Free The King's Name by Jo Walton Page A

not know Glyn as I did; if he had he would have put aside all this talk of low breeding. I remembered him throwing an acorn cake out of the window and bellowing on the night before his wedding. I remembered him laughing with Osvran in camp. How had that joy gone to this bitterness? He was right that the land of Bregheda would have to consent to any king, but the land was more likely to want a grown man with children of his own than a half-grown boy. And how could he know? Nobody could speak for the land without being the king already, except Urdo, who was high king of the whole island. As for Morthu, I couldn't see why Angas didn't realize what a terrible idea it would be to give him power. I would have to reply to this straight away. Angas was confused and unhappy, he could be set straight—if only I could get through to him. I realized that any letter I
    sent would not reach him, as this had not reached me. Morthu was like an impenetrable barrier between us. I
    would have to send someone I trusted, and someone Angas trusted too, all the way to Demedia, before any message could get through.
    I shook my head. The feeble proof of Urdo's "tyranny" was all invented by Morthu, cleverly playing on Angas's weaknesses; his pride, the intolerance of the low born he had inherited from his parents, his loneliness.
    "There is nobody I can turn to," I read. "Osvran and Eirann are dead, Marchel is exiled, and you and
    Penarwen are far away. My decurios are not my equals. My children are too young to understand my mind.
    Hivlian is gone to Thandeilo to be a monk. I would not let her go, but when Eirann's fourth birth was twins she said that Quintien was a replacement for her in the family and a miracle. I could not keep her back then. She would not stay even when Eirann weakened and died. She has powers, like my mother, and she said she would be safest inside a monastery. I do not know Page 29

    if she feared madness like my mother. Sometimes I fear that even though I have no such powers.
    I have thought to taking the pebble myself, in memory of Eirann and as a shield against the night."
    Poor Angas. What he needed was a strong friend nearby to talk sense into him. Morthu was enough to drive anyone mad. Urdo should have thought of that before sending him to Demedia.
    I wished I had killed him when
    I first saw him. Angas couldn't do it himself, of course. If only Osvran had lived and been there to do it for him.
    "Maybe Morthu is mad; I have often thought so. He tells me he knows through his powers that Urdo means to diminish all the kings, and there is other evidence as I have said. But he has grown a hatred against you that is beyond all rationality. He says, forgive me Sullen, that your son Darien is not Urdo's son but was conceived incestuously with your brother Darien. No matter how many times I tell him that we all know you spent the night with Urdo at Caer Gloran, and no matter how often I remark on the resemblance between Urdo and Darien, whose skin is half as pale as a Jarn, like his father, Morthu will not listen. I fear that people who do not know you and do not know Darien may believe him. But I know this is a lie, and it makes me distrust other things that my brother tells me.
    "This is why lam sending two copies of this impossible letter. (I will never call you tactless again after the things I have written here!) The first copy I will send by the red-cloaks. If it does not reach you and this does, then you will know that Morthu is speaking the truth when he says that Urdo is reading everything they carry and that is why some letters I send to the kings go ever unanswered. This one I shall entrust to my servant, Vigen the Dumb. You, with your famous memory, may remember Vigen from when we were stationed at Caer Gloran—I had found him work in the bathhouse there. He lost a leg long ago fighting the Isamagans, and then my father cut out his tongue because he would not speak against me and Osvran when we were boys. I have