Off Armageddon Reef by David Weber Page A

nodded in agreement—Cahnyr a bit grudgingly—and chairs scraped as the archbishops rose. Cahnyr nodded to Rayno and Myllyr, managed to ignore Dynnys completely, and strode briskly from the conference room. Rayno smiled slightly, like an indulgent parent with two sons who were continually at odds, then followed Cahnyr.
    â€œWill you share lunch with me, Erayk?” Myllyr asked after the others had left. “I have a small matter which will be coming before the Office of Affirmation next five-day that I’d like to discuss with you.”
    â€œOf course, Urvyn,” Dynnys replied brightly. “I’d be delighted to.”
    And it was true, he reflected. He actually looked forward to the inevitable dragon trading with Myllyr. It was part of the game, after all. The sizable “gift” about to land in his private purse, and the opportunity to remind Haarahld Ahrmahk where the true authority in Charis lay, would have been enough to place him firmly on Mahntayl’s side, but even more seductive than mere wealth was the exercise of power. Not simply within his own archbishopric, but within the only hierarchy which truly mattered, right here in the Temple.
    â€œI understand the kitchens have something special waiting for us this afternoon,” he continued. “Shall we partake of it in the main dining hall, or would you prefer to dine on the plaza?”

.II.
Royal Palace, Tellesberg, Kingdom of Charis
    â€œFather, you know as well as I do who’s really behind it!”
    Crown Prince Cayleb folded his arms across his chest and glared at his father. King Haarahld, however, endured his elder son’s expression with remarkable equanimity.
    â€œYes, Cayleb,” the King of Charis said after a moment. “As it happens, I do know who’s really behind it. Now, just what do you suggest I do about it?”
    Cayleb opened his mouth, then paused. After a moment, he closed it again. His dark eyes were, if anything, even more fiery than they had been, but his father nodded.
    â€œExactly,” he said grimly. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to see Tahdayo’s head on a pike over my gate. I’m sure he and his…associates feel the same about mine, of course. Unfortunately, however much I’d like to see his there, there’s not much prospect of my collecting it any time soon. And since I can’t—”
    He shrugged, and Cayleb scowled. Not in disagreement, but in frustration.
    â€œI know you’re right, Father,” he said finally. “But we’re going to have to find some answer. If it were only Tahdayo, or even just him and Nahrmahn, we could deal with it easily enough. But with Hektor behind the two of them, and with Erayk and Zherald sitting in their purses…”
    His voice trailed off, and Haarahld nodded again. He knew, whether his son chose to admit it or not, that at least half of Cayleb’s frustration sprang from fear. King Haarahld wasn’t about to hold that against his heir, however. In fact, fear could be a good thing in a monarch, or a future monarch, as long as it was not allowed to rule him. And as long as it sprang from the right causes. Cowardice was beneath contempt; fear of the consequences for those one ruled was a monarch’s duty.
    â€œIf I had the answer you want, Cayleb,” he said, “I wouldn’t be a king; I’d be one of the archangels come back to earth.”
    He touched his heart and then his lips with the fingers of his right hand, and Cayleb mirrored the gesture.
    â€œSince, however, I’m merely mortal,” Haarahld continued, “I’m still trying to come up with something remotely like an answer.”
    The king climbed out of his chair and crossed to the window. Like most Charisians, Haarahld was a little above average height for Safehold in general, with broader shoulders and a generally stockier build. His son was perhaps an inch or two taller