Free The King's Name by Jo Walton Page B

looked after him ever since, and I know he would not betray me. He is not much of a counselor, as he can neither speak nor write, but he can hear and he is loyal without doubt. Give him your answer and let him bring it to me."
    I dropped the letter and cried out. Vigen was dead. Daldaf had accused him of attacking him to rob him late at night in the town on a day after a market, almost a month before. I had indeed recognized him from long before at Caer Gloran, but a tongueless stranger can ill defend himself in court against a respected local liar.
    He had grunted fiercely and made threatening gestures toward Daldaf and imploring ones to me. Nobody had spoken for him and one of the merchants from a ship said he had caught him thieving in the market and sent him off with a beating. I had not thought long before I condemned him; I thought him a landless outlaw of the type I least wanted in Derwen. Angas had sent me the last person he could trust, and I had killed him in form of law. I could not even think what he must think of me now, what he must believe. If only I could go to Demedia myself, or Urdo could, I knew Angas would believe us. I wondered what Morthu would do if we did.
    But we could not, we were needed at home. Marchel was about to invade, and possibly Arling as well.
    I finished the letter, read it through again, then took my lamp into the accounts room. The hall was dark;
    everyone was in bed. I had to write to Urdo. Yet was there any point? Would a letter get through? How much correspondence was being stopped, and where? I realized I was baring my teeth and hissing. None of those letters I had spent the afternoon on could be sent, or if they were then there was a strong chance it would be only Morthu who would read them. I sat down and wrote to Urdo—a brief account of what had happened, and enclosing the letters I had Page 30

    found. I sealed it, then I went out to the barracks. There was a chill in the night air, even though it was summer. The sky was dark except in the west, where it was deep blue and the evening star burned as bright as a beacon.
    The guard greeted me with surprise. I wished I could take a horse and ride straight out the six days to Caer
    Tanaga. Brighteyes was rested, and so was Evenstar. Yet I could not; my duty to my land and people prevented it. I went into the barracks and looked at the sleeping armigers.
    Who among them could I trust utterly with this message of life and death? I had meant to wake Flerian ap Cado, my best scout, but seeing her asleep I remembered seeing her father dead only that morning, fighting for Aurien against me. The man in the bed next to her had a pebble of the White God gently rising up and down with his breathing. Who among these my people might have ties and allegiances elsewhere that meant they might betray me? After only one day I already hated civil war, hated it with all my heart.
    I prayed to the Lord Messenger to guide my choice, to get my message through. Then I knew I could trust them all, or none of them; those were my choices. I could be like poor Angas and retreat into trusting nobody, in which case Morthu would have won already. Or I could trust my people, my oath-sworn armigers, who had sworn to have no enemies save as they were Urdo's enemies and to harm none of his friends, to strike and go and do as he should command. I should not be foolish with traitors, but unless I knew them for such I should trust them. If I trusted them not to betray me then that trust would bind us all, bind the kingdom together. Rigg and Ayl and Angas had all written because they trusted me. I would be as worthy of that as I
    could. I bent and shook Flerian's shoulder gently.
    "Wake up," I said quietly. "I want you to take an urgent message to Urdo at Caer Tanaga, to go at once and as fast as you can, and to give it only to him, do you understand?"
    She struggled into wakefulness and sat up carefully. "Yes, sir," she said, pushing back her hair sleepily. "I
    will go