The Eyes of God Page 3

  “How many years have Reec and Liiria been at war?” pressed Karis. His tone was featureless, neither threatening nor mild. “Do you know?”

  “Since before I was born, my lord,” replied Akeela. “For twenty-eight years, since the battle of Awalak.”

  “That’s right,” sighed Karis. “A very long time, your whole lifetime and more. So tell me then why a scholar like yourself is so anxious to end a war his father loved, so soon after taking his place.”

  Insulted, Lukien stepped forward. “You presume a great deal, King Karis,” he said. “King Balak never loved war. To say so is to slander him.”

  “Lukien,” said Akeela, taking his shoulder. “Be easy.”

  King Karis rose from his throne. For the first time, anger flashed in his eyes. “You are the Bronze Knight,” he declared. “Butcher. I should warn you to be silent, Lukien of Liiria. You are not so welcome here as your king.”

  Lukien wanted to speak but Akeela’s insistent grip on his shoulder stopped him. Akeela stepped forward, saying, “Lukien is my champion, my lord. I go nowhere without him, and you’ve already agreed to let him accompany me.”

  “Yes,” said Karis. “I did agree, because I wanted to speak with you, King Akeela, and to hear your offer.” His eyes went to Lukien. “But I warn you, Bronze Knight—I tolerate you only for the comfort of your king.”

  Akeela said calmly, “And I should warn you, King Karis, that Lukien was as close to King Balak as a son. Speaking against my father will invite his ire. And mine.”

  Karis grunted suspiciously. “You are brothers, then?”

  “Of a kind,” replied Akeela.

  “All right, then,” agreed Karis. “We are here to talk peace, after all.”

  Before Akeela could respond, a clamor sounded in the doorway. Lukien turned to see Trager, Breck, and four others of their brigade toting the iron box. Earl Linuk was before them, smiling at his king.

  “My lord, forgive me, but King Akeela has brought this for you.”

  Karis looked perplexed, and also strangely pleased. He stepped down from his dais just as the sweating men dropped the chest to the floor with a thud.

  “What is it?” Karis asked.

  “Gifts,” said Akeela brightly. “From Liiria to you, King Karis. I think you’ll like what we’ve brought you. In fact, I have something very special to give you.”

  Lukien bristled, realizing what Akeela meant. But Karis seemed intrigued. Instantly he had lost his dispassion toward Akeela, and now seemed to share the young man’s exuberance. Raxor and Arnod gathered near him as he peered at the box. To Lukien, they looked like a bunch of children waiting for Akeela to open a toy chest. Then, as if he’d suddenly come to his senses, Raxor put out a hand.

  “Wait, my lord,” he told Karis. His eyelids narrowed on Akeela. “Tell us first what is in there.”

  “Raxor . . .”

  “Brother, it could be dangerous,” advised the war minister. “I’m sorry to say this in front of our guests, but they are Liirians, after all.”

  The king flushed. “Forgive my brother, King Akeela. He means no offense, I assure you.”

  Akeela produced a shiny silver key from beneath his cape. “I promise you, my lord, there is no danger in the box. Only good things. May I proceed?”

  “Of course,” said Karis, ignoring his brother’s concern. He stepped closer to the box in a show of goodwill. Raxor stood beside him, but Arnod kept back a pace. Curiosity got the better of Earl Linuk, who came to stand next to his king, and as Akeela clicked open the padlock and tilted open the iron lid, the faces of the Reecians took on an amber glow, bathed in the reflected glow of the contents. Nearly everything in the box was gold; coins and candelabras and carving knives, rings and plates and picture frames, all shimmering in the chest. It was more than a fortune, more than a king’s ransom, and it made Karis’ jaw drop. The Reecian king hovered over the box, dumbfounded. Akeela swelled proudly.

  “For the people of Reec,” he said. “From the people of Liiria. There’s something in here from nearly every citizen of Koth, my lord. These are not only valuables from my own coffers, but from farmers and blacksmiths, even from my own soldiers, here.” He gestured to Lukien, who himself had tossed a gold-hilted dagger into the chest.

  Karis could barely speak. “They did this for you?” he asked.

  “They did this for peace,” said Akeela. “Not for me.”

  “My king is modest,” said Lukien. “They would not have done this for any other ruler, not even his father.”

  King Karis shook his head in disbelief. “In Liiria they call you Akeela the Good,” he said. “I know this. And now I know why.”

  “It is the people of Liiria that are good, my lord. I asked them to contribute and they did so willingly.” Akeela brightened. “But that’s not all. Look closer at the chest, my lord.”

  Puzzled, Karis did as asked, staring into the box and its lustrous contents. “Yes?”

  “That bunch of cloth. Pick it up.”

  Laying atop the golden heap was a piece of blue linen, wrapped securely around a hidden item. Karis reached out and plucked it from the pile, holding it carefully.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Go ahead, unwrap it,” urged Akeela. Lukien cringed. Like Trager, he had dreaded this moment. It was the one thing he and his lieutenant agreed upon. He watched Karis peel the blue linen back until its contents was revealed—a little crystal bottle filled with clear liquid. Karis held it up to the light. His advisors gathered around to see it.

  “Forgive me, King Akeela,” said Karis, “but your gift is . . . baffling.”

  “That’s water from the river Kryss,” said Akeela. His voice quavered, and Lukien knew he was nervous. After this, there could be no going back. “It’s yours, my lord.”

  Karis looked at him, not quite understanding, or not daring to believe.

  “My lord, you said it yourself,” said Akeela. “Since before I was born, Reec and Liiria have battled, and all because of a river. We’ve always thought the Kryss was ours, and you’ve always thought it belonged to you. I don’t know how many people have died for that bloody stream; I don’t think anyone could count. But I’m king now, and I won’t let it go on.” He shrugged, and for a moment he looked more like a boy than a monarch. “The river Kryss is yours. If you’ll allow Liiria free trade on the western side, we will quarrel with you over it no more.”

  King Karis of Reec blinked, mute with surprise. He didn’t move, but merely stared at Akeela with his mouth open.

  “Fate above,” said Linuk. “Do you mean this?”

  “Everything my king says is the truth,” said Lukien. “Akeela the Good does not lie.”

  “You would give us the Kryss?” asked Raxor. The war minister seemed dazed. “Just like that?”

  “No,” said Akeela sharply. “Not just like that. For peace, and peace only. That’s the price for these gifts. You may keep all this gold, but if you break this pact there will be bloodshed again. And I’m gambling that none of us wants that. Do you want war, King Karis?”

  Still Karis didn’t reply. Clutching the bottle of river water, he climbed back to his throne, seating himself. Lukien knew Akeela’s gift had astonished him. After nearly thirty years of war, the Kryss was suddenly his, and now he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Do you know the cards of Noor, King Akeela?” he asked.

  Akeela nodded. In Liiria, fortune cards were common, just like all other arcane trappings. “I know of them, but that is all,” he replied.

  “When your father died, I read the cards,” said Karis. “I wanted to know what kind of man was succeeding him. The cards told me that you were a man of peace. It was the first time I thought they were lying to me. Now it seems the cards have shamed me. I should have listened.”

  Akeela stepped toward the throne. “We have an agreement, then?”

  Karis gave a huge grin. “Oh, young king, we have so much more than that. We have peace, for the first ti
me in my memory. You have made an old man very happy.”

  The Reecians in the room cheered, and Akeela and Breck joined them. Even Lukien grinned. Akeela clapped the shoulder of Earl Linuk, then embraced Raxor and Arnod in turn. Finally, he climbed onto the dais to take Karis’ hand, but Karis rose instead, took Akeela’s hand in his own, and placed a gentle kiss on it.

  “Tonight we will celebrate,” he declared. “There will be music and we will feast. All your men must attend, and we will show you how Reecians celebrate!”

  “Thank you, my lord,” said Akeela. To Lukien, he looked gigantically relieved. “Then we will see you tonight. And if you have rooms for us, we would be grateful. ’Twas a long road from Liiria.”

  “Rooms are already prepared for you,” said Karis. “Earl Linuk will escort you, and my servants will see to your needs. Rest well for tonight, King Akeela. You are not the only one with gifts.”

  Akeela squinted at him. “My lord?”

  Karis laughed and released his hand. “You’ll see what I mean. For now, just rest and enjoy my home.”

  2

  Akeela had been given chambers in the south tower of Castle Hes, overlooking the city and its vast marketplace. They were well appointed rooms, fit for a royal visitor, furnished lavishly with silk and tapestries. A cavernous collection of hallways connected the rooms, so that Akeela not only had a bed chamber, but also a dressing room and a separate room for bathing. A huge bed of iron and brass decorated with plush pillows had been prepared for him, along with a platter of fresh breads and cheeses. Earl Linuk, who had escorted Akeela to the rooms, had told him to rest and make ready for the banquet being prepared for him. Linuk had seen to Akeela personally, while Karis’ servants tended to the other Liirians, finding them rooms on lower floors. Linuk had not expected Lukien to insist on sharing the rooms with Akeela. Cordially, Linuk explained that he had prepared a nearby room for the king’s “bodyguard,” but Lukien had ignored him, choosing instead to remain with Akeela.

  Lukien was always with Akeela.

  Sometimes, it seemed to Lukien that he had been with Akeela his whole life. They were nothing alike, really, but over the years they had become like brothers, and had even been raised as such by Akeela’s father, Balak, who adored Lukien. Abandoned by his father and orphaned by the death of his mother, Lukien had lived in the streets of Koth, with only his ten-year old wits to protect him from the big-city predators. He had been a thief, stealing what he needed to survive or working for pennies in the slave-like conditions of smithies. By eleven he was emaciated from this grueling life, but by thirteen he was becoming a man, and life in the smithies had strengthened his body and hardened his heart. Then, at fourteen, he had met Akeela.

  Akeela, who was three years younger than Lukien, had been touring the Liirian capital with some of his father’s advisors. A contingent of guards had accompanied them, but Akeela, curious about things even then, had wandered off to explore on his own, blundering into the alleys Lukien called home. It hadn’t taken long for the roughs in the area to find the well dressed stranger. Even for his age Akeela was short, but he had defended himself against the youths that had robbed him, swearing when Lukien found him that he’d bloodied the noses of two of them. Of course it was Akeela who was truly bloody. Thoroughly drubbed by the boys, Akeela needed help finding his way back to his royal guardians. And when they had located the guards and gotten Akeela safely into his carriage, the boy-prince had told his protectors not to go looking for the youths that had robbed him, because they were poor and knew no better.

  In all the years since then, Lukien had never forgotten that moment. Had he been the victim, he would have tracked the rabble down and killed them, but not so this forgiving youngster. Instead, Akeela had insisted that Lukien return to the castle with them, to get some clean clothing and a good meal, and to meet his father, the king. There, the young Lukien was greeted as a hero for helping the prince, and King Balak had practically adopted him. He hadn’t left the castle since; as he had never left Akeela’s side, because the young prince needed him.

  But Lukien always remembered the hard-won lessons of the street, and he had never forgiven his drunken father for leaving him, nor his mother for dying. Those were burdens he carried with him everywhere, even onto the battlefield, and it was an unfortunate enemy indeed who came upon the Bronze Knight and his unwieldy emotions. In Koth’s castle he had grown to manhood, had studied in the Liirian war college, and graduated at the top of his class. He had become the paragon of a horse soldier, rising to command the Royal Chargers. Still Lukien brooded as he recalled his miserable life on the streets of Koth.

  All these things Lukien considered as he sat by the window overlooking Hes’ marketplace, absently chewing an apple. From high in the tower, Hes looked much the same as Koth, and the similarity triggered unpleasant memories. Lukien stretched out, holding back a sigh. Inside the dressing chamber, Akeela was preparing for the celebration. Lukien himself had already dressed, choosing a tunic of plain brown and some stiff black boots that Karis’ servants had provided. Already Lukien felt himself growing anxious. He didn’t like the idea of eating with Reecians, or of spending the evening being stared at. But Akeela was in a fine mood, for he had brokered his peace with Karis and was ready to celebrate. As the young king readied himself in the nearby chamber, Lukien could hear him whistling.

  Whistling. Lukien couldn’t help but laugh. At twenty-four, Akeela still resembled the boy he had rescued in the alley.

  “Akeela the Good,” he whispered, shaking his head. An apt name for such a blameless man. Suddenly, Lukien was pleased with his life as Akeela’s champion. Sometimes brothers are less than friends, he knew, but that didn’t mean there was love lost. Putting aside his half-eaten apple, he got out of the chair and strode toward the dressing chamber. “Almost ready?” he called. “They’ll be expecting us.”

  Akeela stepped out of the small room, his hair shining with oil, his blue tunic stunning. Across his waist rested a silver belt with a small, ceremonial dagger, while on his feet were a pair of thigh-high boots, polished to a gemstone-like luster.

  “I’m ready,” he declared. “And I’m starving.”

  “Let’s hope these Reecians can cook,” said Lukien. He glanced down at Akeela’s dagger. “You’re taking that?”

  Akeela caught his meaning. The Reecians had requested that Lukien himself bear no arms to the banquet. “It’s just for ceremony,” he explained. “Besides, you’ll be sitting next to me. If anyone tries to harm me, you can grab my dagger and save me, all right?”

  Lukien didn’t laugh. Without his weapons he felt naked. “I think they’d try to poison you first. Not much good I could do you then.”

  Akeela found a mirror in the hall and adjusted his collar. “You don’t trust them, I know. But you’ll see. The time for peace has come. The time for a new Liiria, maybe a whole new world.”

  “A grand dream.”

  “Nay, not a dream, Lukien. A plan.” The young king smoothed down his hair. “Shall we go?”

  With Akeela leading, Lukien followed him out of the chambers and into the hallway where two Reecian guards were waiting, ready to escort them downstairs. They explained that King Karis was already in the banquet chamber, and that many of Akeela’s men had gathered there, too. Akeela walked with eager strides as the guards led them down a flight of stairs, then into another hall, wide and tall. The hall was decorated with flowers, and as they neared the banquet room the strains of music reached their ears. Lukien could see Trager and Breck waiting for them just outside the banquet room. Breck wore a grin while Trager was unreadable, but both had dressed for the evening, sporting long capes trimmed with wolf fur. They looked fit, fine examples of Liirian excellence, and Lukien was proud of them. They bowed to Akeela as he approached.

  “How’s it look in there?” Lukien asked Breck, peering over his lieutenant’s shoulder. The chamber was crowded with people and pipe smoke.

  “You should see the feast they�
�ve laid out for us,” Breck replied. He was a big man who loved food, and his appetite shone in his eyes.

  “King Karis is already inside, waiting for you, my lord,” Trager told Akeela.

  Akeela nodded. “Go on, all of you, go first.”

  With a shooing gesture he ushered Trager and Breck into the banquet chamber, then asked the Reecians to proceed. Akeela steadied himself with a breath. Then, with Lukien at his side, he stepped into the tumult of the banquet. Instantly, every head in the chamber turned toward him, and the music grew. A crescendo of applause erupted and the Reecians banged the long banquet tables with their metal tankards and cheered for the foreign king. Servants with platters in their hands stopped in mid-service to gape, and the children of the castle nobles, who had been carefully outfitted in royal finery, pointed and giggled. At the end of the vast chamber, at a raised table against the far wall, King Karis stood and joined the applause. There was a huge goblet in his meaty fist and his beard parted in laughter. Around him were Earl Linuk and a dozen other nobles, while at a table to his left sat a group of lovely women all sharing a striking resemblance. These, Lukien guessed, were Karis’ daughters. He had heard that they were very beautiful, and now he saw the rumors were true. Each wore a long velvet dress and twinkling jewelry, and each had a husband or suitor seated beside her. As Akeela moved into the center of the room, his Royal Chargers, who had already gathered for the feast, gave a large round of cheers, drowning out even the whistling children. The hero’s welcome made Akeela flush. The young king gave a humble smile as he approached the table where Karis waited, two empty chairs directly on his right. Akeela thanked the crowds, trying to speak over the clamor, gesturing for quiet. But there was too much exuberance in the room for that, so he simply made his way to the head table with Lukien. There, with everyone watching, he and King Karis embraced. It was a light embrace, more like a handshake, but the peck the Reecian gave Akeela’s cheek told Lukien it was sincere.

  “A great day!” said Karis over the din. “And now, a great night to celebrate!”