The Pages of the Mind

by Jeffe Kennedy

  The female Hawk gave Harlan a cagey glance, then spoke to Ursula. “Captain”—she fell into the familiar title they’d used with Ursula for so long—“we witnessed a caravan of very large, fair-haired men making their way north on the main road out of the Port of Ehas. They are not wearing Vervaldr colors, but perhaps . . .”

  She let the question dangle. Harlan’s surprise had gone to shock. Another man would have sat at that moment, but not one of his training and temperament. Still he shook his head slowly from side to side, as if dazed. “No. All of the Vervaldr are accounted for. They’re either in the Ordnung environs or cleanly witnessed as deceased.” He didn’t need to specify that he meant either form of death—real or Illyria’s monstrous living death. His pale eyes sought Ursula’s and held them. “They are not mine.”

  “Then whose?” she shot back.

  He pressed his mouth in a grim line. “Approximate number?”

  “One hundred, even, Captain Harlan.”

  “Colors? Could you make out insignia?”

  “A deep burgundy, like the wines of Nemeth. They have a banner that seemed to have some sort of fanged fish on it.”

  Now Harlan did sit—or at least, folded his arms and leaned back against Ursula’s desk—bafflement clear on his face. Then he laughed, completely without humor. “Hlyti is playing a fine game with me.”

  “Who is it?” Ursula asked with more gentleness than I would have credited her with.

  He raised his eyebrows, jaw tight. “It appears that my brother Kral is impossibly here, and with his elite battalion.”

  She cursed. “It’s a thriced coincidence that I’d barely heard of Dasnaria before and now we’ve been three times accosted by them.”

  “Am I the first of those?” he asked with strained patience.

  “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I apologize.”

  “Accepted.” He gave her a wry, affectionate smile, touching his fingers to his forehead, almost absently, as he thought. “Your point is well-taken that this can be no coincidence. That’s not a fanged fish on the banner, but a hakraling. Large sea creatures that can kill a grown man in seconds, for which Kral is named.”

  “A ‘shark’ in Common Tongue, I think,” I said. Since Harlan had been willing to converse with me in his language, I’d gotten somewhat better at hearing the similar roots between that and the trade language of the Thirteen.

  He nodded. “Sounds like the same derivation. Last I knew, Kral was general of the Dasnarian military, under my eldest brother, Hestar, the emperor. He typically uses them as an advance force. It’s entirely possible the entire Dasnarian navy stands off the shores of Elcinea, waiting for the signal to send troops ashore.”

  “You think he’s here for conquest, then?” Ursula asked.

  “I can think of no other explanation. My brothers do not mount expeditions to distant lands for other reasons.”

  Between the two of them, Harlan and Ursula pumped the scouts for what little more detail they could dig out of them, while I carefully recorded it all for future reference. The two Hawks had returned to Ordnung at top speed to give the maximum amount of warning and had not lingered to observe much more than they’d already reported. If not for Ursula’s edict that they all travel at least in pairs in this era of uncertainty, one would have stayed behind to spy. As it was, they couldn’t be sure how quickly the company had progressed.

  Before long, Ursula dismissed them all, asking Jepp to debrief the scouts again with Marskal, lieutenant of the Hawks, after they’d rested. Jepp wanted to stay for the strategy session, but Ursula asked her to assemble all her in-house scouts and make a strategy to disburse them to watch for General Kral. She would send for Jepp and Marskal later.

  Creatures of action, they all hummed with the desire to race out and fight off their enemy—and crackled with frustration at not being able to act just yet. Particularly Ursula. Possibly Harlan, too, though he didn’t show it as she did with her restless pacing as she listened. A change for them both, to have the responsibility of planning and sending others to fight, instead of leading their forces personally.

  At least, I hoped Ursula realized that. For now she focused on strategy, but if she thought she’d go into the field herself, she’d have a fight on her hands. My style.

  Meanwhile, I took steps to see that announcements were made canceling court. I sent a page to hand off the job of copying the missives that seemed so imperative an hour ago, so the messengers could go with all haste. Several more pages went to Uorsin’s study, which I’d taken over, since Ursula had refused to and most of the important legal documents were shelved there, to gather my texts on Dasnaria. At some point I’d start thinking of it as my study, but not yet.

  We all have our responses to crisis, our own weapons to gather.

  “If unopposed, they will be here in five days, possibly four. Presuming they continue to head directly for Ordnung.” Harlan traced a thick finger over the map we’d spread over the table.

  “A company that big?” Ursula argued. “I don’t see that. They won’t cut through Aerron, unless they’re fools, in which case the desert will take care of them for us.”

  “They are not fools.”

  “Then they’ll go through the hills at the border between Elcinea and Nemeth, which is not a fast crossing. After that they still have all of Duranor, where I can promise they won’t go unopposed. At least they’re unlikely to encounter Ami and the babies on their journey to Castle Avonlidgh. Whoever guessed I’d be grateful for Aerron’s drought?”

  “Six days, then, at the outside,” Harlan conceded, though he didn’t sound fully convinced. “And Kral is no fool. He has other flaws, but lack of strategy isn’t one of them. Nor is underestimating his enemy.”

  “Duranor still has substantial armies between here and there, and also in Avonlidgh.” Ursula grimaced for that reality. Though Prince Stefan had decamped with his forces before the coronation, having lost his bid to convince enough of the kingdoms that a young woman who murdered her father in cold blood should not ascend to the High Throne, they had not been gone long and an army that size moved slowly, even without Stefan’s foot-dragging. “But they have some back home, too. It’s entirely possible they’ll take out Kral and his guard of one hundred before they reach the border of Mohraya.”

  Harlan sat heavily, staring hard at the map.

  “I apologize,” Ursula said. “I did not mean to wish an ill fate on your brother.” A difficult position for them both. This, I realized, was the primary reason she’d wanted to have this conversation first, without any others present.

  Harlan gave her an unamused smile. “It’s not that, though I appreciate the sentiment. No matter the state of affairs between us, I do not relish facing my own brother in battle. Though there’s no question I would, should it come to that. No—every one of those one hundred soldiers could fight off ten men. In a strategic position, they could defeat a force one hundred times their size.”

  I wrote the numbers out, careful to be exact with the zeros. The state of our military wasn’t one of my strengths, but the recent conflicts had severely depleted Ordnung’s guard. If we were to assemble an army of more than ten thousand, we’d need to draw on the forces of the subject kingdoms. Not a popular move, given recent events. Particularly as we’d regret stirring the pot with Duranor until those ruffled feathers had settled.

  “But they’re not in a strategic position. They’re traveling in the open, in a land completely foreign to them, where they are unlikely to know the language. They could be cut off and surrounded on all sides. I can’t get sufficient forces in place in time to stop them, but they can’t know that. I would hope, anyway. As it is, they have no fortifications, no supply wagons. They’ll have to buy or kill for food. It seems risky, even foolhardy.” Ursula paced to the map, bending over to stare at it, as if by looking long enough, she could see General Kral for herself. “If he’s bent on conquest and you believe he has more forces on ships offshore, why not bring e
veryone on land? He could have taken over Ehas, had the benefit of the city’s food and shelter, probably secured all of Elcinea before we even knew they were there.”

  “I don’t know.” Harlan sounded grimly perplexed, seething with something darker than the need to fight. “I wouldn’t have predicted any of this from him. Unless things have changed dramatically since I left Dasnaria, he wouldn’t be here without permission from Emperor Hestar, who’s never had any interest in these lands before. It’s possible Kral came only with his battalion, though that would be a first for him. And why land all the way around at Ehas? Any one of a number of ports in Avonlidgh and Aerron would have been closer. Did they leave a ship at harbor in Ehas?”

  “That would be good to know. It would also be useful to know their speed, but we can’t get eyes on any of this or messages back and forth any faster than you think they’re moving.” Ursula gave the map a black, frustrated glare.

  “I have an idea,” I put in.

  “What?” she asked without looking up.

  “Zynda can take a winged form, right? Send her to look. You trust her.”

  “I should have thought of that.” She nodded at me. “Send for her.”

  I handed a hastily written note to a page outside the doors to take to Zynda. Ursula’s Tala cousin, Zynda had returned with us from Annfwn, expressing a desire to see the world beyond the fallen barrier. A shape-shifter who also possessed some undefined magical skills, Zynda reminded me a great deal of Andi—and also of Salena, their common ancestor.

  “Where did you bring the Vervaldr ashore?” Ursula was asking Harlan as I returned.

  Harlan reached over and tapped a point on the Avonlidgh coast, a port town so small it wasn’t noted on the map. “Here. At Ryalin.”

  “Of course. That’s where Uorsin told you to land,” she mused. Uorsin’s secret importation of the mercenary Vervaldr still rankled her. “You came up the back roads and stayed away from the main trade routes near Windroven, Lianore, and the Danu River, so few would see you pass.”

  “And we traveled at night, also by instruction,” Harlan said.

  “Your brother wouldn’t have known the best place to land, without someone here telling him.”

  “No, very little was known of the Twelve and Annfwn in Dasnaria. The Vervaldr had completed a campaign elsewhere when Uorsin sent his offer. We sailed here directly.”

  “So why Ehas?”

  I tapped one of the Dasnarian tomes. “They didn’t know, so they had their scholars research what they could find. Remember when I told you the tale of fair-haired giants landing in here long ago and the sorcerers of Deyrr who likely accompanied them?”

  “They landed at Ehas.” Ursula nodded. “They went with what they knew. That’s old information, however, long predating the unification of the Twelve Kingdoms under Uorsin, and yet by the scouts’ reports they’re heading directly for Mohraya, at least, and the only reasonable explanation for that is they’re coming to Ordnung. But how did they know this is the capital, if their other intelligence is that stale? If that’s indeed why they’re coming this way. If so, perhaps they got wind of Uorsin’s demise and think the High Throne empty for the taking. That could be done with a small, highly trained force. Do you think it could be a coup attempt?”

  “I have not been in communication with my brothers, so I can’t know the answer to that.” Harlan’s voice had a rare edge to it.

  “I never thought it,” Ursula returned in a mild tone, turning to lean against the map table next to him. She nudged him with her knee. “Give me some credit. I try not to be stupid about the same thing twice.”

  Harlan softened and picked up her hand, his thumb rubbing over her palm. They exchanged a long moment of wordless communication and I focused on my notes, giving them that much privacy. “My guess is that Kral is indeed headed straight for Ordnung and knows it is the capital. He’ll rely on speed and surprise to move his men here with minimum conflict. He’ll know that even the healthiest military cannot be mobilized immediately and likely counts on that to keep his way clear, knowing also that they can clear it themselves of smaller, more mobile forces.”

  “And would also know that Ordnung itself would be fortified and heavily defended by a standing guard. He can’t be planning to lay siege. Does he plan to ride up and ask admittance?” Ursula laid her hand over Ordnung on the map, as if she could hold it there. “Unless he knows of our recent conflicts and thinks we’re weakened. But that brings us back to how he knows any of this and why he’s come.”

  “This stinks of Illyria and I don’t like it,” Harlan said.

  “It makes the most sense,” she replied. “We still don’t know how Illyria came to be here. If she was working with someone back in Dasnaria, possibly communicating with her superiors at the Temple of Deyrr, it’s possible they know of her demise and are coming in response to that.”

  “If they know that, however, then they’d likely know of my presence and role in your ascension to the High Throne. But how could they have heard any of that news?”

  “Maybe she had a way of communicating magically,” I suggested, still looking at my notes; I listed that as a possibility.

  “Did you see that somewhere?” Ursula asked, so I met her gaze.

  “No. There’s simply not that much written about the Temple of Deyrr, but it seems possible that magic that includes reanimating the dead could devise a system of long-distance communication.”

  Harlan was already shaking his head. “The temple is powerful, yes, and tolerated because of that. But no one in the royal family or government would openly traffic with them.”

  “And yet you say this stinks of Illyria,” Ursula returned.

  “Yes. Because I can think of no other connection.”

  “There’s still you, Captain Harlan,” I pointed out, as neither of them seemed inclined to.

  Ursula shot me an irritated glare. “I know I behaved badly in the past, but I trust that Harlan would not betray us that way.” She turned her gaze on him, lethal, not soft. “I mean that.”

  He ran a hand down her back. “I know that. And even if my brothers knew I was here, they would not concern themselves with me.” That brooding edge again.

  “Why not?” Ursula asked softly. “You’ve never said.”

  “You are blessed with your sisters. Not all families are as such.”

  “My father was hardly a blessing.”

  Harlan laughed ruefully, still stroking her back. “Nor mine, my hawk. Nor mine.”

  “Dafne, would you give us a minute?”

  My relief at being able to flee was short-lived, as Harlan stopped me. “No need. There is nothing I could tell you that a diligent librarian would not find in the texts. Suffice to say that I am the youngest of seven boys and the only disappointment. They washed their hands of me. There may be lingering acrimony on their part, but more likely utter lack of interest. Kral is the shark and I am the rabbit. He would not be here for me.”

  I didn’t quite believe him and neither did Ursula, by the narrow look she gave him, the one that presaged one of her infamous interrogations. Then Zynda knocked, and I didn’t miss the flicker of relief in Harlan’s eyes.

  She wore her hair long and loose in the Tala style, and a blue dress the exact color of the sea at Annfwn, shades lighter than her deep-blue eyes. Ursula explained the problem and the need for discretion. Zynda eagerly agreed to take wing.

  “I’d love to see more of this land,” she said. “I will go to this Ehas and ask about a ship, then look for this army with the shark banner and come back here. Just explain where these places are.”

  “Danu take it.” Ursula looked annoyed. “I didn’t think of that. How can we describe it so you’ll know?”

  Zynda’s eyes sparkled with easy good humor and she waved a graceful hand at the map. “This is how it looks from the air. Show me on your drawing. But color in the details.”

  “Can you remember details like in that in bird form?” I asked, unable t
o restrain my curiosity.

  She shrugged and pursed her lips. “Yes and no. It’s difficult to explain. I don’t think the same way in animal form, but it’s as if part of me has a . . . filtered access to what my human mind knows. As if it’s still there, just not physically present.”

  “That makes no sense.” Ursula shook her head. “How can your human brain still exist somewhere if you’ve converted it into a bird one?”

  She couldn’t quite mask the shiver of revulsion, and Zynda grinned at her discomfort. The only one of the three sisters to bear the mark of the Tala, Andi was able to shape-shift. Ami’s daughter, Stella, also bore the mark, which had affected Ami profoundly during her pregnancy, though she attributed any unusual abilities to the gifts of Glorianna. Still, both Stella and her brother, Astar, had already shape-shifted, so the blood still ran strong. Andi had pointed out that Ursula’s unusual fighting speed, strength, and resilience came from latent shape-shifting talents, but the High Queen preferred her skin as it was.

  Quite understandable, really.

  “Magic, Cousin,” Zynda said with a lingering smile. “It allows many things to exist at once. Some say that shape-shifting isn’t truly changing forms at all, but rather exchanging a form we exist in, in this world, for one in another. So perhaps in this parallel realm, I am always the bird. Then, when I shift here, I trade places and my human body goes there.”

  Ursula pointed a long finger at her. “That does not sound better.”

  “Can you imagine the chaos if you lived in the other world, where people changed form because a consciousness elsewhere decided upon it?” I asked, thinking aloud, and Ursula threw me a disgusted look.

  “Thank you for making my head ache more,” she griped, and Harlan laughed. His dark mood had eased and I realized she’d been encouraging the diversion, for just that reason.

  Remarkable.

  “I’ll lead the Hawks and anyone else I can get on horseback this afternoon.” Ursula showed her on the map. “We’ll be on this road, which you’ll see leading out of Ordnung. Find us along that route and—”