by Effie Calvin
“Plenty of people have Eyvindr’s blessing,” said Vitaliya. “That’s hardly special. Even if most of them are away right now.”
“I think your blessing is a small part of things, but not the whole of it.”
“What else is there?”
Orsina smiled comfortingly. “There’s everything else about you, of course. Take, for example, the fact you care about Ioanna, and she cares about you. Her life has been quite lonely until now, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well, yes. But that doesn’t help her build an army.”
“It was only an example. Right now, it’s impossible for us to truly know what your purpose here is. We might not even realize what it was until long after the fact.”
At the sound of footsteps, Vitaliya turned her head instinctively. Aelia was walking toward them, just as untroubled as Orsina. Perhaps she could give some insight to the ways of the gods?
“Is everything all right?” asked Aelia.
“Yes, we’re fine,” Orsina reassured her.
“I haven’t sensed anything else lurking around since last night. I doubt we’ll have anything to worry about for a little while, but I’ll—”
“I’m going to leave,” interrupted Vitaliya. “I’ve thought it over, and it’s for the best. I don’t belong here. I’m all risk and no benefit.”
“That priest yesterday didn’t think so,” said Aelia. “In fact, he was glad for your aid. Wasn’t he?”
“None of that would have mattered if I’d killed Ioanna last night.”
“You wouldn’t have killed her. Even in thrall. I feel like I told you this already.” Aelia frowned. “I know I told you this already.”
“She’s afraid,” said Orsina. “Don’t blame her—it’s a frightening thing, to lose control of your mind and body.”
“Well, maybe so, but I don’t think it’s worth leaving over. If it was, I’d be the first to tell you so. I think you’re meant to be here.”
“Yes! That’s just what I was saying!” Orsina sounded relieved. “I’m not sure why, yet. But there must be something. It can’t be chance. Not something like this.”
“I can’t believe that,” insisted Vitaliya. “I’m nobody! I’m a princess, but I’m still nobody. I can’t fight in battles or lead soldiers or…everything you two do. Why would Iolar, or any of the gods, want me here?”
“I have no idea,” said Aelia. “But if it helps, I suspect your father met that girl he’s marrying specifically because someone in Asterium wanted you to throw a fit and flounce off and be in Xyuluthe to meet Ioanna.”
“What?” shrilled Vitaliya.
“Aelia,” said Orsina flatly.
“Calm down! It’s just a guess! I don’t know for sure!” Aelia put her hands up in a pacifying gesture. “But I wouldn’t be shocked if it turned out to be true.”
“Who would do something like that?” Vitaliya’s eyes narrowed. Iolar was the obvious answer, but arranging romantic relationships was rather far outside his domain. Pemele or Dayluue? They tended to overlap a little. But what did they care about what happened in Xytae, so long as people went on falling in love or having families?
“Vitaliya,” said Orsina gently. “This is not a productive line of thought. It doesn’t matter who arranged what. What matters is we’re here now, and we all need to do our best to ensure—”
“Of course, it matters!” cried Vitaliya. “It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me! And all for a country that’s probably going to fall apart into six hundred smaller countries in a few years anyway!”
“If the worst thing that’s ever happened to you is your father remarrying, then I’d say you’ve had a rather enjoyable life,” Aelia commented.
“Aelia,” said Orsina again. “You’re not helping.”
“Well,” Vitaliya grumbled, “now I really want to leave.” She would not pretend like she was not purely motivated by spite now, an innate desire to inconvenience whatever god was responsible for all this.
“That’s rather petty, isn’t it?” Aelia asked.
“I don’t care! Besides, what if my father is in thrall too?” Maybe that was why he’d proposed the wedding. He wasn’t in control of his own actions. Someone—maybe one of the Ten, maybe not—was coercing him into it. And if that was the case, she had to get home as soon as possible and make the Order of the Sun or someone else help him break free!
“No,” said Aelia. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Stop it, both of you.” Orsina sighed wearily. “We’re meant to be fighting Reygmadra, not one another.”
“I’ve got to get home,” Vitaliya insisted. “My father’s about to marry someone he doesn’t love just because one of the gods wanted me to come here! I can’t let that happen!”
“That isn’t how the Ten work!” cried Aelia in exasperation.
“It might be! You’re not one of the Ten. You don’t know!”
One moment, Vitaliya had been seated on the bench, cold but comfortable. The next thing she knew was she was on the ground, the side of her face pressed into the cold, wet earth and a blunt pain in her neck.
“Listen to me, you spoiled brat!” shouted Aelia. But she got no further, for Orsina leapt up and dragged Aelia off before she could go on. Vitaliya sat up in time to see her kicking wildly at empty air while Orsina held her up around the waist like a particularly rowdy child. “Put me down! Orsina!”
“This is not how we communicate,” Orsina said. Her voice was stern, but not angry. Vitaliya got up carefully and stepped back, far enough away that she was out of reach of Aelia’s flailing limbs. It occurred to her that Aelia could probably use her magic to get free if she really wanted to, but the goddess did not. Maybe she was out of power. Or maybe she wasn’t angry enough to bother. After a rather amusing minute, Aelia stopped her struggling and went calm again, but Orsina did not let her go.
“I can tell you what happened, if it happened at all,” said Aelia. “It was all just a guess from the start. It was probably Dayluue. She can match people up perfectly when she wants to. Most of the time she lets you just stumble around and figure it out on your own. But sometimes when she wants someone moved somewhere as quickly as possible, she’ll point them at one of their matches. This woman your father has fallen in love with is probably one of his. Or it’s just a coincidence, and you’re getting worked up over nothing at all.”
“So…what? You’re saying he’ll love this woman even more than he loved my mother?”
“I don’t know. Was your mother as irritatingly self-centered as you?”
“Aelia! That’s enough!” This time, finally, Orsina’s voice was sharper. “Go make sure Ioanna is safe.”
Aelia’s feet touched the ground, and she walked away in the direction of the baron’s home.
“I hate this,” Vitaliya said bitterly. “I hate all of this.”
“I’m sorry.” And Orsina did sound genuinely apologetic. “I wish she hadn’t told you that way. She—sometimes she forgets—”
Vitaliya leaned forward and covered her face with her hands. “I want to go to the orchards,” she mumbled. “I want to at least do some good somewhere before I leave.”
Chapter Eleven
IOANNA
Vitaliya did not appear at breakfast that morning, and Ioanna felt terrible for not thinking to check on her beforehand. Obviously, she was more shaken by last night’s events than Ioanna herself. She’d hoped Vitaliya’s declaration that she had to leave had come from a place of fear, and she would realize it was unnecessary once she’d had a chance to rest.
“Was all well last night?” asked Sabina cautiously. “We heard a commotion…”
“Floriana had a terrible nightmare,” explained Ioanna, and this was near enough to the truth that she did not feel any pain. “I apologize for the disturbance.”
“Is she still asleep?”
“I presume so. I will go check on her after we’ve finished if she still hasn’t turned up.”
“She asked to
be taken to the orchards this morning,” said Orsina. “Vel brought her out. She finished her work on one of the fields last night but ran out of magic. I think she wanted to do more before you left.”
“The orchards?” repeated Baroness Sabina. “What does she intend to do there?”
“I’ve seen her bring fruit trees to life out of season,” said Ioanna. “It’s very useful and very impressive.”
“I’m surprised the Temple of Eyvindr didn’t pursue her aggressively with a blessing like that.”
“I’m afraid she would find temple life to be too stifling.” Ioanna smiled fondly. “I consider myself fortunate she’s agreed to accompany me on this journey. One woman can hardly replace the hundreds of priests that have been called away, but I believe we can at least mitigate a little bit of suffering.”
The meal went on in silence. Ioanna wondered if they’d made a decision last night or still needed more time. Or perhaps there would be no swaying them after all, in which case it would probably be best to move on to a new city. It would not be a wonderful thing for morale, to have their first appeal end in failure, but she wouldn’t hold it against them.
“Your grandmother’s letter,” said Camillus at last. “Do you know what she wrote?”
“Actually, I’m afraid I don’t,” said Ioanna. “She gave it to me after it had been sealed, and only told me to pass it on to you. I hope it wasn’t anything unpleasant? If she’s threatening you with your debts—”
“No,” Camillus said. “Nothing like that. But in her letter, she made a claim I find difficult to believe. No disrespect meant to the empress mother. But it regarded the nature of your blessing.”
“Ah,” said Ioanna. “Then I suppose we are telling people.”
“It’s true, then? You are—you claim to be a Truthsayer?”
“I would not dare claim such a thing if it was not so,” Ioanna explained solemnly. “If we are to be pedantic, I am not a Truthsayer formally, for that requires an assessment by the Temple of Iolar or the Order of the Sun, followed by a declaration of my status. And of course, my father would never allow such a thing to be done. But yes. That is my blessing.”
“Why has it been kept a secret?” asked Sabina, leaning forward. “Why was it not shouted from every rooftop the moment it was discovered?”
“My parents never cared for it. Nor does my sister. In childhood, I was led to understand it was shameful. Unsuitable for a future empress. I’ve only recently come to realize I was misled.”
“I can hardly believe it,” murmured Camillus. “It seems impossible.”
“I expect you’ll want a demonstration from me?” said Ioanna. “I can scarcely blame you.”
“No disrespect meant—”
“None taken. But I can already tell you that you’ve lied in my presence once.”
Camillus and Sabina both stared at each other in horror. A smile pulled at one side of Ioanna’s face.
“Please, don’t worry,” she said. “It was a little thing. Last night at dinner. The baroness said she didn’t know what we’d be having and turned to ask your housekeeper what the cook had prepared. But you did know, didn’t you?”
“Well, I–” Sabina’s face grew red.
“I was confused as to why you would lie about such an insignificant thing, but then I realized you do not employ enough servants to prepare the meals alone—or at least, not one so large as the one we had last night. You were down there helping them, weren’t you? And you were afraid I’d think less of you for it.”
“Well…” Sabina floundered, and Camillus glared at her as though she’d done something appalling. “I—I only…”
“Don’t worry,” Ioanna soothed. “You would not believe the dreadful lies I’ve encountered at court. Yours was nothing next to those. Is that proof enough, or did you wish to ask me more questions?”
“No—no—” stammered Camillus. “We have no doubt. And we can pledge twenty-five soldiers to your cause. I know it’s not much…”
“No,” interrupted Ioanna. “I understand how little you have now. I am just as grateful as I’d be if you pledged a thousand.”
Vitaliya returned an hour or so later, tired but not drained in the way she’d been after growing figs for the bandit children. Upon her arrival, she said very little but collapsed into bed. Ioanna followed her in, hoping they could finally talk about the events of the previous night.
“Did you visit the orchard?” Ioanna asked.
“Yes,” Vitaliya mumbled into her pillow.
“That’s good. I’m sure everyone will appreciate it.”
Vitaliya did not reply.
“The baron has pledged twenty-five men to me,” said Ioanna. “I know that doesn’t sound like much, but for a little place like this…well, I’m glad to have them. I was thinking we’d leave at noon today. Our next stop is—”
“I’m not going,” said Vitaliya harshly. She sat up. “Do you not remember Aelia knocking a knife out of my hands last night?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t your fault! It was Cytha!”
“Oh yes, that would have been a wonderful consolation if I’d killed you!”
“Vitaliya,” said Ioanna, moving to sit down on the bed beside her. “We can’t live our lives in fear of chaos gods. The fact they’re going to the trouble to try to stop us tells me we’re on the right path. And you’re safer here with Aelia and the paladins guarding us than you’d be if you left.”
“Aelia!” Vitaliya flopped down onto her pillow again. “Don’t talk to me about her!”
“Why? Did she do something to you?”
Vitaliya huffed. Then she said, “She told me the reason my father is getting married is probably because someone—one of the Ten, probably—wanted me to get mad and run off here and meet you.”
“Oh,” said Ioanna. “Well that is unexpected.”
“It’s awful!” Vitaliya turned over onto her side, and Ioanna placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s awful. And she hit me.”
“Aelia hit you?”
“Yes! And she called me a spoiled brat!”
“Wait. Start over. From the beginning. What happened?”
“Ugh. It doesn’t matter. The point is, someone pointed my father and that shepherd girl at each other to manipulate me! I don’t know who it was, but I’m not doing anything for them, and if that makes me petty, I don’t care!”
Ioanna did not say anything. Instead, she began to rub Vitaliya’s back in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. They stayed like that for a while until she felt Vitaliya’s breathing grow calm once more.
“Well,” Ioanna said at last, “I can understand not wanting to do anything for the god who did that to you. But maybe you could do it for me, instead.”
They left Metis after the midday meal just as Ioanna had hoped. Their next destination was a city called Pomeria, four days to the west. It was ruled over by Countet Domite who, according to Grandmother Irianthe’s notes, had withdrawn from court due to their personal dislike of Ionnes. Ioanna hoped that would work to her advantage when they arrived.
She wondered where Knight-Commander Livius was now. It was probably too early for him to have made it to Vesolda, but he might be in Ieflaria by now. Traveling alone, and on horseback, he’d make much better time than Ioanna and her companions. If all went well, he would be there waiting on her grandmother’s land in Nassai by the time they arrived, along with a few hundred paladins.
Vitaliya remained uncharacteristically quiet on the first day of the journey, though Ioanna was never certain if this was due to the magic she’d expended to wake up the fruit trees out of season, or because she was still angry about everything Aelia had told her. But Vitaliya could not stay angry for long, and by the second day she was back to her usual sunny self.
Ioanna was still concerned about Vitaliya’s assertion that Aelia had hit her but decided not to bring it up for fear of starting the argument all over again. She only hoped she would not regret it. Ioanna wouldn’t
tolerate violence from anyone in her carriage, goddess or not. If it turned out that the incident hadn’t been a one-time event, she would have to reconsider her choice in guards.
They arrived in Pomeria on a rainy morning. Unlike quiet Metis, Pomeria was obviously doing well. They’d passed extensive vineyards on the way, and as they moved through the city, it seemed to be nearly as busy as Xyuluthe.
“They don’t seem to be suffering too badly,” Vitaliya observed. “I have to wonder if maybe they’ve got a chaos god watching out for them.”
“I don’t sense anything,” said Ioanna, remembering how Acydon’s presence had pulled at her teeth. “What about you, Aelia?”
“I’m not sure,” Aelia murmured. “I think there’s someone influencing things here…but not a chaos god.”
The carriage rolled to a halt, and a guard dressed in the local uniform of Pomeria opened the door. As she had before, Ioanna passed up a letter bearing her grandmother’s seal. After that, they were escorted rapidly up the private road to the countet’s home.
It was not as fine as Grandmother Irianthe’s villa, but a far sight better than what they’d left behind in Metis. This home had the residential area to the front, and the garden set in the back.
Domite of Pomeria was around Grandmother Irianthe’s age, but wore a robe of striking red fabric, fastened with a bright copper belt. They were already holding the letter Ioanna had given to the guard. Domite’s eyes flicked from the page, then to Ioanna, then back again. Now knowing what her grandmother had written about her and her blessing, Ioanna could only hope the countet did not declare her a liar and throw her out.
“You don’t look like him,” Domite said at last. “Fortunate, I suppose. You might have come sooner. I’d be more interested in a fight with Ionnes before his death than after.”
Ioanna was not sure how to respond to this.
“It has been my experience that Empress Mother Irianthe is not inclined to lie,” continued Domite. “She and I are similar in that—lying is so much trouble, frequently more trouble than it’s worth. And yet, I think I might call her a liar now. She claims you are a Truthsayer.”
