“Seems like it,” said Coel, thinking that it might be less than safe for Elise to know about Nasteuh. “Now you're certain that you won't get into trouble, a-bringing Dora out here?”
“The one thing she wants is for me to keep her quiet,” she said, shaking her head, “and she's never harmed a one of us.”
“No harm save being the kind of mother she is,” said Coel with a smile for Dora.
He looked up. “And I would hope that you appreciate how very dangerous she can be. If you get careless, your husband could lose you. Now look 'ee here. I want you to know that you've been doing a wonderful job. And you're my choice above anyone else for Dora's nanny, as if I had anything to say about it. In fact, I'd allow she thinks you're Momma.”
Elise drew a breath. “Oh I expect,” she said, looking away. “There'll come a time she'll have it straight.”
“That might be a dangerous moment,” he said, looking up at the crunch of gravel across the garden. “Just be certain to let me know if things become frightening.”
“General Coel?” said a saluting sergeant. “I'm...”
“You're Sergeant Hedyn with Captain Cingur?” said Coel, standing up at once to hand over Dora and a nod of thanks to Elise.
“Yes sir!”
“At ease.”
“I do apologize for disturbing you, sir,” said Hedyn as he removed his helm, “but I've urgent tidings.”
Coel glanced up at the balcony door. “My quarters atop Pilar Paleys would be the best place to hear what you have to say,” he said, setting out at once down the rows of new daffodil leaves.
“Nyth Hok?”
Coel nodded and hurried to the gate. Out in the wet street, a handful of pigeons took flight. Sparrows cheeped. When they reached Pilar Paleys, he swung 'round the banister post and charged up the noisy wooden steps, leaving Hedyn quite out of breath by the time they reached the top and stepped inside.
Coel tramped across the room to the hearth and stirred the coals. “Tea?”
“I'd take something to spit in, if ye don't mind.”
Coel slid the cuspidor over to him with his foot as he offered a chair and went back to putting wood on the fire and filling the kettle. “Now, you look like you've been run over by the coach,” he said. “What happened?”
“If going without sleep most of the way back here from Oilean Gairdin qualifies, I sure have sir,” said Hedyn, leaning forward from the corner of his chair for his first spit.
“I actually went to sleep in the saddle and fell off. I must have hit my head on the way down, and I have no idea how long I slept. Good job my unicorn came back and stayed by me...”
“Now when I'm right certain that I sent your captain with a skinweler ball, I'm a bit confused myself...” said Coel, carefully taking a chair.
“It's urgent enough. The stinking brute trolls had the captain and every single one of the men tied to trees when I left. They're probably all dead though, ain't they?”
“Why would that be?” said Coel as he rose again and unlatched a window, letting in the cries of a passing gull.
“Remember how they used to tell about the curses tying Elves to trees, making them watch everybody get butchered one by one? That's what it looked like they were a- fixing to do.”
“If they've ever once eat a single Human, I've never heard tell.”
“But weren't we sent to find out why they haven't eaten the Beaks?”
“That was the Empress's figure of speech for slaying the Beaks,” said Coel. “I can see that I shouldn't have passed it on. Trolls only eat Elves...”
“Yea, but they're out of Elves, don't ye know.”
“I'd allow that they are. But I'm not sure that tied up means butchered.”
“No. But the trolls were hardly being nice. Captain Cingur was a-hollering for Veyfnaryr and everything, and the politest the trolls managed to be was to go right on, a- tying him up.”
“Well now, how do you know all this?”
“I was up a tree, hiding, and saw it.”
“And you left without leave...?”
“Sir! Begging your pardon, but when the trolls were closing in, Captain Cingur saw his moment and ordered me up the tree to hide so that I could get word back here. I would never desert my post...”
“No need to get excited, Sergeant. I believe you. But there's a fair chance that Empress Spitemorta will want to hear you tell your story before we do anything about it.
And you don't want her misunderstanding. You need to tell about him ordering you up the tree before you say you were up there, or I might not be able to protect you. Aye?”
Hedyn gave a wide-eyed nod.
“So I'll give you three hours to get cleaned up and back here,” said Coel. “She'll never believe you, looking like that.”
***
“So let me get this straight General,” said Spitemorta, tapping at a tooth as she stared at the drapes ballooning and twisting in the breeze. “All your men but this sergeant were tied up when he left Oilean Gairdin. Sounds like you've lost another troop of soldiers without the slightest clue about what I had you send them for...”
“Lost?” said Coel. “I'm asking your leave to go make sure...”
“How many men does that make now? A hundred? Two hundred?”
“We don't know how many, until I go see,” he said, grabbing up a chair without permission and sitting down on it in front of her. “Hedyn's back, so that leaves nine and twenty in question. I may find when I get there that they've overcome their misunderstanding.”
“So where is this Hedyn?” she said, idly picking at this and that along the arm of her throne. “I would've supposed that you'd come more prepared than this. Why didn’t you bring him here with you? Are you afraid that I'll ask him something that you forgot? Haven't you interrogated him? How do you know that he didn't make up all this? Since he's the only one who escaped, couldn't he have deserted at the mere sight of the savages?”
“What is all this?” said Coel, “I came here already knowing that I would have to go see for myself. And what Hedyn had to say was worthless enough that I saw no point in bringing him along. But I assure you that he's a truthful soldier. And if you insist that I've actually lost these men, maybe Hedyn's right after all and the trolls have indeed taken to eating Humans with no Elves about.”
“That's what I was afraid of at the very time we brought them here,” she said, pounding the arm of her chair.
Coel squinted at her. Was she looking at him or not? “I should have killed you, 'way back then,” she growled. “No. I should've got you before that, when I was pregnant and you turned me into Fnadiyaphn and ruined my two babies. At the very least I should have killed you and Veyfnaryr and Nasteuh instead of letting you stop me...”
“Are you talking to Demonica?” said Coel. “Are you actually saying that you should have slain your own children?”
“Demons!” she said, turning to him. “When a baby is born a demon, you're supposed to bash out it's brains, General. And your men probably looked like demons to the trolls, showing up all armed.”
“Too bad. That's what soldiers do. And I fully intend to take along a full score of hand gonne, this time.”
“But you're not going, General. You seem to be bungling things.”
“And you're not? What if they're alive?”
“Then they're better off if I don't send you.”
“How can you possibly know such a thing?”
“I'm omnipotent.”
Coel drew in a very deep breath through his nose. “As you command, Omnipotence,” he said. “Have you further orders for me then?”
“Yea. Stay away from Pandora and her wet-nurse.”
“Really!”
“By all means. Your chatting up the nurse might merely be an embarrassment, but your continually being seen with Artie's child is nothing short of scandalous, I'm sorry to say.”
“And I'm sorry to say that you're entirely out of touch with your house and your court and yo
ur subjects, for the word already out everywhere is that I'm Dora's father,”
He said, shooting to his feet. “So if you must have a scandal, have me arrested.” And he tramped right out.
“And my daughter's name is Pandora!” she screamed, hurling an Elven vase whistling after him to smash on the pillar he had just passed by. “There is no Dora!”
“Good show!” crowed Demonica, clapping as she appeared. “I can't imagine that he's not convinced now...”
“Shut your vile mouth!”
“Oh my!” gasped Demonica with twinkling eyes. “Well at least you thought enough of me to be speaking to me when I was nowhere to be seen.”
Spitemorta grabbed up a matching vase and gave it a furious fling.
“Whoops!” chuckled Demonica as it flew right through her.
“Why can’t you ever leave me in peace?” said Spitemorta, collapsing onto her great chair.
“That's altogether beyond me, I'm afraid,” said Demonica. “What kind of peace did you grant by murdering me?”
“That again!”
“And it's not about to go away, dear,” said Demonica, shaking her head.
Spitemorta folded her arms and looked away.
“Now that you've been reminded about how it all is, how about Thunderman Veyfnaryr? Shouldn't we be finding out what he's up to?”
“Off to Oilean Gairdin? I have far more important things to do.”
“If you really want to see me faint dead away, name one. All I've seen you do lately is play make-believe empress, babbling edicts from your high perch that no one below is following.”
“Childbirth is very trying Grandmother. I’m still recovering from the ordeal…”
“An epic sacrifice to be sure. Though I do believe that the profound weight of it is showing up on your behind. No wonder your general is wandering...”
“Get out! Get out or I'll find a way to bring you back to life so that I can kill you properly, this time.”
“More empty threats,” said Demonica. “People may be wondering if you still have teeth, dear.” And with that she vanished.
“Witch!” she barked in time for what could have been a wink of light from her skinweler. “Now what would that be?” She picked it up and gasped at the sight of Veyfnaryr. She was about to demand an explanation from him when Neron appeared.
“I'll contact you directly with all the details,” said Neron.
“I'll be waiting,” said Veyfnaryr. “Be careful.”
“And you as well,” said Neron as they both vanished.
“Traitor!” cried Spitemorta, smacking the skinweler back into its socket on the arm of her throne. She sprang to her feet. “Damn you Demonica! I had control of those stinkers until you turned him over to them instead of letting me kill him.” She tramped all about the great echoing hall, flinging her arms. “There's nothing for it. Now I've no choice but to go to Oilean Gairdin.” She set out for her bower with no idea about how to dress for the trip. Perhaps a look through her wardrobes would help.
“You don't seem to have thought things through, dear,” said Demonica, watching her throw down a dress in disgust. “Perhaps you should send for tea so that we can discuss this first.”
“Discuss what?” she said, yanking another dress off its hanger. “Veyfnaryr has betrayed the empire and must be dealt with.”
“Perhaps. But you might be overlooking a thing or two.”
“Go on!”
“Very well, I shall.”
“Damn you.”
“You seem to forget that Veyfnaryr is a great deal more powerful than you are.”
“Yea? Well I've the Heart and the Staff. And he's no match for that...”
“Except,” said Demonica, raising her hands. “As you well remember, magic doesn't work on trolls. As far as they're concerned, you might as well not have them.”
“Well damn you, do something.”
“As if I'm not. Well the first thing I would do, if I were one of the living, would be to keep a close eye on my skinweler. If Veyfnaryr and King Neron are using theirs to keep in contact, there should be things for you to find out. You might find out where Neron or any of the Elves happen to be. I'm guessing the Black Desert. Have you heard back from your ship of explorers, yet? I'd think you should have.”
“No I haven’t, Grandmother. And that’s probably because there's absolutely nothing there.”
“Interesting reasoning...” said Demonica.
“So that’s it? The best you can do is tell me to watch my skinweler?”
“You’re the empress.” And with that, she vanished.
Chapter 201
In spite of the fact that Spitemorta was empress of the entire world and had more power than anyone who had ever lived, she was not so emancipated that she could take leave of mundane responsibilities to her subjects altogether. It simply turned out to be easier in the long run for her to maintain certain routine drudgeries such as a circuit court, held in first one then another of her captive kingdoms. Her last one had been held in Loxmere, and since it had been better than three months, yesterday she ended her lying-in by holding the Circuit Court of the Empress's Bench in World Hall, her gigantic banquet hall which made up one of the wings of her castle. Today, she was beginning the first of several days of hearing petitions and granting common audiences from her great black chair in her throne room.
She gave a sullen glance at Coel coming up the carpet and went right on with what she was doing. “Your petition is denied,” she barked at the plainly dressed woman standing before her. “You have three daughters to help on your farm. We decreed some time ago that upon coming of age, all young men shall enter a period of military service, the length of which is to be determined by the empire's need. We made no exceptions for sons of widows. Your son shall report at sunrise tomorrow or he will be arrested for desertion. And since your interests will be assumed to be responsible for his dereliction, you shall in that case forfeit all title to your holdings. See her out.”
The poor woman's eyes brimmed with tears as she curtseyed and was abruptly ushered out by the guards.
Coel ran his tongue to the back of his cheek as he stood aside and watched.
“You disapprove?” said Spitemorta.
“I'm merely a servant, Your Omnipotence,” he said with a shake of his head. “I really didn't see all of it.”
Spitemorta lifted her chin. “You're interrupting things, General,” she said, leaning back against the throne's red hour glass. “Is there a reason?”
“You're granting audiences and you have your skinweler covered. And you left me with orders to stay in my quarters and monitor Oilean Gairdin with mine. And I have something to report.”
Spitemorta's eyes quickly darted from guard to guard to the circuit clerk sitting ready with his inkwell and quill. “Let's step out,” she said, standing up at once to lead him out behind the throne and close the door. “So what have you learnt?”
“Minuet's army should be here by ship in six weeks.”
“Where did they get ships?”
“Neron didn't say, but twenty-one years is a good spell...”
“Neron. Damn it! Neron?” she said, shaking her head in distraction.
“Yes. May I continue?”
Spitemorta stopped, looked at him and went on pacing.
“The Beaks are supposed to attack Goll...”
“Damn you!” she cried. “You were supposed to take out those little blue...”
“And you tied my hands! Are you also going to make it impossible for me to tell you about all this?”
Spitemorta threw up her hands and dropped them. “I'm listening.”
“The Beaks are to attack Goll when Minuet attacks here, the Elves of the great grassland of the Eastern Continent are to attack Gwael and...”
“What Elves on the Eastern Continent?”
“May I please...?”
“And I suppose Azenor's got something up his sleeve, aye?”
“That's indee
d how I heard it...”
“And I suppose the fabled Elven twins of the Prophecy are on their way as well?”
Coel nodded.
“Fates! Fates!” she cried, giving a half dozen tramps about, seeming for the briefest moment, every bit as in trouble as anyone else might be. Suddenly she was in control. “All right,” she said, having a seat on the nearby chair. “How about my boundlessly faithful son, the troll? What treasonous little flourish has he in store?”
“I don't know. It was never said before the ball went out, but I don't see the point of any of what Neron told Veyfnaryr if he wasn't to be in on it.”
“Well they've certainly been busy, haven't they?”
“As I was trying to say just now, above a full score year is enough time to be thoroughly prepared.”
“Well then,” she said, standing up. “Be at my solar when I've finished with my skinweler delivery tomorrow, ready to present your plans for a preemptive counter attack.
In the meantime, the skinweler is to be monitored every blooming moment.”
The instant it was clear that she had nothing further to say, he turned on his heel and stepped out without a word.
“Cocky man!” she growled. “That move right there earned your death the very moment this is all over.”
***
Just west of the Vaults of Loxmere (and north of the Circle) lay the Sinks, an area of limestone caverns collapsed under the weight of a great primeval lava field, leaving a landscape of black sand, pocked with deep holes, the broad ones choked with thickets of scrub brush. Though it was usually far too hot under the desert sun, it could be a pleasant place for a stroll in the moonlight, so long as it was bright enough not to tumble off into some deep void. This was the other place where Ariel and Abaddon often went to be by themselves.
“Aww!” cried a black owl from somewhere not quite as far off in the darkness as the howling wolves. The cold light of the gibbous moon, crowning the great vault of stars in the wee hours, spilt its silvery light across the sands. Ariel gathered her shawl under her chin and took Abaddon's arm.
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 210
