by A. M. Manay
Shiloh nodded. For an hour she waited in near silence, leaning against Silas, trying without success to hide her exhaustion. At last, the all clear was blown. Shiloh’s men ran her banner up the flagpole, and Shiloh and Silas stepped through the portal.
Shiloh’s heart fell as she surveyed the damage. “I suppose I should not be surprised that they wrecked the place.”
“Dishonorable scoundrels,” Silas declared, “but we knew that already.”
Every tree in the garden was uprooted. The ground glittered with broken glass from every window. Shiloh stepped inside the entrance hall to find every bench smashed to kindling, every lamp knocked to the floor, every mirror in slivers, every portrait slashed.
“The library first,” she ordered, wanting to get the worst of the pain over. She found a handful of her men standing outside the double doors.
“We can’t get it open, my lord,” they admitted, sheepishly looking at the ground.
“Stand back, please, Your Grace,” Silas said before aiming his wand and taking the doors clean off their hinges.
“Stay back, foul creatures!” someone cried from within. “I’ll take off your heads! Don’t think I won’t!”
“Headmaster Markas?” Shiloh asked, struggling to see past a pile of tables that had been turned on their sides just beyond the entrance.
“Shiloh?” the old man replied, his head popping above his makeshift barricade.
Shiloh swept forward, laughing in relief to see the thousands of pristine books still marching across their shelves. She embraced Markas fiercely, exclaiming, “You beautiful man, you saved the books!”
He blushed bright red beneath her praise. Shiloh could see now that the headmaster was not alone. Peeking fearfully out of their hiding places were students, professors, and servants who had all taken refuge with Markas in the royal library.
“And you protected all these people as well! You’re a hero!” she declared.
“It’s just lucky that the magical protections upon the buildings kept them from setting the whole palace alight,” Markas replied. “And they did try, I can tell you that!”
“You’re all safe now,” Silas announced in a loud voice. “The queen has retaken the City. The palace is free from Gernish occupation.”
“The queen?” Markas asked. “Loor?”
Shiloh shook her head. “No, headmaster. Loor died last winter, I’m afraid.”
Markas looked from Shiloh to Silas and back again, eyes widening. Slowly, he sank to one knee.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not realize,” he apologized. “I had heard whispers, but I did not credit them much.”
“Do not trouble yourself, headmaster. It came as quite a surprise to me as well,” she absolved him.
The hundred or so people behind Markas followed suit, and she waved them back onto their feet. The children still looked terribly wary, and it broke Shiloh’s heart to think how frightened they must have been.
“We must rescue Master Frank from the Armory, Your Grace,” Markas urged her. “He collapsed the ceiling over the entrance so they could not steal the weapons. He’s been trapped in there alone for days behind the pile of stone.”
“I’ll dispatch men at once to begin digging him out,” Silas assured him.
“Let’s work together to get some dormitories in order for the night, some fires lit, and some food prepared. Then we will all sit in the Great Hall, and you children can tell me about your brave struggle, littlest ones first,” Shiloh declared. “Come. We have a palace to reclaim.”
They’d piled all the rubble from the king’s bedchamber in a corner and laid the slashed mattress on the stone floor, covering it with a blanket. It was still more comfortable than any bed she had had in the weeks since leaving Fountain Bluff, and she was grateful for it. Not that she was able to sleep—the day’s events kept playing behind her eyes, the sounds of dying men echoing in her ears.
The palace’s residents rested on similar pallets, boys and men in the Lesser Hall and girls and women in the Library. None of the lords or their legitimate children had been present for the final chaotic days of Westan’s reign. They had lit out for home as soon as Esta’s body was cold, Gernish and Brynish alike, most of them leaving their bastards behind to fend for themselves. It made Shiloh’s blood boil. If it hadn’t been for the courage of Markas and the few professors who had escaped arrest, only the Gods knew what might have become of the students and servants left behind.
Silas burst in, nearly causing her heart to stop until she saw the glee on his face.
“They caught Westan!” he exclaimed. “With wagons full of gold and jewels he looted from the palace and the cathedral. He made it as far as the border between the Gate and the Wood, which means he must have left days ago, the coward. Gare is the one who grabbed him up, if you can believe that! We had sent him ahead by ship.”
“I remember. Daved told me,” she answered. “Now that we have Westan, what do we do with him?”
“Lock him up somewhere uncomfortable, at Redwood Castle, for now. See if his uncle wants to ransom him, which he won’t. Try him for killing Esta, looting the treasury, and ordering the burning of a city of a hundred thousand people. Then chop off his head.” Silas sounded positively chipper about the prospect of a royal execution.
“And Fenroh?”
“Mosspeak told me by mirror that there are lamps lit in the compound, and guards on patrol, but no sign of any trouble or attempts to leave. We’ll see how things look by the light of day, but it appears he is still in residence.”
Silas knelt next to her and touched her hair. “You should get some rest. Jonn sent me something to help you sleep.” He pulled out a flask. “Please, little bird, drink it? I don’t want you to fall ill.”
Shiloh nodded and took the flask. “Happily, thank you. What about you?”
“I’ve a few things to take care of before I sleep,” he told her.
“I can’t have you falling ill, either, you know, running yourself ragged dealing with this madness you’ve gotten us into,” she scolded, then downed the potion.
Silas grinned. “Your Grace, dealing with this madness is what I was born to do.”
Fenroh, the Reverend Father of the Church Universal of the Six Lords of Heaven, declares a Jubilee in celebration of the beginning of the reign of Shiloh, Godslayer, Reverend Mother, rightful Queen of Bryn and exalted servant of the Gods, and in thanksgiving for the liberation of the kingdom from foreign occupation. The church bows to the queen’s authority over the enforcement of all laws within the borders of Bryn.
The Reverend Father calls upon all the faithful to pray twice daily for the queen and her ministers and for the repose of the souls of those who died in the recent fighting. At the Autumnal Equinox, festivals will be held in every temple in Bryn to commemorate this joyous event as well as the conclusion of the Purification of Holy Mother Church, which has been successfully purged of all unrighteous influence. In addition, the Reverend Father declares the abolition of the Cleanliness Laws throughout the Church Universal.
Long live the queen.
“What am I reading?” Shiloh demanded. “What flummery is this?”
Silas tried to stifle his laughter at her sour expression, with little success. “Fenroh has chosen to step over to the winning side. He’s not stupid. So, he chooses to capitulate, at least for now. The bit about the Cleanliness Laws is obviously a peace offering to you.”
“I want him in prison,” she insisted. “I want him on the block. I want him destroyed so utterly that people don’t even want to name their children Fenroh for a thousand years.”
“As do I, little bird,” Silas replied. “Unfortunately, his compound is empty. Mosspeak got in this morning. The messenger carrying this was the only one left behind.”
“Hells bells!” she snarled.
“Agreed,” Silas replied, hiding his mirth at her uncharacteristic swearing. “I’ve also had engravings done of you fighting the fires from the back of you
r steel steed. We can distribute them together with this letter, scattered all over this land and our neighboring ones. A little true propaganda to build up excitement for your coronation,” he said with a wink.
Shiloh shook her head. “You are shameless.”
“That’s what you pay me for. Speaking of paying me, I’m working on securing credit for the kingdom, just in case. Thankfully, I don’t think we will need too much, since we caught Westan with enough looted treasure to finance a war. But putting this palace back in order will be expensive,” Silas warned.
“So I assumed.”
“Luckily, Alissa still has funds in her name in several foreign banks. Rischar tried without success to claim them. I’ve already written to them on your behalf. I do not think you will have Rischar’s trouble making your own claim,” Silas assured her.
She laughed. “Why do I get the feeling you botched Rischar’s attempt on purpose?” she asked. “Just in case.”
“Me? Never!” Silas claimed with a wink. “We should also send an invoice to Westan’s regent for the cost of the destruction. I have Perce working on that. Hollon might even pay it, given that we took two of his sons prisoner yesterday during the battle.”
“Perce made it through? I’m glad. I feared he would have been in trouble once you got arrested,” Shiloh replied.
“He would have been, had I not sent him into hiding the day before they clapped me in irons,” Silas explained. “Thankfully, my gold buys friends. He turned up this morning, ready to work.”
“What about your old household guard?”
“Found them all in the Dark Tower, a little worse for wear, but alive. Gil says that Westan’s prosecutor was trying to get them to testify against me in my inevitable trial. He claims they were steadfast in their loyalty, which I rather doubt, but I can’t really hold that against them,” Silas shrugged. “I also found Kiven.”
“Oh, good. That is a relief!” Shiloh exclaimed.
“Unfortunately, whoever tortured him left a lot of marks. But he seems in good spirits, all things considered. He’s the sort who enjoys being a martyr for his Gods. He wants a job, and an audience with you, which I obviously told him he could have any time he likes.”
“Obviously,” Shiloh agreed. “Poor man . . . Speaking of the Gods, I need a priest for the Royal Temple. Someone we can trust. Someone who views Fenroh and his late father as we do. Someone I can talk to, like poor Charls.”
“I’m working on that,” Silas assured her. “Perhaps Kiven would suit you? Westan’s plot thickens, by the way. Lord Speckley’s eldest son was with him when he was arrested and got killed in the fracas. I think we are going to have a problem with Speckley. I’ve summoned the lords and their families to come here by the equinox, so the Academy and life of the court can get back to normal. If he doesn’t show up, we’ll have to go after him.”
“You’d better tell them to bring their own furniture,” she said, looking around her room in exasperation at the destruction.
Silas cocked his head. “Perhaps not a bad idea, to have them furnish their own apartments while we get the rest of the palace in order. I’ve assigned people to begin procuring furnishings, seeing what can be repaired, etc. We have to restock the kitchens, replace the curtains and tapestries, the rugs, the trees, et cetera, et cetera. The artisans and merchants are already lining up to display their wares to one of my deputies. That’s without even considering the coronation I’m going to have to throw for you.”
“At least that should stimulate trade,” she muttered. “What are we doing for the people who lost their homes in the fires?”
“They’re being housed in the neighborhood temples for now,” Silas replied. “Daved has assigned some men to each one to keep order. Good ones, he says, who won’t try to take advantage of desperate people.”
“Good. Remember, I’m headed through the South Gate this afternoon for a few hours to heal the Deadlands we left behind. Jerr has built me a steel antenna so I can heal it all in one go, like I did using the Citadel. That is the hope, anyway,” Shiloh reminded him.
He nodded. “I have your guard ready. I’ve put Hana in charge of them.”
Shiloh laughed. “Perfect!”
“Another bit of good news,” he offered. He held up his hand, where a ring gleamed.
“Is that your wedding ring? Where did you find it?” Shiloh exclaimed. She pulled his hand into the light.
“I had someone scour every pawn shop within twenty miles. By some miracle, it hadn’t been sold yet. Thank the Gods they had set the price high.”
“I’m jealous,” she confessed. “I do pray Lill and Jane were able to save mine, but I daren’t get my hopes up.”
“I can always buy you another one, but I have faith in those two. They could probably manage the whole kingdom if we let them. There is something else, the most important thing, actually. We have a problem in the Frontier. Lord Vorren has claimed that land in the name of Gerne. We are going to have to fight for it.”
Shiloh heaved a sigh. “From one battle to another. I’m still shaking from the last one.”
“I know. But at least we have the men, still assembled, battle hardened, and fresh from victory. The best time to push Vorren out is now.”
She nodded. “When do we leave?”
“Two days.”
“Very well. Make the arrangements.” She tilted her chin up before continuing to speak.
“Let’s make him wish he’d run.”
“I found a mirror that isn’t broken,” Shiloh told Silas, brow furrowed. He had walked in to find her packing for their looming departure. “It was in the back in my privy chamber.”
“A bit of luck?” Silas asked. He cocked his head. “Seems highly unlikely.”
“Someone left it on purpose, I agree,” Shiloh concurred. “To spy on me?”
“Probably. Or to communicate with us. Let’s have a look at it,” Silas proposed.
Seeing that the guard was looking away, Shiloh took the opportunity to take his hand, lacing her fingers between his. He rewarded her with a wink, and they stepped into her privy chamber.
Silas examined the ornate mirror. The wooden frame depicted birds of prey. Another image adorning each corner caught his eye: a hook. He pointed it out to Shiloh. “Someone had this made for you,” he concluded.
“Who would do that?” she asked, voice wary. “Fenroh?”
Silas shook his head uncertainly. “Perhaps. Maybe Bluebell was wrong about him not knowing mirror magic. Shall we try to find out, little bird?”
Shiloh nodded, and Silas ran his wand along the edge of the mirror, standing behind it so as not to be seen, chanting the words of the spell that would open the connection with any mirror paired to this one.
Shiloh’s heart turned to ice when Fenroh’s face appeared within the frame. He wore a dressing gown, and a goblet was in his hand.
“Your Grace, forgive my attire. What an unexpected pleasure,” he greeted her.
“I’m afraid I cannot say the same,” she replied, lips thin.
“I see you’ve taken the City. Did it burn to the ground first?” he asked.
“You must be far away if you do not know already,” Shiloh observed, biting her words.
“How astute! I thought it best to depart for Gerne when Esta returned to the Gods, lest you decide to deprive me of my liberty and of my students,” Fenroh confessed.
Shiloh felt herself flush hot with anger. “If you harm those children—”
“You’ll what? Invade Gerne to get them back?” Fenroh scoffed. “Besides, you needn’t worry. I love them as though they were my own offspring. Have you caught Westan yet?”
“The prospect of my arresting him does not seem to trouble you,” she replied, refusing to answer outright.
“Why should it? He is a foolish man with too much vanity and not enough ability to compensate for it.”
“Unlike you? Who have plenty of both?” Shiloh retorted.
Fenroh smiled. “Exactly
. And Westan is of the old order. He is useless for our new world,” he proclaimed.
“Our new world?”
“Yes. The world of the cast-offs, my dear queen. The rejects. The bastards. I should have thought it would be evident by now. Silas is lurking about, I assume, just out of sight? He gave me a piece of advice long ago. He told me to stop trying to impress a father who was never going to love me in return. He may be surprised to find out how very much I took that to heart. You see, I contrived to set us all free. With your help, of course, Your Grace,” Fenroh explained with a bow. “I must admit, your destruction of the Citadel and healing of the Deadlands were surprises, but all’s well that ends well.”
“You needed me to get rid of the Patriarch for you,” Shiloh accused.
“Indeed. I could not take such a sin upon my soul, but it had to be done that I might lead the church into a purer form, unbound by the oppressive traditions of the past.”
Shiloh laughed bitterly. “You seemed to like the oppressive traditions just fine when you were Grand Purifier. I seem to recall you breaking my eye socket with a wooden ducky because I touched it with my Unclean flesh.” Silas’s hands balled into fists.
Fenroh smiled like a shark. “One does have lapses in control when rebelling against a living God and a lifetime of indoctrination, after all. I do beg your forgiveness.”
“And all the innocent people you murdered?” Shiloh demanded. “Like poor Brother Charls?”
“I don’t abide atheists or those who coddle sinners, Your Grace. Charls enabled adultery and all manner of mortal sin by King Rischar. I did him the favor of cleansing him of that sin so he could meet the Gods in glory, unencumbered,” Fenroh countered. “I’m sure he is grateful to me up in Heaven.”
“Well, don’t do me any such favors,” Shiloh spat.
“You are lucky. There is no need. The Gods have tortured you your whole life to keep your soul as pure as your body is not,” Fenroh replied. “Your husband, on the other hand . . . he could use some cleansing. Otherwise, I shudder to think of his afterlife.”
