For a moment, the two kings eyed each other, but finally King Sabine backed down and crossed to join his son on the far side of the room.
“You may proceed, Sept Son,” King Adrasteia informed me as he returned to his son’s side.
I nodded my appreciation to him and turned my attention to the High King. Crossing to the bedside, I knelt. His head continued to thrash on the pillow as he muttered and moaned. Taking his hand, I reached for his mind.
As part of my duties as a Sept Son, I was to ease the passing of the High King. The code made this the only exception to the rules about touching the mind of an untalented. Watching Honorus’ struggle, I was very thankful that I could do something to calm him.
The moment I touched his thoughts, terror flooded the connection. Distorted images of the goddess and a grotesquely overweight rat jumped into my mind. The rodent chewed on a black lump that vaguely looked like a heart while shrill laughter filled my ears. I, in the form of the High King within his mind, looked up at the goddess. She screamed and raised claw-like hands toward my face. “Give me your eyes, Honorus,” she demanded in a whine. She moved forward with outstretched hands. “Give me your eyes that Ragetia might eat them.”
Shaking myself free of the images, I withdrew back into myself. Honorus’ panting cries replaced the goddess’ voice.
“Mercy,” he gasped. “Have mercy.”
Something was wrong. I frowned down at him as his head moved, eyes closed tightly against the horror within him.
“Can you do anything?” I looked up to find the Mesitas leaning over the opposite side of the bed. In contrast to the worried mask on his face, his eyes were triumphant. “He is in such distress. Can’t you calm him for the passing?”
Somehow, I wasn’t sure how, Mesitas was connected to the images in the king’s mind as a challenge to me. Destroying any chance at peace for the crossing, he was playing the weakened king as a tool to undermine me. Judging from the gloating that oozed from his every move, the Mesitas believed he had won. As I watched his face, it took all my self control to not reach into his thoughts and... Anger isn’t the answer here. Concentrate on the task at hand and deal with him later.
Turning back to the man on the bed before me, I closed my eyes and sought out the king’s mind. This time I didn’t touch his thoughts. Instead I observed their flickering patterns across his consciousness, an angry red against where there should be a soft green glow. Within a moment or two I was able to pinpoint the source. Reaching out, I touched the area. Using my energy, I built a temporary dam around it. Gradually the High King’s glow returned to normal. Opening my eyes, I was relieved to find that the High King had stilled.
“Thank you, Hadrian,” he whispered. Weakly moving his hand beneath mine, he coughed. “Pray for my passing. May the goddess find me worthy.”
Then closing his eyes, he let go. My heart ached as the hand in my grasp went limp. I know it is too late for him, Father, but I cannot help but wish it could be different. I am sorry I could only offer him that brief moment of peace before the eternity of suffering before him.
Whispers floated about the room. I could guess at what they were speculating. I rose and began the ceremony of preparing the body for presentation. While crossing the High King’s hands over his heart and then gently moving his head into a more comfortable looking position, I prayed for wisdom. Finally I saluted the body and stepped away.
“High King Honorus has passed into the presence of the goddess,” the Mesitas announced.
Twelve royal pairs of eyes swiftly turned to me.
“Who is to become the next High King, Sept Son,” King Euginius asked
“I name Deucalion Marcellus, second son of King Lapis Marcellus as High King.”
Chapter IX
Hadrian
“Deucalion isn’t even a first son,” Tully Sabine’s voice carried clearly above the murmuring response to my announcement.
“Doesn’t that make him unqualified for selection?” another voice asked from the left. I glanced over to locate it and met the gaze of King Ilar.
“The law states he has to be of the non-ruling generation of a royal house.” King Adrasteia informed them. “Nowhere does it say that the Sept Son must choose from the first sons.”
“Are you agreeable to this, Elicio?” King Quintinos asked King Marcellus. Once Deucalion Marcellus became High King, his father and older brother would both relinquish their right to rule. Elicio would retire to a country estate and Blaise, his eldest son, would take second place to his brother in the political arena.
I watched as Elicio Marcellus met his fellow king’s gaze from across the room. A hush fell over the gathering as they strained to hear his answer. I had spoken to him in advance, but he had given me no impression as to how he felt about my choice. As one of the older of the kings, he had reigned longer than most of them and reigned well in my opinion.
His sons took after their father in wisdom and grace. However, I had observed that his first son, Blaise, was easily swayed by the opinions of those around him. It was a trait which could ruin the country if he fell under the influence of the wrong men. His brother, Deucalion, was strong, well reasoned, and independent. I had observed his leadership skills for years and saw
