Tancred pushed his shoulders back, standing tall before his father’s court entered the hall. King Brunulf sat on the throne and Cadra stood beside it. To his left an empty space marked where his mother had once sat – Tancred’s mother, though not truly Cadra’s. She had never fully embraced King Brunulf’s adopted child. Perhaps she had feared that the pale, Southern babe would one day obstruct her future son’s claim to the throne. Adoption into the royal household was an ancient tradition, though, and the young queen had taken it in her stride. Tancred stood to one side at the head of the northern row of benches with his younger brothers, Berius and Derion, beside him.

  He looked at Cadra and felt for a moment that he was looking at himself. That was where he should be standing. That was his place.

  The sun peeped over the horizon in the distant East, bathing the sky in a crisp, azure glow. The last of the stars faded and a crescent moon hung above them. The Pilgrim Star – Hurean himself – added its own light from the southerly direction. Its tail burned angrily, a deep red against the last of the darkness. Other constellations were still visible: Terlos began his ascent, challenging Hurean’s place in the heavens as winter approached, while Farlean’s fish retreated, shrinking low against the horizon.

  Cadra looked sidelong at Tancred and caught his gaze. They both glanced at the ground in front of the throne. No sign remained of the assassin’s ashes and Tancred wondered who in the hall would share in the knowledge of the attempted crime. He prepared to examine the faces of the court as closely as possible.

  From the narrow entrance at the rear of the hall came first the King’s closest advisors. Godron led them out. An aged man, though not as old as the king himself and still strong, he wore ceremonial bronze armour that caught the sunrise on its polished surface. His worn, weathered face with its deep lines was dark with years under the sun, much like the king's. They had shared the same campaigns, after all. He nodded at Tancred and led the advisors to the benches beside Tancred. Devra followed behind Godron in his flowing, white robes. The high priests of Farlean and Manafel, the other two deities of the Summer Trinity, did not reside at the Godsroof. The Abbot of the Consecrate Library lived in his cloistered halls at Katarthion and the White Healer was stationed at the hospital there. Their seconds in command, the Learned Father and the Compassionate Sister stood beside Devra. The other advisors filed in beside them.

  From the open doors at the eastern end of the hall, the direction in which the king faced, the visiting dignitaries and representatives entered.

  Crayas, the round, almost spherical guildmaster of the merchants of Katarthion had come in person instead of sending his usual emissary.

  What urgent business has brought him all the way up those steps? It will be interrupted today.

  His rich clothes, cut in the fashion of the city with shirt and trousers, barely contained the man's corpulence. His face was red and sweating, but his eyes were lively. They found Cadra’s as soon as he entered the hall.

  The magistrates of some of the nearer cities and towns entered behind the lanky, hooked-nosed Petryos, the Chief Magistrate who resided at the Godsroof. They filled the southern benches behind Crayas.

  The bustle of feet on the stone floor subsided and the hall fell silent. The king sat, while everyone else stood and waited for his signal.

  Tancred’s heart quickened and he looked at the iron braziers lining the walls.

  Do it, he urged in his thoughts. Show them your fire is not yet spent.

  If ever it would happen, Tancred felt, it would be this morning, the day after his father had burned that hapless assassin.

  “Light the braziers,” King Brunulf commanded.

  Tancred’s heart sank as servants with torches ran the length of the hall, lighting the kindling beneath the stacked wood.

  In ages past the braziers were kept empty. The first King of Giftahl, Cadrafel the Great, lit them with a command that carried the authority of his heavenly patron. They had burned without wood or oil every time he held court and it was taken as proof of his divine mandate. The braziers became a symbol of the authority of his house. In the centuries that followed, the ability of a king to command the flame was seen as a measure of his favour from Hurean. In his early reign, according to Godron, King Brunulf lit the braziers without even a word. They had burned, he said, like bright stars pinned to the walls of the court. Nowadays, the King had them stacked with wood and lit by servants, and the jackals and hyenas of the kingdom whispered questions about the legitimacy of his reign.

  While the servants scurried up and down, the court made themselves comfortable and Tancred studied Cadra’s pale face.

  Will you be a brazier-lighting king? he mused. He could not imagine it. What was that word Cadra used to describe his ilk, the so-called intellectuals of the capital? A ‘rationalist.’ That was it. Tancred used the word ‘cynic.’

  The dawn light suffused the sky and the sun nudged up further from the horizon.

  “Let us begin,” King Brunulf announced. He turned to Cadra and asked: “What is our first petition?”

  “Master Crayas comes on behalf of the guildhouses of Katarthion, Your Highness.”

  “Stand,” Brunulf commanded. Crayas stood and adjusted his rich clothes, but before he could speak the door thudded. As the sound of the iron knocker reverberated across the court, Crayas stiffened in alarm and turned to look. King Brunulf pushed himself higher against the back of his throne and peered at the door with arched eyebrows.

  “Who calls?” he demanded.

  Godron strode past the guards to the door and, with one hand on the hilt of his sword, pulled it open a crack. Tancred suppressed his excitement and tried to appear as curious as the others. He had arranged a change of guard at the foot of the mount and ensured his guest would be allowed to pass. He strained to see behind Godron’s body, which blocked his view. The general conversed in a low voice with the caller outside, then turned and announced to the court:

  “Elder Adalina of the Hallin Clan calls. She seeks an audience with the king.”

  Tancred flinched when he heard her title.

  Did Telio not deliver my message?

  Those on the southern benches shook their heads in consternation but those on the northern side craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the visitor, exchanging looks of interest. Cadra flashed Tancred a withering, accusatory glance and replied to Godron before the king could answer:

  “From whom does this visitor have an invite?”

  “She does not require an invite,” Tancred replied, holding his brother’s accusing gaze and throwing the challenge back at him. All eyes turned to him, some in admiration and others in pity.

  He stepped in front of the throne, near where Crayas stood with his back half turned to the king. The merchant looked affronted at Tancred’s intrusion and refused, initially, to yield the floor. Tancred took another step forward and glowered down at the round man. Crayas’ face twitched and he stepped back. Tancred faced his father.

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  “In the time of King Cadrafel and his dream of uniting all under the Godsroof, no subject who travelled from afar was ever denied an audience. And is it not law that the magistrate of every province has a right to attend court?”

  “Ridiculous!” Crayas spluttered. “The Seveners do not consider themselves subjects. And what even is an ‘elder?’ What gives this vagrant interloper the right to speak for a whole province?”

  Crayas faced the king to murmurs of agreement from the court. Brunulf looked to Cadra who subtly shook his head. Tancred ground his teeth. Why did she insist on using that title? He felt a sudden trepidation, and his command of the hall felt shakier. He felt exposed, vulnerable. What other advice had she ignored?

  “Let the Sevener in,” King Brunulf growled.

  Relief flooded Tancred as he stepped back to his place, but it was short-lived and died when Godron swung the door open.

  Adalina entered and Tancred stifled a groan. She wore her usual leather breeches and her woolen shirt hung loosely about her shoulders. The thick, black curls of her long hair were tied behind her head and though she entered the hall with confidence, it soon faltered under the stares of the onlookers. Her personal appearance was not even the worst of it. That, perhaps, could have been forgiven owing to her status as a refugee. But she came alone. Not one servant, maid or guard followed in her wake.

  Adalina of the Hallin, a born leader of men and women who he had seen command and inspire a desperate people, entered the Godsroof like some wandering beggar: isolated and trembling.

  Her eyes searched for Tancred but he looked straight ahead without meeting her gaze. He was not sure whether he was more angry with himself or her. She had not understood the first thing about Western politics, despite the time they had spent together. She had not heeded Telio’s advice, or he had not impressed it firmly enough upon her. She was not ready for this, and he should have seen it.

  “Who are you?” Cadra asked before the king spoke. “What are you doing here? And how are we to know that you speak for your people?”

  “I came to speak with His Highness,” Adalina replied. “Not with you.”

  A collective gasp passed through the court. Cadra almost smiled. King Brunulf glared at her and sat up straight in his throne.

  “One who insults my son and heir insults this house.”

  Adalina blinked and stepped an inch back. She opened her mouth, but Crayas chimed in from beside her.

  “She stands before the king dressed as a vagabond. She calls herself an ‘elder,’ yet she is barely older than a child. Are we to simply believe that this beggar-girl who comes alone speaks for all the people of the East? Tell me, Prince Tancred,” he called boldly across the floor. “Why shouldn’t the king throw her out?”

  Some of the courtiers shouted in agreement. Tancred knew he was being baited. He had intended for Adalina to make a grand entrance: to impress this court as she had impressed him before he spoke up on her behalf. Now Crayas was drawing him out, forcing him to abandon her or show his hand.

  “I vouch that this is their leader. Why should the king fear to hear her?” Tancred bellowed in response.

  The hall fell silent. Devra breathed in sharply through his teeth. Tancred looked at his father and winced. Anger filled the king’s face. But whatever it would cost him later, Tancred’s intervention worked. His father growled:

  “Speak, then, Child, but do not test my patience.”

  Adalina looked around the court. Tancred met her eyes this time. She drew her shoulders back, stood tall and addressed the king.

  “Saltleaf Forest was given to the first of the Seveners by Your Highness’ ancestor, King Cadrafel.”

  “We don’t need a history lesson,” the chief magistrate whispered, loud enough to be heard by the court. Those around him responded with snickers. Adalina’s cheeks reddened and she spoke faster.

  “We are subjects of the Kingdom! Distant cousins, perhaps, but part of this family. Your Highness has an obligation to protect our land. We fight your most bitter enemy, and we fight alone!”

  “You’re not fighting!” another magistrate interrupted. “You’re hanging around our city living off charity!”

  “My kin are fighting and –” Adalina began, but another courtier cut rudely across her.

  “According to our reports, the forest's only town was lost without a battle.”

  Adalina pursed her lips and her cheeks glowed. Tancred shut his eyes and let out a long, slow sigh. How badly I misjudged this. He opened his eyes and looked at his father, into whose ear Cadra leaned and whispered. Adalina responded to the courtier who had interrupted her.

  “It is not yet lost according to my reports. And mine come from the heart of the forest, not from messengers who linger at its border and fear to tread its paths.”

  Tancred called out:

  “Let the king ask what questions he will, without interruptions!”

  At that, the court finally fell silent. Tancred stared at Adalina and willed her to read the hall. She could not stand before King Brunulf making demands. She could not hector him about his obligations in front of his own court. Tancred had seen Adalina manoeuvre her own people with such tact and grace that he had not dreamed she would fare so badly under the Godsroof.

  King Brunulf leaned against the back of the throne. He regarded Adalina for a moment as though he were meeting her outside the court. Tancred knew that if the two of them could speak – really speak – without the presence of the court, his father would be as impressed as he was. But that meeting would not happen if this one was a failure.

  He summoned the fire of Hurean once, and I believed that all was well again. What a fool I was.

  “Since you wish to talk of history, let us test that,” Brunulf said. He spoke quietly, but his voice carried throughout the rapt audience. “Why did your ancestor, Raska, want Saltleaf Forest for her people?”

  Adalina answered immediately, and Tancred could tell that she did so without thinking.

  “To be free from the wars between rival gods. To avoid raising spears against the followers of Terlos, or even against the shadows of Sindrah.”

  Brunulf nodded.

  “So it goes in our own history, too. Some say that Raska took advantage of her uncle’s affection, that she won from King Cadrafel an unfair prize: freedom from war in a province made safe by the blood of others.”

  Adalina shifted on her feet and glanced at Tancred. He blinked and looked down. The king continued.

  “Tell me: how should I receive such a… demand? You remind me of my obligations. You ask me to fight. You, the descendent of those who turned away from our country’s wars, now want us to enter yours. Is that not so?”

  The court began to murmur in appreciation, but the king held up a hand to silence them. He watched Adalina steadily.

  He's giving her a chance, thought Tancred. The merest glimmer of a chance, but a chance all the same.

  She stood tall. She drew back her shoulders and from her expression she seemed to have calmed her emotions. So far, so good.

  “It’s true that we turned away from war – from conflicts between gods we venerated equally.” Brunulf nodded. That caught his interest. “But this war is different. Our enemy is not a brother or sister of Hurean. This enemy despises them all. They want to tear down every temple from here to the tallest mountains of the South. They want to end the worship of any god, and raise themselves to rival heaven.”

  Brunulf leaned forwards to listen more closely. Devra moved beside Tancred. The old priest was preparing to enter the discussion. Some of the faces of the court that had been twisted in jest now frowned, doubting their earlier ridicule. Then Adalina said the worst thing she could have said:

  “There will be glory for your kingdom and house in destroying them, Your Highness. If the Republic is defeated, their defeat will become a legend told by–”

  Brunulf recoiled and raised his hand, then slammed it hard against the armrest of his throne. The slap cut off Adalina’s words and she stammered as Brunulf’s face turned red. He rumbled in a voice that carried both anger and pain:

  “I have already seen the glory of war. I have lived among the carrion and corpses. Have you?”

  Adalina opened and closed her mouth. Brunulf leaned forward and spoke so quietly it was difficult to hear.

  “Perhaps Raska was right. War is hell, Child. My people have known it and now yours do, too. I pity you, and I open my lands to you and your kin. But you are not welcome in these halls if you would drag the kingdom into your squabbles.”

  “They are not squabbles!” Adalina protested. “They invaded us, stole our land and kidnapped our children!” Her voice rose in anguish, and even those who had mocked her looked down at the ground.

  Cadra stepped forwards.

  “The King has spoken, Sevener. Begone.”

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