“But risking a Marshal—”
“Gird risks us all,” Arcolin said. “Marshals, yeomen, paladins …” He felt a sudden burst of compassion for Mahieran—the man had lost a brother this past year to assassination, had nearly lost his nephew the king and his son—and had never, so far as Arcolin knew, faced the kinds of risks he and Kieri and Dorrin had faced year after year as mercenaries. “Trust Gird,” he said more quietly. “Gird and Falk and the High Lord will surely help you find the truth.”
The two dukes looked at him as if he had sprouted wings and then at each other.
“We can at least ask High Marshal Seklis what he thinks, Sonder,” Serrostin said.
Tears glittered in Mahieran’s eyes; he blinked them away. “We can,” he said. To Arcolin he said, “Count, I am reproved by your faith.”
“You say you have him in a safe place,” Arcolin said. “Well guarded, I assume.”
“Yes, by Royal Guardsmen. He cannot escape—no one can get in. He is forbidden speech with any, on pain of death—”
“Death!”
“As you yourself recognized, Count Arcolin, if he is invaded, he is a danger to the king. We cannot allow him a chance to invade anyone else or weapons to attack his guards.”
And so they had locked up a boy who had just survived an attack by evil, who had made his first kills, with no one to talk to, no way to defend himself if the guards were overcome. How better to ensure that he would cooperate with any who came to free him, no matter who they were?
“Test him,” Arcolin said. He had no appetite now, his imagination picturing the boy sinking into a potent stew of grief, rage, hopelessness that he remembered all too clearly.
Through the rest of his visit, he could not get Beclan Mahieran out of his mind. He laid out his suggestions for the realm’s military to the Council and, as he expected, found they differed little from Dorrin’s.
“It is not because we are friends,” he said firmly. “We are both experienced field commanders—we both have twenty years and more of military experience. You, my lords, have not … and that is no insult to you, for in the same way I do not have twenty years’ experience as a count, nor has she as a duke.”
Someone said, too audibly, “That’s certain!” Someone else snickered.
Arcolin held his peace and let the last murmur die away. When they were all attentive again, he said, “My lords, whether you like me or Duke Verrakai or not—whether you think we do not dress to your liking or not—we are both soldiers with experience in the field. What you want in a commander is the experience we have. If it were my choice, I would choose her as Constable, because she is that small margin better than I am at handling mixed forces. A small margin wins battles, my lords.”
“Would Kieri Phelan say the same?” came a voice from the far end of the room. Arcolin wasn’t sure which count it was.
“Indeed he would,” Arcolin said. “He did, in fact.”
“But you were senior, weren’t you?”
“Yes. I joined him earlier. I’ve no doubt that if Duke Verrakai had been hired first, she would have been senior. For one thing, she was also a Knight of Falk, trained in Falk’s Hall: I came to Kieri from Aliam Halveric’s company. I was a sergeant until he made me captain.”
That silenced them for a while, and they accepted his agreement with Dorrin’s plans and suggestions without further argument. After the Council meeting, he had another with the king.
“Duke Mahieran tells me you suggested having his son tested by Gird’s relic,” the king said, as soon as they were alone. “We have spoken to High Marshal Seklis; he agrees this is a good idea and is considering which of the relics here in Vérella might be most suitable. I thank you, as does he, for the idea.”
Arcolin bowed. “You are most welcome, sir king.”
“You must not speak of it to anyone,” the king said. “I know the rumors … Let them be wide of the mark, if they will; the lad’s location is secret, and any contact with him must be secret as well.”
Arcolin barely stopped himself from pointing out that a location, however remote, with a circle of Royal Guards around it and the necessary supplies arriving would not be secret, but he had trespassed enough on higher ranks. “I will say nothing, sir king, of course.”
“Especially not to Duke Verrakai.”
“Certainly not, sir king.” Better to tell Duke Verrakai than some peasant driving a cart full of food for the guards, but it was too late for real secrecy, anyway.
“You asked about taking your troops south … you have my permission to do so. Having met the dragon, I have no concerns about our eastern border for the time being, and your troops in the south are likely to do us a service by learning if danger really threatens there. And if an invasion is attempted, you will be best placed to intervene.”
“Thank you, sir king.”
“For the time being, I am leaving Duke Verrakai as she has been, as Constable. Who are you leaving in command in your domain?”
“Captain Arneson, sir king. He has taken over from Captain Valichi—Kieri Phelan’s recruit captain, now retiring—and I have found him honest and reliable. He is from Aarenis but of northern parentage. The village mayors are the same as before.”
“Very well. I will want to know your employer, when you have a contract. Do you plan to make contract here or in the south?”
“Here, if I can; with your permission, I will visit their embassies in the next day or so.”
The king nodded. “Do so, then.”
A few days later, Arcolin settled with the Foss Council representative, a full-season contract for three cohorts. “We worried last year, when you couldn’t deliver more than one cohort—understandable, but we need a larger force.”
“I’m glad to be able to put the Company back together again,” Arcolin said.
When he came to the palace to present a copy of the contract for the king’s approval, the king’s senior clerk took it instead. “He’s taken a few days for hunting,” the clerk said. “But I know he’ll approve a Foss Council contract. Will you be staying or heading back north?”
“North,” Arcolin said. “There’s always something more to do to get troops ready to march.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to take over as Constable,” the clerk said, marking the contract with the date of delivery. “I suppose you’ve heard about Duke Verrakai.”
“Many things,” Arcolin said. “Most of them untrue.”
“They can’t all be,” the clerk muttered.
Arcolin thought of Dorrin and her squires all the way back to the stronghold. Then he was faced with all the decisions that must be made and work that must be done before he could march two full cohorts south in order to reach the pass almost as soon as it opened.
Lyonya: Chaya
Near the half-Evener, Arian woke one morning feeling a difference in herself. Something had come where nothing had been. Kieri, uncharacteristically, was still asleep. She eased out of the bed and went into the queen’s chambers by the private passage. There she looked at herself in the long mirror. Nothing to be seen yet, and the feeling was so faint she could not be sure.
But neither could she ignore it, nor hide it from Kieri. She went back to the king’s chamber and found him awake and stretching. “What is it, love?”
“I’m not sure,” Arian said. “Do you … sense anything new?”
“New? Trouble?” Then his expression shifted. “You—do you think—?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I never had a child before.”
“Come nearer,” he said. “I remember some of the signs.” He touched her hair, sniffed at it a little, felt her pulse. Then he sat back, and abruptly his eyes widened. “There’s definitely something—the taig’s noticed.”
Arian felt that, a surge in the taig that rolled up through her body and heart. “Oh—” she said. “And a boy!”
Kieri grinned. “You are amazing … and wonderful …”
“I didn�
�t do this alone,” Arian said. She felt filled with light, with joy. Spring was on its way, and a baby—their baby—would come into the world.
“We should tell someone.” Kieri looked thoughtful.
“Already?”
“I don’t even know who the best midwives are … and the Council … and the Seneschal …”
“Do we have to tell them this moment?”
“Don’t you want to?”
“Yes … and no. What if something happens?”
Kieri reached for her, pulled her close. “What’s going to happen is that we’re going to have a son. I won’t tell them now if you don’t want me to, but the way the taig’s reacting and the way we’re both happy, everyone with taig-sense is going to know it, anyway. Then they’ll wonder why we’re hiding it.”
“All right, then.” She laid her cheek against his for a moment.
“And the Council members can quit staring at your midsection wondering … They’ll know.”
Arian laughed. She had noticed those not-casual-enough glances herself.
All had been sorted out by midday: the Council knew, the household knew. Arian had enjoyed a brisk weapons practice with Siger during which she made two touches on him and earned one of his rare compliments. He at least had not treated her as if she’d turned into a crystal goblet. Nor had Kieri, despite his obvious joy at the news. He did insist that she have two King’s Squires with her at all times.
“I suppose I can get used to someone following me about everywhere—well, almost everywhere,” she said. “But I have things to do—I can’t stay in one place.”
“Indeed,” Kieri said. “Because I’m going to need your help on something delicate.” He took a mouthful of the hot soup they were having for lunch. “Remember what I told you that night after our betrothal? About the … um … problem?”
Arian glanced around the room. Two servants, three Squires. “Yes.”
“It’s time we got on with that. We—” He stopped; Arian felt the same faint pressure that had alerted him. The Lady was coming.
And then she was there.
“I rejoice for you, Grandson, and for your betrothed,” she said. She was as beautiful as ever, Arian thought, and yet … a little less. Was that glamour, to conceal her power, or had she actually faded a little?
“Will you join us?” Kieri asked. “We just began lunch.”
“I am not hungry now,” the Lady said. “I but came to congratulate you and assure you of my joy in this new life you carry.”
“Thank you,” Arian said. She glanced at Kieri and recognized a guarded expression, though he seemed quite at ease.
“The taig rejoices in an heir to the house,” the Lady said. “It rejoiced so at your birth, Grandson, and at your sister’s.”
Why, Arian wondered, was the Lady making such obvious, almost formal statements?
“And you, Arian: you are well, as anyone can see. Once more I cry sorry for my past mistrust of you.”
“It is no matter,” Arian said.
“And now,” the Lady said, smiling brightly at both of them, “you must come to the mound, when you have eaten, to present the child there for blessing—”
“No.” Kieri’s tone brooked no contradiction; Arian looked at him with concern.
“No?” The Lady’s delicate eyebrows went up; Arian felt the first tremble of the taig in response to the Lady’s anger.
“No. We go to the ossuary to pay respects and introduce our child to my ancestors.”
“Half your ancestors,” the Lady said.
“You are here,” Kieri pointed out. “So you have already met him.”
The Lady glanced at Arian; Arian felt a wave of power wash over her, pushing her away as the Lady had pushed her away before. Fear for the taig rose … she felt once more that she was the problem, she was the one who erred. But this was not then; this time she would not be pushed out, leaving Kieri alone. She stood; the Lady nodded, as if expecting Arian to leave the room. Instead, she moved up the table to Kieri’s side; he reached for her hand. In their clasped hands, she found the taig, her connection to it unhindered.
“I must talk to my grandson,” the Lady said.
“My betrothed, the mother of my son and the light of my heart, stays here,” Kieri said. “You cannot separate us.”
“I am not trying to separate you,” the Lady said. “I am trying to introduce your child to elvenkind as early as possible to protect him. That is more important than visiting piles of old bones, surely.”
“Do you know what is under the mound in the King’s Grove?” Kieri asked; his hand in Arian’s tightened.
The Lady said nothing for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then she said, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“You are wrong, Grandmother,” Kieri said. “If you truly do not know, I am sorry—there has been a traitor among you who lied to you long ago. If you know … you are lying to me, the king of this land.”
“There is nothing,” the Lady insisted. “There had been, I was told, a few huts, long untenanted, but they were no more than rotting heaps.”
“Then you were misinformed,” Kieri said. “And we may discuss this later. For the moment, Arian and I will finish our lunch—you may sit with us, if you choose, or go—and then Arian and I visit the ossuary together.” The Lady nodded, then turned and left the room without speaking.
“She’s angry,” Arian said.
“Most people are, when their desires are not met,” Kieri said. To one of the servants, he said, “Bring Arian’s things here; there’s no reason for us to have a long table between us when we’ve no guests.”
The ossuary, after the Lady’s visit, seemed almost comforting: warm stone under bare feet, bright colors, the stories graved on one skeleton after another. Arian had grown up thinking that the taig was an elven thing, that it was her elven blood that gave her taig-sense. But here she felt a connection to the taig as old, as strong, as that the elves claimed, a purely human connection to all that lived.
She held Kieri’s hand; as before, light rose around them and then withdrew. He had a listening look; she understood that his family’s bones were speaking to him, but she could not hear. Then she herself felt … something … something between the feeling she got if someone stared at her back and an actual touch. She shivered as the sensation ran over her body and lingered there, where the tiny engendered spark lay in safety.
Not safe enough.
Whether a thought of hers or a voice from without she could not have said, but she felt the hairs rise up on her arms, her neck.
Beware.
Kieri’s grip on her hand tightened. Was he, too, hearing warnings of some danger? Arian tried to ask—who was this? what did they mean?—but only cryptic phrases filled her mind.
Treachery … beware … beware …
“Kieri?” she murmured. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“My sister,” he murmured. “I don’t understand … I don’t know if she knows all …”
At the door, the Seneschal tapped. “Sir king, my apologies, but there’s need—”
“Coming,” Kieri said. He pulled Arian to face him; his expression was grim. “What you heard—what I heard—I still don’t fully understand. But that there is treachery somewhere, I do not doubt. Please, love, do not resent my care for you and for our child.”
“I will not,” Arian said. “And I will not be fooled by elves’ glamour again.”
“So I saw,” he said with a quick grin. “Arian the brave—bless you for that.”
They went out hand in hand. The Seneschal was ready with their boots. “Sir king, the Squires tell me of two things—a winter storm has come upon us in the last hour, and a courier found a body. Your elven tutor, Orlith.”
“Orlith!” Kieri stood and stamped down into his boots. “Orlith dead?”
“And not from cold,” the Seneschal said. “They say it’s murder.”
Arian stood, murmured thanks to the Senes
chal, and looked past Kieri to the ossuary stairs. The Squires waited with fur-lined cloaks; she could feel a swirl of colder air.
Outside, snow flew sideways in a strong wind; across the courtyard, the mews was only a blurred dim bulk. Kieri, to her surprise, laughed. “The half-Evener storms,” he said. “We had them in northern Tsaia; I wondered if you had them as well. Always that hand or two of days clear-skied with snow going soft on the south side of the stronghold, tempting us to ride back and forth to Duke’s East and take the recruits out for a long march. Then this would come.”
By the main entrance, with the palace blocking the worst of the wind, spiral flurries of snow rose and fell; there a horse stood, a snow-caked heap on its back and a courier beside it. Servants had brought him a cloak; he was shivering even so. “My lord king! I found him on the way from Riverwash—I didn’t know what to do—”
Kieri moved to the horse and brushed snow off the bundle there and peeled back the wrappings. The courier had rolled the body into his own cloak. Orlith’s face, gray and pinched in death, showed only by the bones his elven grace.
“Where can we lay the body?” Kieri asked.
“An elf should be laid in the forest,” Arian said. “But we must know … must find out … how …”
“Indeed.” Kieri looked at the courier, a ranger serving as courier since the Pargunese war. “How long ago did you find him, Deriya?”
“Day before yesterday, sir king. Heard wolves in the woods, not far from the fire’s road. There’ve been more, you know, since the war—more for them to feed on, too. I’d made good time; I thought I’d try for a wolfskin. So I rode into the trees a way and found a pack on the carcass of a horse—a gray. I might not have seen it, mostly snow-covered as it was, if they hadn’t broken it open and the blood—”
“Orlith,” Kieri said. “Where was he?”
“When I drove the beasts off, sir king—I put arrows into three of them—I looked for the rider, and there he was, propped against a tree. He’d been cut down. Arrows and sword both; someone made sure of him. Who would kill an elf?”
Echoes of Betrayal Page 34
