by Emerson, Ru
She fetched a little breath. “And—and now, we do not. I understand—”
“That’s not it. Please just—listen to me, let me get it all out. I could be pissed off, if I let myself. Maybe even angry enough to think, ‘Hey, she tells me about this bunch of assassins she belongs to, then instead of talking to me, she sneaks crud in my water and knocks me silly. How’s a guy supposed to ever trust someone like that?’ But that’s not right, or fair; I’m not dead, and I—I really do care about you, and how are you supposed to know how I feel unless I talk to you? We don’t know each other well enough yet, we’ve got to tell each other things. Not just—just do something and let the other person try to guess what you meant.” He paused. “Ariadne,” he said very quietly, “look at me, please. God knows I don’t do this kind of thing well, remember I had to have Jen talk to you up in Sikkre because I couldn’t? I was scared to death I’d say the wrong thing, or even say the right thing and you’d take it the wrong way. Scared you’d hate me forever.”
His face felt flushed; her color was high as her eyes flicked toward his face, quickly back to her fingers. When she finally spoke, her voice was very husky. “All right, this is fair. I could not tell you what I meant, what I thought. I dared not chance the French King somehow might be—be involved with my grand-père in the drug, and then what? He turns Dupret free and again he comes for us both, with even more cause to kill.” She laid her hand on his shoulder and shook her head, hard, as he cleared his throat. “No, let me talk now, all at once. My uncle Philippe has spent so much of his life running the estates, he has few connections at the court, unlike my grand-père and so, even though Philippe is now called Due, and Orlean is of great power, he is still not of great stature among his kind. He does not wish the drug, or any part of it; he may not have the final say. I—I knew after the French embassy in Mondego, if I say to you, ‘We go back here, not just to confront Henri and to swear against him, but so I can force him to defend his honor and kill him dead,’ then you say even more flatly no than you did. I—I did what I thought best.” She shook her head again, blotted her eyes with the back of one hand, fell silent.
“I understand that. All right, in pure honesty, I’m trying. But I’m not your old man, not anyone like him. I’m not—I won’t just flat tell you things, order you around like you were a kid or something. Tell me what you think, what you want; I may disagree with you, I may say you’re totally nuts—but even that afternoon in Mondego, I still let you persuade me, didn’t I? We talked it out, you had good reasons, I listened.” Silence. He captured her hand once more. “Right?”
“Yes. Yes, all right. A—man of my father’s class would have—”
“Never mind; that’s behind you now, for good. But it works both ways. I made a mistake back in Sikkre, trying to sneak out of Rhadaz without saying anything to you. I’m sorry I did that, even though I’d have spared you the trip on that steam yacht and those hours in your room. You were right, you’ve been helpful, useful, and I’m—just glad you were with me. I can’t swear I won’t goof like that again, but I can promise I’ll try not to. Just—I’m just asking honesty. It would have been better all around if you’d just told me, out there on the deck—”
“What, tell you to step aside so I can challenge that man to a duel?” She still wouldn’t look at him, except in darting, sidelong glances. “And then, after all has chanced and you take that—that bit of stick to go against a sword, do you blame me that I—?”
“Hey. That is my fault, it’s a new thing to you and I should be used to that reaction. One of these days soon, Eddie and I’ll show you just how good it is. Yeah, I’d probably have thought you were completely nuts and tried to argue you out of it. Or maybe I’d have had a better idea, or maybe we could’ve come up with something together that—well, it’s possible. Putting something in my water, though—put the shoe on your foot, if I’d pulled a stunt like that on you.” Another silence, this one very long. Ariadne’s lips tightened; she nodded.
He couldn’t begin to decide what she was thinking. God. I don’t know what to do. If I just let it ride—but I couldn’t, not something like this. Not after—He couldn’t think of anything to add, any way to make things a little less stiffly, embarrassingly tense. He sighed, very faintly, let go of her hand. “Um. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like some more water.”
She stared at him, clearly astonished. “You—after the last water I gave you?”
“That’s in the past, all right? We don’t live back there.”
She crossed the cabin, filled her own enameled mug, brought it back to him. Chris forced himself onto his elbows, rolled so he could sit up properly, and took it. “Thanks.”
“Of—of course.” She had gone even more distant, wary, he thought; she watched him drink, wordlessly took the cup when he’d finished, carried it back to the dry sink, and stayed there, her eyes fixed on the narrow window, her hands moving along the carved rail that held the pitcher and cups in place.
Chris could almost hear Jennifer saying sharply against his ear, Don’t leave it at that, you idiot. Talk to her. Do something. He got to his feet, one hand braced against the wall for balance—not so bad, this time. He crossed the cabin; Ariadne started as he came up behind her; she didn’t look. But when he took her shoulders and drew her back against him, she didn’t resist; her head lay against his throat. After a moment, her hands came up to cover his.
Chris let his cheek rest against her hair: wonderfully soft, fragrant with whatever Dija used to wash it. “What I said, that afternoon, in—in Dupret’s house—how I felt—”
“I remember.” So low, he scarcely caught the words.
“I meant it. Still do.”
She turned to face him. “Despite—?”
“No matter what.” He drew her close once more. Ariadne wrapped her arms around him, rather gingerly, and leaned into him. “Tell you what, though, that’s no way to kiss a guy—even if you think it might be your last. One of us’ll bust a tooth.” He drew a deep breath, set a hand under her chin to tilt it up. “Here. Let me show you.” Ariadne’s eyes were very wide as he bent his head and gently touched his lips to hers.
14
DUKE LEHZIN TO EMPEROR: SHIPS READIED IN BEZ HARBOR, TEN BEZANTI, TWO ENGLISH WITH CANNON, FOUR LASANACHI, ALL WHO WOULD OPPOSE VUHLEM. WILL SEND NORTH TO DRO PENT TO ATTACK PORT AT EXACTLY MIDDAY, THREE DAYS HENCE.
DUKE JUBELO, DUKE ALETTO TO EMPEROR: JOINT COMPANY UNDER DUKE ALETTO’S CAPTAIN GYRDAN MASSED JUST SOUTH OF CORNEKKAN-HOLMADDI BORDER READY TO TAKE VUHLEM’S COMPANIES AT EXACTLY MIDDAY, THREE DAYS HENCE.
An hour before full dark, the courtyard of Duke’s Fort teemed with men: a full company with Gyrdan at its head had just ridden out to let people give them a send-off. Robyn stood above the gate with Aletto; her feet were blocks of ice and her thoughts exceedingly grim. It looks like I approve of this; like I was for fighting Vuhlem. Most of the people in the Fort and in Sikkre surely knew her better than that by now; the realization didn’t particularly help. Her eyes moved along the neat double line of armed riders; back over the little clutches of people on the far side of the road. Mostly women and children; most with drawn faces. Families of the guardsmen, she knew; that did nothing to ease her own inner conflicts.
Aletto held up a heavily gloved hand as the last of the men rode out, then turned Robyn toward the stairs. He paused, gestured with his chin toward the west market. “Listen.”
“I hear them.” Loud, excited cheers cut through the chill air. “There must be a fair-sized crowd.”
“Loud, too, for the noise to carry this far. Gyrdan was right, letting at least some of the company parade openly through the streets. People need to feel proud of their men.” He gripped the heavy rail and started down the steep steps cautiously, his other hand on Robyn’s arm, to help her balance—partly, she knew, for his own.
“Easy,” she warned. “And slow. You know I hate this place, it’s like a ladder, and I swear it’s cold enough for ice.”
“Not qui
te cold enough.” He slowed down, though; Robyn clutched his arm and let him help her down the last of the steps, onto packed dirt. “There’s time; let’s go in, get you properly warm. You don’t need to come out when the rest go—” Robyn bit her lip, merely nodded.
It was warmer in the family corridor; quiet for the moment. The children had gone off somewhere across the Fort with Frisa. The Christmaslike scent of baking spices teased Robyn’s nostrils; the tip of her nose itched with returning circulation. She rubbed it on her gloved hand and let them into the Ducal suite, closed the door behind her. Aletto drew the cloak from her shoulders and walked her over to the fire. “Here, sit,” she said. “I asked them to send a spiced cider, I’ll pour us both some.” She stripped off the gloves, tugged Aletto’s favorite chair nearer to the fire, and knelt to drag the black clay pot from the ashes. Aletto took his cup and waited for her to fill her own, until she’d settled on one of the fat cushions close to his legs, then touched the rim of his cup to hers.
“To quick success,” he said.
“All right. And to you coming home in one piece.” She drank quickly, set the cup aside. He was watching her, eyes troubled. “I know, don’t look at me like that. I’m not trying to talk you out of going. I know you have to.”
“If it was only the Zero, even Mother—but—” He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and drank.
Robyn laid a hand on his leg; his own fingers covered it. How many days now—fifteen since she died, seven since we buried her, and he still can’t even say Lialla’s name. She’d always known he’d take it very hard, if anything did happen to Lialla. If she went before he did. Particularly if something went wrong up north.
She still felt the same about fighting and killing: it was wrong, no matter who did it, or what their excuse. Her mind and her stomach had been in turmoil for days now, that strong ideal coming up hard against a reality like Vuhlem. Let the man get away with this most recent outrage, and what would he do next? Shesseran’s way had proven he couldn’t be persuaded or coerced, some people didn’t understand anything short of force. Look what he did, the night of the Emperor’s fete: not only the drugged wine but Wudron’s boy, Chris—
Aletto had always respected her feelings on the subject, even if he’d never really understood; she could do no less for him and what he believed. And he had every right to be there when Vuhlem was defeated; he’d already sworn he’d take no part in the general fighting, and hard as it was to keep her mouth shut, she wasn’t going to coddle him like a child, or demand he reassure her on that point yet again. Marsh fever weakened his body; it didn’t hurt his mind, or his common sense. She finished her cider, tightened her fingers on his knee. “Drink that; it’s not nearly as good cold. Swear you’ll ride in the grandmother’s cart at least through Cornekka, save your strength for where it counts.”
He sighed faintly but managed a smile for her. “I will; I spend so little time on a horse these days, I’d probably fall off after an hour. Quite frankly, I’m glad of the cart. I’m—honestly, I’m not as bad these days as I was when you first came.”
“You needed that macho pride back then,” Robyn reminded him tartly. “Just like you need this now, against Vuhlem.” She looked up; a tap at the door, and Zepiko stood there, one of the guardsmen behind him. “Just—” She bit her lip. Aletto got to his feet, set the cup aside, and pulled her up. Robyn wrapped her arms around him, let herself be hugged fiercely in return. “Just come back, all right?” Her voice was husky, and Aletto seemed unable to say anything. He kissed her forehead, both cheeks, turned, and was gone. Robyn clapped her hands across her mouth and turned away as the door closed behind him.
THUKAR TO EMPEROR: TWO COMPANIES READIED; FIRST UNDER HOUSEHOLD GUARD CAPTAIN GRELT ALREADY MOVING TOWARD DRO PENT AND WILL HOLD READY IN RIVER SWALE OUTSIDE CITY UNTIL HEAR CANNON FIRE FROM PORT. SECOND COMPANY UNDER SELF LEAVING TONIGHT VIA HUSHAR OASIS, WILL ENTER HOLMADDAN AND SECURE BORDER EXACTLY MIDDAY, THREE DAYS HENCE.
Jennifer sat cross-legged on the bed she and Dahven shared—Every single night for nearly four years, until now—and glared at the piles of fabric squares around her feet. A colorful variety—her aunt Bets would probably have said, “a passle”—of thumb-to-index-finger-tip-sized squares of fabric for a baby quilt. A basket of brightly colored threads, with several needles stuck along the edge. “Swell,” she mumbled. “He goes off to play soldier, tin sword and all, I get to sit home and knit. Or quilt. Either of which I do particularly well. Because Siohan and the midwife won’t let me off this bed until midday. As Chris would say, I am so sure!” She drew a large amount of air through her nose, let it out through her mouth. Cast up her eyes, grabbed the nearest pile, and flung it across the room. Pink, red, and Zelharri blue squares fluttered to the floor.
A faint noise from the direction of the door caught her attention: Vey stood there, looking slightly embarrassed, fist upraised to tap on the slightly open door. Jennifer laughed shortly, indicated a chair with a sharp wave of her hand. “Come on in. I won’t bite you.”
“No, Thukara,” Vey replied formally. “I never thought that.”
“Oh—cut it out.” Humor won over anger—she’d asked one of the palace seamstresses for the quilting materials, after all. And none of this was Vey’s fault. He glanced at her from under his brows, managed a faint, abashed grin, shook his head. “You know me,” she said. “I’m upset with Dahven just now and I’m about half-willing to take it out on anyone or anything that thwarts me.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Not you. Come on in and sit down.”
“They’re expecting me—”
“Grelt knows you’re here, it’s all right.” She waited until he was perched on the edge of his chair, shoved quilt patches aside, and picked up an egg-sized, nearly flat, un-faceted stone, held it out. Vey leaned forward to take it; he turned it over in his hand, ran his fingers across the smoothed milky blue surface. Finally looked up at her, his eyes questioning. “You’re staying close to Dahven, up in Holmaddan.” It wasn’t quite a question. Vey nodded at once.
“Of course—Jen.” He still had to work at it, not calling her Thukara in private.
“Look, I know you’d stay right with him without my asking, I’m just—call it a little unsettled at the moment, having to stand back and let him go play war with the big boys. People get killed doing that, and Thukars bleed just as easily as anyone else. I need reassurance.”
“I would be worried in your position. I won’t let him far enough from me to get hurt.” Vey considered this, shook his head. “I’ll stay close to him.”
Jennifer sighed faintly, managed something of a smile for him. “I know you can’t guarantee, Vey. We both know what he’s like, I’d never put that kind of responsibility on you. That thing you’re holding—”
“A protective charm?”
“No.” God knew Dahven was weighted down by enough of those, mostly to make her feel better about the whole mess. Quite likely he’d already taken half of them off. She’d debated ever since getting this thing, whether to tell Vey what she wanted; better to let him know. “It’s a focus stone; I had Dahmec’s old Shaper in yesterday—”
“Yes, I heard.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Dahven doesn’t know, does he?”
“I doubt it.” Vey turned the stone over once more—he didn’t seem particularly worried by it, or its source—and laughed shortly. “Busy as he’s been these past days, I very much doubt it.”
“Good. Don’t let him know about the stone if you can help it. Just—keep it on you. You’re both part of the group that’s supposed to take Vuhlem’s palace.”
“Yes, if we can. What does this do?”
“I know Eddie told you about our trip south, when Jadek used a focus to speak to me—”
“The night Chris disappeared; I remember.”
“This is a little like that one; it won’t suck the life from the carrier, though—”
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Vey said. He continued to turn
the stone, studying it thoughtfully.
“I’m the one attuned to it, rather than a Triad or someone like Jadek. Once it’s inside the palace—or close to the walls—it should allow a magic user proximity to that Triad in order to weaken, or possibly neutralize, it entirely.”
Vey snorted inelegantly. “‘A’ magic user,” he scoffed. “Perhaps, a certain Thread Wielder?”
She shifted her weight so she could swing her legs off the edge of the bed, and leveled a finger at his nose. “If you dare even think of telling him—”
“I won’t. But—” Vey hesitated. “Maybe you should tell me exactly what you plan. In case—if something goes wrong.”
“It won’t,” Jennifer replied shortly.
“Of course it won’t,” Vey said. “But if it should, don’t you think Dahven should know you didn’t just—just set yourself against—” He frowned at the stone, shoved it into a pocket. “I’m not expressing myself very well.”
“You’re doing fine.” Jennifer studied her hands a moment. “I’m not just going blindly after a Triad; you know me, Vey.”
“Yes. You’re the woman who ran hotheaded into a trap and got herself taken by Dahven’s brothers.”
“So did you, if I recall right. Besides, that was for Dahven—”
“And so is this, isn’t it?”
“Partly. But I’ve planned this, it’s no hotheaded jump into danger. I’ve had a fair amount to do with Light, one way or another, and I know something about Triads; I know they aren’t safe and I’ve worked it out carefully. No, don’t say it, I know. Things do happen.” He nodded. “All right. The English and the Lasanachi ships are going to attack the palace from the sea, distract Vuhlem and his men. The English will train most of their cannon on areas of the outer walls that have no visible openings.”
“I’d heard that—not why, though.”
“An immature Triad needs complete enclosure; good seals on the door—even Jadek’s had a windowless chamber. And even a fully bonded Triad has to remain above ground to hold that bond and to Shape. Vuhlem’s will be high up, probably in one of his towers. A breach in the right spot would weaken the Triad, possibly even kill it.” She drew a deep breath, expelled it in a gust. “No guarantees, of course: In which case that Triad—well, we know what it’s already done.”
