17.5

When Dirk and Zyrdicia reached the barons' room, a large crowd was milling about nervously outside it. All the nobles who lacked sufficient status to be inside the room waited at the door. "There they are!" someone shouted.

"Thank the gods," replied another voice.

"Hi," Dirk greeted smoothly as though they were quite punctual, his tone daring anyone to suggest otherwise. Zyrdicia stifled a laugh as the nobles averted his gaze as dogs would upon the arrival of the alpha male. The pair breezed past the crowd into the meeting chamber.

Stone busts of past northern kings filled a row of pedestals along the dark wood of the small room's walls. A large, round table filled the dimly lit space. A great silver bowl had been placed in the center of the table atop a cloth of deepest purple. The mood in the room was solemn. All the other barons were already seated around the table. A heavy silence hung in the air. They had been waiting more than half an hour now. No king in history had dared keep his ratification assembly waiting. Every baron's eyes transfixed questioningly upon the couple.

As they entered, Dirk still had her hand clasped firmly in his own. Within the shadow of her hood, she looked down and coughed softly, still trying to stifle the laugh from the hallway outside. The stuffy tension in the room did not help. Zyrdicia took a deep breath and bit her tongue as the laughter again threatened to escape.

Dirk squeezed her hand harder, but deliberately avoided her glance. If she caught his eye, he knew she would lose her battle with the laughter. He led her to the only empty seat at the table. He pulled the chair out for her and gestured for her to sit. When she did, he stood behind her and rested his hands possessively upon her shoulders. She resisted the very powerful urge to turn her face and bite his leather-clad forearm. She instead she inhaled the scents of the boring barons, trying to settle herself down. She wished she knew a spell to invoke seriousness. She tried to remember why she had been in such a bad mood earlier. The reason eluded her.

Behind her Dirk announced, "I leave you all to your important work. I have no doubt that you shall reach the correct decision. Bye."

Zyrdicia looked up at him, surprised. "You're leaving?" she asked silently, using the mind speech.

"Yes, the king is never present for his own ratification. I will be in the next room watching through the monocle." He turned and left the room through a door behind her. Zyrdicia stared at the stick of ash wood on the table in front of her. It would be a trivial thing to snap it in half, or cause it to combust spontaneously.

Leknir spoke from across the table. "Zyrdicia, dear, welcome. As you know, your presence here means a great deal to us." His tone hardened as he regarded his colleagues. Despite his years, his tenor was commanding and strong. "The North's might is now greater than at any time in our history. We have all benefitted from the glorious events of the past half year. We have seen the portents of our magnificent future. We are now called upon to welcome that future and part with a past that no longer serves us."

"Here, here!" Vandor shouted, banging his fist enthusiastically on the table.

"Saris was a good man," Reznit chimed in. "But his illness makes him unable to fulfil his duties."

"Saris did not make the land rich. Or conquer Tronin," Vandor sneered. "Or make the gods themselves bow to our land's fortune."

"Don't forget the prince also conquered Dunfirm and the Kirilian Islands, not just Tronin," Baron Maldin reminded agreeably.

They're giving Dirk credit for Kirilia?! Zyrdicia thought angrily. I spend a week arranging it, and he shows up and gets the credit. Just like a man.

"I have no doubt that Dirk will conquer all of Camarand and bring about the greatest empire in the history of Aparans," Reznit countered defensively. Reznit continued, "But there is no need to defame the old king as he lies on his death bed. He fought well for his country against the southern enemy."

"Speaking of conquering the rest of Camarand, how does the prince intend to bring about a surrender from Greystone and Baaldorf?" Vandor asked excitedly. He looked as though he expected someone to reveal a brilliant and unstoppable battle plan.

Everyone turned and looked at Zyrdicia expectantly as though she must privy to the prince's plan. She had no doubt that he had one. She hadn't been around long enough to learn of it, though. "Surrender would imply Kings Baaldorf and Greystone will be alive to witness their lands' annihilation by the North. I rather doubt that will be the case. The city of Mirdon and Castle Greystone will be wiped off the face of the earth when the volcano I created explodes."

The barons gasped in wonder. "Do go on!" Vandor grinned.

Dirk interrupted silently in her mind, "Tread carefully. They are all well aware of my troop locations. Tell them this: our spies have learned that Baaldorf is garrisoning several hundred men in his castle, preparing for a siege. Instead, we will use his castle to trap his army in a slaughter like the one at Mora Valley. You will arrange for my army to gate in by magic and butcher Baaldorf's last defenses while they sleep."

Zyrdicia relayed the message precisely. The barons were in awe.

"Meanwhile, we will magically transport several regiments to Kirilia for the sea invasion. My army will push upward from Camarand's coast to meet the forces pushing down from Tronin and Baaldorf."

"That will take a lot of men. Do you have that many left?" she wondered.

"Tell them!"

Zyrdicia complied, then added, "The southern population that survives will be taken into slavery to support our new economy. Their toil will enrich you all for many years to come."

Leknir advised, "We cannot constrain our monarch's ability to lead the nation. His power as Regent is limited. Victory demands that he have full authority to lead as king!"

A chorus of agreement met the pronouncement. "Here, here!"

Reznit pressed his lips together, thinking.

Leknir watched him closely, then said, "We would know your mind."

Reznit glanced at Zyrdicia, his expression pained. "May I speak freely, my lady?"

"Of course," she smiled with deceptive warmth, reaching across the table to touch his hand reassuringly. "We are friends," she lied.

"Victory more properly demands your presence among us. Anyone who fails to see that is a fool. We are indebted to Saris' son for earning the gods' favor and bringing your miracles to the land. News of your engagement is happy indeed. I support his ascension to the throne because through you, fate smiles upon us all. Any power we can grant Dirk as king pales against the power the gods have granted in sending you to us, my lady. The might of the crown flows through your blessing."

Zyrdicia liked hearing this in such a forum. She nudged Dirk telepathically from afar and teased, "Pay attention. Are you getting all this?"

"I'm afraid the monocle is blocking it. How unfortunate."

"Liar."

"Call for the ascension ratification now! They'll do as you tell them."

"So much for the monocle malfunctioning. . ."

"DO IT!"

"Ratification of the new king is the gods' will. And mine," Zyrdicia said softly, fixing each of them in turn with her beguiling, otherworldly gaze. A hint of an enigmatic smile left no doubt in anyone's mind that she alone could speak for the divine forces at work in the cosmos.

Heads nodded fondly in agreement. Leknir moved to place the piece of wood in his hand in a large silver bowl in the center of the table. He set it in the bowl's center, directly over the large image of the Blackpool crest carved into the vessel's flat bottom. The four other barons followed suit, each placing a small bit of wood representing their region in the bowl. Only Dagonia's ratification remained. Zyrdicia picked up the stick and twirled it elegantly in her fingers. She envisioned snapping it apart, just to watch their reactions. She hoped the dramatic pause would cause a certain unseen observer's heart to quicken.

Finally, she finished the game. Karteia would have a new king. Reznit smiled and announced, "As for the marriage, it must take place immediately. Before the coronation!"

Vandor cut in, "Well, everyone is already assembled here. Delaying it would only create a need to reconvene the nobility."

Zyrdicia forced herself to conceal her shock. This was not at all what she had in mind. She had never really imagined going through with this part of the bargain. She had not given it much thought, actually. She had vaguely pictured that she would rip apart Camarand right away, force Dirk to help her spawn Zyr's soul quickly and be gone before the issue of marriage ever really came to a head.

"Indeed," Leknir nodded. "Both the union and the coronation could take place this very night! Delay is not in the realm's interest."

"Wise counsel, as always, Baron Leknir!" Dirk's imperious voice boomed from the doorway behind Zyrdicia, startling everyone. Since there was no formal impediment to his presence, the prince apparently intended to include himself in the meeting. Dirk continued, "The marriage contract is already drafted. It can be finalized in a few hours time. We shall schedule its signing and the coronation for midnight."

A chorus of approval met the proclamation. Zyrdicia settled back in the chair in silence. She had been so focussed upon her own problems that she had not considered what she would be walking into in Karteia. She escaped one trap only to careen into another.