“You know it doesn't.” Sorley grinned. “You truly disappointed Dagney, you know, by refusing to learn anything more.”
“Yes,” Cillian said. “I do know. Not the only way I disappointed her, I expect, and a regret. Who would like to go walking with me, after dinner? I would like to be out of a building for a while.”
“You are not expecting the Empress to ask for you, for your usual evening discussion of the day?” Turlo said. I thought I heard an odd emphasis on 'discussion', and a touch of acerbity in his comment. I glanced at Cillian, but his face showed me nothing.
“I hope not,” he said briefly. “Lena?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Sorley? Druisius will have to accompany us, I suppose, so you should come along.”
“I'll be glad to.”
“I cannot convince you, Turlo?”
“No. City streets are not to my liking. Perhaps I will go to the harbour, though.” This is happening too often, I thought, Turlo left on his own, while the three of us are together. But I couldn't change it, if Turlo refused to come with us. And the three men are together all day, and he and Cillian late into the nights. They probably have had enough of each other's company.
We had no real destination that evening, happy to walk for the sake of walking. But eventually we found ourselves at the market. Despite the setting sun, traders still shouted and people still haggled, looking for end-of-day bargains. A man carrying a basket of vegetables brushed against me. Cillian put a hand on my back, guiding me out of the way.
“Lena!” I heard the voice behind me. I turned to see Junia, grinning.
“Junia,” I said, smiling. “My trainer,” I explained to Cillian. He spoke to her in Casilan. She was regarding him with clear curiosity; she would have seen the touch, I realized. Well, now she knew I had told her the truth. Cillian asked a question, and she began to explain something. He stopped her.
“A drink at the taberna?” he suggested to us. “Lena wants to know how the bow she is using is constructed, and why, and Junia will explain. But better over wine than standing here in the market, don't you think?”
The taberna was less crowded than I thought it would be at the end of the day, and the serving girl, seeing us, went out to the courtyard, and with sharp words evicted a group of youths from a table. Sorley grinned. “She says they have sat for hours over one small flask of wine, so they don't deserve the table,” he said.
“We should buy them another flask,” Cillian said. He spoke to the girl. She smiled, and nodded, calling to the young men.
“I hope you told her to water it first,” Sorley said, sitting down. The server brought us wine and a bowl of crispy roasted peas. Cillian poured the wine. Junia took a sip and began to talk again. Cillian listened intently, nodding.
“Junia says the three layers work together. When you draw the bow, the sinew on the outside stretches and the horn on the inside squeezes together, and when you release, the horn springs open and pushes the wood. At the same time, the sinew shrinks back to its original size, pulling on the wood. Together, they make more force in the bow, so the arrow goes further than if the bow was just wood.”
I tried to envision the behaviour of the materials in the bow when I drew. It made sense, I thought. “Gratiás, Junia,” I said. To Cillian, I added, “ask her if I can buy one to take home with us.”
“She will have to ask her superiors,” he relayed back to me.
Druisius looked up. “Cillian,” he said, pointing. Another guard had entered the courtyard. He came over to us, handing Cillian a note.
He read it, quickly, and swore under his breath. “I am summoned,” he said. “Käresta, forgive me. I had hoped for one evening together.” He stood, looking down at me, a rueful expression on his face. I smiled and shrugged.
“Empresses cannot be ignored,” I murmured. He turned to go, then stopped. Turning back to me, he held out his hand. Puzzled, I gave him mine. He raised it to his lips. “Neither should you be.” he said, and left. Junia, I noted, watched him go.
What had that been about? Kissing my hand was acceptable, but also a very public gesture. For whom? Junia? The second guard? I didn't know.
We sat over the wine for a while longer. Junia excused herself after she had finished her glass. Once she had gone, Sorley turned to me. “Junia seemed excessively interested in Cillian.”
“Yes,” I said. No one could understand us, so there was no point in not speaking. “She—expressed an interest in me, earlier today at the baths. I told her no, I was partnered. With a man, which surprised her. I suppose she was curious about him.”
“Probably,” Sorley agreed. We sat in silence for a while, until he and Druisius began talking. I didn't mind not understanding. I watched the first stars appearing. Bats flitted over the courtyard, hunting insects.
“We should go, before it is too dark,” Sorley suggested. Druisius left coins on the table. As we walked home, Sorley asked, “was it hard, saying no to Junia?”
“No. I belong with Cillian, Sorley. Anything else is just a stimulus, as you said.”
We began to shoot arrows at stationary targets, first from a standstill, then from a walk. Over the next few days we progressed to trotting and cantering, and firing both facing forward, and turned in the saddle. I missed the target several times at the canter, but slowly my mind and body began to make the necessary judgments, and suddenly I could put it all together and my arrows flew home.
I barely saw Cillian, and when I did he was increasingly preoccupied. I tried not to ask about the negotiations. Turlo said very little and I thought I sensed tension between them. Sorley concurred. “I don't know what, though,” he said. “Turlo doesn't wait for him any longer in the evenings, though, Druisius tells me. The Empress wants a summary, every night, and Cillian is often with her for some long time.”
Junia had remained friendly, not taking my rejection to heart. The next afternoon I arrived at the training ground to find we would be shooting at a swinging target, rigged to spin and move when a rope was pulled. The target, made of stuffed cloth, had the shape of a man.
Not surprisingly, we all missed the first few times, even from a trot. The next pass, I tried not to think, letting muscles and instinct tell me when to shoot. I hit the target in its shoulder. When my next turn came, I signalled Roseus to canter and as we came within shooting distance I let the arrow fly. It lodged firmly in the figure's thigh.
For a moment I truly believed I saw blood. Bile burned my throat. I brought Roseus to a halt and swallowed. It's a stuffed dummy, I told myself. I reached into my mind, past the revulsion, finding the ice of revenge. Then I urged my horse back to speed and shot again, and this time I felt only satisfaction at the arrow in the target's chest.
Junia gave me a long assessing look before nodding her approval. When we finished, and the horses were groomed and stabled, she suggested the baths again, this time including the other two women. As I began to undress in the changing room a spot of blood on my leggings caught my eye. The moon had been full, a few nights earlier. I was due to bleed.
I showed Junia, briefly, shaking my head. The baths would be forbidden to me during this time, I was sure. She gave me a wry smile, confirming my thought. I dressed again and went out to find Druisius, hoping he had stayed; he could have well gone off for a drink, as normally I would have been some time at the baths. But he was hunkered down in the shade. He looked surprised to see me, but gave a little shrug and walked back with me to the house.
I found my blood cloths, pinned one in place, rinsed the leggings. Daily use of anash meant no cramps, thank goodness. But I was lethargic, as usual. I stretched out on the bed and let myself drift into sleep.
Blood drenched the dream: mine, a boy's, Ivor's. I thought it filled my nose and mouth and I gasped for air, forcing myself to breathe, to wake. My heart pounded. Sweat dampened my neck and hair. I lay still, orienting myself, trying to think. This was not the first time the dreams had come during my bleeding
time. Was there a connection? Or had it just been the act of shooting arrows at a life-like dummy today?
I got up and washed away the sweat. I had just pulled on a clean tunic when Cillian came in. “Hello, my love,” I said. “I wasn't expecting you.”
“Lena,” he said. He wasn't smiling. “Will you sit? I wish to talk to you.” He sounds very formal, I thought.
“Wine?” I offered. He shook his head.
“No. Not for me.”
“What's wrong?” I didn't sit.
“You were attacked in the street, quite a few days ago, I understand,” he said evenly. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you have more important things to concern yourself with,” I said. “Druisius and I took care of it, I wasn't hurt, so why worry you? How did you hear of it?”
“One of the guards told me. The men involved were sentenced today, and he thought I would want to know the outcome.”
“Which was?”
“To become quarry slaves. Lena, why did you not trust me with this?”
“Trusting you has nothing to do with it,” I answered. “Distracting you from your work does. Even now, should you not be at the palace?”
“Not for a short while. I would have preferred to know. You were in danger.”
“Briefly.” I was getting annoyed. “I am a soldier, Cillian. This kidnap attempt was minor compared to what I will face in the war. Are you going to expect me to tell you about every sword thrust or axe swing that misses, in every battle? And if I did, how well would you keep your mind on analyzing tactics with the Emperor?”
“Perhaps you should have told me, so I could assess if it were random or part of an attempt to influence the negotiations,” he said, in a precise, cold voice.
“Is that a real possibility?”
“Yes. There have been other—actions.”
“Well, perhaps if you had told me that, instead of barely speaking to me this last week, I would have told you that Druisius considered that but the guards determined it was a random attack,” I snapped. “Why did you not trust me with that, Cillian?”
He took a deep breath. Very deliberately, he poured two glasses of wine, adding water before he handed one to me. I said nothing. The last question had been mine, and I wanted an answer. I took a mouthful of wine.
“At least in this I can still speak the truth,” he said eventually, his voice quiet, “it is not that I do not trust you. Lena, these negotiations are difficult and the ones to come will be even more so. Perhaps I see conspiracies where there are none, and why tell you of my worries if they are unfounded?”
“Because they are your worries, and perhaps you need someone to listen to them?” I suggested, my brief flare of anger done.
“Or speaking them makes them worse, by making them real,” he answered. “I must get back. I am sorry, Lena, for my anger. But if anything else happens, please tell me.”
“I will,” I said. He left without finishing his wine and without kissing me. I took several deep breaths. He had asked for patience, the last time we had really talked. I would have to try to practice it.
Sorley and I had eaten a light supper, neither of us very hungry. The house felt confining; I wanted space and solitude, and I wasn't going to get it. At least out here on the roof I could see the sky.
I heard feet on the stairs. We turned to see Turlo approaching. He sank onto a bench at the table. “It's done,” he announced. “Both sides have accepted the treaty.” He reached for wine. “Now we can begin what we came to do.” He sounded tired, and not particularly happy.
“You must be relieved,” I said. “Is Cillian still at the palace?”
“Aye. Expect him to be late. He is with the Empress, and perhaps her advisors.” He drank his wine. “But we must talk, now. Lord Sorley, you must decide finally what you are prepared to give up, in exchange for Casil's help.” His use of Sorley's title told me this was not a conversation between friends.
“Will you tell me what you think, General?” Sorley replied. “And, let me say this. I will not decide tonight, and not before talking to Cillian. It is—was—his land too. I need his thoughts.”
“Fair enough,” Turlo said. “But we can at least review possibilities. A map would help.”
I fetched paper and a pen. Sorley sketched a rough map of Linrathe and Sorham, and the coastal islands. “The islands are a problem,” Turlo told us. “I have learned that, these last days. Too many places to hide, in and around islands, so they can serve as a place to conceal boats and men. Dividing up islands among powers does not breed trust.”
“But we cannot give the Marai the islands, or they will always be on our borders,” Sorley argued.
“They will always be on your borders, regardless,” Turlo said. He traced a finger along the line of the Sterre. “North of here, in Sorham—it is a very wild land, at least by the Durrains.”
“And throughout,” Sorely agreed. “The coastal lands can be tamer in some places, but mostly it is a high and difficult land, with farming in the valleys and sheep on the hills.”
“Where are your lands, Sorley?” I asked. He pointed to a coastal area, very far north.
“They were here,” he said. He looked down at the map again. His face, always expressive, held a dawning realization, and immense pain. “We cannot take Sorham back, can we?”
“I do not think so,” Turlo said. “Not now. At best we can hold Linrathe, but nothing north of the Sterre. We will ask for fifteen hundred men and a dozen ships. They will offer fewer, and we will settle for that in the end. How many fewer, I cannot judge. Cillian thinks perhaps half that, or a bit more. But say eight ships and eight hundred men. Enough, if the Empire has not fallen, and we still have some of our own ships and men, to drive the Marai back. But not enough to scour these islands and coast and the hidden valleys and fastnesses of Sorham, endlessly.”
“I do see that. Especially when the sympathies of many lie with the Marai,” Sorley said, his voice bleak. “Better to use men to fortify the Sterre.”
“Aye,” Turlo said. “But talk to Cillian. He may have other thoughts.”
“But Linrathe?” I asked. “You still believe it can be retaken?”
“I do,” Turlo replied. “It is smaller, and its coast is easier to defend. And its people are fighting back; they do not welcome the Marai, not most of them. But even that, mind, will come at a price.”
“What price?”
“The same one our Empire will pay, Cohort-Leader,” Turlo said. “Casil has lost lands in gaining peace with the Boranoi. The Empress will face criticism for agreeing to that. But less so, if she can point out that in exchange, she is reclaiming a long-lost portion of the Eastern Empire. Our centuries of independence are over.”
Cillian had alluded to this, weeks ago while we were still on the ship. “But Linrathe never belonged to the Eastern Empire,” I said.
“It did not,” Turlo agreed. “But that will change. Exactly how will be part of the negotiations, no doubt, and largely up to you, my lord Sorley. You are all the voice of Linrathe we have.”
“No,” Sorley said, in clear anguish. “Cillian must help me decide.”
“Help, yes,” I said, as gently as I could. “But, Sorley—did you swear allegiance to Donnalch?”
“Yes.”
“He did not,” I reminded him. “Not sworn to your last legitimate leader, and with an oath given to the Empire? Cillian cannot be Linrathe's voice. Just as Turlo is reminding me that I am going to have to agree to the end of the Partition agreement, as the only woman of the Empire present, you must make these decisions for Linrathe. We did know this would come, Sorley.”
“Yes, I know.” Tears shone in his eyes. “There isn't any choice, is there?”
“Not that I can see,” I said. “Perhaps in some of the details. Cillian said he would let us choose as freely as we could, remember?”
Sorley nodded. I put my hand on his, to comfort him a little. “How will this work, Turlo?” I asked. “
Will Sorley and I have to be present for the negotiations, so we can make what choices we can?”
“I believe so,” he answered.
“I should send word to Junia to not expect me, then,” I said.
After a while Sorley went downstairs, to find Druisius, I thought. Turlo regarded me in silence for some minutes. “You seem very calm, lassie,” he said eventually.
“Resigned,” I said. “From what I have seen of Casil, better to be ruled by them than the Marai, though.”
“Aye,” he said. “If we must be ruled by anyone. Ending the Partition agreement will only be part of it.”
“I know,” I said. “And did not Callan want that, anyhow?”
“He wanted a new sort of agreement. One made by our own men and women.”
“Turlo, he must have known that if Casil came to our aid, there would be a price.”
“I suppose he did.” He looked troubled. “Did you learn what you needed to, about archery from horseback?”
“Enough,” I said. “I have questions for you, but they will wait for the voyage home.”
“Once we are home, Lena, I will recommend that your role is to train and command a squadron of mounted archers. Will that suit you?”
“Yes. Thank you for that, General.” I wondered if he had realized the same thing I had: in the press of warfare, I was a liability on foot, as likely to attack a fellow soldier who came too close to me from behind as I was an enemy. On a horse, I felt safer.
Sorley came back without Druisius. He picked up the map again, studying it, looking for alternatives, I supposed. Suddenly I was very tired. Too much had happened today.
“I think I'll go to bed,” I said. In our room, I changed into my light sleeping shift. Replacing my blood cloth, I was surprised to see only a few spots staining it. Unusual, for me. Maybe the anash? I tried to remember if my mother had ever said anything about that. I couldn't recall her doing so, but a fragment of conversation came back to me. She had been instructing Kira, my sister and her apprentice. 'Bleeding can be affected by illness, or emotional turmoil,’ she had said. 'The bleeding may come at odd times, or be lighter than usual, or sometimes heavier. Women often experience this just after their sons leave. It is not a cause for worry, unless the changes continue.’ Emotional turmoil sounded right to me. I wouldn't worry, then.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 94
