[Fordim Hedgethistle]

With the dawn came a new day and a new sense of purpose. Slipping from his canopied bed and stretching his limbs out to remove the night from his joints, Faroz smiled easily at the reflection of himself in the long polished silver mirror that hung from his wall. The emptiness of that same mirror from the night before was almost hard to believe now, and the bright light of the sun as it streamed through the arches from the balcony seemed almost to make unreal what had happened. More from a sense of mischievous play than any real concern to test the reality of his memory, Faroz slipped the Ring from the light chain about his neck and put it upon his finger once more. As had happened last night he felt suddenly more solid, more real, even, than his surroundings. The very stone of the Palace became insubstantial and distant, as though seen through a fog, whereas he was bright and tall, almost terrifying in his naked presence. And yet in the mirror there was only his bed and beyond it the rich tapestries that adorned his walls. He removed the Ring and put it back on its chain before calling to his servants.

As he was being dressed and brushed, his mind wandered back to the journey of the night before. He had been startled, at first, by the High Priestess’s cry, and – not knowing what had happened and feeling only that he was the most visible being in the world – he had recoiled from the balcony. The feeling that the Ring gave him had been oddly disconcerting, and he was upon the verge of removing it when he glanced in the mirror and had been forced to stifle a cry of his own. Only then had he looked down at himself and seen nothing but the air. It had come to him in a flash what the gift of the Lord Annatar was, and what it meant. What is the King’s greatest enemy? his father had asked him, so many times that it became something of a ritual with them. The answer, so perplexing that first time the question had been posed came to Faroz as easily now as it had in all those morning lessons: secrets and lies, he could hear himself saying in his youthful voice. He looked down at where he hands should be once more and smiled. Who could keep a secret from one that walks unseen? And what lies were safe from a man who could look anywhere for the truth?

Motivated by the newfound power that was suddenly his, the King had slipped from his room and, moving through the moonlit corridors of the Palace like a spirit, he went to the apartments of the Queen. The doors were closed when he arrived and there were guards about, but he had made a noise to attract them and when they approached he had slipped in behind them and entered the room. He moved past the sleeping forms of the servants and sought out his wife’s bed chamber. He had known that she would not be sleeping, for she was restless at all times, but doubly so when she had matters to consider. And so he had found her pacing about her room in little more than a simple shift, and while her eyes had been open and aware, she had not seen him, although as he moved nearer to her she shivered and pulled a shawl about her shoulders, glancing about the room as though looking for the source of a chilling breeze.

Faroz returned to the present and dismissed the servants, bidding them send in Jarult for there was much business to be done this day. He had been dressed in simple robes of silk, for there were no official occasions this day, only private appointments. He ordered that his morning meal be brought to him in his apartments, and the food arrived just before the Chamberlain. At the King’s command they sat down to their meal together. They spoke of court matters as they ate the meal of bread and cold grains left over from the banquet. The cooks had taken the vegetable dishes, mixed them with yoghurt and reseasoned them with mint. Faroz, made hungry by his night, worked his way through three pieces of flat bread as he tore pieces to scoop up the dish. As they ate the fruit which concluded the meal, the Chamberlain told the King of his day’s appointments. “This morning, Lord, you are to meet with a delegation from the harbour guild. They have raised a great sum of money for a new wharf but would like to borrow funds from the treasury as well so that they might construct a new warehouse complex.”

“Didn’t we already pay to build a large warehouse last year?”

“Indeed, Majesty, but trade is good.” The Chamberlain spoke as though this were a troublesome fact of life. He was a decidedly old fashioned man, much like Faroz’s father, and while he grudgingly acknowledged the importance of trade to the health of his kingdom, he did not think highly of those who engaged in it. Nor did he relish the idea of having to spend time dealing with it. Because of this, his heart fell when the King said that he should meet with the guild members himself. “But my King,” he protested as mildly as he could, “they will want to speak with you themselves about the need for funds. Should we deny it to them, it will have more import coming from you.”

“You believe that we should deny them the funds, which is why you say this. Jarult, do not look down upon the traders and the guilds, for without them we may as well surrender to Alanzia today! I have read their petitions and seen their reports for the future and am inclined to advance a sum to them of approximately two-thirds the amount that they have asked. You can just as easily tell them of this decision as I.” The old man began to protest once more but the King raised a hand to forestall him. “I have a more important matter that needs attending to, and I am eager to see it done. This afternoon I am to meet with those whom I put off yesterday, and I am engaged for midday to speak with the Emissary, so this morning is all the time I will have for this.”

“May I ask what this matter entails?”

“I am considering the request of the nobles for a new temple, if you must know Jarult. I am somewhat inclined to build it, but there are people I must speak with on the matter before I decide.”

“You will want to speak with the Priest and High Priestess then,” the Chamberlain said, and he prepared to leave.

Faroz put out his hand to stay him. “Not yet, Jarult. Before I involve them I need first to speak with those whom this new temple will more directly affect.”

The Chamberlain’s face took on a look of wonder as he replied, “Who could possibly be more affected by a temple than they?”

“Well, my wife, whose piety is much greater than my own, would undoubtedly say that it would affect the people and our gods! But I was thinking of matters far less lofty. If we are to have a temple to Rea then we will need the money to build it. The royal treasury is already taxed at the moment by the demands of the military, and this new harbour project will not yield new revenue for some years at least. Besides, the people who want the temple are the nobility, and should thus be the ones to pay for it. The Lord Korak and Lady Arshalous are both wealthy and, I think, can be persuaded to support the project. For his part Korak has been voluble in his support of it, although I doubt he understands the issue fully. The Lady Arshalous is not, I think, as favourably inclined toward it, but I believe we can convince her.”

“I have heard that she is opposed to the project entirely, Majesty. Why not seek out the support of one more…amenable?”

“Would it not be more effective to have one initially opposed to the temple agree to fund it?” the King replied. “More than that, would it not be pleasing to our people for a Lady to support the new temple, as well? It might also help me quell any problems with the High Priestess Zamara. Besides, the Lady Arshalous is powerful and rich, but she remains a single woman, and an insecure one at that. It shouldn’t be hard to convince her of the…benefits of cooperating with us.” A slow smile crossed the Chamberlain’s face. He had never been overly fond of the Lady Arshalous, to whom he was distantly related through marriage. “Go Jarult, and send for the Lord Korak and Lady Arshalous. Bid them join me in my apartments within the hour.”