Authors: John Marco

The Eyes of God (9 page)

BOOK: The Eyes of God

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It was a difficult concept for Cassandra. What good was freedom without food? Someone had to work the fields. But she was intrigued by the man and his bold ideas, and wanted to hear more.

“How will you do this?” she asked. “How will you make these changes, my lord?”

“It won’t be easy. There will be people who oppose me, strong landowners mostly, and old aides of my father who think things should stay the same. There were many who didn’t even want me to make this peace with Reec. They said it couldn’t be done, but I’ve proven them wrong. And I will prove them wrong about all my ideas.” He rubbed his hands together, satisfied with himself. “I have dreams for Liiria, Cassandra. Great dreams.”

She closed the gap, the last few inches separating them. “We all have dreams, Akeela,” she said softly. “Tell me yours. What will you do in Liiria?”

Akeela loved being close to her. She could sense it in him. “There is one thing,” he said. “My biggest dream of all. My Cathedral of Knowledge.”

“Cathedral? You mean a temple?”

“No,” laughed Akeela. “That’s just what I call it, my Cathedral of Knowledge. I’m talking about a library. The biggest, most extensive library in the world!”

Cassandra frowned, confused. “How will that help Liiria, my lord?”

“Don’t you see? It’s knowledge that changes things, Cassandra. How many people in Hes can read and write? Not many, I’d bet. Probably half the servants in this castle have never even held a book. That’s just plain wrong; it’s keeping them ignorant. They need to be educated. Knowledge gives people power.”

The idea was scandalous. “My lord, knowledge is a dangerous thing. If all the commoners had knowledge, what would they need with kings and queens? Such ideas are for the royal, surely.”

“Why? Why should you and I and our privileged families be the only ones to read and write? Why can’t a farmer become a teacher if he wishes to?”

“Because . . .” Cassandra fumbled for a reply. “Because it’s the way of things, that’s why.”

Akeela’s smile grew sly. “Ah, that’s the very thinking I’ll have to battle, Princess. The thought that just because things have always been one way, that they won’t be better another. But my library can change that. When it’s done, it will be filled with books and scrolls from all over the world. Then people will come to Liiria, making pilgrimages to study there. They’ll bring more new ideas with them, too, and then there will be knowledge for everyone. And when that happens, all Liirians will have opportunities they can barely imagine!”

Cassandra chuckled, struck by his fantasy. Even if he built his library, there was no way it could have its intended impact. He was just a man, more like a boy really, and his youth had clouded his judgement. For a moment, Cassandra wondered if she really did want to be queen to Akeela’s king. Instead of setting Liiria on a brave new path, he might be herding it toward chaos.

“I think your dream is very grand,” said Cassandra. She smiled, not wanting to hurt his feelings but not wanting to encourage him too much, either. He sensed her elusiveness at once.

“I’m not naive, Cassandra,” he said. “I know that changing things won’t be easy. I’ll have a great deal of opposition. But I’d like a queen that can share my dream, at least a little.” He stayed close to her, looking into her eyes. “Tell me what you dream,” he asked.

The question was too probing for Cassandra. How could she confess her dreams? Compared to Akeela’s, her own seemed so greedy. She replied, “I want peace for my people and a good life for myself. That would satisfy me.”

“That’s it?” pressed Akeela. “Nothing more?”

Cassandra thought for a moment. She decided to confide in him, just a little. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to be free of this place, my lord? How would you feel if you knew I was anxious to see new places?”

“And new people?”

Cassandra gazed out over the city. “Yes,” she sighed, brooding over a world that had become too familiar.

“I would say that you and I are not so different,” said Akeela. “You see? You were right—everyone has dreams, Cassandra. The people of Liiria have dreams, all of them. I will help them meet those dreams. And as queen you will help me.”

“You are going to be a very odd king, my lord,” said Cassandra. “I wonder what kind of queen I will make in a land of scholars and wise men.”

“A fine one, I’m sure,” said Akeela. “Having you for my queen is part of my dream now, Princess. You’ll love Liiria, and my people will adore you. And you’ll see—this isn’t some delusion. I’m going to build my library, and I’m going to change Liiria forever.”

It was a frightening thought, but it was also compelling. Compared to her stagnant life in Castle Hes, with its suffocating walls and tiresome chatter, Cassandra’s new life in Liiria might be magical. She would be wife to this good man, and she would be happy.

She hoped.

“I want to be your wife,” she said without thinking. “I want to marry you and go to Liiria and be away from Reec forever. And I want to go now, my lord.”

Akeela was stunned by her forwardness. “Are you sure? I mean, have you really thought about it?”

“I have thought about little else since your messenger came with your peace offer. I have made my decision, and I know I won’t regret it. If you’ll have me, I will be your queen.”

“Oh, my lady,” sighed Akeela. “You’ve made me very happy. I promise you, you will adore Liiria.”

It sounded dreamy, almost too perfect. “Yes,” Cassandra agreed. “We can marry as soon as you wish. I’m anxious to see your country.”

“Good,” said Akeela. “Then I will leave at once and prepare a place for you.”

“
You’ll
leave?” asked Cassandra. “But won’t I be going with you, my lord?”

“Eventually, of course. But not right away. I have a wedding to plan. I have to ready the castle, send invitations—the list is endless, really. Oh, but don’t worry, Princess. It won’t take more than a month, I shouldn’t think.”

Cassandra was crestfallen. “A month? That long?”

“Well, three weeks at least. Then you can come to Liiria, and all the capital will be ready for you. And you’ll have a contingent of Royal Chargers with you, my lady.” Akeela smiled proudly. “Lukien will be your escort.”

The princess’ eyebrows went up. “That one? Oh, no, my lord. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Lukien is my best knight, my lady,” said Akeela. “He’s the only one I trust to protect you.”

“We have plenty of soldiers in Hes that can escort me,” Cassandra argued. “I don’t need your infamous knight to keep me safe.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but it’s already arranged,” said Akeela firmly. “I’ll feel better knowing that Lukien is here, looking after you. And the road can be treacherous for a woman. If there are highwaymen about, Lukien will deal with them. Or worse, there may be garmys on the road. They come out in the wet weather.”

Cassandra shook her head. “You’re not understanding me,” she said. “The Bronze Knight is an outlaw here, worse than any highwayman. Worse even than a garmy. He may be a hero in Liiria, but in Reec he is a butcher.”

The young king looked wounded. “Princess, Lukien is like a brother to me. He
is
my brother, really. My father took him off the streets and raised him as his own. We went to war college together, and we’re rarely apart. Forgive me, but if you’re going to be my wife, you’re going to have to accept him. And I can think of no better way to start then by letting him escort you to Koth.”

Her argument lost, Cassandra sank back. Riding with Lukien was inconceivable, but losing Akeela’s approbation—that was unthinkable.

“Very well,” she conceded. “I’ll let your knight take me to Koth, because it’s your wish and because I trust your virtue, King Akeela, not his. But I don’t want him speaking to me. He may escort me, and that’s all.”

“My lady . . .”

“Those are
my
wishes, my lord,” said Cassandra. “Please.”

Akeela relented without arguing. “Then that is how it will be,” he said. “I’ll leave for Koth the day after tomorrow, and will send word when I’m ready to receive you. Until then, Lukien and some others will stay behind in Hes.”

Cassandra nodded, hating the idea. “Will I see you again before you go?”

The young king came closer, his eyes jumping. “I’d like that very much,” he said. Then, without waiting for an invitation, he kissed her. Cassandra was startled by the gesture but didn’t resist. His soft lips brushed her own, and the sensation was sweet, almost too gentle for the kiss of a man. When he was done, he leaned back and smiled at her. “Your father will want us all to get together before I leave,” he said. “I will see you then.”

“Yes,” agreed Cassandra. “All right.”

He left without another word, departing the balcony and disappearing through the conservatory. Cassandra’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment, then she turned toward the city and the eastern horizon. Somewhere out there, beyond the city walls of her gilded cage, Liiria beckoned. The old enemy of her people, with all its myth and fantasy. In a month she would finally be there. She would emerge from under her sisters’ shadows, the queen of a fabled land. Suddenly she felt like dancing, and turned in a pirouette on the balcony, laughing. When she did the smallest movement caught her eye, something unseen in the conservatory. Cassandra stopped twirling.

“Jancis?” she called. “Is that you?”

There was no answer. Cassandra squinted, sure that someone was watching. She took a step forward, enough to startle the intruder, and for a moment caught a glimpse of Lukien peering at her through the foliage. The Bronze Knight’s face was blank, unreadable. When he realized the princess had seen him, he backed away quietly, then turned and left the conservatory.

A chill passed through Cassandra. She thought of pursuing him, but didn’t. She thought of telling Akeela about the intrusion, but knew she wouldn’t. She simply stared at the place that Lukien had been, enchanted by his strangeness.

A
ral Vale sat alone in the corner of the Red Lion, staring at his reflection in a tankard of ale. It was his third drink, at least, and the liquor embraced him warmly, like a lover. Outside, night had seized the city, suffocating all sound. It was well past midnight, and the inn had lost most of its patrons to sleep. Now it was very quiet, the way Aral needed it. He supposed his wife would be worried about him, but he didn’t really care. Presently, Aral Vale cared about very little. He had his ale to keep him company and a gallery of ugly images in his mind, and all he could do was focus on the dreadful reflection in his ale and remember the grievous thing he had done.

Being a farmer wasn’t easy. That’s what Aral’s father had told him. It had been intended as a warning not to leave the family coopery in Marn, but Aral hadn’t listened. His father was a drunk and Aral had been anxious to be rid of him, and when he had learned that a parcel of inexpensive land had opened up near Koth, he had snatched the opportunity eagerly. Aral smiled forlornly. It all seemed like a very long time ago. In the intervening years he had married and poured his heart into his little farm, only to have weather and pests eat his profits. He had dreamed of being a landowner, like the Duke of Marn, but his land had given him precious little, mostly calluses. Worse, his wife had been as barren as his farm, giving him one stillborn child after another. She was only twenty- four now, still young enough to bear children, but she was cursed, and that was the truth of it.

“Cursed,” Aral whispered. “Like me.” He picked up his tankard and drank a deep mouthful, enjoying its soothing burn. In a minute the beer was gone. Aral fished into his threadbare trousers and pulled out another coin. Slapping it down loudly on the table, he called for the barman to bring him another. The fat proprietor obliged, eager to keep his only customer drinking, and set a fresh tankard with a foaming head down in front of Aral. He took the coins and, at no extra charge, gave the young man a sympathetic look. Aral scowled at him.

“Something you want to say to me?”

The barman replied, “I’m sorry about what happened to your newborn.”

Aral looked down, ashamed to face the man. “It’s the way of the Fate.”

BOOK: The Eyes of God

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