Kings of the North Read Free Page A

least. Swordplay could not erase his worry about the estrangement between the peoples of his realm. Increasingly he sympathized with the humans. Just like his grandmother, the other elves avoided any disturbing or difficult issue by retreating to the elvenhome kingdom, where even he—king of the realm—could not go without invitation, an invitation that never came. Yet whatever course of action he proposed, Amrothlin or Orlith would insist it must await the Lady’s approval.
    Garris wandered in, eyes bleary. “When will I ever learn that summerwine knocks me flat?” he said. Kieri chuckled; Garris shook his head. “I suppose it’s your elven side that makes you impervious,” Garris said. “Here’s the new courier schedule.”
    Kieri looked at it. “You shaved another day off the time to Harway,” he said. “How?”
    “Another relay station. Thanks to your decision to increase the number of King’s Squires and those extra horses. Though you are going to need more forage, come fall or if we have any problems to the north.” Garris yawned. “Falk’s Oath, I’m sleepy. Anyway, I’ve also set up a schedule that gives every Sier no more than a two-day courier run to Chaya. I want to know if you expect them to provision relay stations on their domains or if you want the Crown to do it.”
    “They should,” Kieri said. “Otherwise we waste time and effort collecting our Crown due, bringing it here, and then sending it back out.”
    “And if the best place for a relay station is on the boundary of territories?” Garris pointed to the map.
    “Both domains can share expenses. In fact, wherever it’s possible, why not put it on the boundary?”
    “Good.” Garris made a note. Kieri felt a wave of affection for the man who had been an old friend and had become a valued assistant, excellent at his new assignment. “Now,” Garris said, “while I’ve got you alone—have you met anyone yet? No, that’s a stupid question; I know you’ve been introduced to one Sier’s daughter after another, but—”
    Marriage. Kieri scowled at Garris. Did even Garris have to bring that up? He would marry—he had said he would marry—but he would do it in his own time. With someone the right age, the right temperament, who was not ambitious or coerced. His mind drifted to the King’s Squires on the schedule Garris had brought. To one particular Squire. No, he must not. They were young, and he was a king, and he must be careful not to exert any pressure. “I’ll let you know first, shall I?” he said to Garris with some asperity. “You and Hanlin of Pargun are two of a kind.”
    “Not so,” Garris said, hand to his heart.
    “Nearly. She’s written me several friendly notes, always mentioning Pargunese princesses.” He had answered politely but without much warmth. “She says they’re beautiful. I expect they’re as sly as Hanlin and as difficult as their father. The Lady wants peace, but I doubt she’d be happy to get it by way of such a marriage.”
    “I’m not urging that,” Garris said. He scowled.
    “And there are more important matters than my finding a wife,” Kieri said, tapping his pen on the schedule. He mentioned one he could share with Garris. “Gods grant Mikeli made it safely through his coronation.”
    “You think he might not?”
    “Verrakaien,” Kieri said. “They didn’t want me king in Lyonya; they won’t want Mikeli king in Tsaia.”
    “But they’re under attainder—”
    “And Dorrin warned us they can take other bodies. The prince—the king now—survived one attempt on his life. I worry about another.” He blew out a long breath. “I should trust the gods, I know that. Falk’s Oath, I’ve been faithless so long, it’s hard to practice that discipline.”
    “About the only one you don’t practice,” Garris said. He poured water from the flagon for Kieri and a goblet for himself. “I understand—we need a strong ally to the west. Prealíth—”
    “There’s