The Radiant City

The Revelation

Later that same evening, the Ithwonian company went home, carrying with them a stack of trade agreements conspicuously in their favor. Pedilas was triumphant; who could have guessed that a little thing like attempted murder would be such good diplomacy? He was so jubilant, in fact, that he positively insisted that Alkanion share a carriage with him, so he would have someone to talk to.

Galvir gave Giunar a teary goodbye hug, glaring at the general over the princess's shoulder. Clearly the two had not come to terms over the past day and a half. Sighing, the queen sent them off with one final apology and her sincerest regrets that their visit had to be cut so short. She hoped they would visit again soon, if only so her daughter could visit.

"Well, that didn't take nearly as long as planned," Pedilas quipped once Ashtabar's grassy hills had rolled the castle out of sight.

Alkanion agreed, a feigned look of pure boredom on his face as he stared at the agricultural landscape. Expressing his true feelings would be in bad taste.

"I hope the swift judgment upon my attacker has convinced you of the Ashtabaran's loyalty."

"Yes, definitely." To their lives, perhaps. Or their purses.

"You are quiet today."

"I am a quiet traveller."

Pedilas hummed, leaning back into the velvet cushions. "I did have a few things I wished to discuss with you."

Alkanion snorted, but couldn't help a small smile. "And here I thought this was a purely social visit."

Pedilas laughed. "Ah, yes, that certainly explains your scintillating conversation."

These were the times when Alkanion really did like the king; when they were alone and could banter without fear of others' judgment. In some ways, their personalities were very similar; Alkanion only wished their leadership styles were, as well. "What was it you wanted?" he asked.

"I don't want anything; I merely wished to remind you that the first of the year is approaching."

The smile on Alkanion's face disappeared in an instant. "Will I be expected to appear in the parade?"

"Every year for the rest of your life. I know you hate it, but it's good publicity."

"Why should royalty need publicity?" Alkanion asked. "We make the rules, the people follow them. Set up a strong presence from the safety of the castle, where we aren't likely to get assassinated."

"It's good for morale," Pedilas replied patiently, ignoring the pointed remark. "The people like to see their king, to reassure themselves that they are being adequately looked after."

"And how does a parade accomplish that?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Pedilas grinned.

Alkanion groaned; he'd fallen right into that one. "It's another speech, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's a speech," he chuckled, "I don't know why you sound so upset about it. You're a very good orator. And I know you like rhetoric; I remember your tasking, when you managed to defend the sunserpent without the smallest bit of treason. Your argument was so persuasive that it changed the way even the Chief Historian looks at evidence from the period."

Alkanion raised a brow. "Chief Historian? My father? His letters never mentioned any shift in his work on Malinor. I would have thought he'd tell me..." Malinor, the first king of Ithwon and slayer of the sunserpent, was Alkanion's personal role model, and Alkanion always made a point to ask his father, Jorlson, about any new developments regarding Malinor's history every time they wrote. The fact that he hadn't been told of his own contributions to the field was more than a little hurtful.

"There have been a flood of scholarly articles on the subject; perhaps he assumed you'd seen one. I know I certainly did, the way you read. But we're getting off-topic. You will have to give a speech about two weeks from the time we get back; I expect you to be ready for it. In exchange, I am prepared to offer you a visit with your father on the second day of the year."

"I'll do it," Alkanion agreed immediately. It had been a long time since he'd seen Jorlson; a few years at least. He'd been petitioning for a day of leave for some time now, but it had never been granted, what with the preparation for the delegates and all.

Pedilas smiled. "Excellent."

"What should the speech be about?"

Pedilas waved his hand dismissively. "Something patriotic. The actual content doesn't matter; just make them believe you're saying something worthwhile, and you'll be fine."

Alkanion nodded, mulling the idea over in his head; he'd long known that the people of Ithown were easily convinced--especially when the word "tradition" was involved--but he'd never realized just how little of import was actually mentioned in official speeches. To mislead the public in that way seemed wrong, somehow, yet Alkanion couldn't shake the sense of fascination that overcame him as he began to consider the implications of such ignorance. The carriage fell into pensive silence, king and heir-apprentice both retreating into their own thoughts.

When they stopped for the night, Pedilas gave Alkanion leave to switch back to his own carriage for the remainder of the journey, but bid him to take his sword with him, in case they ran into robbers--or worse--on the road. Frowning, Alkanion wondered if the assassination attempt had gotten under the king's skin more than he liked to admit. Still, he obeyed, wielding the heavy, glorified knife to stand vigil while he slept.

But sleep would not come. Alkanion could not stop thinking about the king's irreverent attitude towards speech-making. The more he thought about it, the more he saw how true it was. People may have made a regular habit of debating and fighting Pedilas's decrees, but at the end of the day they went back to their families and beds, ate a nice meal, looked around at their beautiful city, and decided that the only thing for it was another day of forbearance. Their lives were still pretty good, after all, and they were still Ithwonians. Even Jorlson had that mentality.

And the people were so easily moved by speeches; one well-spoken line from a noble would have them talking for weeks, even if the general theme was always the same: the greatness of Ithwon, the sovereignty of the throne. Alkanion's stomach felt heavy; suddenly the throne didn't seem so sovereign anymore.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, Alkanion decided to just put it out of his mind until it was time to write the speech. After all, the scenery was beautiful, and he couldn't wait to get home and see everyone. Maraleine had suggested before he left that her brother might be returning within the week.

It would be nice to talk with Corsicos again. They had been friends since childhood, when under the pseudonym "Co" Corsicos had scouted out the best candidate for his father. He was an energetic man, full of life and constantly out doing something--this time it was a hunting trip with some friends from town, the time before it was an exhibition to see the lake dragons in Rhesch--but he was also sharp and intelligent. Despite the difference in temperament, Alkanion had always been able to tell Corsicos anything, and right now, with Alkanion's newfound power of the tongue refusing to leave him alone, he craved that connection.

As the mountains of Circin passed by once more, Alkanion's mood began to improve. They had only to make it across Ithwon itself to reach the castle, where a speech--dreadful as it would surely be--and a visit with his father were waiting.