What About My People

I had a speech ready. I'd built it in my head while he talked about the river. His kingdom collapsing. An empty throne. Ministers fighting. Borders tested before the news could even be confirmed. I could see where to pause, which image to leave unfinished, how to make the final question sound less like an accusation and more like a verdict.

Then I asked what would happen if he vanished.

"My daughter would assume the regency under the council seal," he said.

The speech died on the spot.

"Without proof of your death?"

"Especially without proof of my death."

"And your ministers would accept her authority?"

"They would dispute the extent of it. They already do."

"A stable arrangement."

"An arrangement prepared in advance."

He looked at me.

"As yours presumably is."

I rested my fingertips on the table.

I had walked straight into that.

"A planned succession is not the same as a public disappearance."

"No."

"You do not know what obligations you interrupted."

"No."

"What negotiations required my presence. What assurances depended upon my remaining where I was."

The king said nothing.

I kept going.

"You have explained what you hoped my arrival would save. Have you considered what my absence might cost?"

There was no Aurelheim. No council. No heir.

There was my mother's handbag under her chair.

The thought hit so sharply I had to stop for a breath. The pause improved the performance.

I resented that a lot.

"What about my people?" I asked.

My people. A drama club, a mother with a handbag, and a boy called Miyata who couldn't find a strip of white tape. That was the population of Aurelheim. I said it like it was forty-three thousand.

Corvane started to move.

The king raised a hand without looking at him.

"You reached into another world because you needed someone," I said. "You did not ask whether anyone there needed him too."

Master Ilyen looked down. Across the room, Aoi's hand tightened on her sleeve.

I didn't know what she was thinking.

"What restitution do you ask?" the king said.

"A way home."

"I cannot provide one."

"Then the freedom to seek it elsewhere. No oath. No military commission. No service treated as repayment for a journey I did not request."

"The ritual," Corvane said, "represents a considerable expenditure."

I turned toward him.

"How unfortunate for you that I did not place the order."

A flush rose above his collar and went away again.

There. A small pleasure, but honestly earned.

"Your claimed station," he said, "has not been established."

"Would you consider the abduction less objectionable if I held a lesser one?"

"I would consider the diplomatic implications rather different."

Good answer. I'd liked him better flustered.

The king slid the mended document back into its case.

"Your freedom does not depend upon our recognizing your title," he said. "You will not be compelled to swear an oath."

Corvane looked at him.

The king continued.

"You will have quarters tonight. Food, clothing, and access to the information Master Ilyen can safely provide. If you wish to leave after that, you may."

"Your Majesty, unsupervised--"

"He may leave."

Not loud. Corvane bowed his head.

I nearly relaxed. Then the king looked at me again.

"Hospitality is not recognition of a foreign claim. You will obey the law. You will not recruit my soldiers, collect revenue from my subjects, or make commitments in the name of my crown."

"I have asked for none of those things."

"Then the conditions should not trouble you."

"And an examination?" Corvane asked.

Master Ilyen drew a breath.

"A full assay would identify his gift and establish whether the transit caused injury."

"Would it establish a way home?"

"No."

"Then I will request it when I require its other benefits."

Corvane's attention settled on me with an unpleasant stillness. The king considered.

I could hear someone moving in the corridor. A cup being set on a tray. Somewhere down the hall a lamp chimed the quarter hour on its own, and nobody went to see why. Ordinary sounds, going on with no regard for how carefully I was keeping my hands from shaking.

"No invasive assay without his consent," he said.

I inclined my head. Not gratitude. Acknowledgment. That was the intention, anyway.

Inside, something small and frantic sat down hard.

The king gave instructions to the clerk. Copies of the relevant laws. A summary of the summoning. Provisioning to be arranged once I declared my plans.

Plans. I had a lot of opinions for a boy whose future currently ended at the next meal.

"I shall consider where I wish to travel."

"I recommend considering it after sleep."

It might have been courtesy. It might have been the most accurate insult anyone had offered me all day. I decided not to ask.

As we reached the door, the king stopped by the map.

"One last matter."

I turned.

"If you find a way home, I ask that you share it."

"With your ritual masters?"

"With the others."

His eyes went to Aoi. She was looking at him now. For a moment the room held something I had no wish to interrupt.

"I would not keep such a thing from them," I said.

The king nodded. Then the door opened and his quartermaster came in carrying enough paper to make it clear the war had not been waiting politely for us to finish.

The audience was over. Because he had ended it.

The servant led me down a narrow gallery and up a flight of stairs. Then another. Then a third.

By the fourth I'd decided whoever built this castle had never had to climb it.

The castle got warmer away from its ceremonial rooms. Kitchen steam rose through a stairwell. Somewhere a maid was arguing with a boy about a dropped basket. A dog slept under a bench and did not bother lifting its head when I passed.

I'd gotten out of an oath. Permission to leave. A room. Those were real.

I'd also made myself interesting to a man who seemed to regard unsupervised human beings as an administrative defect. That was real too.

The servant opened a door.

"Your chamber, my lord."

A big bed. A cold fireplace. A narrow window with rooftops a long way below.

Two guards took up positions outside.

"For your security," the servant explained.

"Naturally."

He asked whether I required help undressing. I said no. He bowed and withdrew.

The latch clicked.

I stood in the middle of the room for several seconds, listening.

Nobody spoke. Nobody asked me anything.

My hands started shaking.

I hid them in the robe.

There was no one left to hide them from.