then he did the same with Bolt, Gael, Mirren, and Rory.
“Lord Dura,” Boclar said, “your companions obviously believe you, but that is less convincing than you might think. The power of
