Ransom agreed and rolled up the parchment and put it back in the tube. He went back to the great hall with the others, relieved that he’d managed not to be poisoned . . . or worse. There was still a fire in the hearth, and he took a chair by it with Guivret and his new Espion friend.
“What’s your name?” Ransom asked.
“Hans Dragan,” said the fellow.
Something about that name sounded familiar. He felt a strange connection to the man without quite understanding why. Then again, he’d become accustomed to such things. He’d felt this way before, especially in the palace cistern, where he’d seen a flash of a boy and a girl. It had felt like he was being given a glimpse of another life. Another possibility. But the meaning of it eluded him.
They sat by the fire, talking in low voices so as not to disturb the sleep of the knights, but a howl of pain pierced the quiet. Guivret raised his eyebrows. “The barber must have pulled out that quarrel just now.”
“It was barbed,” said Hans.
Some of the sleeping knights lifted their heads from their pallets, looking around the great hall in confusion, and Ransom found himself chuckling.
They reached Averanche after two more days, a slower journey than normal because of the prisoners. Bodkin and the Espion who had attacked him traveled in irons, surrounded by knights at all times. By the time they arrived, Bodkin was weak from pain and blood loss and looked feverish. They left the lesser Espion in the courtyard under guards, while Ransom, Guivret, and Hans Dragan took Bodkin to see the king. There was no attempt to bribe or threaten them. The Espion master was completely miserable, his eyes haunted by what he knew must be coming.
They were told the king and queen were waiting for them in the solar, and so they made their way up the stairs. Bodkin whimpered as he went. Ransom saw the queen and the prince first, standing close to each other. The king was pacing nervously. When he saw Bodkin in chains, his brow furrowed with worry.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded of Ransom.
“He attempted to stop you from achieving peace with your dukes,” Ransom said, unslinging the leather tube and extending it to the king. “I arrived at Beestone two days ago, and he ambushed me in the middle of the night and tried to poison me. He’d been skulking beneath the castle.”
Jon-Landon’s eyes shot wide, and he regarded Bodkin with a look of betrayal.
“As I understand the situation,” Ransom continued, “he had tried persuading you to leave the kingdom. To seek refuge in Callait with your treasure.”
The king scowled. “That plan was supposed to be secret. He tried to poison you?”
Ransom removed the vial from his pocket and showed it to the king. The queen studied it too, then glowered at Bodkin.
“He planned to destroy the charter, my lord,” Ransom said. “The one that will ensure peace with your dukes.”
“But at what cost?” the king asked.
“Open it,” said his wife eagerly.
He twisted open the cap and took the rolled parchment over to the table. After spreading it out, he and his queen pored over the tiny writing. Ransom looked at Bodkin and saw defeat on his face. He hadn’t even tried to speak in his own defense.
The prince, Devon, came to the table and joined his parents. “What does it say, Maman?”
She told him to wait for her to finish. Ransom watched Jon-Landon’s expression as he came to the end of the document. It held a mixture of disappointment and relief. He shook his head in wonderment.
“This charter . . .” he said with a pause. “It binds me.”
Ransom said nothing, but he gave the king a hard look.
“This would apply to all the nobles of the realm?” Queen Léa said. She didn’t look entirely pleased by the prospect. “Even those who did not rebel. My father?”
“Yes, including him,” Ransom said.
“My father would never have agreed to something like this,” Jon-Landon said with bitterness.
“You’re right. And he lost the hollow crown and died.”
Léa took Jon-Landon’s hand and squeezed it. “You have no choice.”
That was an encouraging sign. Ransom dared to hope.
Jon-Landon rubbed his eyebrow, which had started twitching. “This decision affects not only me. It will bind our son. It will bind future kings.”
“It will,” Ransom said.
“But at least you will still be king,” Léa said coaxingly. “I don’t like Lord Kiskaddon either. It will be insufferable to bear his gloating, but we risk losing everything if we refuse.”
“He’s not gloating,” Ransom said to pacify her. “The Occitanians have attacked Kingfountain by sea. I believe they will strike you here, my lord. You must decide and then live with the consequences. Just as your brothers have. Just as your father did.”
“Kingfountain is under attack?” Jon-Landon asked worriedly.
That he didn’t know meant he’d lost control of his own Espion.
“Yes, but Duke Kiskaddon is defending it. There are armed mobs in the city, rioting in your name. If you end this, we can defend the city together. I’ve brought two hundred knights with me from Beestone to bring you safely away.”
“I am safe enough here,” Jon-Landon said.
Ransom shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. If Estian is coming with his whole army, we do not have enough men to defend Averanche by land and sea. I advise to flee north, to Glosstyr.”
Léa gazed at her husband imploringly. “Please. Heed him. He has done what you asked. The people will rally if they know Lord Ransom stands by you.”
The king scowled, but the desperate situation was compelling him to act wisely. “I will go to Glosstyr. I’m loath to give up another castle to the Occitanians.” He took Léa’s hand in his own and squeezed it, and for a moment Ransom believed he still cared for her, despite his bad faith. “Especially this one. There are memories here that I don’t want Estian to steal.”
Léa smiled at him and kissed his mouth. “He cannot steal those, my love.”
“We should go, then, without delay.” The king glared at Bodkin. “Thank you for bringing reinforcements. I’ve heard nothing in days about the state of Occitania’s armies. Now I know why.”
The Espion master’s shoulders slumped.
“Put him in the river,” Jon-Landon said angrily, motioning for Bodkin to be taken away. “Let the sea claim his bones.”
Guivret and Hans Dragan hastened to follow his command and dragged the man from the room.
“What of the charter?” Ransom pressed.
Jon-Landon turned and went back to the table and looked over the charter again. He glanced down at his son, who’d come to stand by his side.
“What do you say, young prince? This charter will affect us both. Should I stamp it with my seal?”
“Will it end the war with our lords?” the prince asked.
“Aye, lad, it will. And Lord Ransom advises it.”
“If Lord Ransom advises it,” said the boy with great solemnity, “then I think you should, Father.”
Ransom felt the tingling sensation of the Fountain go up his spine as he looked from father to son. Jon-Landon nodded in agreement. From a pouch at his waist, he withdrew the king’s seal. It was the same one the Elder King and Benedict had used. He stared at it a moment, lost in thought. Then the queen brought him an ink sponge, and he pressed the seal into the ink. Ransom felt the tingling turn into a rush of power. The Fountain approved of this moment. He felt giddy inside as he watched the king press the seal to the parchment.