The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle
Page 70
Eryth looked rather angry. “Do you want to go to war over this? Do you want people to die for your own stupidity?”
“That is your father’s decision, not mine. But if he can’t recall the last time I sent his army running for their mothers, I would be happy to remind him.” Morghiad leaned forward onto the desk. “Now, I require use of this desk. If you wouldn’t mind?”
The kahriss moved off the cold surface slowly, and then drew her mouth tight. With an absent movement of her hand she swept some of the remaining documents onto the floor, turned and exited the room in silence.
Morghiad waited until she was gone before he set about recovering the various parchments and scrolls. It was going to take an age to reorganise them all! Artemi came to help him with collecting the items.
“It’s alright, this isn’t your work. Go back to your post,” he said softly.
She clenched her jaw, but remained silent and returned to her former position without scowling. Perhaps she was finally accepting her responsibilities. The papers took a full halfhour to reorganise, and soon it was time to attend the council and all the riveting joys that came with it. Morghiad tucked a broad ledger under his arm and moved to open the door for Artemi, but he remembered their new situation. She was not his benay-gosa now. He waited patiently before the door for a
few moments, but nothing happened. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
Still no reaction.
“Artemi, the door?”
He thought he briefly caught a flash of anger in her eyes, but she did well to hide it if it was. His bodyguard gracefully swept open one of the great bronze doors and stood by it as he passed. They paced down the corridors in utter silence. Truly, he wouldn’t have known she was behind him if he hadn’t glimpsed her shadow in the lamplight of the darker tunnels. He was glad not to have to ask her to open the door to the council chambers, and she performed her duty with appreciable elegance. The girl was a thousand miles from being ‘rough around the edges.’
A row of men stood to greet him as he
entered. He offered them all a polite nod and took up his seat at the centre of the long table. Artemi positioned herselfat the door again.
“No, girl,” Beodrin admonished, “You’re no good to him there, stand here.” He pointed to a spot only several feet from Morghiad’s chair.
Silar failed to stifle a mischievous and rather wicked grin.
Artemi obediently moved to her captain’s designated post. They were being overly cruel to her, and it would only be a matter of time before she spoke her mind. Probably at him.
“Now we’re all comfortable,” Morghiad said resignedly, “We ought to discuss the available finances for those stores. Epirrita?”
The mousy-haired treasurer nodded. “Very healthy, my lord. It’s taken the best part of twenty years, but tomorrow we pay off the last of King Acher’s debts. And the acquisition of The Reduvian hasn’t hurt matters, either. You could buy up halfthe harvest in autumn and still have coin left over to import more from abroad.”
That was good to hear, and the harvests had been rich for the last six years. But such things couldn’t be expected to last. “We’ll stock a tenth this year, and a further tenth next year.” That was the amount his mother had favoured, according to one of the histories about her. “How far from completion are the buildings?”
The rotund Lord of Estates answered, “The ones in the north are almost done. Six of
the southern ones only partially completed, but that is their attitude, sire.”
Morghiad frowned. “We need them ready in time, or everything will spoil before winter. Give them a healthy kick from me.” It was a shame he couldn’t be everywhere he was needed, all the time. “We’ll talk about setting up some schools next year, when there’s a little more money to play with.”
“Schools? For kids?” The angularfaced and wiry chancellor screwed up his hooked nose.
“None other,” Morghiad replied.
Chancellor Acron frowned more deeply. “They have their parents to teach them.”
Morghiad was growing irritated again. “Not all children have parents who can read.”
“You mean for these schools to educate the poor? Have you lost your mind? And what will they do with this education?”
“It’s good for the country,” Silar chimed in. “It’ll give the poor a chance to better themselves and set up new businesses. We could even see some new technology come out ofthis. It’s a very good idea.”
Epirrita chuckled, rubbing his chubby arm. “If it produces some bright kid who can develop a way to keep those kitchen boilers from exploding, I’m all for it!”
“As I said, we’ll discuss it when there’s some gold to pay for it.” Morghiad pushed the ledger over to Epirrita. “I’ve had a look at di Certa’s account book. As you can see, he has also bequeathed us a rather generous donation in the form of his numerous assets. I had
thought that, given he and the others cost the army so much time and effort, we ought to repay them with his money.”
Epirrita frowned. “That is a kind thought, my lord, but between ten-thousand men, this will be a token gesture.”
Morghiad nodded. “I know. That is why I would like to suggest we do something a little more frivolous with it.”
“A party?” Beodrin grinned broadly.
Morghiad smiled back. “We already have one of those coming up. No. New uniforms.”
The captain rubbed his chin. “But we’ve always worn the black and the green, sire. The men wear it with pride.” He cleared his throat. “And women.”
“The colours can stay. ButI think there can be a few improvements. I can still remember those blasted brass buckles.” Morghiad grimaced, remembering how annoyingly attractive to enemies’ swords they were.
Beodrin mulled the idea over for a moment. “I always hated those lieutenant’s breeches. Chafed in all the wrong places. Alright. Why don’t we send our pretty-boy general here to the tailor’s to arrange some new designs?”
Silar raised an eyebrow. “Why does everyone seem to think I like clothes shopping? I can’t help it if I pay attention to what I wear instead of running out of the shop with any old thing that’s supposed to be in my size.”
Morghiad allowed himselfa smile. Silar was always annoyingly well-dressed, and
women seemed to flock to him for it. “Then it is done. And try to make sure you don’t kit the women out in stockings.”
The general chortled, “Suddenly this task seems much more appealing. Of course, I will need a couple of models...” He threw a wink at Artemi.
Artemi remained entirely silent behind Morghiad. He couldn’t see her expression, but he imagined it was a stony mask of implacability. Or a scowl.
Silar’s eyes remained fixed on the woman for far longer than was appropriate.
“General, can you tell us what the provinces nearest Wilrea are up to?” Morghiad enquired.
“Hmm? Ah – yes.” His blue eyes finally came back to focus on the men round the table. “They have not seen much of their government with the departure of the Tanacets. I think they require some reassurance. And a new lord.”
Morghiad nodded. “We’ll find them one. And it’s time I paid them a visit myself.”
“That will help a great deal. And I have a few suggestions for lords,” Silar said, “By the way, our truce still holds with Hirrah, does it not?”
What had the man seen this time? “Officially, yes. Dare I ask why you want to know?”
Silar’s face darkened. “You’ve upset Eryth again, haven’t you?”
Morghiad made an exasperated noise. “I was very recently paid a visit by her highness, yes.”
“Hah!” Artemi blurted, drawing
everyone’s attention to her. Her cheeks coloured a little as she recovered her former composure.
“Anyway,” Morghiad continued, turning back to the table. “She made her usual threats. I gave my usual response.”
Acron fold
ed his arms and leaned back in his broad chair. “You know, marriage doesn’t have to involve so much of the married part. It can be purely political.”
Was the chancellor trying to rile him, too? What utter rot he was spouting. “No, no and no,” he managed to say calmly. “And definitely not her.”
“Ah, hers is not a bad face to wake up to,” Silar smirked.
They were shaming Artemi with their words, and embarrassing him! Did they want
him to pour out the contents of his heart on the council’s table? It was no secret he was still besotted with his former betrothed, and yet these were supposed to be his most trusted advisors! “Stop. Now,” he ordered in warning tones. “Let’s work out some more sensible ways of dealing with Hirrah...”
Steel-wrought tension held the courtyard air as a swell of people stood silent in it. The knock of wood and strain of sinew was the only noise to fill the void, and nothing else but the bow moved. Beodrin handed Artemi another three slender arrows. “This time, girl.”
She turned the bow on its side once more, and loaded all three arrows onto it. Artemi held the weapon horizontally, lifted it to her eye level and drew back on the string. A soft breeze touched the fiery fronds of hair that surrounded her face. She loosed and spun the bow simultaneously, sending the three arrows out at different angles. The first two hit the bullseyes of separate targets, while the third only made the outer ring of another. She cursed, loudly. Her audience let out a wave of gasps and groans.
“One more try,” Beodrin encouraged. Three targets, several yards apart, with three separate arrows fired at once. It ought to be impossible, but he’d observed Artemi was good at beating such odds.
“One more go, Temi!” her little brother said as he gripped her leg.
“Alright, Si.” She reluctantly took up the arrows and lined them up on her slender bow. Artemi took a deep breath, drew the string back, and loosed it once more. This time, all three arrows found their home in the centre of each target. “Oh,” she said, as the small crowd behind her commenced their excited applause.
The captain gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Excellent work.”
Now you have to show me how to do
it,” her brother grinned.
The woman grimaced. “Maybe when you’re older, and I’m more consistent.”
“Hey, it’s the farmer!” The young boy pointed toward the approaching king, who looked moderately content for a change.
“He’s not a farmer, he’s the king,” Artemi said firmly.
Her brother laughed. “Yes, but daddy says it’s alright if I call him that.”
She gave Beodrin a withering look.
“Beodrin, Artemi...” Morghiad looked with curiosity at the boy. “Hello.” Then he returned his gaze to the auburn-haired woman. “That was very impressive.” It was almost comical how deeply he admired Artemi, and how stubbornly she ignored his obvious affection.
“Thank you.” Artemi smiled thinly.
The captain cleared his throat. “My girl, I think it’s time you readied yourselffor duty. The king is probably waiting for you...”
Morghiad widened his eyes. “Oh – ah no. That’s not why I... I was just watching the spectacle.”
She frowned in puzzlement. “It is nearly time. I should go. Come on Si, let’s find you a set of parents.”
Her brother shook his curly blond locks. “No, I want to stay with the giant man and use his sword.”
“You’re too small to even hold it,” she smiled.
“Pleeease?” he begged.
Artemi folded her arms. “And what does the giant man say to this?”
Morghiad looked puzzled, clearly not used to dealing with children. “Fine, if he wants.”
“We’ll both watch him for you,” Beodrin reassured, “Now go and get your uniform on, girl!”
“Captain.” She saluted and bounded off into one of the many darkened exits.
Beodrin looked back towards Morghiad, who was looking very unsure of his situation indeed. It was reminiscent of the expression he’d had upon explaining his encounter with Selieni, when he’d fully expected Beodrin to lop his head off.
Toryn had a lot to answer for in his dealings with Morghiad; not all fathers were blind to the intentions of anyone other than their daughters. It had taken repeat reassurances
from Beodrin to convince the king that he wouldn’t rebel and lead some sort of coup over his daughter’s embarrassment. She was still young and silly. Like Artemi. “Let’s head to the practice hall where we can see what the brother of Artemi D’Avrohan is capable of,” Beodrin said.
“WillI get to use the farmer’s sword?” the blond boy asked.
The king looked even more confused. “Does he mean me?”
The boy giggled. “Temi once said that’s what you were.”
“Did she?” Morghiad’s voice became stern.
They walked together to the great, grey expanse of the army’s sword fighting hall, where Beodrin extracted a small wooden blade
for the boy. He located another larger, more suitable one for he and the king. “Right. Which opponent will you name first, Master D’Avrohan?”
“King Farmer!” the boy shouted.
Beodrin threw the wooden sword to Morghiad, who drew his eyebrows together in a frown. “He’s too little,” he whispered to the captain.
“No I’m not! I’ve been training for two years and Temi says I’m really good.”
Beodrin shrugged. “You were that size once and I fought you.” And he’d come out of it with some very bruised ankles, too. Morghiad had been a bitterly dedicated fighter from a very early age.
“Alright then,” the king relented. He unbuckled his steel sword and set it to one
side, before readying himselffor his next battle. “Begin.”
Toryn’s lad charged at the king with all speed and an angled attack. But Morghiad easily dodged and deflected the first blow. The king was a considerate opponent though, and allowed the boy multiple concessions to gain ground. Then he started giving instruction too, which was encouraging.
If Morghiad could befriend at least one D’Avrohan, it would serve very well to put him in the lady’s favour. Beodrin crossed his arms and studied the younger Silar closely. He did show some promise with the sword, so long as he continued to practise. He could certainly be considered for the army in another decade.
They dodged and spun and parried around the hall for a good few minutes, the
sounds of their fight echoing noisily around the huge chamber. Unexpectedly, the boy performed a feint to the right and a rapid diagonal thrust, which the king had to move quickly to avoid. He smiled with approval. “I bet your sister taught you that one!”
The blond boy dropped his sword and shook his head. “No. It was Neleum.” His face reddened and he bit on his lip.
Morghiad studied the boy briefly in silence as he lowered the wooden sword. At length he sighed and walked over to Beodrin.
“What are you doing?” the captain asked in mild disbelief.
The king examined the floor. “Well, I don’t want to shame him.”
“He’s a kid!” Beodrin whispered harshly. “Go and give him a hug.”
Morghiad shook his head, “My father never...” He swallowed the end of his sentence and looked back at the D’Avrohan boy. The king was evidently pained, but stalked back to the boy and knelt to put an arm across his small shoulders. “Neleum died with honour, and in life it’s clear he taught you very well. He’ll live on for as long as you remember him and the skills he gave you.”
The boy sniffled and nodded slowly. “I won’t forget him.”
“Good,” the king said. “And if you practise each day you’ll honour his memory, too.”
Silar wiped at his eyes and looked to the side of the hall. “I will.”
Morghiad followed the child’s line of sight to his sword. “Alright, you can look at it.
But that’s it. It’s very sharp and very dangerous.”
Beodrin approached to admire the weapon also. He’d seen it many times before, but he’d never really studied it. Without even the sound of whispering metal, Morghiad withdrew the blue-silver blade carefully. He turned it and laid it, hilt first, along the table next to Silar. The boy wondered at it in amazement. It was well-used by now, but evidently wellkept.
“Did you really kill the last king with it?” the blond boy asked excitedly.
Morghiad’s brow darkened. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he did many bad things.” The king paused. “He killed every member of my
family.”
The lad made a good effort at a supportive smile. “He deserved it then.”
Morghiad stayed silent.
“Oh he deserved it, alright,” Beodrin said. “Bad men always get what they deserve in the end. But you know this sword’s done more than that. It was at the Battle of the Floating Rock.”
The king smiled finally and allowed himselfa quiet laugh. “Yes, it’s seen a fair few battles already. No doubt it’ll see a few more.”
One of those battles walked into the practice room at that moment. She appraised the situation with a light frown, but decided not to comment.