Dragon Bones (Hurog #1)(38)
"We are yours, my king. Sworn to you by our life's blood," said Haverness.
That oath you take much more seriously than the king, thought Garranon sadly. Haverness had to know what he was letting himself in for. Garranon had explained to the Oranstonians that the king would not help them. He'd tried to warn them that they would only make things worse by pressing. But they'd ignored him.
Haverness of Callis looked like the old warrior he was. He was the only Oranstonian at court with the courage to keep his hair in the fashion of the Oranstone nobles: shaved from temple to ear and cut short everywhere else. Garranon knew Jakoven regarded Haverness as a beaten man, a failure. If Garranon saw instead a hero, it was something he would keep to himself.
Resolutely, Garranon turned his attention elsewhere. The king held morning business in one of the larger antechambers. The Tamerlain was here this morning as she often was; she said that it relieved her boredom now that Menogue was deserted. Her yellow and gold mottled body was almost shocking in comparison to all of the somberly clad nobles. She was bearlike in size and shape, but more gracile, like a giant forest cat. Her head was more catlike, too, with mobile features and sharp, white fangs. Impressive and predatory as the guardian of a god's temple should be, the only discordant note was the extra-long fluffy tail. He wondered why no one stepped on her in the crowded room, as she'd assured him years ago that he was the only one who could see her.
Her imperious yellow eyes met his over the crowd.
"Callis is besieged, your majesty. Surely you must know that these are no raiders. If they take Oranstone, Tallven and Seaford are next." There was a passionate intensity in Haverness's voice that forced Garranon to turn his attention briefly to the old general. When he looked back, the Tamerlain was gone.
"We are acquainted with the events to the south," agreed the king mildly. "But we are also acquainted with the marvelous abilities of Oranstone fighters. Why, I bet - " The ingeniousness of the king's voice made ice crawl down Garranon's neck. He kept his face blank, for there were too many people watching the king's pet Oranstonian for a reaction. "I bet that with a hundred men you could drive the raiders off yourself."
Haverness knew the king. He bowed low and started to say something, when he was interrupted.
"I'll take that bet," said a voice Garranon knew well, though he hadn't seen the king's bastard half brother in the room. Alizon Tallven sauntered to Haverness and patted his back. "Though I'd rather bet on Haverness's side. Fought against him in the last war, you know." Alizon might look the fop, but he'd been his father's general and military advisor when he was twenty-two.
The king settled back in his chair. The contrast between the two men was startling, especially since their mothers had been sisters. The king looked like all rulers should: strong-faced, gray eyes cool and measuring. He wasn't handsome, nothing so plebeian. His nose was narrow and aristocratic, with a knot where it had been broken once. His curly hair - entirely gray now, though Garranon could remember when it had been chocolate-brown - Jakoven kept cut in a short, military fashion.
Alizon, oldest of the last king's three sons, dyed his hair. Today it was a rich chestnut that spread to his shoulders. He was tall and wolf-lean, moving with comical grace. It was hard to imagine him leading an army. He had stepped down from his official post when his half brother ascended the throne. Personally, Garranon thought that was the reason Alizon had escaped the fate of Jakoven's youngest brother who was in the King's Asylum.
"You would like to bet that Haverness and a hundred can drive the raiders out?" asked Jakoven, amused.
"With the help of the Oranstone natives," agreed Alizon. "I think, too, that the choice of the hundred should be his alone."
The king chuckled, and Garranon leaned toward the belief that Jakoven was honestly amused. "What's the bet?"
"My war stallion against grandfather's sword."
Garranon saw the king tense with his first real interest. Jakoven had coveted Alizon's horse.
"Done," agreed the king. "Callis may choose any hundred men he wishes; if they can drive the Vorsagian raiders back behind their borders in the next six months, I will give you grandfather's sword. If not, you will give me the warhorse, Trueblood."
"Upon Haverness's acceptance, of course," murmured Alizon.
They had managed to turn the old warrior's plea to farce, thought Garranon, playing games with a man's honor.
"I accept your wishes as I am sworn to do." There was dignity in the old man's bearing. Garranon hoped that everyone saw it. Being of Oranstone was something to make him proud when there were Oranstonians like this. His father would have approved of Haverness.
"He's a brave man," murmured the king, looking at Garranon.
Horror knotted his belly, and a small voice inside started gibbering, The king knows, the king knows. But there was nothing for the king to know. He'd done nothing for Oranstone. The only thing the king could know that would harm Garranon was still secret: Only Garranon knew how much he hated the king.
"He has more courage than most." Garranon let admiration color his voice. "It is too bad that such a man is also a fool. He allows his love of Oranstone to blind him to the needs of the Five Kingdoms. Best to send him to Oranstone; he will never fight as hard for anything but his homeland."