Page 25 of Among the Burning Flowers
‘come forth, king on the mountain.’
Marosa flinched at the sound of that voice, which seemed to grind through the very foundations of Cárscaro. If theDreadmount could speak, she was sure that it would have sounded like Fýredel.
‘Why is this happening?’ came a whisper. ‘Why have they woken now?’
‘The commons are full of vice,’ the Duke of Groneyso said, his face tight with disgust. ‘Not all of them follow the Six Virtues as we do in His Majesty’s court. Perhaps the Saint has chosen to relinquish his protection.’
‘It’s the Saint-forsaken cullers,’ Lord Gastaldo sneered. ‘Low and greedy criminals, profiting off the commons’ fear. They have been prodding the sleepers for years, for no reason other than moneymaking. I sent the Knights Defendant to cullthem, but they persist.’
As Marosa watched them, she realised that none of them had any idea why this was happening. Not even the Principal Sanctarian.
‘Enough,’ she called. ‘Peace. We must decide what to do.’
‘Well said, Donmata.’ Lord Gastaldo collected himself. ‘Majesty, we are at your command. What say you?’
King Sigoso gripped the arm of his chair. She could see his mind turning, like the cogs inside a pocket watch. If he answered the summons, Fýredel would likely burn him. If not, he failed the Knight of Courage.
‘Summon my decoy,’ he said to Lord Gastaldo. ‘Array him richly and give him the Grey Crown.’
The least valuable. Lord Gastaldo bowed and quit the Council Chamber.
‘No one is to leave the Palace of Salvation. No quake nor wyrm can fell this tower,’ King Sigoso went on, ignoring the stares. ‘Whatever Fýredel wants of us, my decoy will soon learn it.’
The Duchess of Ortégardes cleared her throat. ‘Who is the decoy, Your Majesty?’
‘Orentico Feyalda. He bears a passing resemblance.’
Bartian looked away. The Feyalda were a cadet branch of the House of Vetalda, and had always been loyal, but Marosa could not imagine that any of them would take on this risk by choice.
‘We have enough grain to last up to four years,’ the Counsellor of War said, ‘but that will be of little use if Fýredel burns us all. I have not read of any wyrms besieging a city for long.’
‘That means nothing,’ the Duchess of Samana said roughly. ‘During the Grief, the wyrms had only just emerged from the Dreadmount. We do not know how they will behave in this new era.’
For a long spell, there was silence, as if no one dared to draw attention to themselves, even with several feet of rock to shield and hide them from the wyrms. After a time, Marosa moved to stand beside Bartian, who was peering through a gap between the curtains.
‘Donmata.’ He glanced at her. ‘I wish we had reunited under different circumstances.’
‘Indeed. I am glad to see you, Bartian.’
He found a joyless smile for her before he returned his gaze to the window. ‘Why has he not already killed us?’ he said under his breath. ‘He has burned the fields. Why not destroy the city, too?’
‘Perhaps he means to watch us starve. For revenge,’ Marosa murmured. ‘Do wyrms understand that concept?’
‘I believe so.’
‘What have we done, in their minds, to deserve so much violence?’
‘A wyrm has no mind. It is evil incarnate. We worship the Saint, who vanquished his master. Is that not enough?’ Seeing her face, Bartian softened his tone. ‘The comet will come again. I am sure of it.’
‘But not today.’
‘No, indeed.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Where are your ladies?’
‘In my apartments.’ She looked at him. ‘Orentico is my second cousin, I think, but we have not met.’
‘His Majesty has no love for bastards.’
‘Is the resemblance strong?’
