by Erik A Otto
He would no longer be able to change this mindset here in Spoons, but there was another place where he still had sway.
Paulo said, “We go to Niknak. If the main thrust is the Old Keep, those in Niknak will be taken out soon after, if not before. From there I can also deliver you back to Jawhar. I hope you will do what you can to muster a Jawhari resistance against the Cenarans.”
“And what about the princess? You won’t help her?” Zahir’s face went dark.
Paulo looked across the vast territory to the south of Spoons. It rolled with green, fertile meadows. As his eyes scanned the vista, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to answer the question. Despite his differences with the council, despite the urgency, he couldn’t break the Fringe doctrine without agreement from them. At the same time, he couldn’t say no because it might be their only hope. So the question hung in the air, unanswered.
Paulo let it hang. He would save the answer for another day.
Thankfully, Zahir seemed to understand his reticence and didn’t pursue the question further.
Eventually the wind picked up, and clouds began looming on the horizon. “We should leave as soon as possible,” Paulo said, and he turned and made for the roof exit that led to the stairs.
Before he reached the doorway, Zahir asked, “And what of the priest? You won’t wait for him here?”
Paulo shook his head and asked, “Do you know much about the Snail Mountains, Zahir?”
“I know they are similar to the impassable mountains, made of the same uncuttable stone. I’ve heard they rise in a spiral, like the shell of a snail, so you can climb the whole way up without many treacherous cliffs to traverse. I also know that it gets very cold at the top. Many have tried to climb it and turned back.”
Paulo nodded. “That’s right. There are several passages about it in the Fringe Arcana. The passages span over centuries, but they are consistent. Do you know out of the many hundreds who don’t turn back—those who actually climbed to the top of the Snail Mountains—how many have returned?”
“No.”
“None.”
Chapter 9
The Commander
On the final approach to Pomer City, the road widened, and the gardens became better tended. Disparate brush turned to the homogenous green knolls and the rounded hills she loved to ride over. It was there that Aisha left the greater regiment to complete their trek at a gallop, trailed only by Tandem and two other men. Time was a resource that was in increasingly short supply, and she needed to tell her mother what she’d learned.
The exchange with Granth had been far from a failure in her eyes. The intelligence from this woman Nala, if valid, was well worth the trip. Yet riding didn’t comfort Aisha as much as on the outbound journey.
It unnerved her that her perception of the regiment’s foray would be contrary to the view of many. On its face, Granth had stymied her stated objective of meeting with Hella. And without additional context, the men must have thought her mad for blurting out her view of the Cenaran conspiracy. Then there was the uncomfortable incident with Admiral Collins. Put together, Pomerian military officials must have thought the mission a complete failure. Some might even question her leadership.
Aisha could reassure herself that the Royal Guard were some of the most disciplined and loyal soldiers in Matteo’s lands. She doubted there would be any repercussions.
More troubling, however, were the contents of Nala’s message. The note was choppy and curt; it must have been written on a whim while Aisha debated with Granth. It read, Cenaran attack on Old Keep on first day of Internecion with insider help—must be stopped. Veckio and Pontrain traitors—work with Jawhari Sal Habib who is with Cenarans.
If this was true, two powerful nobles in the Pomerian High Council were traitors, and the Cenarans could attack Belidor in less than thirty days at the Old Keep. It was shocking to say the least.
And she couldn’t help but believe it. It fit in with all she’d seen and heard from her mother. It also reconciled with General Granth’s odd comments about the Old Keep.
As she spurred her horse forward, the message felt heavy in her pocket. She felt as if she needed to counterbalance on her saddle to accommodate its weight.
Aisha was reminded of what her mother had once said to her and her siblings. “You say information is power, and you say your father and I horde it. But you’re young, and what you don’t understand is the incredible responsibility that comes with it. Someday your souls will become heavy with dark tidings. For now, be nimble of spirit.”
Mother had been right. Aisha carried the darkest of tidings, words that put the whole kingdom on a precipice, and she longed for her days of ignorance.
Aisha was met at the gate by Uncle Heward, of all people. He saluted her and gave her his disturbing smile, urging her horse over to him.
Uncle Heward had distinctively protuberant lips and eyes set far apart on a face that was red and puffy, with blue veins that promenaded around his cheeks and nose. His only real contribution to Pomeria was the development of an especially strong malted wine they exported in generous quantities to Belidor and Thelonia. Hella and Aisha would often comment to each other about his likeness to a fish. This was partially due to his looks, but also for his tendency to imbibe copious quantities of his own wine.
It had been at least a year since Aisha had seen Heward. After a few embarrassing incidents at royal functions, he tended to stay out of palace affairs, remaining at his estate near the impassable mountains to the south.
But what brought him to the palace today?
“Aisha. It’s nice to see you. Give your uncle a hug.”
After the several-step process of getting off her horse with her ungainly wooden leg, she did as Heward asked. She tried to keep her nose away from his mouth for fear of whatever lurked on his breath. Thankfully she didn’t smell anything. “Uncle, I must see the queen at once. If you will excuse me.”
“Good, I’ll walk with you.”
They left Aisha’s horse for the stable boys and navigated toward the palace entry. The riding had given her a chance to keep pressure off her stump for a few days. As a result, it was feeling better than usual. She pushed herself to move quickly.
“You’re so grown-up, Aisha, and moving well. It’s nice to see. Any tidings from your journey?”
She didn’t know whether he’d been informed of the conspiracy, so she was careful with her words. “We met with General Granth in Belidor. I believe it was a productive mission.”
He nodded. “So any word from Hella?”
Aisha shook her head. “I haven’t spoken with her, but I believe she’s alive. Uncle, may I ask why you’re here? I know how you hate leaving your vines.”
Heward smiled, and Aisha couldn’t help imagining a fish again. “Your father called me in to help. With your brother and sister abroad there’s much to do. Did you know I used to be a captain in the Royal Guard? I had a vicious uppercut.” Heward made an awkward stabbing motion with his arm, reliving some distant memory.
“I bid you welcome, then, Uncle, and thanks for your support.” She certainly didn’t want Heward in her army, though, if that’s what he was implying. She would need to talk to mother about how to handle this.
They were making their way up the steps to her mother’s chamber. Aisha gritted her teeth at the pain while Heward huffed and puffed with effort alongside her.
“You’ve told me about your skill with a sword many times, Uncle,” Aisha said. “Did Father say what he wanted you to do? I think the palace garrison could use some new trainers. Perhaps that would be suitable?”
Heward smiled again, “No, Aisha. Your parents and I have been talking. Your skills are needed here at the palace, and it can’t be good for your poor leg to be out in the field. So we agreed that I should take the role of High Commander. I’m sure you don’t need that in addition to everything else. It was great you had this experience, though—taking the regiment out. You’ll look back on the ti
me fondly.”
Aisha bit her lip. She tried not to react—this had to be some kind of mistake.
She pushed herself even faster up the stairs. On the last step she caught her leg and it forced pressure on the nerve. She hissed out in pain, baring her teeth.
“Please, Aisha, let me help you, and there’s no rush.” Heward offered his arm to her.
She pulled away her arm so he couldn’t take it. The pain only made her angrier. She felt ready to explode when the queen finally opened her door, smiling her most regal smile.
Aisha blurted, “What’s this about Uncle being made High Commander?”
The queen’s demeanor didn’t waver. “Perhaps we should have a few moments alone, Aisha. Heward, do you mind?”
Heward was still grinning, even after huffing and puffing, and even after Aisha’s blunt remark. He shrugged and said, “Of course. I’ll be in the dining hall when you need me.”
Aisha knew that meant he would be in the liquor cabinet.
When the door closed behind her, the queen’s smile evaporated.
“Aisha, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t expect this. Your father…he and I don’t always agree, and you know how he confers with his admirals. Well, apparently Collins came to him, and he didn’t paint a glowing review of your command. I can only hope this will be temporary.”
Of course it was Collins. And Father never did look at her like Landon or even her other sisters. She was damaged goods, and mother told her he’d been reluctant about her appointment in the first place. “It’s interesting that these decisions were made before hearing my side of the story,” Aisha complained bitterly.
The queen sighed. “And what is your side of the story?”
Aisha told the queen about the confrontation with Collins. Once she began speaking, the whole foray flowed from her lips; the plan to meet with the nobles that was foiled by Granth, then the strange meeting with him, and finally the note from Nala. The queen seemed to be barely paying attention. She floated about the room, arranging a pillow here, moving her jewelry box there, occasionally intersecting with Aisha for a brief moment. In the end, she wound up in front of her mirror again, playing with her braids.
Through the reflection in the mirror, Aisha could tell the queen was looking at her, and Aisha could see that her face had become pale. Her back stiffened, and she spoke with a stark tone. “Aisha, your mistake wasn’t that you relieved Collins. I’m sure he deserved it, and that it was necessary. Your mistake was to let him come back to Pomeria at all.”
Aisha was about to counter but then she realized mother was right. If she hadn’t let him come back, Aisha might still be High Commander. “You…you’re right, mother.”
“So now my drunkard brother is High Commander. You will need to brief him, but don’t trust him with the intelligence about the Cenarans, or what you found out from this Nala woman.”
“You haven’t told him?”
“I know Heward better than anyone. I love him, believe it or not, and I’m sure he’s no pawn, but he also can’t be trusted with secrets simply for reasons of incompetence.”
“Then we must speak with Father. We must tell him about Veckio and Pontrain, and help prevent the attack on the Old Keep. He will surely reinstate me if he hears what we’ve learned.”
The queen paused for a moment, continuing to play with her braids, knotting them and unknotting them. “Do you trust this woman? This Nala?” she finally asked.
“I had Envoy Plymouth look her up. She has a curious past. She was cast out of the Old Keep as a naustic and then indentured to a Fringe Purveyor. Apparently she knows the Truthseeker, if traveler’s tales can be believed, and was present at the army camp in Thelos when the Imbecile killed Vanaden Granth. Then she ended up being held by Timothur Granth as an improbable ally to Hella.”
“Quite a curious thread indeed. A naustic who consorts with not one but two of the infidels? I can’t think of a less credible source, Aisha. Conversely, Mr. Veckio and Mr. Pontrain have served us honorably for many years. Under normal circumstances, no one would believe her accusations.”
The queen turned to Aisha, finally tiring of her braids. “Then again, these aren’t normal circumstances. We are in a time of conspiracy and propaganda, of false attribution and misinformation. A story like hers doesn’t fit the motives of any of the powers that be, and thus is less likely to be fabricated. And her path, the note she wrote you, does fit with what we know of the conspiracy. What do you think from seeing her? What impression did you get?”
Aisha had little experience in this area. Looking into the eyes of someone and trying to divine their true intent was the domain of her mother. But she had to venture an opinion. “Actually, she’s consorted with three infidels, if you count Hella, and because these other infidels could be unjustly accused the same as Hella, her association with them doesn’t tarnish her in my view. And so, from seeing her, I think her message is truth. Or at least should be considered truth for the sake of prudence. I can’t see a reason why she would risk herself to make up something so elaborate.”
The queen nodded. “Yes, I agree, Aisha. But if it’s true, I worry that we have received this information too late. I worry that we may be nearing our end here. We may have been outplayed.”
Mother was a strong woman, but she wasn’t showing her usual resolve. “Why do you say that? We can go to Father and reveal this new information. Even if he doesn’t reinstate me, we can still capture Veckio and Pontrain and then move to support the Belidorans up north. From here we could ride to the Old Keep in less than fifteen days, giving us a few days before the first day of the Internecion. There’s still time.”
The queen didn’t respond for a while. She did another tour of the room, rubbing a smudge off her desk and staring into a proud painting of Father from his youth. “I say it because your father isn’t here at the palace, Aisha. The king is out at the Deep Well with none other than Veckio and Pontrain. They invited him there to parlay with a Jawhari contingent that has arrived under banners auguring for peace and trade.”
The queen paused as the implication crystallized in Aisha’s mind. A ripple of nervous energy coursed through Aisha’s body. If Veckio and Pontrain were traitors, Father might be in grave danger. In fact, because they controlled the Deep Well crossing, the whole kingdom might be at risk.
The queen continued before Aisha could fully grasp the ramifications. “You must ride with haste to the Deep Well and tell your father what you’ve learned. You must make him return to the palace at once, and we must stop Veckio and Pontrain from whatever ploy they are hatching. Take nine of your best men and set out immediately. Heward will not let you take a regiment or even a squad, but he will accept nine men. I will see to it.”
Aisha nodded, still mentally grappling with the situation. “Yes…yes, my queen. Will you come with me? Father, he doesn’t always—”
The queen shook her head. “I would like to come, even despite the dangers, but I cannot. There are too many with eyes on the throne here, and besides, Heward must be watched. Did you know your new treasurer had a riding incident? I say incident on purpose, for it clearly wasn’t an accident as my staff would purport. But let me deal with that. You must convince Father and check Veckio and Pontrain at the Deep Well. Only then can we see about aid to Belidor.”
“Surely you would do better at convincing Father than I would,” Aisha said. “He removed my command, so you know he has little faith in me. He might not even grant me an audience.”
Mother gazed at the painting of Father again and said, “You’re right, Aisha, but there’s a more important reason that I cannot come. Pontrain and Veckio are surrounded by many men, and they are supposedly in the midst of a negotiation with Jawhari who may have similar ill intent. If what you’ve learned is true, this would be the time for them to strike. Your father would be undefended, surrounded by traitors, and any number of pretexts could be used for another accident. Even with your help, even if you get there in time, you will be
woefully outnumbered. You will have no regiment with you this time.”
Aisha was unsure what she was getting at. It seemed her points made it even more important to have her mother’s help.
The queen continued, “No, Aisha, if I were to go there, it could be another lamb to the slaughter, another fish in their net, and then what would happen to Pomeria? What would we be able to do against the Cenaran tide or Veckio and Pontrain’s duplicity?”
Aisha was shocked by her mother’s cold reasoning. Even though it was harsh, Aisha had to admit it was right. If Pontrain and Veckio were planning something, there might be little they could do to stop the immediate threat. Tough decisions needed to be made, despite the peril Father faced, for the sake of the kingdom. If the Queen left as well, and their ploy was successful, the vacuum of power in Pomeria would be complete.
Mother stuck her chin out and said, “That is all, Princess. Matteo be with you, and go with haste.”
“Y…yes, my queen.”
Aisha left her mother’s chamber and hobbled down the staircase, her mind reeling. How could she convince Father, especially after he’d lost faith in her command? And then, even if she did convince him, how could they pull out of the Deep Well discussions without triggering a reaction from the traitors?
She immediately went to Tandem and told him to assemble nine handpicked men. He acknowledged readily, ever the loyal servant to the Crown. “As you say, High Commander.”
She would have to explain to the men her change of title, but perhaps it would be better done after they left.
Before she hobbled away from Tandem, he said, “Commander, the one named Nala, she has arrived at the palace. She says she wishes to have words.”
Aisha stopped in her tracks. “Granth let her go?”
“Apparently,” Tandem answered.
“Tell her not to get too comfortable. She rides with us to the Deep Well.”
Naustic or not, maybe it would help if Father heard the news firsthand.
