17.4

Dirk and Zyrdicia materialized in his chambers then walked at a quick pace toward the castle's East Wing. The room where the barons met was used only for this purpose. Once in a generation, the room served as the site of the making of a new king. The rest of the time it was locked and forgotten.

Dirk grabbed her arm as they walked and whispered intently, "Listen carefully. I had hoped to have more time to inform you about the meeting's workings."

"Don't tell me this is going to be an annoying political drama!"

"Yes, but one in which the ending is inevitable. Baron Leknir will guide it. Let him. He and I have an understanding."

Zyrdicia giggled, "As if he will remember! Lekie's about a million years old. He's totally senile." She knew Baron Leknir quite well. The eldest of the Karteian nobles, the feisty octagenarian spent a great deal of time shuttling between the Blackpool court and the rest of the aristocracy. He had not seen a battlefield in years, but even at his advanced age, he was one of the most powerful men in Karteia. He had been instrumental in persuading the other barons that Saris' day had past.

"You shall address him by his formal title."

"Oh, please. He's a grumpy, little penguin."

Dirk rolled his eyes. He was well aware of her effect upon Leknir. Her laughter reduced a cruel, hard old man into a doting grandfather. Leknir could watch stone-faced as his own children were drawn and quartered, but his face became a vision of kindly affection when Zyrdicia entered a room. She always teased him about something - his cane, his arthritic, penguin-like waddle, the fluffy, white shock of hair adorning the top of his head. No one had ever heard him laugh until she arrived.

Leknir was a great uncle to Dirk and Geoffrey. He and Saris had always had a strained relationship. He had hated his own children. He loathed Geoffrey, as well. He had always had a great deal of respect for Saris' older son, though. He saw the ruthlessness and the intelligence, and fostered a strong alliance early on. When Saris was off at war, he always made a point to make time to cultivate a good relationship with the future king. He had even visited the prince at the Royal School on a few occasions, and had frequently sent him gifts there. He knew it was more attention than Saris had ever provided. He had helped Dirk claim the Regency immediately when Saris fell ill, and his power had grown as a result of it.

"Zyrdicia, listen to me!" Dirk warned. "This is serious! Your demeanor as my future queen is very important tonight!"

"Relax! So the ancient penguin conducts the meeting. What else?"

"In front of you on the table will be a thin, wooden rod representing Dagonia. At the moment of ratification, each baron places a rod in the bowl at the center of the table."

"And what if I don't want to ratify - hypothetically speaking?"

"You will place it in the bowl."

"Tell me. Or I'll ask them."

"Do as I say!"

She stopped walking and crossed her arms stubbornly.

"There is no time for this. Come now!" His loud tone echoed through the empty, secret passageway.

"Tell me!"

"No!"

"You don't trust me?"

"Of course not. I don't trust anyone!' Dirk glared at her. There was no time for a fight now. If he triggered another of her inexplicable mood swings, she could - and would - ruin the meeting without hesitation. He sighed and added, "You more than most people, but as you yourself explained when you stole Bethel's monocle from me, with stakes so large, I cannot afford to trust anyone. Let's go!"

Zyrdicia regarded him curiously. She was not yet angry. She, of course, understood the mistrust. "I won't go if you don't tell me the gesture to oppose ratification. Not because I intend to use it. But simply out of principle."

Dirk stared at her in disbelief. She had no principles. She was merely playing a game. There was no way to force her to go. She had the power to disappear with a thought. Everything turned upon her voluntary compliance with the scheme, and voluntary compliance was a commodity with which he had precious little experience. It was foreign and distasteful. "One would break the rod," he said evenly, his contempt barely restrained.

Zyrdicia smiled the smile that enchanted armies and endeared her to gods. She leaned near and kissed his cheek, delighted that she had won. "Hm. I suppose the symbolism ensures my loyalty."

"I'm pleased," Dirk countered dryly.

"Breaking it would certainly interfere with other plans," she whispered.

"Plans I'm eager to explore - after they have announced my coronation. Let's go!"

They continued walking, fingers entwining in painful play. From the corner of his eye, he watched a content smile grace her lips as he twisted and squeezed the delicate bones in her hand as they walked. He was positive she would ratify.