Free The Cup and the Crown by Diane Stanley

Molly—you’ll be the guest of a near relative, Claus Magnusson, a professor at the university. His father was William’s brother, so that would make him a cousin of sorts. The family knows Westrian, so language won’t be a problem.”
    “What about me?” Tobias asked.
    “You’ll be staying with a gentleman named Richard Strange. He was born in Westria, so he knows the language. I’m sure you’ll suit each other splendidly. Now, come. Get your things. Robbin, you take Lord Worthington over to Neargate. I’ll see to the lady. Do you want my mother to accompany us?”
    “No,” Molly said. “It’s just a stuffy old custom.”
    “As you like, my dear. Shall we go?”
    And then they were out the door and through the gates of the university, where they parted—she to go one way and he another. It had all happened too fast.
    “But how will I see Tobias?” she asked. “We didn’t make any plans. I don’t even know where he’s staying.”
    “Don’t worry. Dr. Magnusson will arrange it. No problem at all.”

9
The Great Seer
    KING KOENRAAD WAS VERY OLD. He was nearly blind, profoundly deaf, and too frail to walk without assistance. He’d completely forgotten his once-beloved queen, dead now these many years; and he didn’t recognize Prince Fredrik, the son she’d borne him. Every night he’d ask his gentlemen of the chamber where his mother was and why she hadn’t come to kiss him before he went to sleep. He mostly stayed in bed, except on good days, when he’d have himself carried to a large leather chair in which he’d sit by the fire, a woolen blanket draped across his lap, summer and winter.
    This was a tragedy for Harrowsgode. For though Prince Fredrik was everything you’d want in a king—sensible, judicious, and wise—he was not permitted to step into the breach and rule in his father’s place. The law quite clearly stated that a king’s position was absolute so long as he drew breath. That left the Privy Council in charge, since their official duty was to assist and advise the king.
    The Council, all Magi, held their meetings in the Celestium, an airy chamber in the central tower of Harrowsgode Hall. There, all matters concerning the city were thoughtfully discussed, sometimes for hours, until consensus was reached and a decision made.
    If the Celestium was the city’s reasoning mind, the buzzing hive of government offices below on the second floor was unquestionably its beating heart, for here those decisions were put into action.
    The heart and mind were linked in the person of Soren Visenson, the chief counselor of Harrowsgode, whose title was Great Seer. Every morning he went downstairs to meet with his principal ministers to hear their reports and pass along the will of the Council.
    On this particular day he’d stayed later than usual due to a meeting with the designers and engineers of a new citywide hot-water system soon to be up and running. They were just finishing their discussion when the Minister of Security came rushing in without even bothering to knock. He was flushed and breathing hard.
    “Your Excellency,” he said, “please excuse the interruption, but I just received word that strangers have been seen entering the valley. There are five of them: three men and two women. The men are all carrying swords.”
    A chill fell over the room—for though their city walls were strong and high, their moat deep and wide, and their ramparts always manned with well-trained archers, they’d never wanted, and had never had, an army. They’d counted on magic and mountains to protect them. And now, for the first time in the hundreds of years since they’d settled in the valley, magic and mountains apparently had failed them.
    “It could mean nothing, my lord. There aren’t enough of them to do us any harm; and they came quite openly, bringing women. That’s not what you’d expect from a raiding party.”
    “You said they were armed.”
    “Yes, but I’m told that foreigners