~~~~~
With Zandara gone, there was a need to appoint another Bai-Drashonor. There was also the war to consider, since that had always been her special project.
Axandor was Zandara’s natural successor, yet Yannassia hesitated. “I suppose we shall have to have him as Bai-Drashonor, but I do not want him in charge of the war. He is every bit as aggressive as Zandara was, but without a sliver of common sense. She could always make a good case for it, clear and well-reasoned. Axandor… no, I will not have it. Besides, he has been so down since Zandara’s death, I am not sure he would be minded for it himself. You will have to take charge of the war, Drina.”
We sat in her private sitting room. Torthran was the only other person there, hunched in a chair across the room pretending to read a book, to give us the illusion of privacy, but close enough to rush to Yannassia’s aid if needed.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. War leader? I could hardly think of any role less appealing. “Me? But I never wanted the war, you know that. I have always argued against it.”
“But it happened, nevertheless. And now the issue is the management of resources – supplies and morale and how best to deal with the coming winter. Pulling out altogether is not an option, but you may consider a partial withdrawal for the coldest months, so as not to over-stretch the supply lines. Bring some of the inessential troops back to the border, or even to Kingswell. Talk to the commanders, and give me your proposals in… oh, shall we say a ten-sun?”
“Two, at least,” I said feebly, aware that I should be putting up more resistance to the idea, but unable to think of a single reason why. “I shall need time to… to familiarise myself with the current state of affairs.”
“Very well,” she replied. “Two ten-suns, but no longer.”
Pregnant or not, ill or not, Yannassia was still fully in charge of her realm.
So I added the war commanders to my long list of people to hold meetings with. There was one advantage to being Drashonor, though – my vast new apartment had many rooms designed for just this purpose. Instead of trailing all over the Keep, now I sat in state and everyone came to me, cooling their heels in one or another ante-chamber before being ushered into my presence. I could choose from intimate rooms with sofas and side tables, impersonal meeting rooms with a table and chairs, and one room with an enormously long table, where the commanders loved to spread out their maps.
Now that the Icthari threat was removed, I argued for a return to just one bodyguard, but Yannassia refused. She also insisted on maintaining the increased night guard, and ordered them to patrol the roof as well. I suggested that bars across the atrium windows would protect us just as effectively.
“Excellent idea,” Yannassia said. “We will do that, too. It does not hurt to take all possible precautions.”
“Very well. But I am not going to have two bodyguards with me at all times. I can barely breathe. In private, one is perfectly adequate. Besides, I have Arran. He’s a trained bodyguard, too, and he’s almost back to full fitness already.”
“If you insist, but the second one must wait within call. And as soon as you leave your own walls, you must have both. Arran is your drusse, he attends social functions as your escort, unless you want him constantly mailed and draped with weaponry.”
I was glad that Arran was so easy-going, for I hardly saw him. He was not allowed into the war meetings, but he was content to sit outside and wait for me with Cryalla. It was lucky they got on so well together, for they spent endless hours sitting around while I was busy. Sometimes, when a door opened, I heard their voices briefly, chattering away, or laughing at some shared joke. It was miserable to be kept apart from Arran so much, but it pleased me greatly when he chose to be near me rather than idling away the hours at the barracks.
The war commanders told me nothing new about the war, but there was always some complaint or other from the forward camp. One time, it was the length of the supply line. On another occasion, the horses were sick. Once it was the firewood.
“Firewood?” I said. “How hard is it to find firewood? They are surrounded by forest.”
“True, Most Powerful, but the immediate area has been cleaned out, and it is now some distance to the nearest supply.”
“And we have lost a couple of foraging parties,” another put in. “Now we have to double up the numbers. It makes things very difficult, with the colder weather.”
“Lost? How does anyone lose foraging parties?”
They exchanged glances. One looked at his feet, studiously avoiding my gaze.
“Well?”
A cough. “It is the black-bark forest, Most Powerful. It is… confusing.”
“People say that it changes,” another said. “When you turn round to go back the way you came, it looks different. Certainly groups enter at one place and emerge at another. Two groups have gone missing altogether. So the firewood foraging teams now make the longer journey to the oak forest to the west.”
“Hmm.” I’d heard stories of the black-bark trees, but I’d always assumed they were no more than nursery tales. “What of the bark collection? That, after all, is why we invaded the Clanlands in the first place.”
They shuffled their feet, not comfortable with the open mention of invasion. They liked to talk of sorties, or cross-border advances. Nice, neutral terms.
Eventually one said, “The amounts collected are not as great as we had hoped.”
I clucked in annoyance. “Then what is the point of it all? So much inconvenience and expense, and for what? And why was this not brought to the Most Powerful Lady’s attention sooner?”
But I knew the answer to that – Zandara’s reluctance to admit that her war was not going terribly well.
“Well, at least there has been no retaliation by the Blood Clans,” I said. “That much is still true, I hope.”
“Oh, very much so, Most Powerful. No retaliation at all. No sign of them.”
And that was the part that surprised me the most. The Blood Clans were recorded in the histories as amongst the most fearsome of enemies. They were quiet for generations, but when attacked, they responded with merciless slaughter. And occasionally, when the urge took them, they turned their attentions on peaceful neighbours, destroying everything in their path.
They were wild and undisciplined, and our forces were stronger and better armed. Even so, it was inconceivable to me that they would meekly run away when Bennamore marched into their territory.
But Ly-haam was their leader now, and he was a strange boy. I couldn’t predict what he might do.
~~~~~
As soon as the moon of mourning was passed, the usual round of autumn festivities began again. For once I was glad of it, relieved to escape the apartment and the endless hours closeted with tetchy commanders and nobles.
One evening, a cousin of the Drashona was celebrating his drusse’s birth anniversary. Arran was chatting companionably as we left our private quarters and entered the largest of the apartment’s family rooms.
“Oh!” I stopped dead. “I’ve forgotten the present. I left it in my sitting room.”
“I will fetch it, if you wish.”
“No, because I didn’t finish tying the ribbon. The maids came to do my hair, and I forgot. Wait here with Cryalla. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
I whisked back into the inner rooms, and down the corridor to my sitting room. Then I had to find more ribbon, so it took me longer than I’d expected.
As I made my way back, I heard the low murmur of voices through the open door. It could only be Arran and Cryalla, for they were alone. The rest of my attendants for the evening were in the outer rooms. Yet the tone was softer than usual, as if they were whispering.
I reached the door, which stood open a crack, and stopped, a bolt of shock charging through me. They stood close, far too close. She was leaning against the wall, looking up at him with a little smile. He was pressed against her, his face no more than a handspan from hers. And as I watched, horrifi
ed, he narrowed the gap, and brushed her lips with his.
Spinning round, I fled back to my sitting room. A heaving breath. I took another breath, trying to still my thundering heart, and stop myself from shaking like a dried leaf. I paced up and down, up and down, willing myself to calmness.
By the third breath, I had decided what I had to do.
I sat down and wrote a note to the guards’ commander. Then I once again left the private quarters. This time I made sure to make a noise as I approached. When I emerged, they stood a short distance apart.
“Ready, my love?” Arran said. The tone sounded no different from usual, but I fancied I could detect a certain consciousness in his expression.
I wasn’t sure I could trust my voice, so I waved the beribboned present at him with what I hoped was a convincing smile. As we passed through the apartment into the public rooms and met the gaggle of waiting women, scribes and mages who accompanied me everywhere now, I summoned the door steward.
“See that this is delivered,” I said, pressing the note into his hand. Then I went out for the evening with Arran by my side and Cryalla one pace behind, and pretended that nothing at all had happened.
The next morning, I had two new bodyguards.
“Oh! Where is Cryalla?” Arran said, gazing around as if he expected her to emerge from behind a dresser or sofa.
“I replaced her.” Then I swept into my first meeting of the morning.
Whenever I saw Arran between meetings, or at board, he was subdued. He’d had plenty of hours to work it out, and wonder about it. Still, he was too much the diplomat to raise the issue in public.
But as soon as the door closed behind us that evening and we were alone, he turned to me.
“Drina, about Cryalla…”
“Shh. Let’s not talk about it.”
“But I have to know—”
I put one finger on his lips. “No. Say nothing. It’s better that way.”
“But I must! I have to know – are you going to send me away, too?”
Well. No prevarications or excuses, then. Straight to the heart of the matter. I’d hoped he would simply follow my lead, and say nothing, ask nothing. Then perhaps I could trick myself into thinking that the man I loved wasn’t a faithless fool. And not knowing, always wondering – the uncertainty would have done him good. But perhaps this conversation was unavoidable.
“No.”
The anxiety in his face shifted a little. “Thank the Sun God! Drina, I am so sorry—”
“Hush. Say no more about it.”
“Nothing really happened, truly. It was just—”
“I don’t want to know. It’s done with.”
“You are too good! Too generous.” He swept my hand into his, and pressed it to his cheek. “It was so foolish. I never meant to hurt you, my love, and I am certain I do not deserve to be forgiven. But… I would like to know why.”
I’d wondered that myself. But it had taken me no more than those three breaths to know that I didn’t want to lose him again. Not after a whole year together, a year when he’d made me happier than I’d ever expected to be. Through all the misery and turmoil and grief, Arran had been the one good thing in my life, standing behind me ready to catch me if I fell. How could I be Drashonor, and play my part in the Bennamore court, without him? It was unthinkable.
But I couldn’t find the words to explain it. “Because I love you,” I blurted. “Because I missed you when we were apart before. And because I’ve done innumerable foolish and hurtful things in my years, and always been forgiven. And maybe the time will come when I do something that hurts you, and I hope then that you’ll forgive me in your turn.”
He turned his face into my palm, and kissed it fervently. “The gods will reward your forbearance.”
“Come to bed and let me lie in your arms. That is all the reward I ask.”
He bowed his head, and nodded. “I will never hurt you again, I promise.”
“Hush. No promises. We will never mention this again, and everything will be exactly the same as before.”
But it couldn’t be, I knew that. When I was a child, someone had given my mother a gift after a healing, a beautiful silver cup. It had fascinated me – so smooth, so shiny, so perfect. She had let me use it sometimes, but one sun it slipped from my fingers and fell to the kitchen’s stone flags. One side of it was dented almost flat, the smooth surface gone. Even though Cal magicked it back into shape, it was never quite the same afterwards. Every time I looked at it, I saw the tiny imperfections that marred it.
That was how it would be with Arran. Something perfect was a little tarnished now.
31: Smoke
There was one advantage to being the new war leader – I had an excuse to forget Zandara’s treachery for a while, to leave behind my overburdened schedule, and escape from Kingswell. I decided that I needed to visit the fortress on the northwestern border, inspect the camp beside the lake and see for myself the progress of the black-bark collection. The reports were detailed and extensive, but there was no substitute for being there.
I would have loved to call Sunshine to me and fly there. Sadly, my new rank came with drawbacks, too, and there was no escaping the entourage of waiting women, scribes, mages, bodyguards and an honour escort. At least Arran could come too. I always felt more secure when he was with me.
To my pleasure, Cal was to be one of my mages. “You’ll be relieved to know that I have full authority to use magic to keep you well,” he said, as we waited in the carriage for the escort to arrange themselves for our departure. “I have plenty of vessels, and Jayna’s bringing more. So you just help yourself whenever you feel the need. Officially, for once.”
He winked, grinning broadly. He knew perfectly well that I’d been surreptitiously taking magic from him whenever we met. I daren’t risk it with Mother, for if she noticed she might well tell Yannassia, and then there would be warnings and promises to behave and other such tedious nonsense.
“Thank you for not telling on me. It’s so much easier to just take a little here, a little there. I don’t like to go to the Imperial City and wait for the bird.”
“No, that’s a dangerous strategy. The Imperial City is full of traps for those without magic.”
“Not just that. It gives me too much magic. I feel so full I could burst. And then I have to—” I stopped, blushing.
Cal laughed. “Ah, that! You need your man handy, I suppose.” He glanced across at Arran. “That happens to mages, too, after renewal. All that magic flowing through the body as it recharges the vessel – it has certain effects. Although – it’s quite fun, I find.”
Arran snorted with laughter. “Drina can fill herself with all the magic she likes, as far as I’m concerned.”
Alongside him, my new bodyguard pretended to be gazing out of the window, but I swear his cheeks were red. He was older than Arran, but some men were so shy about basic things. It was rather sweet.
Fortunately, the escort commander gave the order to move just then, and our convoy rolled forward, effectively ending the subject. As we passed the steps, Yannassia fluttered her fingers at us, her face wan, while Mother waved us away calmly. Cal leaned forward for a last glimpse of her before the carriage turned and she was lost from view.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I said impulsively, sliding my arm through his. “I didn’t expect it.”
“Didn’t you? You know me – I get restless if I stay in one place for too long.”
“Not… not restless with Mother?”
He squeezed my arm. “No, never that,” he said softly, eyes shining. “But Kingswell… it’s stifling. So much formality and protocol and not a moment to breathe. And even the gardens here are all straight lines and everything rigidly pruned. I miss our garden at Zendronia, you know. Everything rampant and sprawling, greenery everywhere. I loved being out there, feeling the sun on my face, or the wind, or the rain. Even the snow.”
“Why don’t you go back there?”
&nb
sp; “Maybe we will, at some point. For now, your mother is happiest here, so this is where we’ll stay. But I do need to get away every once in a while. Besides, it’s exciting, isn’t it? Going to the border in the middle of a war. Anything could happen.”
“It could, but it probably won’t,” I said, laughing. “I hope you won’t find it too dull.”
~~~~~
By the third sun, the carriages were abandoned for horses, but because of our large numbers and the incessant rain, we travelled no faster. Our slow pace meant the hours passed with mind-numbing slowness. Cal soon became twitchy, and eventually Arran took him off the track for a faster ride in the woods and farmlands we passed through. There was no danger of disturbing the farmers, though, for many of the fields were abandoned, crops left unharvested to rot in the autumn rains, and no ploughing done. Goats rooted through fallen fruit in orchards, and even the villages were half empty, their occupants fled from the fear of war.
Sunshine flew far above us, as excited as Cal to leave Kingswell behind. I hadn’t asked her to come, yet here she was anyway. I passed the time by reaching out for her with my mind, and gazing down at our little procession as it crawled through the autumn-bare countryside, splashed through puddles in nondescript villages and disappeared from view beneath trees turned to flames of gold and orange and red.
When I grew bored with that, I wondered what else I could connect with. The horses were the obvious target, but although I could reach their minds, I found them curiously muted. There was none of the clarity I felt with Sunshine. The cattle, oxen and sheep we passed were even less defined.
I only connected strongly once, when a snake startled one horse and it reared, mind flooded with fear. A wave of the same fear washed through me, too, and instinctively I stretched my mind out to soothe the creature. It quieted at once, the rider brought it under control, and its mind melted back into the muddy pool of horse consciousness.
The Fire Mages' Daughter Page 29
