Inheritance by Simon Brown Page B

full of foolish notions, I was not being sarcastic. Marin is afraid his son would refuse a role he felt was dishonorable in any fashion.”
    “We can’t let nature take its course. If Aman’s dreams are to be realized, we must all take our part whether or not it brings us honor.”
    “The king has no intention of letting nature take its course. He wants you to dig a furrow for it.”
    “Ah.” Orkid stood up and went to his window. He beckoned Amemun to join him. “Do you see the size of this palace? Its population almost equals that of Pila itself. I can dig a hundred furrows, but in Usharna’s court they would be no more than scratches on the surface.”
    “Nevertheless, the king does not want Sendarus told of his part in our plans.”
    “Then the sooner we introduce him to the queen and her family the better,” Orkid said.
    “How much time do we have?”
    “Before the queen dies? It could be tonight or next week, or next month. She is the strongest person I have ever known, but she is very ill.”
    “And how long after her death before the first part of the plan is put into effect?”
    “As soon as possible.”
    “The pieces are all in place?”
    Orkid nodded. “Assuming nothing unexpected happens between now and then.”
    Amemun looked alarmed. “What do you mean? Surely the opposition would not move before the queen’s death?”
    “Against the queen herself? Of course not. But against us or those perceived as our allies? It has already happened. Disaster was averted only by good fortune, and that none of my doing. You must understand, Axnemun, now is the most dangerous time for the plan, not what comes after the queen’s death—that is only when it is most dangerous to us.”
    Areava felt listless. She wandered about the palace like a ghost, through its great halls and rooms, its balconies and towers, its gardens and enclosures. At every window she paused to look out, seeing the great city spread out before the palace like a tapestry, catching glimpses of the harbor or Kestrel Bay beyond it, or seeing the craggy heights of Ebrius Ridge or even sometimes seeing the mountains of distant Aman.
    Of their own accord, her feet led her eventually to the courtyard, and from there to the palace’s west wing, now the priory for the Church of the Righteous God. Priests bowed to her as she walked by, but knew from her expression not to talk to her. She passed sleeping cells and the royal chapel, confessionals and the refectory. Eventually her journey ended in the church library.
    This place and not the chapel is closest to God
, Areava thought. She was surrounded by ranks of books and manuscripts, old wooden shelves and reading desks, the smell of ancient dust and earnest study. Here she felt a part of the quest for knowledge, a quest more holy than any other she could imagine because it implied a quest for truth irrespective of its beauty or desirability. She could feel peace in the chapel, contentment in the palace gardens, but here, among all this gathered learning, she felt most alive and in the presence of something sacred.
    Areava selected a tall, thin book from a shelf and sat down in one of the study cubicles to read it. It was an atlas and geographical commentary compiled over a hundred years before by Brother Agostin, one of the church’s most famous missionaries. Her finger traced the outline of the continent of Theare, from its northern shores around the nation of Haxus, and then along the east coast past Hume and Chandra and the Horn of Lear—where sat Kendra—down to the swollen belly of Lurisia in the south, and then west along the desert plains of the Southern Chetts before heading north past the Oceans of Grass—the home of the Northern Chetts—and back to Haxus. In the top right corner of the page was the unfinished outline of the Far Kingdom, a place of mystery and danger, never visited by any from Grenda Lear. The Sea Between was too wild and unknown for anyone to cross it, and any who