Shadow by Dave Duncan

Author:Dave Duncan
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 1987-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

“Let’s take it from the beginning,” the archbishop said wearily.

It was all too confusing. A man of his age should not be dragged from his bed before three bells and then expected to deal with some sort of major crisis on the spur of the moment. The messenger from the court—he had some fancy title which the archbishop had already forgotten—was a blithering moron who made no sense at all.

“The king has been stabbed, Holiness,” the dean said.

“Yes!” the archbishop said. “I got that. Doesn’t surprise me … I’ve been expecting it for kilodays.” His first reaction to that news had been one of great annoyance. It meant a state funeral and then a full-blown coronation, and he dreaded the thought of all that effort and work. At his age, he deserved to be left in peace.

“The crown prince is out of town,” the dean said, “and he may be dead also.”

The archbishop held up a blue-veined hand to stop him while he thought about that. Normally the dean made sense. He was his nephew, of course, and he handled all the routine and gave advice and so on. “What do you mean, ‘may’? Is he or isn’t he?”

“There was a letter, Holiness, saying he had had an accident. But his body has not been found.”

“Let me see this letter!” the archbishop said triumphantly.

“It has vanished,” said the idiot from the court, and the dean hushed him.

“It is apparently not available, Holiness,” the dean said. “The only persons to have read it were the king and Prince Jarkadon. The prince is too upset to remember exactly what it said.”

“Humph!” the archbishop said. He still could not see why they needed to involve him. He huddled in his gown and wished he could go back to bed or have breakfast or something.

“It may be a few days before we know about the crown prince,” the dean explained slowly. “So there will have to be a regent appointed.”

“The next in line, isn’t it?” the old man asked. They had told him that twice.

“Yes, Holiness, but the next in line is Prince Jarkadon, and there is some doubt … ”

The two younger men glanced at each other and shrugged. The dean winced and put it into words: “It is possible that it was the prince who stabbed the king!”

“What!” The archbishop blinked. Why couldn’t they have said so sooner instead of all this flapping around? “Then he must not be regent! He could not succeed. It would not be proper! Or legal.”

“Exactly, Holiness.”

This really was a matter for the lord chamberlain or the lord chancellor, thought the archbishop; none of his business. “Why not the queen?” he asked.

“The queen is distraught, Holiness. Quite incapable.”

This was where he kept asking them to start again. He pondered. “Well, if not one of the princes, who comes next in succession?”

“You do, Holiness.”

“Rubbish!” That was a ridiculous idea and rather frightening. “What about my brother, for heaven’s sake?”

The dean and the messenger exchanged glances again. “He had a stroke two days ago, Holiness.

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