Jared saw the indentations of the rock and the patterns of small, shifting shadows, but only when he looked more carefully did he realize that he was not observing mere shadows on the cliff face. No, when he looked more closely, he saw there were structures carved out of the rock: rudimentary columns and walkways, windows and doors. And he could see, though barely, the movement of figures way up there.
Kai offered him his field glasses. “Here, these may help you.”
Slowing his horse, Jared looked more closely at the upper reaches of the canyon. Intricate buildings had been constructed within the crevices of the cliff face.
“It’s amazing! I mean I’ve heard tell of this, but to see it with my own eyes? Imagine making such a sheer rock face inhabitable.”
Kai smiled. “The people of Rednow are expert at making their homes in their native rock, as you will see when we arrive at the palace.” He paused. “Which will not be too long now. Look up ahead!”
Jared saw a vast pair of wooden gates stretching from one side of the cliffs to the other, covering the river and both its banks: the gateway to Prince Rohan’s palace. He felt possessed by new energy and purpose. Even the horses seemed to sense that the next staging post was in sight.
As they approached the gates, Jared felt his stomach clench. The next part of his challenge was coming sharply into focus.
“They won’t let us through,” Hal announced, returning on foot from his meeting with the palace guards at the gate.
“What do you mean they won’t let us through?” Kai retorted. “Prince Rohan has no reason to deny Prince Jared an audience.”
“If you just let me finish, they will let Prince Jared through into the palace. So long as the rest of us remain here until the meeting of the Princes is concluded.”
Jared felt a cold dread. “They’ll let me through but only on my own?”
Hal nodded. “I argued hard for at least me to accompany you—as your Bodyguard—but they are adamant.” He turned to include the rest of the group. “I’m sorry to say this after such a long day’s ride, but I think we have no choice but to abandon Rednow and journey on to our next—”
“No,” Jared found himself saying. “If Prince Rohan will see me and me alone, then so be it.” Where had the words, the certainty come from? It was like hearing someone else speak through his mouth—his mother, perhaps, or Logan Wilde.
Jared jumped down from his horse and walked toward the gate. Behind him, he heard Kai and Hal arguing. He shut them out. He reached into the pocket of his surcoat and closed his fingers on the sprig of rue that Asta had given him. It was ridiculous, he knew, but somehow touching the now dried-out sprig renewed his confidence. He addressed the palace guards.
“Good evening. I am Prince Jared of Archenfield, and I have been riding all day, and much of the night, with the intention of speaking to Prince Rohan.”
The guards bowed formally to him and, without further delay, the gates opened, revealing another pair of gates. For a moment Jared was confused, then he realized the sense of it—the double layer of protection and control they afforded the palace.
With a crash that echoed down the canyon, the outer gates closed, cutting him off from his companions.
A pair of guards led him on toward the second gates. One of them gave a command to his comrades on the other side and these gates too began to open. Jared watched, with a growing sense of anticipation, as the palace of Rednow was revealed on the other side.
“Please come this way, Your Majesty,” said the first of the guards.
Jared saw that, just as the people dwelling at the top of the canyon had made their home by burrowing into the natural rock face, so it was down there at the base of the gorge. Ahead of him was the palace structure, but each room, each door, each window opening, had been carved from the red rock that had given the Princedom its name.
To one side of the palace was a dam, with small waterfalls tumbling down on either side of a series of stone stairways. The people of Rednow had been clever in appropriating what nature had given them—whether it was the rock in which they had created their homes, or the water that they had harnessed so expertly. He followed the guard up one of the stone stairwells to the top of the dam. As he reached the apex, he looked down into the vast reservoir of fresh water on the other side—it was more than enough to sustain the palace and all who resided here.
“This way, please, Your Majesty.” The guard urged him onward and up, along another stone stairway. As Jared followed, his eyes darting back and forth, up and down, he became aware of the complexity of the palace building and the numbers of men and women going about their business.
Before he knew it, they had climbed high up into the rock. Looking back over his shoulder, Jared could now see over the twin gates. Beyond them, no bigger than ants now, were his companions.
Everything rested on his shoulders.
“The Prince is waiting for you in his apartment,” the guard told him, indicating an ornate doorway carved out of stone. So he knew I was coming, Jared thought. Those spies work fast.
The Prince of All Archenfield took a breath, and entered the palace.
TWENTY
The Prince’s Apartment, the Canyon Palace, Rednow
WITH EVERY STEP JARED AND HIS ESCORT TOOK, the palace seemed to—there was no other word for it—evolve. From out of the red rock walls emerged elaborate, painted carvings depicting three-dimensional scenes from, Jared surmised, Rednow’s history, while intricate statues of the territory’s former rulers seemed to rise up from the floor to meet him as he continued on his way.
His surroundings were dazzling, but Jared was struggling to take it all in. His heart was already starting to race at his imminent audience with Prince Rohan and the necessity of securing Archenfield’s next strategic alliance.
Jared’s escort led him across a series of wooden bridges over pools of turquoise water illuminated by the numerous wall sconces—deep in the belly of the palace, there was no natural light, anywhere. The sound of the lapping water—like Jared’s footsteps and the very rhythm of his breath—were all magnified by the vast, cathedral-like space.
The final bridge deposited them in the most elaborately decorated corridor yet, and they emerged at the top of a stairway so grand and smooth it might have been crafted from marble.
Down below, surrounded by fine tapestries and antiquities, sat Prince Rohan.
Knowing of Rednow’s unparalleled reputation in trade, Jared had expected its ruler to be clad in fine silks, velvets and other rare materials, sourced from territories on its extensive trade routes. In reality, Prince Rohan was dressed in simple black robes, with a leather waistcoat and matching boots. The only nod toward his vast wealth and lofty status was the rainbow array of metals and precious stones in the rings that shimmered from each of the fingers on both his hands. Hands that now reached out to clasp Jared’s own.
“Prince Jared of Archenfield,” Rohan declared warmly. “Welcome to my humble home! Do take a seat. I’m sure you are tired from your long journey, and hungry too?” Rohan gestured toward a vast platter of fruit on the table before them and took a crescent of melon. “Help yourself!” he told Jared. “I’m a fiend for fresh fruit. My second wife got me started on this. She tells me she wants me to live a long and healthy life—in stark contrast to her predecessor, I might add!”
Jared smiled at Rohan’s easy intimacy. Turning his eyes to the array of fruit, he found himself momentarily dazed by so much choice. The colors of the fruits, glistening in the candlelight, were as rich and lustrous as those of Prince Rohan’s jewelry. By the time he had taken a succulent portion of ripe fig, Rohan had already dismissed his escort.
“So,” Rohan said brightly. “It’s a good while since we had the pleasure of welcoming a Prince of Archenfield to the Canyon Palace. Tell me the news from your court, my friend.”
As Jared began his sorry tale, Prince Rohan listened attentively. His bright eyes remained on Jared throughout, though the intensit
y of his gaze was not troubling to Jared—actually, his clear empathy was bolstering.
“So, the boys from Paddenburg have grown in ambition,” Rohan said with a nod, as Jared concluded his report.
Jared sighed. “Ambitious is an understatement.”
Prince Rohan’s hazel eyes twinkled. “Well, let’s get down to business, shall we? Beyond sharing your current woes with a sympathetic neighbor, what precisely brings you to Rednow today?”
In spite of Rohan’s warm welcome, Jared felt the pressure of the moment. “My reason for coming here today is very simple,” he said. “I would like to invite you to enter into an alliance with us.”
“You require some help against the bully boys of Paddenburg?” Prince Rohan reached for the platter of fruit.
“Yes,” Jared agreed. “But this is not only about Rednow coming to the aid of Archenfield to fend off the current foe.” He took a breath. “I’m thinking of the future, and not only the future of my own Princedom. I am proposing an unprecedented alliance of the five river territories—Archenfield, Woodlark, Rednow, Larsson and Baltiska—to ensure that none of our domains falls victim to the whims of our less stable neighbors.”
Rohan leaned back in his seat, popping a grape in his mouth. “An alliance of the river territories? An interesting thought. So where does this unprecedented alliance currently stand?”
“I have reached a new agreement with Queen Francesca of Woodlark,” Jared told him.
Prince Rohan arched an eyebrow. Jared guessed from this that his companion knew something of the recent enmity between Archenfield and Woodlark.
“Francesca did withdraw the alliance for a brief time, due to a misunderstanding between our two courts,” Jared hastened to explain, “but I met with her and Princess Ines in the court of Woodlark yesterday.” He paused. “And I am happy to confirm that the alliance is back on the table.” So long as you hand over Logan Wilde, the demonic voice in his head taunted him. Pushing this aside, Jared focused on Rohan. “So if Rednow were to join this alliance, you would benefit not only from Archenfield’s army, but also Woodlark’s own considerable military strength, and that of its existing ally, Malytor, to the east.”
Prince Rohan nodded. “This is an appetizing prospect, Prince Jared. Nevertheless, something puzzles me.” He leaned forward confidentially. “Woodlark is a sizable territory with a deliciously vicious army and, as you say, its own ongoing alliance with Malytor. Given your alliance with Woodlark, I’d imagine you and Francesca could take on Paddenburg together and be reasonably optimistic of victory.” He paused to twist one of his rings around his finger. “Without wanting to disparage my own Princedom, I’m not sure what we—better known for our trade than our military capabilities—add to the mix. One could ask the same question with regard to Larsson and Baltiska. Our three territories are far smaller than yours and Francesca’s.”
Jared nodded. It was a fair question, and one he had turned over in his head many times on the long ride there. Of course, one answer was that if Francesca pulled out of the alliance, then he would need the combined capabilities of the smaller three territories to even begin to make up for the shortfall… but, he reminded himself, there were nobler, longer-term motives too.
“Rednow, Larsson and Baltiska are indeed smaller territories in terms of land mass, but you would each bring different assets to the alliance—your unparalleled reputation for trade, for instance.” Jared paused. “You are right that if I was thinking only of the current conflict, the alliance with Woodlark would serve me well enough, but I’m thinking further into the future and not merely of Archenfield.” He heard new conviction in his own voice. “I want to initiate an alliance that strengthens and protects each of the five river territories from aggression now or in the future from the west or south.”
“In other words, from Eronesia or Paddenburg,” Rohan said.
Jared nodded. “Territories like yours and mine cannot go on being at the mercy of the shifting moods and mercurial ambitions of our neighbors. We need to find a way not only to avoid another war now, but also to broker a more lasting peace. So that, for instance, your own trade concerns may be allowed to prosper.”
Prince Rohan helped himself to a segment of orange. Jared wondered if he had said enough to persuade him. The voice in his head reminded him that there was one explosive matter he had not mentioned—Francesca’s stipulation that Archenfield hand over Logan Wilde to the court of Woodlark. Until that was done, the alliance with Woodlark was effectively meaningless.
Jared felt bad about lying to Prince Rohan, but Rohan had not explicitly asked if there were any terms attached to his agreement with Francesca, so it wasn’t exactly lying, was it? He didn’t want anything to derail the agreement with Rednow. If he could secure an alliance here and ride on to conclude further agreements with Baltiska and Larsson, then he’d be in a far stronger position on returning to his own court to argue for the handover of Wilde in exchange for not one but four alliances.
We’ll see, said the niggling voice.
Prince Rohan rose to his feet before his guest. “You know what? You impress the hell out of me.” He rested his hand on Jared’s shoulder. “So you’re what—seventeen, eighteen years of age?”
“Sixteen,” Jared said, irritated by the note of apology in his voice as he rose from his own chair.
“Sixteen!” Rohan exclaimed. “The same age as my own middle son! Don’t get me wrong, Prince Jared, I couldn’t be more proud of my boy, but that’s what he is—a boy. Whereas you—you are already a man, and a man of honor at that.”
Jared drew little satisfaction from his companion’s praise: it only made him more keenly aware of his dishonesty. “Circumstances have compelled me to grow up fast,” he said, anxious to remain outside the maelstrom of his own head.
“Circumstances challenge us,” Rohan told him. “They question what we are made of. But it is you, my friend, who found the answer. When I think of everything you have faced these past few weeks. Other men—more experienced in rule—would have crumbled.”
Jared smiled. “Perhaps my very inexperience is my secret weapon,” he said.
He realized it was one of the most honest sentiments he had shared.
Rohan returned his smile. “You could be onto something there.”
Jared was conscious that he needed to bring things to a conclusion. “So,” he said, his voice sounding far steadier than he felt. “Will Rednow sign up to the alliance of the five river territories?”
Just say yes, he willed the man before him.
“There is just one thing I would like to clarify,” Rohan said.
Jared felt his stomach tense again. Was his lie about to be dragged out into the open?
“What specifically do you want from me at this point?” Rohan asked.
Jared had to resist grinning in relief. “I want you to loan me your army,” he said, “with you at its helm, primarily in order to make as strong as possible a show of force to deter Paddenburg.” He paused. “That said, if there is a need to fight, I would expect your forces to stand shoulder to shoulder with mine on the battlefield.”
Prince Rohan’s eyes were bright. “I am not given to prevarication, Prince Jared.” He reached out his hand. “It is my honor to agree to be your ally.”
“The honor is mine.” Jared shook his companion’s hand. “There is just one thing further I need to ask of you.”
Prince Rohan laughed lightly. “There is always a footnote. Go on, then—tell me what I can do for you. Have you taken a fancy to one of my four beautiful daughters, or are we talking about financial support in addition to military?”
Jared shook his head. “Neither of those—thank you, though. All I ask is for you to work with me to bring Séverin of Larsson and Ciprian of Baltiska into our alliance.”
Rohan inhaled deeply. “I see. Well, Séverin and I are on pretty good terms—thanks to some shared trade connections and a tactical marriage or three. I would not anticipate too much of a challeng
e in bringing him to the table.” He paused. “Ciprian, I fear, is another matter altogether.”
Jared frowned. “I’m aware, of course, of Prince Ciprian’s reputation. That’s why I’m asking for your help.”
Rohan clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If I thought I held any kind of sway there, I’d petition on your behalf. But there was some unpleasantness recently.” He shrugged. “To be honest, there is always some recent unpleasantness with Ciprian.”
Jared’s mind was working overtime. An alliance between four of the five river territories was good—way better than good. And, in terms of land mass, Baltiska was the smallest of the territories. Maybe he could allow a slight revision of his ambitions? But there was no getting away from the fact that Baltiska occupied a crucial strategic position next to Schloss, the former ally of Eronesia. Jared shuddered as he remembered the struggle Archenfield had had in defending itself against Eronesia. As such, Baltiska was an important part of the jigsaw in stemming any future threat from the west. But for now, the voice in his head reminded him, you need Baltiska in case Woodlark slips through your fingers.
“I am sorry I cannot help,” Rohan said. “Like I said—Séverin, yes, but Ciprian…” Rohan reached over once more to the fruit platter, selected a peeled lychee and dropped it into his mouth. “The thing that puzzles me, of course, is why you’re asking for my help when you already have a perfect route into Ciprian’s court.”
Jared’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
Rohan chewed the lychee, then lifted his fingers to retrieve the purple stone from his curled tongue. “Given that you are traveling in the company of Prince Ciprian’s own cousin, why wouldn’t you just send him into Baltiska to petition for you?”
Jared stared blankly at Rohan. Ciprian’s cousin? What was he talking about?
Rohan shook his head in amusement. “You don’t know, do you? I mean, they’re not on the best of terms, I grant you, but they are cousins, and that has to count for something.”