by JA Andrews
This wasn’t the queen’s study. This was the formal council chamber, and while the table was large enough to seat twice as many people, the dozen that sat around the far end still felt like an enormous crowd.
The queen raised her hand to stop an impassioned speech by an older man. “Keeper Sini, please take a seat. We’re discussing the extent of Lukas’s armies.”
She caught Roan staring at her, his normal court formality slipping enough to show surprise. Whether at her black robe or the fact that she wasn’t disheveled for once, she didn’t want to know. Sini gave him a tight smile, but she received nothing but a frown from him before he smoothed his reserved expression back on. Sini felt a flare of irritation and tried to hide it in a curtsey to the queen, then another in the general direction of Roan and Madeleine. The future queen dismissed Sini without even a nod, but Will caught her eye and gave her a wide smile. Will leaned over an enormous map next to four men in military uniforms. The man who’d been speaking when Sini entered fixed her with a stern look.
“May I introduce my father,” Roan said, his voice tight. “Duke Heath of Greentree.”
Sini curtseyed again, but the man’s face didn’t soften. She sat down in the nearest empty seat.
“If what your deposed Roven Torch friend says can be trusted,” the Duke of Greentree said, continuing the conversation from before she’d arrived, “and Lukas has armies along the southern border, especially if they’re being reinforced with men from the Sweep, we need to mobilize our own troops quickly. Since delaying until we know the truth could prove perilous, I will send a message south to Greentree and Marshwell immediately.”
“If he has as many armies as he claims,” a man with a general’s insignia on his sleeve said, “we need to mobilize the city guard south.”
Everyone began talking at once.
“We don’t need the city guard,” the Duke of Greentree insisted. “Marshwell and Greentree have kept the southern border safe for hundreds of years. Even when we were under attack by Baylon, we’ve never needed support. We don’t need it now.”
“That is foolish,” Queen Saren said. “We have never faced a combined army from Baylon and Napon, never mind one swelled by the Roven. We are sending the guard. What we need to determine is how many of them to send.”
“If you take the city guard,” the duke said, “you empty Queenstown of its defenses.”
“I agree,” Will said. “Douglon promises fifteen hundred dwarves within days, two thousand more within a fortnight.”
The queen nodded. “That will help.”
The general made a derisive noise. “We won’t know if it will help until we see what they send. If they send anything. Queenstown is days away from the border. There is no way an attacking force could get past us to reach the capital. We should send the city guard. We can call them back if they’re needed.”
“I don’t think it wise to take the guard away from the city,” Roan said.
“If you must send some,” his father agreed, “perhaps the first and second battalion could be sent, and the rest left here to protect the queen.”
“And the Keepers,” Saren said firmly. She turned to Will. “I want the Keepers brought here immediately.”
Duke Heath nodded. “It is ridiculous that the Keepers do not live here. I have always thought so. Why do we bother with two different libraries? Here they could be cared for by the finest staff and have more time for studies."
“The palace isn’t really conducive to quiet study,” Will said. “And we believe that it is easier to see things clearly from a distance, rather than embroiled in court life.”
The Duke waved away his words. “If they are loyal to Queensland and to her Majesty, they can have no objection to being a part of us. They cannot be protected well anywhere else.”
“With all respect,” Will said, “being in a hidden valley which none but ourselves can access is safer than anywhere else in the country.”
“You will write to the Shield today,” the queen said, “and tell him I require his presence here immediately.”
Will let out a short sigh. “I will convey your message, but I don’t expect him to acquiesce.”
“How dare he?” Madeleine flung an outraged glare at Will. “How dare he ignore a direct command from his queen?”
“He does not do so lightly, I assure you,” Will said. “If he stays at the Stronghold, it is because he believes it essential that he do so.”
“Or he wants to hide in his tower and let the rest of the world burn,” Madeleine leaned forward. “And where is Alaric? Is he hiding away as well?”
“I believe Alaric will be here tomorrow,” Will said evenly. “If he is not delayed.”
Sini felt a little twinge of nervousness. Hopefully Alaric wouldn’t travel back to Queenstown in his Keeper’s robe.
“Sini,” the queen said, and Sini snapped her attention back to the conversation. “Do you have any additional information about this sword that Lukas is supposedly searching for?”
“No.” Sini had found nothing else about the sword in Chesavia’s journal. “And I don’t know whether he’s found it.”
“We’ve looked into the dragon sightings,” Duke Heath said. “It’s been three weeks since the last report of a sighting over the moors.”
Fear pricked the back of her neck. Maybe Lukas had found the black blade.
“The dragon has obviously turned its attention somewhere else,” Duke Heath continued. “Along with his rider.”
“The dragon rider has been busy with armies and gold,” the general agreed. “He’s most likely given up his search…if that was what he was doing.”
Sini hesitated. “I don’t think he would give up.”
“He has more to worry about than ancient swords,” Madeleine said.
Sini glanced at Will. “The way Keeper Chesavia hid the sword, I think it represents a serious threat.”
Will nodded. “I don’t think we should ignore the fact that Lukas may already have it.”
“And what should we do about that?” Madeleine asked. “Besides find fault in the Keepers of old for not hiding such a thing well enough?”
Sini looked at Roan for some support, but his face was stony. “Lukas would put more faith in a powerful magical object than in armies.” She tapped her fingers against her lip. “It’s worrisome that he’s stopped looking.”
“Only a fool would think a single sword more important than an army,” Madeleine said firmly. “As a man who’s never been in charge of anything, he’s likely realizing how much work it is. His little treasure hunt will take a back seat to the realities of leadership.”
Sini pressed her lips closed.
Roan finally looked up at her, but she found no warmth in his eyes. “We’ll send to Greentree for more information,” Roan said, his voice stiff. “Perhaps the fanatics were too busy watching the dragon to report it over the last few weeks.”
A surge of gratefulness rolled through Sini, but Roan looked away before she could even nod her thanks.
Within a few minutes, the queen dismissed them all. Will headed off to find Sora, and Roan announced he would escort Sini back to her room.
“You must think the sword is a problem,” she whispered as soon as they’d left the room. “You saw how concerned Alaric was about it. I’m not overstating this.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Roan answered stiffly.
“Right.” Her irritation flared. “You’re just there to support Madeleine. I forgot.”
Roan glanced at her. “I am there to support her. I have little to no knowledge about the sword. Why would I speak?”
“Because I thought—” Sini clenched her mouth closed. Because she’d thought they’d started to develop something resembling a friendship. She searched for a better topic, or one that would at least make him as annoyed as she was. “When did your father arrive?”
“The day after we left,” Roan said, no hint of emotion in his voice, though his expressio
n was darker.
“He’s…” she couldn’t figure out a polite way to end the thought.
“Used to getting his way.”
“He must be proud that you were sent as Saren’s emissary to the dwarves.”
He cleared his throat. “Now that you’re wearing the black robe,” he said, changing the subject with an annoyingly stern tone in his voice, “you need to be more careful. Guards will escort you around the palace. Please do not leave it.” His voice held considerably more command than request. “After the unrest we found on the road, I can’t imagine things will stay peaceful in the city for long.”
Sini let out an annoyed huff. “Don’t worry. I won’t drag you into the Lees again.”
He didn’t let her words ruffle him. “I hope you’re done going to the Lees altogether.”
“Pest informed me he grew up there. I’ve already assured him I will take him if I venture back into that part of town, not you.”
Roan paused, choosing his words carefully before continuing. “You shouldn’t go there with Pest either. He and his sister were raised in the Lees by an uncle with an ugly reputation. The man…disappeared under suspicious circumstances.”
Sini turned in surprise. “Pest killed him?”
“No one can prove it. But the uncle was…unkind to Pest’s sister.” Roan clasped his hands behind his back as they walked. “Regardless, Pest’s services were for while we traveled. Now that you’re in the city, you will be protected by the city guard.”
“That’s too bad,” Sini answered. “He and I were just starting to become friends.”
“Pest has no friends,” Roan said firmly.
Sini felt another jab of irritation. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you.”
“He doesn’t like anyone. He doesn’t talk to anyone.”
“He talks to me.”
They had reached the sitting area outside Sini’s room and Roan turned to face her, scowling. “I know. But I don’t know why.”
Sini crossed her arms. “Maybe I’m more fun to talk to than uptight city guards.”
“I hope that’s what it is,” he said coldly.
Sini glared at him. “I thought you of all people would understand that if I find someone here I like to talk to—preferably someone who’s not stiff and formal and attached to a woman who hates me—I’m going to talk to him.”
His jaw twitched and he fixed her with a stern look. “Be careful, Sini.”
She wanted to slap the stuffiness off his face. “Daisy?” she said without turning.
“Yes, Keeper Sini?” Captain Liam’s voice was not amused.
“In your professional opinion, does the younger son of the Duke of Greentree, even if he is betrothed to the future queen, have the rank to command a Keeper?”
Roan’s gaze flickered past her to the man. There was a moment’s silence.
“No, Keeper,” the captain said at last. “I do not believe he does.”
“Neither do I.” She didn’t wait for Roan’s response before turning and stalking into her room. Captain Liam gave her a flat look. She ignored it, letting the door close behind her with a satisfying thud.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Roan did not improve over the next few days. In fact, nothing improved over the next few days. The weather stayed chilly and damp and the only topic anyone spoke of was war.
Alaric arrived at the palace the next morning with word that Douglon would follow shortly, but that the dwarven messenger system was in place. The dwarves had fifteen hundred troops stationed at the border between Duncave and Queensland, and were working on getting the other two thousand ready well within a fortnight.
Sini joined Alaric in Will’s room as soon as he returned.
“Now that the elves know how to eat,” Alaric said, dropping heavily into a wide chair near the fire, “they’re growing so fast you can almost see it. Elves live so long I figured their childhood would last for decades. But most of them are as tall as my waist already, and they speak fluently.”
“Are they happier?” Sini asked.
Alaric nodded. “Thanks to Douglon, half the time they talk like dwarves. When they’re angry they’ll yell at the ‘blasted trees’.” He let out a tired laugh and shook his head. “The homes they’ve begun to build themselves are mostly on the ground instead of up in the trees. They’ve taken to making stone-walled houses centered around a single, large tree trunk. Then they convince the tree to bend its branches down to the top of the wall as a roof. So there are all these half-stone, half-tree houses.”
“They sound cozy and ingenious.” Will sat with his feet propped up on a stool, stretching. toward the fire.
“But not elvish.” Alaric dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
“You didn’t really think we’d manage to bring back elves exactly as they were before, did you?” Will asked.
“No. I just wish I knew what we did bring back.” Alaric sighed. “Actually, I wish everything would just calm down for a little while.” At their silence he gave them a small smile. “The apothecary says Evangeline’s time is coming sooner than we expected. He expects it to be less than a fortnight.”
Their hearty congratulations were interrupted by a messenger calling them to the queen’s council.
The meeting took place in the full council chamber again, this time with at least two dozen generals, dukes, and nobility. Each duchy had its own troops in addition to the massive city guard, and there were endless discussions about which to mobilize. Sini quickly realized that she had absolutely nothing to add to the discussions of troop movements and supply routes.
When it was over, she begged Alaric to get her out of future meetings. He agreed, if she promised to spend the time researching Lukas’s swords and continue the studies on Mallon she’d been working on at the Stronghold. She gladly spent the next few days in the library as everyone else planned for war. She tried, as much as she could, not to think about the fact that Lukas was behind all of this. It felt almost like they were talking about some stranger who happened to have the same name as her foster brother. She couldn’t reconcile her memories of him with this.
A suspicion began to grow in her after rereading Chesavia’s journal. What if these swords were doing something to Lukas? Chesavia’s entries blamed the sword for Naj’s continued violence. If Lukas had just found the black sword a few weeks ago when people had seen the dragon on the moors, that was just before he’d slaughtered all those people at the gold mines in Gulfind. That event was certainly an escalation of anything Lukas had done before.
She found Will and Sora and mentioned the idea.
“It’s possible,” Will admitted, “but be careful that you aren’t making excuses for him. On the Sweep we saw him attack the Roven with a swarm of frost goblins. So we know he’s willing to use mass violence when it suits him.”
Sini just nodded, caught between frustration and disappointment. Will was the most sympathetic ear she was likely to find. She filed the idea away in her own mind and didn’t bring it up again.
On the second afternoon she received a letter from Rett. She opened it to find his halting handwriting filling almost all of the small paper. There were almost no spelling mistakes, so one of the other Keepers must have helped him. The idea of Rett laboring in the library, his big body bent over the small paper with Gerone or Mikal or the Shield patiently spelling words made her smile. This must have taken him ages.
The lamb is walking strong like the others! Still little, but growing. Gerone made apple sugar bread. I wanted to save you a piece, but I ate it. I miss you Sini.
She let out a little groan at Gerone’s apple sugar bread. She should write to him for the recipe so they could make it here at the palace. That bread might be the best part of fall.
The war plans went on slowly. The dwarves reported that Killien’s information about the Roven army was correct. They were gathering in a valley in the Scale Mountains along the edges of Gulfind. But, as Saren’s rangers had found earlier, t
he pass into Gulfind ahead of them was blocked by a landslide. Currently the numbers of Roven swelling in that valley were threatening the fragile truce between clans who had been lifelong enemies.
A part of the council took this as a sign that Lukas’s entire invasion would be inept. The rest were alarmed that they were missing something important.
She’d sent a message by raven to the twins, asking if they knew anything about the warlord Naj, and if the Shield had discovered anything new in the Wellstone about the sword Lukas was searching for.
Whenever she was bored, which was often, she experimented with her ring. Lighting small sticks and tossing them into her fireplace, lighting blank or useless pages from her notes, just because she could. She began a list of other burning stones she would like. Maybe one that could interact with the air so she could shape it the way the twins could. And one that would connect her in a way that she could use paxa to calm animals. When all this was over, she’d need to sit down with Alaric and see which were possible. Maybe she could have a whole handful of rings.
Roan continued to be insufferably stiff and ill-humored until Sini was glad he was seldom out of the council room.
As the days went on, she spent more and more time reading books by Flibbet the Peddler. At first it was in the hopes of finding something about the swords, and how the odd little peddler had come to possess the blue one that eventually made its way to Killien.
But she kept seeking out more of his books because they were just plain fun. Flibbet wrote in multi-colored ink, with doodles lining each page. He told heroic tales as well as stories of small people in small villages. He recorded jokes and insightful quotes with wild, whimsical disorganization. She found nothing of any value, but the time was spent so much more pleasantly in his writing than all her other studies, that she kept coming back to him.
Flibbet was an enigma. The first records of him were over two hundred years old. For a time he had interacted with the Keepers regularly, bringing them his strange books and providing useful information from his travels. But he must have died a hundred years ago, at least. The idea that Killien’s father had gotten Svard Naj from Flibbet was impossible. Maybe one of Flibbet’s descendants had inherited the odd collection of things the peddler had collected. The idea piqued her interest. It would be interesting to meet Flibbet’s grandchild. Maybe they had more of his wonderful books.
