Page 162 of Prize for the King
“We’ll see.”
Khay urges the horse ahead, and we stop behind Magnar just as he throws a small bag of gold coins at the feet of the nearest human. He uses so much force, the bag splits, and the gold scatters, a few thick coins lodging between the wooden boards.
“That enough?”
The soldier eyes him unhappily, but greed wins out in the end. He gathers the money and they move aside, giving us a clear path to Amber Port.
Only four days more to the Citadel.
XLIX Welcome
“What a view. Have you ever been here before?” Raduna asks as we stop on top of a gentle hill, looking out at the Citadel sprawling before us. The city gleams white in the sunlight, and beyond it, the sea stretches to the horizon, dark and foaming.
“Two times before my mother passed away,” I admit. “My father didn’t want to take me after that. It’s a beautiful city. Oh, that’s the palace over there. It’s right on the cliff! I remember seagulls in the courtyards, trying to steal our food. They were a menace.”
The white, gleaming royal complex sprawls on the cliffs butting against the sea, short towers and metal domes gleaming in the silvery sunlight. The warm weather has held all through our journey through the kingdom of Amber Port, but Raduna says it’s about to turn. Fluffy, silver clouds race over the sky.
The air smells of the sea, a bit like fish, a bit like salt, and I breathe it in with a smile. It reminds me of something pleasant, though I can’t pinpoint what.
Ahead, the riders begin a gentle descent down the cobbled road leading to the Citadel’s gate. I spot Magnar, his white hair loose and whipped by the wind, back ramrod straight. His jaw has been tight for days, and he barely speaks. I think he’s afraid we’ll be turned away from the Citadel’s gates. After the series of humiliations we’vesuffered along the way, it wouldn’t be too shocking.
I am determined not to let that happen, though. I won’t let him be humiliated like that.
“Ah, the emperor’s palace. I’m excited to see it,” Raduna says. “He built it after he conquered the continent and set his eyes on the lands beyond the sea, but of course, he died before he made any more conquests. He left the empire to his eleven sons, dividing it along natural borders like rivers and mountain ranges.”
“You know a lot of our history, don’t you? My father had little interest in the past, and frankly, I don’t, either. The history books in our library were horribly stuffy.”
Raduna rumbles a pleasant laugh. Around us, long grasses sway in the wind, gnarled pine trees darkening the horizon to the left.
“I suspect we know more about the Eleven, past and present, than people who live here,” he says with amusement. “Magnar’s first rule is to know your foes. Humans seem to have adopted a different strategy.”
I snort with derision. “That’s a very circumspect way of saying the human approach is foolish. No wonder we get attacked by idiots, since everyone here believes you’re dumb monsters no smarter than beasts of burden.”
“Indeed. Look, they’re opening the gates. What are you looking forward to the most?”
“Honestly? A bed big enough to have all of you with me, but I don’t think that’s likely.”
He chuckles. We ride to the gate, Arvi and Khay flanking us. Magnar waits at the head of his escort while a small group of human men come out, all bowing in an obvious show of deference. I didn’t realize how much tension I held in my shoulders until they drop in relief.
“Greeting delegation. This is good. He’s being treated like everyother king in the Eleven.”
Magnar swings off his mount in an athletic display and goes over to speak to the humans. The conversation is quick, and they move aside, bowing again when he mounts his horse and rides past them. We follow into the oldest, most beautiful city in the Eleven Kingdoms.
The Citadel was built of pale stones, its clean streets gleaming just as the buildings do. Even though we’re on the outskirts, which usually tend to be rougher around the edges, there is no trash heaped by the buildings, and people walking by seem well off, dressed warmly and well fed. They watch us openly, but no one seems afraid.
“They were prepared for our arrival,” I murmur, wondering what it means. “Someone made a lot of effort to make us feel welcome. Either the other kings really want those mines…”
I trail off, and Raduna hums thoughtfully. “Or what?”
“Maybe they want us to lower our guard,” I mutter, knowing Raduna’s superior hearing will let him catch my words when no one else will. “I’m not sure, but we have to be careful.”
I’ve read my father’s journals along the way and found quite a few interesting things that he hasn’t taught me, because they were too callous or indecent. He referred to the Table of Kings as a den of foxes on more than one occasion, sometimes calling the other kings cutthroats in golden gloves.
The most fundamental law of the Eleven forbids them from causing each other harm. That is why there have been no wars between the kingdoms. A king who sits at the Table of Kings and attacks another nation protected by the pact will not only be trued for breaking the laws—he will likely be lynched by the people.
Peace is our most important value.
The most important lesson I took away is to always look out for deception. The kings present a united front to the rest of theworld, but when it’s only them in the room, they fight, bicker, and conspire against each other. It works as a natural system of checks and balances, but I fear Magnar’s arrival might disrupt it.
