Free Samual by Greg Curtis Page B

horse out of his sanctum through the underground tunnel.
     
    Lord Cameral stood in the background, holding a drink and giving the impression he was there simply to socialise. And yet Heri noticed he didn't take a single sip of his drink. He pretended to be just a guest enjoying himself, but really he was there to see what he could learn. Watching and listening carefully to everything around him and looking for any piece of information he could exploit. The man was a plotter and a schemer. Luckily his lands were weak. He could cause Heri trouble but ultimately could not take the throne and he knew it.
     
    And then there were the Fallbrights. The entire accursed family was here, all of them stuffed into fine clothes that they looked distinctly uncomfortable in. They were a bunch of brigands – though they called themselves soldiers – who had seized an estate a generation or two back, and held it ever since by force of arms. Naturally they had no respect for him since he wasn't the warrior they wanted, and they weren't afraid to point that out. They weren't going to enjoy today's session of the Court Heri promised himself. That would be his only joy today.
     
    To make matters worse, it was also a celebration – the archaic festival of the midsummer sun or some such thing – and so there were a number of white robed priests of the All Father currently littering the marble tiled floor with their presence and intoning prayers. He hated the priests, and if the gods truly existed he didn't like them much either. But he needed their support so he publicly followed the All Father and pretended faith. He spent good gold keeping the All Father's poxy great temple in good order, and insisted that the people follow the observances of the king of gods. He even kept an adviser from the temple on hand, though he never listened to him.
     
    But at least it was the king of gods that he supported publicly. A worthy god for a king to worship. Not some miserable little god like Vineus or worse the god of one of the other races like the elves' pathetic Goddess. He allowed the worship of the other gods – a king had to indulge the weak minds of his subjects – as long as they didn't go against his rulings. So the priests of the Red God of War and Vineus could be seen walking the streets freely. Phil the White had his own temple in the city. Healing was always a valued gift. The priests of Draco however had been banned from the realm. He had nothing against dragons as long as they stayed far away from him, but their priests liked to play with fire literally and that threatened the safety of everyone. Naturally none of Draco's priests were in attendance.
     
    But as if to make up for their absence there were minstrels. He hated minstrels. Their singing tore at his ears, the sounds of their harps and lutes were pure torture. Adding insult to injury he recognised them as nothing more than a bunch of thieves and beggars who told endless lies about him across a thousand inns. He would have had them all put to the sword had it been allowed. He regularly prayed to the All Father to have them struck down by some plague. But of course that never happened. The gods – if they truly existed – did not do as he asked. And to kill them himself would simply have been seen as a king gone mad, and would have stirred up the people against him. So he had to tolerate them.  As the king he had to be seen by the people as at least fair. They were never going to love him as they had loved his father, but if he was considered fair, then at least they wouldn't turn on him.
     
    Heri's mother had taught him that, before she'd turned against him and he'd imprisoned her in the towers with the rest of his enemies. Stupid woman, she'd actually thought that she could control the throne through him. Now she had plenty of time to reflect on her mistakes. He was the king and she should have known better. But still, he visited her and listened to her advice from time to