The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,63
he knows how to cook these 'maggots' in such a way that you'll come to love them.”
She gave Erostis an arch look. “Don't go to extra trouble on my account. I'm not convinced those things are meant to be eaten as food in the first place.”
They loaded and secured the cumbersome packs into the wagon. Serovek took the brief time to scan his map and the route they'd take to the bridge. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced up to spot Anhuset pausing before bending down to stare at something on the ground. Whatever she dropped, she scooped up and with a quick sleight of hand, tucked it away in her tunic.
He would have thought nothing of it except for the arrested, almost guilty expression on her face when she did it. When they were once more on the road, he considered asking her but thought better of it. It was one thing to inquire out of concern, another to pry.
For this leg of the journey, Erostis rode in the front next to Klanek where the two swapped stories of various escapades when they were children that made Serovek pity their parents. He rode behind the wagon next to Anhuset, content enjoy the quiet.
She surprised him when she broke the companionable silence with a question. “Why is the Lobak valley so desired by this Chamtivos?”
“Because owning land is possessing power. Owning a great deal of land is having a great deal of power, but you must fight hard to keep it. Chamtivos was the youngest son of a minor Beladine nobleman. To keep the holding intact, the lord bequeathed all of it to the eldest son, to be inherited upon his death.”
She gave a soft whistle. “I'm guessing whatever brotherly affection existed until then vanished.”
“That's putting it mildly,” he replied. “What Chamtivos lacked in status, he made up for in ambition and ruthlessness. He killed his father, his brothers, and their progeny so there'd be no claim but his to the holding. According to him, the hard hand of fate had dealt harshly with his family. A drowning, hunting accidents, an unfortunate fall from a cliff, a difficult childbirth. He then traveled to the capital and petitioned the king not only for recognition of his right to the fiefdom but to the lands bordering the Jeden monastery and beyond.”
“A man so driven makes a dangerous vassal. One who'll murder his own family to rise in status will think nothing of murdering anyone else, including sovereigns. Nor will they remain content with ruling a castle and farmland, no matter how rich.” Her features hardened. “Even the Khaskem, as even-tempered as he is, would have Chamtivos either imprisoned or put to death.”
On a slope overlooking the plain surrounding Saggara, with an army of the dead behind him, Serovek had watched as Brishen's eidolon embraced his mother's twisted spirit and obliterated it. He'd done it without hesitation or regret, much like Chamtivos, but for entirely different reasons. He had no doubt Brishen would do exactly as Anhuset claimed.
“As he should. As King Rodan should have done. It would have saved countless lives and himself a lot of grief had he done the same.” He shrugged. “Instead, he strung Chamtivos along with bait and false promises for who knows what reason, then gifted the entire valley, including those holdings, to the Jeden Order, believing the monks would be defenders of the territory for the crown instead of contenders for it as Chamtivos would.”
“But are they not considered heretics?”
Some of the more zealous Beladine, strict in their orthodoxy, often called upon the king to outlaw the Nazim monks and proclaim all their orders as heretical, including the Jeden Order. Such cries fell on deaf ears, especially when the warrior monks proved themselves so useful in furthering the king's interests.
The wagon had rolled farther ahead of them while he and Anhuset chatted, their horses content to amble along while their riders were distracted. Serovek tapped Magas's sides with his heels to close the gap between him and the transport. He replied to her question once they caught up to the other two who were now close enough to hear their conversation.
“To the devout among us, they are heretics, but the king isn't a religious man. His philosophy has always been pay the crown tax, tithe your soldiers and vassals to his army in times of conflict, and remember your place. You're free to worship as you please as long