Free The Cup and the Crown by Diane Stanley Page A

always carry swords for protection when they travel. Most likely they’re commonplace travelers who happened to lose their way.”
    Soren shook his head. “Impossible. No one finds this place by accident. We need to question them closely and find out how they came here, and why. But disarm them first—and take care how you do it. If you frighten them they’ll fight back, and someone might be harmed.”
    The minister nodded. “I understand. I’ll take my strongest men; we’ll go in the guise of a welcoming party and explain that we don’t allow weapons here. I doubt they’ll resist. They have a similar custom in Austlind, I believe—something about a visitor offering his sword to his host to show that he comes in peace.”
    “Good. Then once they’re disarmed, arrest them. I presume there is someplace in the village where criminals can be confined.”
    “I suppose; I’ll ask. But I’ll need a warrant to do it.”
    “I’ll write one out now—for their arrest and for their execution. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. If they leave this valley they’ll carry tales, and others are sure to follow. But question them thoroughly first—one at a time would be best, I think—then come and report to me. I’ll be here all day.”
    “Your Excellency,” the minister said with obvious discomfort, “such actions require the approval of the Council. And for execution, it has to be unanimous.”
    “We don’t have time for that. I’ll explain to the Council later. For now my signature will be sufficient.”
    “But, Your Excellency, I really can’t—”
    The Great Seer shot him a look of cold rage. “Then I’ll have to find someone who can.”
    The minister flushed with anger and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency. I only meant—”
    Just then they heard the pealing of the bell in the village tower.
    “We know, we know,” Soren muttered to himself. “Now go and round up your men—unless, of course, you’d rather resign, in which case please do me the favor of sending in your deputy.”
    “No need of that, my lord.”
    “I’m glad to hear it. Now go. By the time you’re ready, I’ll have the warrant.”
    As the Minister of Security turned to leave, a messenger arrived. He, too, stepped through the open doorway without asking permission to enter. Protocol had fallen by the wayside that day.
    “Your Eminence . . . Lord Minister,” he said, giving each of them a hasty bow. “The villagers have called up to the ramparts to say that there’s been a death. One of our own.”
    “Not again!” The Great Seer leaned back and gazed at the ceiling, fighting for his composure. “Drowned?”
    “No, sire. He survived the plunge, but then he took a shortcut through an enclosure, and a bull was in it. The animal killed the boy, or so it appears.”
    Soren turned to his minister, who’d been edging toward the door. “How could your men have missed him?” he roared. “Up there on the wall in plain sight, climbing over—”
    “Perhaps he did it in the dark of night.”
    “And no one heard the splash?”
    “I . . . it does seem rather unlikely, Your Eminence. Maybe the sound of the wind—”
    “Oh, the devil take you, Lord Minister! This was a needless tragedy, and a precious life was lost—all because of your incompetence.”
    The minister shut his eyes. He’d moved beyond fear and resentment now to complete and hopeless submission. Had the Great Seer asked him to pitch himself out of the window, he would have done it right away.
    “I am deeply ashamed,” he said.
    The Great Seer studied his minister in silence, considering whether the man was too dispirited to perform his duties properly in this moment of great emergency, and if so, whether the deputy was up to the task. He quickly came to the conclusion that a broken horse was a useful and obedient horse, and decided in favor of mercy.
    “All right,” he said. “We’ll discuss it later. For now, you and your men can go out