by R. J. Price
“Robins mean spring,” Aren said.
“It's a great deal warmer than normal. There was the usual amount of snow, making it a great deal wetter as well. The common area is practically a muddy slush puddle. Rewel says in a few days it will become cold again and winter will hang onto the village for a few more weeks.”
Aren watched Danya reach for the bottle. The healer struggled with the cork for a moment before she popped it out and tossed it to the side.
“I'm guessing you don't believe him,” Aren said.
“I just thought maybe a force as powerful as the throne would know the seasonal changes a little better than my idiot cousin,” Danya said, offering the bottle to Aren.
Hesitantly, Aren took the bottle. She hadn't had anything to drink since the solstice. They hadn't wanted to risk Rewel walking in on her babbling to herself. Yet some part of her was pleased when she swallowed the nasty stuff.
“There has got to be a more pleasant way to drink,” Aren said with a cough, setting the bottle on the floor.
“Rewel makes our stuff in a tub in the old witch's house,” Danya said. “Well, he called her an old witch, but I think she was just a woman who never mated and had no blood. He does it because the Others don't like it when he moves things in their homes.”
Aren ate some, drank some, and finally sat with her back against the wall. She picked up the book she had been reading, on warriors. It had been a great deal more difficult to get through, as if it were written only for men to understand. There were many times when she had questioned Danya about an item she was struggling with. The healer explained it as Aren simply not understanding the subject matter.
Reading the book on queens was easy, because Aren already understood what the book was trying to say from first-hand knowledge. Her experience with warriors was a great deal less than her experience with queens.
“A warrior can make a solitary claim which overrides every other claim laid on a person, taking someone on as his one and only concern for as long as they both shall live,” Aren said.
“Yes, typically a person of the gender of their choosing. Warriors have been known to find and claim the one they would breed with. Much like how queens instinctively know who would make a good pair. Queens are always trying to push young couples together and separate those who would not do well together. You're capable of reading people in ways that they cannot even begin to imagine. Warriors can do the same, but only for themselves and for the one that they choose.”
“That makes no sense,” Aren said.
“It makes perfect sense,” Danya said. “Av claimed you, you claimed Av. From what I understand of the two of you, Av has made that kind of a claim on you. Is there any situation you can think of, that Av wouldn't be there to stab someone in the face for you?”
“No,” Aren said, trying to think of a situation. “I think he might even do it just because I was feeling especially violent that day.”
“And no one else has a right to lay claim on you, as he told you before the two of you made your interests clear, he could simply remove anyone who had made a claim,” Danya said.
“That was after I stumbled into his path,” Aren said.
“And that was how he claimed his right to protect. You were his and he didn't care about any other claim.”
“But if a stronger warrior lays claim on me, Av would have to submit to his desires, wouldn't he?” Aren asked.
“Not necessarily,” Danya said. “A warrior's strength comes from physical, mental, and courage. A weak warrior can still claim a strong queen, just like a weak queen can claim the throne.”
“A weak queen can't keep the throne, though,” Aren said.
“In times past, a weak queen has held the throne from the time of her ascent to the time of her death, decades later, living a full, good life on the throne. It's not all about magic. It's also about how much courage you have, how quick you are, and who you know. Who are your allies, can you link to them, would they do anything to protect you?”
“They would, they would do a great deal to protect me,” Aren said.
She picked up the bottle and took a sip. The drink didn't burn as much when it was only a sip, instead of a gulp.
“Warriors are the same way,” Danya said. “They will lay light claims on those they consider companions. Warriors can group up to twenty, which is the number of most army—oh dear, I've forgotten the word. The reason why armies, and even roving bandits, group into numbers of twenty is because that's how many warriors can come together.”
“Then how does an army work together?” Aren asked.
“Let's say Av groups in twenty,” Danya said.
“Well, I don't think there are twenty warriors on palace grounds. Just Jer lives there, really,” Aren said.
“Good example. Av and Jer obviously come together. Whoever Av comes together with isn't necessarily who Jer comes together with. So Av knows twenty warriors who know nineteen other warriors who Av doesn't know, who know twenty others, and on down the line.
“Armies form when a warrior, typically the one who sits the throne, has warriors who he trusts with his life. They have warriors who they trust with their lives and trust not to make things wrong between them and the one who sits beside the throne. Who all have more. There're now levels of warrior groups, all technically leading and submitting to one man through loose relationships within the palace.”
“Av is the one who sits by the throne,” Aren said. “Does that mean he would be bringing an army? Here?”
“No, unless he had an army at his beck and call before he sat beside you,” Danya said. “At least that's my understanding. Just because you take the throne, doesn't mean you get to keep it. Av has to earn the respect of warriors capable of submitting to him, while dominating the others in their group. At the same time, the book seems to imply that the one who is the dominating warrior has to be able to bend in submission to others in his group. It's not his way all the time. If he can't do both, he won't succeed in forming anything more than a loose group of companions.”
“I'll never have an army, then,” Aren said, blowing a raspberry. “I must admit, an army was a little enticing, what with being stuck down here for so long.”
“Not just any warrior can form long-standing groups. It requires a great deal of experience and certain things to happen. Such as the warrior has to have been raised by ranks—doesn't matter the rank—but raised by something besides a commoner to lay the foundation of the give and take that happens in any successful rank's life. Then he has to be able to share, usually something that a warrior only learns if he has a warrior sibling, or grows up among other warrior children.”
“Then he needs to know how to dominate others,” Aren said quietly. “Which I'm guessing you need a trainer to learn from.”
“Trainers teach a warrior how to lead gently, which is a required trait. It's also a trait that warriors need to be able to sit beside a queen.”
Aren picked up the bottle and took another swallow, then grimaced. “I've heard that term before. Telm knows how to do that.”
“Warriors need to learn it to keep a queen contained when she might hurt herself, but also to keep her from seeing she's being controlled. The moment you see the command is the moment you start shouting and throwing things because you're supposed to be in control of your own life. Same thing with warriors. In order for you to be successful, you need to learn how to lead gently, which can only be taught to a queen by a queen. Typically, a queen has to grow up under the rule of such a queen in order to do it properly.”
“Av's father is a trainer,” Aren said. “His mother was a queen, his brother a warrior. He was master to the palace grounds and stepped aside without a fight to allow his father to become master in a bid to keep my parents in line without endangering Av or his claim on me.”
“Did the throne make him as well?” Danya asked with a small laugh.
They had discussed that also. The two women had a great deal of time together and couldn't
exactly talk about the weather or new events in their lives.
“No,” Aren said. “Av was a wonderful mistake, far out of the reach of the palace's control. Why do you think Telm sent her daughter so far north? So that the throne couldn't drag her back. The man has always been troublesome, doesn't listen, won't sit still. Nearly killed Em on more than one occasion. Do you know how difficult it is, how much it hurts, to have to kill a bright young queen to keep another on the throne in order to get what you want? No. No one does, no one even cares.”
“I see the drink is setting in,” Danya said.
“Sorry,” Aren murmured.
“It’s fine. Obviously the throne has strong feelings about Av, and is possibly frustrated with him.”
“If it weren't for Av, I might have been killed,” Aren said. She thought on it a moment. “That's not true at all, Jer's a loyal servant. Damn it, now I'm arguing with myself again.”
“Maybe I should leave you two alone,” Danya said with a chuckle.
“Don't you want to know about the weather?” Aren asked.
“Oh, yes. That is right. Is spring coming early?”
Aren thought for a moment. “Yes, it is. Every ten years or so, spring comes earlier than normal. The year is predicted when the year before has a great deal of snow but has been fairly warm throughout, creating a wet spring the likes of which typically carry consumption no matter what mine is buried.”
“Only a little while longer, then,” Danya said quietly.
“Yes, only a little while longer,” Aren said. “But, Danya, when he comes get down. If you don’t get down, he’ll put you down.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Av slipped out of the house quietly and closed the door behind him. Everyone else was fast asleep. His father, despite recovering from the rib and the cough, still slept more soundly than he ever had before. Perhaps that had something to do with the children wearing him out, or the fact that he couldn’t wake at every little sound any longer. Maybe Ervam’s hearing was going; maybe he was going soft.
Or maybe he knew who was leaving his home and why.
Spring had come several weeks before, but Av had put off leaving because he knew that where he was headed the snows would be deeper. He hoped that with the extra time, the roads north would be clear and he wouldn’t become stuck in some backwater village.
Not because he had anything against small villages, but because he wouldn’t know anyone there. He had managed to control his temper while around family. There was a long history for him to fall back on. There would be nothing to stop him from breaking a stranger for not bringing him food quickly enough.
On his back was a pack with a few items in it. The ring box was wrapped in a shirt, at the bottom of his bag. Then there was a change of clothing, because he didn’t plan on being that long and some food, carefully packaged and stolen from his father’s pantry. He’d pay for the food once he returned, even if Ervam insisted he had been welcome to it.
As he stepped onto the road, almost an hour later, he knew that Jer would be waking about then. The sun was rising over the horizon and Jer was up with the sun. He would cook a meal for the children, make tea, and sit for a while before he went looking for Av.
Over the weeks, Av had left his bedroom a little later each day. He had done it to give himself time when he finally left. No one would be looking for him until he was almost to the palace. By then it would be too late.
Come evening, Av would be on his way with a horse, and if anyone told his brother where to find him, he’d come back and slaughter them.
Av kept that thought in mind as he walked. By noon he was at the palace, stable boys skittering out of his way when he walked towards the building. The stable master gave him a wave, meaning to shoo him off, then turned to the boys, shouting at them to get the master’s horse ready.
He didn’t have a horse, but at least he knew there’d be one waiting for him.
Av searched out Laeder, finding the scribe in the library with his head down and back turned.
“Where is she?” Av growled.
The scribe squeaked as if he had been poked with a sharp object, spinning on Av. “Where’s who? Oh, you must mean Telm. She’s in the healer’s hall.”
The initial fear filtered away, but still remained underneath it all. Laeder was becoming very good at hiding his surprise, but he’d never be able to rid himself entirely of the emotion. It infuriated Av, but he turned on his heel and marched off.
Best not to get distracted now, of all times.
Av marched into the healer’s hall and went directly for the desk where the healer on duty sat. She looked up at him, recognition and surprise playing over her features. He recognized her as well, the one who had seen to Aren in the summer.
Stopping just short of the desk, Av eyed the woman. She stared back at him, not questioning him but not giving him any information either.
“You saw to Lady Aren Argnern,” he said finally.
“I did,” she said.
“She told me she was a virgin,” Av growled.
The healer arched an eyebrow and sat back in her chair. The look was supposed to put him off, but her body betrayed the fear she was trying to hide.
“You should trust a lady,” the healer said finally.
“Her sister is afraid of males,” Av said. “Not just men, but boys as well. That sort of fear comes from very specific sources.”
“A man can damage a woman in such a way without raping her, Lord Av Marilton,” the healer said as she stood. “Unless she has suddenly become Lady Aren Marilton, it is no one’s business, but most especially not yours, as to the state of her body.”
“She is mine,” Av snarled.
He slammed his hand onto the desk, meaning to startle the woman. She simply stared at his hand, then looked up his arm and finally met his eyes. There was no longer fear there. The healer had magic and knew that Av had been told. Jer had been the one to ask, after all, if she had the special skills required to heal an injured body. It would be her magic going against his skill as a warrior, and the woman was certain her magic would be faster.
“Prove it,” she said. “A little show at a ball means nothing to me, especially when Lady Aren is no longer with us. What are you doing here, if she is not?”
“I came to speak with the only person who knows for certain where she is,” Av said.
He still didn’t know the way just that it was in the north by the border. Telm would tell him one way or another how to get to the village.
“Telm knows the way?” the healer asked. “She is, after all, the only one in the healer’s hall.”
“Laeder told me she was here—why?” Av demanded.
“I don’t know. She checked herself in but refuses our magic. She’ll take the things for cough and cold, but the one time we tried to slip her something more, she attempted to stab an apprentice with the cup. We’ve been telling the rest of the court that she is suffering the effects of her rank and age.”
“Which isn’t true,” Av said. “And if you’re telling everyone else that, why are you telling me this? I thought you healers held confidentiality above everything else? You won’t tell me about Aren, who is clearly mine, but you’ll tell me about Telm?”
“Telm is in danger of dying if she doesn’t agree to a healer,” the woman said quietly. “As master, is it not your duty to drag stubborn ranks about? We’ve no right when she denies us our duties.”
“As is her right,” Av said. “Perhaps she’s decided this is her time.”
“Would you want to bring Aren back to find her head of house dead?”
Av felt a trickle of fear. “She’s probably saying no for the same reason Aren isn’t here. The faster I can find Aren, the faster Telm will get better.”
“Are you certain of that fact?” the healer asked.
“Yes,” Av said. “If simply bringing Aren back doesn’t help Telm, then at least she’s got a better chance of making Telm submit than I do.”
The healer considered Av for a very long moment, then she said, “Very well, I will allow you to see Telm, but only for a moment and I will be there with you. I do not need you putting undo pressure on her and causing her more harm.”
“You can’t identify anything about what’s wrong with her?” Av asked. “Surely you have skills beyond those skills.”
“Those skills still require touching the patient. She won’t even let us help her to the piss pot. Won’t let us bring in one of the hall servants to help her because rumour might spread. A little rumour is much better than the whisperings that we’re poisoning her to help Para take over the house.”
“We probably shouldn’t have left court,” Av said with a sigh.
“That Laeder fellow’s been stepping in as head of house, keeping the servants in line at the least,” the healer said. “He’s a head on his shoulders and is respectful, for being a commoner. It’s the wards who are doing the whispering and there’s no chance of a lady that age listening to a man only a few years older than she is who is competition for the affections of the lords who will be returning come spring.”
“Are you trying to subtly say that there’s muttering about same-gender couples as well?” Av asked.
“Yes, but why be subtle when you can be a warrior about it all?” The healer sneered back at him.
The wards were under the protection of the throne. Only the one who sat the throne, her mate, or the steward, could ever give out discipline. Anyone else who tried had to answer to the one who sat the throne. Which meant that Telm would have controlled the young women over the winter but only because Telm knew how far she could push the wards.
Laeder, as a commoner and young man with no title at court, had nothing to fall back on. The scribe was likely afraid of disciplining the ladies because what he knew of discipline and what palace ladies were used to were two entirely different things.
“Depending on where she is, I could be back within a week,” Av said. “Court won’t resume right away, but I can handle the wards while Aren recovers.”
“You aren’t mate to the throne, which means that your brother isn’t steward,” the healer said. “None of you can do anything about it.”
