The Crown of Dalemark (The Dalemark Quartet 4)

Hern halted in front of Moril. “Do you claim this crown?”

Moril gulped. The others could see him thinking that his answer would really be addressed to the One, and he had Hern’s example to show him that he had better say exactly the right thing. “No,” he said, “I don’t want to be King. I want to be a new kind of Singer—a very good one, if I can.”

Hern nodded and moved on to Ynen. “You?”

Ynen licked his lips. He was whiter even than Moril. “No, not me. I—I want to be a sailor, and they wouldn’t let me if I was King, because I might get drowned.”

Hern said nothing. He simply moved on to Kialan. “And you?”

“I—” said Kialan. He had to stop and try again. “I know I have a claim, and it isn’t because of the way my father would hate it, it’s—Well, I don’t feel big enough. Inheriting Hannart’s quite enough for me, honestly.”

Hern frowned at this, which made Kialan flush bright red and then stare unrepentantly. But Hern said nothing again and moved on to Mitt. Mitt had expected Hern to pass him by. He backed away. “You’re not including me in this?” Mitt said.

Hern nodded.

“Then include me out,” Mitt said. “I’m not fit, I’m common and—and—” He searched for the feeling he had just now in the strangely scented parkland. “Listen, I don’t mind helping in the war. The country needs a change. But all I want out of it is a bit of peace and maybe a farm somewhere.”

Hern frowned at this, too, and Mitt looked as unrepentant as Kialan. Hern turned to Maewen. “I can’t offer the crown to you,” he explained, “because you are not really born yet. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” Maewen said, but she knew she sounded wistful. “The only thing I really want is to be allowed to stay—” She caught herself up. The One alone knew what Mum and Aunt Liss would feel, but this was what she wanted and she knew, like Moril, that she had to phrase it right. “Stay in Mitt’s time, I mean.”

Mitt turned and gave her a smile that warmed them both. Hern, meanwhile, retreated, still holding the crown. When they looked back at him, he was sitting in the stone seat, looking exasperated.

“Let’s get at this another way,” he said. “We have eliminated one of you. We know that the one who accepts this crown will be King. Let’s call him King—for the sake of argument—Amil, since that is the name you seem to have brought with you. Who will be Amil?”

“If you like,” Ynen offered, “we could take the crown and give it to my father.”

“Yes, or mine,” Kialan agreed.

Hern gave them that bleak, ribby look again. “You didn’t attend to what I said at first. I am to hand the crown to the next King. That means to one of you, since no one else is here to claim it.” He let them think about this, uneasily, for a moment. Then he said, “When I made my unlucky request to the One, what I had really wanted was to give the new King the benefit of my advice, but since I didn’t ask that, that is something I am not allowed to do. Instead I shall ask you what advice you would give to this new King Amil. Think carefully. You may be advising yourself.”

There was utter silence. Nobody could think of anything.

Hern laughed. “I shall start you off. How about: People’s idea of what they can do is even more important than what they can do?”

“Oh, I know that!” Moril said. “It’s in the King’s Sayings. The Singers all know those.”

“There, you see?” Hern said. “I couldn’t give you that saying if it hadn’t been out in the world already. I said it at the battle with Kankredin. This is why I can’t give advice to the new King. The One knew, though I didn’t, that a dead man’s thoughts stop with his life. Listen to the Singer. He’ll tell you my thoughts.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know they were yours,” Moril said.

“Hang on a minute,” said Mitt. “What do you mean, you can’t give advice? You just gave us a whole load of it!”

“Did I?” said Hern.

He said it perfectly neutrally. This made Kialan say, almost exasperated, “You did, you know. He’s right. You warned us straight off to be careful what we said, or the One would take us at our word.”

“Roundaboutly,” said Mitt. “Using yourself.”

“A King should always set an example,” Hern said. “That’s in my Sayings, too, isn’t it?” he asked Moril.

Moril nodded. “And,” said Kialan, “you told us to attend to your exact words.”

But Mitt broke in across Kialan. “No, before that! Didn’t you listen? There was that about not being bound like the Undying.”

The two of them were leaning forward eagerly. Hern’s face was intent. Oh I see! Maewen thought, from her standpoint as a nonqualifier. We’re in Round Two now. Ynen seemed to have dropped out. He was staring sadly at Hern. Maewen saw Mitt notice Ynen’s sadness and wonder about it as he spoke.

“Then you made a song and dance about your sayings being dead and over with,” Mitt said, “just so we’d notice they