Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,71
Hanh Perdaro asked.
Though youthful, little hair grew on the head of the man known as the Voice of the People. Thoughtful and sparse of words, Therrador treasured these traits and liked the man best of the King’s High Council. There would be a position for Perdaro in the future if he wanted it.
“We cannot know,” Lord Turesti said. “Perhaps the king was captured and they gave pursuit.”
“And suppose I shat a donkey,” Sir Alton blurted. “If they were in pursuit of the king’s captors, there would have been a damn sight more than three of them.”
“In either case,” Turesti continued, his mouth a taut line of disgust at Sir Alton’s words. “We should keep things quiet. It will do no good for the army to think they fight without a king and for the people to mourn their regent in the middle of a war.”
“I fear it’s already too late,” Hanh Perdaro said stroking the thin line of beard cupping his chin. “Whispers of Braymon’s death already cross the land. The people grow nervous.”
“Aye, as do the king’s soldiers,” Sir Alton added, his cheeks fading pink. “Not only do they fear the loss of their king, but Rudric and Gendred—”
Dondon cut him off. “Yes, yes. But the blood. What of the king’s blood?”
Therrador leaned forward resting his elbows on the table top, and the others looked toward him, waiting to hear the words of the king’s advisor who had remained silent as they discussed the situation. He looked from one to the next, drawing the pause out deliberately, taking in their anxious looks.
This is what it will be like when I’m king.
“There is no blood.”
He watched hope drain from their faces. Hu Dondon sucked breath in through his teeth; Sir Alton Sienhin smacked a gauntleted fist on the white and red marble table.
“I have sent men searching, and they’ve turned up nothing. No one survived the fight beneath the walls of the fortress.”
“But why were they—” Dondon began, but Therrador cut him off, taking great pleasure in doing so. He pulled a vial from his belt and tossed it onto the table to roll across the smooth surface. Four pairs of eyes followed the empty glass as it skittered to the middle of the table.
“The blood was spilled,” Therrador said.
“Then all is lost.” Lord Turesti said voicing what must have been on all their minds. “What will happen with no heir to the throne?”
“Civil war,” Dondon said. “The kingdom will be plunged into turmoil.”
“You belly-dragging son of a rabid weasel!” Sir Alton Sienhin stood so suddenly his chair teetered. “Would you have us roll over and wet on ourselves? Hand our country to the Kanosee and save them the trouble of dirtying their boots?”
“Sit down, you fool,” Hu Dondon sneered. “If you and that so-called royal guard had done your jobs, perhaps we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“How dare you. We lost three—”
“You lost the king,” Dondon snapped. “Nothing else matters.”
“You are nothing but a—”
“Enough!”
Therrador slammed his hand on the table; the men turned their attention to him, their expressions ranging from despair to rage. As they stared, he pulled a rolled parchment from his belt and tossed it onto the table. It spun a few times, rolling to a stop against the empty vial.
“That letter contains the king’s wishes if he were to fall and not be raised.” He looked at them, gauging their reactions. “And the solution to our problem.”
They stared at the paper, none of them speaking or reaching for it. Even the normally verbose Hu Dondon remained speechless. Finally, Hanh Perdaro looked up from the parchment, meeting Therrador’s eyes.
“Why did you not tell us of this sooner, Therrador?”
“I held hope of discovering what happened, as you did. I hoped beyond hope, prayed to the four Gods our king would be returned, but time has passed. The likelihood of my prayers being answered, my hopes coming true, grows dimmer every day. It’s time something is done to save our kingdom.”
“What does it say?” Lord Turesti asked.
Therrador breathed deep. “It says I’m to carry on King Braymon’s legacy as regent and protector of the realm, and my heir after me.”
“Yes, yes. But how do we know this to be true?”
If Hu Dondon didn’t realize the mistake he’d made in asking as the words passed his lips, Therrador’s sudden rage made it clear.
“How dare you!” Therrador yelled. “I became friends with Braymon suckling side by side at our mothers’ teats. I served our king before he became king, while