He had other use for those boats.

Emuin came, in his immaculate gray: his personal—Teranthine-priest, well-known to the court, now counselor to the King, bearing the battle-crown, and presenting it.

Then he could let go his careful grip on the things he had to say: then it was for Emuin to remember, and Emuin to deal with while he answered yes and I swear, and had the crown in his hand and in Emuin’s.

The hall was very quiet. No one so much as coughed, the lords surely wondering by now why they had not been advised and where the trap might lie. There were the solemn bows and the oaths the Teranthine rite required. There was the setting of the crown on his head, the religiously valid coronation, which would hold valid against all claims until his death, and which settled any remote challenge to his kingship.

He called his brother first; Efanor knelt and swore the simple oath as he swore his to Efanor, confirming him as heir, in terms he had advised Efanor, against the getting of an heir of his own body. Then the officers of his household, the Marhanen custom; and third the barons, in the order their houses had sworn to his grandfather, first Pelumer, and then Cevulirn, in their true sequence. Third of ducal houses present was Umanon’s, then Sulriggan’s, and, far down the ordinary precedence of history, Sovrag, who, after swearing to defend the King and to be his friend, to preserve the life, the person and the honor of his sovereign, and receiving the customary vow of his sovereign to defend his life, his person, and his honor, asked if he could add the decks of his boats to his domains.

He could all but see Duke Umanon, with a port Sovrag used, gathering wind for a storm of protest: he knew the dispute on which the old pirate based his request, and the King did not grant it. “No,” he said pleasantly, and gave Sovrag his hand to kiss.

“Don’t hurt to try,” Sovrag said.

“I need a brave man, riverlord. I hold you are that.”

“Then we talk?” Sovrag asked.

“Swear and give me your hands, riverlord. I’ll repair your boats. Or build you new ones. And hold you dear as a friend.”

Sovrag gave him a look as sober as any he had had of Sovrag. He might have touched the man. “Aye,” Sovrag said in a husky voice, “aye, Majesty.” And kissed his hand with a grip fit to break it.

“Tristen Lord Warden of Ynefel,” the next proclamation was, as Sovrag went down the steps. “Lord High Marshal of Althalen.”

There was a murmur then. And he could feel the anxiousness arising among the Elwynim. But of Tristen he asked and gave only the oath of fealty, and set its term from harvest-time to harvest-time. “Annually to be renewed, an oath of friends, to save each other’s life, limbs, rights and honor, before the blessed gods and by their favor.” He lifted Tristen up and, embracing him, said against his ear, “Say, Before the blessed gods, and say it so they hear.”

“Before the blessed gods, Your Majesty,” Tristen said, and added, in his own way but with a straightforward look as clear and as knowing as ever he had heard from Tristen, “I am your friend.”

Thank the aforesaid gods he said nothing else. Cefwyn could see the clenched jaw of Efanor’s priest, and Efanor’s hand tightly clenched on a prayer-book.

No one knew what oath had existed between Mauryl and his grandfather. There had been no witnesses, no priest, nothing holy. The barons were surely asking themselves where Tristen ranked in relation to lords grown old in service to Ylesuin: the Warden of Ynefel had never been at court, nor ever fit within the protocols.

Cefwyn embraced him a second time. “Thank you,” he said into Tristen’s ear, and released him.

After that, Ninévrisé in brief and in her own as Regent: “Before the gods, to bear true friendship to the land and people and the Crown of Ylesuin.”

Then he dared breathe. No one had refused their oath, no one had protested, and Lord Tasien through Ninévrisé was bound. “My faithful friends,” he said, and added, “truly first, as your houses were to the first of my line. I shall not forget who stood here, and who swore.”

“No one is here to swear for Amefel,” Cevulirn pointed out, “Your Majesty.”

“For Amefel we do as we can,” Cefwyn said under his breath. And more loudly: “Gentle lords, I shall swear for Amefel, under Ylesuin’s law.

Under my wardship Her Grace Duchess Orien holds the province. For one thing, we shall fortify all the bridgeheads leading to Amefel, since I take Amefel for Aséyneddin’s immediate desire, rather than to attack the northern border, which would be exceedingly foolhardy. As6yneddin, on my best information, believes that he can peel away Amefel easily and present Ylesuin a land-bound border directly fronting Guelessar. He thinks that Amefel will defect to him as lord. I think not. He thinks we dare not arm the Amefin. I think not. We shall fortify all along the river to protect Amefin villages from Aséyneddin’s threats. Her Most Honorable Grace the lady Regent will herself send to those villages jointly with me, urging them to stand fast against Aséyneddin. Those messengers go today.” The politics of that joint appeal were an embarrassing fact Ylesuin was not wont to admit, one that brought mouths open and lords ready to speak, but he plunged ahead.

“We have already sent men and supplies for the fortifications; and Lord Haurydd has, by now, in company with Lord Sovrag’s nephews, entered Elwynor, to reach forces loyal to the lady Ninévrisé and defeat the rebel Aséyneddin, so that the lady Regent’s loyal men may set her in authority at Ilefinian.”

That was a careful treading through a maze of prickly jealousies: he carefully skirted any statement that credited or rewarded Ylesuin in saving the Elwynim Regency, as if fifteen men with no more than their horses and their swords were going to accomplish that. There was a murmur of dismay, even indignation, among his own barons, but he refused to acknowledge it. “Lord Tasien will command the Elwynim fortification at Emwy, which we will supply. I ask that you delegate captains, my lords of Ylesuin, to command the extension of fortifications along the river, which these captains will build according to a design I shall give you.”

Part of those instructions involved the last-moment destruction of the bridge decks on two bridges north of Emwy. But he reserved that for Sovrag, personally.

“And instead of holding you here idle, I dismiss you now to attend matters of need in your own provinces, to return on the next full of the moon prepared to launch war against Aséyneddin. If there is an incursion sooner than that, I shall notify you to move on the instant, so you must have men ready to muster to a forced march to reach us. Leave all your baggage here, wagons, teams and drivers. We will bring them in our train. If I must call you before the appointed time, you will need all the speed you can make. I do not doubt that Lord Aséyneddin will take very hard my betrothal to the Regent of Elwynor when he hears it. We should be ready to defend all along the frontier. I do not think his attack will wait until spring. But I do not think it will be immediate: he has yet to subdue Elwynor’s loyal men. He cannot move against us until he assembles sufficient force from various points in Elwynor where he is holding districts who would otherwise be loyal to the Regency. If he moves those troops out of those regions they now hold by such force and terror, they may attack at his rear. It is my earnest hope—though one on which I do not heavily rely—that a strong enough presence threatening that important bridge may distract his forces from regions of Elwynor uneasily in his grip, and encourage the loyal men of Elwynor to remove him. But if he crosses this border—as he may—at whatever point he crosses—he will face an army prepared to fight him in any season, and he will face the justice of our ally the lawful Regent.”