The Scepter's Return Read Online Free

No one could take the Scepter of Mercy lightly.
    â€œI don’t know. I just don’t know,” Grus said. “But if not now, when? We have—we hope we have—a spell to cure the thralls. The Menteshe are in disarray from fighting one another. When will we ever have a better chance?”
    â€œIf you can bring it off, your name will live forever,” Hirundo said.
    Grus started to tell him that didn’t matter. But it did, and he knew it. All a man could leave behind were his children and his name. Ortalis had always been a disappointment, even if Grus was reluctant to admit it even to himself. As for his name … He’d kept the Thervings from lording it over Avornis: He had—or he hoped he had—stopped the Chernagors’ piratical raids on his coasts, and he’d kept the Banished One from gaining a foothold in the Chernagor country. He’d also kept Avornan nobles from taking the peasants under their wings—and taking them away from their loyalty to the king and to the kingdom as a whole. The nobles didn’t love him for it, but that—since he’d beaten a couple of rebels—wasn’t his biggest worry.
    If he could bring the Scepter of Mercy back to the capital in triumph … Well, if that wasn’t enough to get him remembered for a long, long time, nothing ever would be.
    He noticed Hirundo watching him. The general smiled, noticing him notice. “You do want it,” Hirundo said. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
    Considering how formidable that nose was, it must have been plain indeed. “I can’t tell you you’re wrong,” Grus said. “Ever since the Scepter got stolen, there hasn’t been a King of Avornis who didn’t want to take it back.”
    â€œYes, but how many of them have had a chance to do it?” Hirundo asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Grus answered. “I’m not even sure I have that chance. But I aim to find out.”
    â€œOne thing, Your Majesty—you can leave Lanius behind to run things here while you go off to war,” Hirundo said. “He’ll do fine while you’re away.”
    â€œYes.” King Grus let it go at that. Lanius had done fine running things in the city of Avornis while he went on campaign himself. He wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad, though. He’d kept Lanius away from power as long as he could. The more the scion of the ancient dynasty held, the less secure Grus’ grip on the rest was.
    Lanius had never tried to rise against him. If he did … Grus didn’t know what would happen. Not knowing worried him. He was reaching the end of his prime of life as Lanius entered his. He realized that. He wondered if the other king did, too.
    He hoped not.
    Lanius washed down his breakfast porridge with a sip of wine, then said, “I’m off to the moncats.”
    Queen Sosia looked back across the table at him. “Is that where you’re going?” she murmured.
    Lanius’ ears heated. That had nothing to do with the wine. “Yes, that is where I’m going,” he said. “You’re welcome to come along if you care to.”
    His wife shook her head. “No, thank you—never mind. If I came along, that would be where you went.” She took a long pull at her own cup of wine.
    â€œIt was where I was going anyway,” Lanius said. Sosia didn’t answer. The king got up from the table and left in a hurry. Anything he said after that would make things worse, not better. There were times when he told Sosia he was going to visit the moncats and he paid a call on a serving girl instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the queen. He hadn’t expected to when Grus arranged their marriage, but he did. But he was king, even if he was the second of two kings, and he could do more or less as he pleased. Every so often, he pleased to yield to temptation.
    Grus was in