“Why Pentandra!” I mocked. “I figured you, of all people, would appreciate the old boy’s healthy libido!”
She looked genuinely ill. “I’ve seen them, Min, you haven’t. Two or three are there for the attention and the fame . . . and the money,” she conceded, “but a few of them look like they’re scared for their lives. It’s not like we don’t have enough whores infesting the place, anyway – there are refugees everywhere, and they’ll do anything for a crust of bread,” she said, grimly. “I’ve pressed as many into service as I could as stretcher-bearers, cooks and orderlies,” she sighed, “but I have to feed them, too. And house them. And I’m not going to put up that . . . that . . .”
“I understand,” I said, gently, holding up my hand. We were in the grand suite of the Baron, who had kindly ceded its use for the war effort. He was encamped with his men in town, now, in one of the finer taverns. The place had a remarkable collection of maps, and a beautiful one of the local region was spread across the even-more beautiful rosewood table the Baron chose to drink around in his quarters.
I looked around for a solution, and found one almost immediately. “There’s a manor six miles to the west of you – Masafar, I believe it is. There was a big ginning operation there before the war. It’s been attacked and abandoned, but we have an outpost there, mostly to speed riders south. About fifty men. The manor there is a wreck, but it’s habitable. Deploy him and his men there in support of the outpost. That will keep them out of your hair, keep them out of battle, and maybe he can even do something useful, eventually.”
“That . . . might actually work. He can rut with his whores through the whole battle, for all I care. But . . . there is one more thing,” she added, hesitantly.
“What?”
“He’s not alone. Among his household was a special lady friend. Lady Isily.”
My breath caught. “What?” I demanded.
“I saw her, Min,” she confessed, guiltily. “She was standing in the background, but I asked one of the carters who accompanied them about her. She’s been living at Dunselen’s palace for a few weeks now. They’ve gotten . . . close.” There was no mistaking the uncharacteristically subtle reference.
I don’t know why that angered and irritated me. It shouldn’t have. But I was offended that the old goat was rutting with the assassin, for some reason. Even though I guessed why she was suddenly so enamored with a demented, slovenly old mage, I felt a tinge of anger at the thought.
“She isn’t there by accident,” I reasoned, my fists clenching. “She had to be ordered there.”
“And Dunselen should know better,” Pentandra said with great irritation. “I know the man is half-mad – you should have heard him ramble on while he was demanding half the manor –but he was Rard and Grendine’s Court Wizard for years. He has to know who Isily is, and what she represents!”
“Yet she’s managed to get pretty close and has not struck, yet,” I pointed out. “What does that tell you?”
“That she’s waiting for the perfect opportunity?” she ventured, biting her lip.
I shook my head. “No, she’s had dozens of opportunities, already. I don’t care how on-guard Dunselen might be, if Isily wanted him dead, he’d be dead. She’s a shadowmage. He’s not even a warmage. He’s a glorified spellmonger with a few publishing credits. Isily is in position to slay him, but she’s awaiting the order to do so.”
“Why wait?”
“Out of deference to me,” I admitted, a little sheepishly. “And as a goad. I told Grendine that I would handle Dunselen. This is her way of reminding me of that. If I don’t do it, she will.”
“And Isily is just going to let that old ass paw her and such until she gets the word?”
“She’s very loyal,” I said, darkly. Pentandra saw my look and did a double-take. No doubt she recalled just how loyal Isily had proved to the Family. Loyal enough to bear my bastard child. Of course, Pentandra did not know that I knew about that. I was curious if she’d reveal that knowledge yet.
“And has a stronger stomach than I,” Pentandra said, smoothly. There was no trace of guilt or deception in her eyes. Penny was good. “It would feel like getting humped by a pervy old uncle or something!” she said, shuddering. “The man’s habits are vile. So is his company.”
“Then I don’t mind if she’s forced to endure it in the line of duty,” I decided.
Pentandra studied me a moment. Now she looked guilty. “Min . . . you know, I could have her sent here,” she proposed. “I know you still have . . . feelings for her . . . somehow. I could get her sent here, away from Dunselen.” And into my bed, was the unspoken predicate of that sentence. “Ayla is very far away,” she rationalized. “It’s right before a battle. She’s very beautiful,” she admitted, almost spitefully. “I wouldn’t blame you. And no one would ever know. You see High Magi coming in for deployment all the time, and a couple of hours—”
I tried to control myself while she spoke, but I finally just could not stand it.
“No,” I interrupted. I waited for her to speak, and she started to, but then she stopped again and waited for me to continue. “No, I don’t want her sent here. Let her . . . fulfill her mission,” I spat, angrily. “Let her languish in his flabby arms, under his growing bulk. I don’t want her. I don’t want her anywhere near here,” I decided.
“Min, I—” she began. I didn’t let her.
“No, Penny. I know what you were trying to do – and I appreciate it. More than you know. It proves that you’re looking out for me . . . even if it means betraying Alya to do so.”
“Min, I never meant—”
“I know exactly what you meant, Pen,” I said, gently. “I do. You really were looking out for me. You’d set it up, let me cheat, and never say a godsdamn word about it. Not before the thrones of the gods themselves. Am I wrong?” I demanded.
“No,” she answered, sheepishly.
“And I appreciate that. You’re someone I can count on, Pen. One of the few in the world,” I realized. “If you ever betrayed me . . . I don’t know what I would do. Sure, I could tumble Isily with a glance. This is the perfect opportunity. But upon further consideration, as anxious as I am about that column marching down the road against us . . . I don’t want her.”
“Min, Alya would understand—”
“I wouldn’t!” I insisted. “Trygg knows I’m no monk . . . I’ve done things I’m not proud of,” I admitted, looking away. “Things I shouldn’t have, perhaps. Do you know how badly that eats at me?” I demanded. “How much it hurts me to look at my children, to look at my wife and realize . . . and realize I haven’t done my best by them? I know we’re in a war zone. I know we’re days away from battle. I might be dead in a week,” I added, a popular phrase associated with the morbid-minded men of the Iron Band, for some reason. “But if I am to die in this battle, I want it to be with a clear conscience.”
“Min, I know how you get,” Pentandra warned. “It’s expected for the officer class to release some tension before battle. You’re going to be under a tremendous amount of pressure in this battle—”
“And in the next one, and the next one,” I countered. “And yes, I know it’s done. Hell, half the reason that Koucey volunteered for duty in Farise was to get a shot at Farisian whores. Camp followers are as much a part of military life as guard duty. But,” I continued, “I’m not a dashing young spark anymore! I’m a married man, who happens to love his wife, and I have responsibilities. I’m twenty-four, for Ishi’s sake!” I said, disgusted with myself for even considering the matter. Alya deserved better.
“Min, it’s okay,” Pentandra soothed. “To be honest, I’m glad to hear it – and surprised.”
“Why surprised?”
“Because I was afraid that the allure of power and fame would change you,” she admitted. “And it has . . . just not in a way I predicted. I thought you’d take advantage of your position.”
“As you’ve just reminded me, about Dunselen and Isily, is t
hat every smiling face conceals fangs; every curvy bosom hides a dagger. Every such encounter I have is fraught with potential disaster and ruin. Women who put themselves in such positions invariably have hidden agendas and secret desires.”
“Precisely,” she said, looking a little relieved. “That’s why I’m surprised you figured that out. When you first married Alya, I was concerned, I admit. But in retrospect your marriage has probably shielded you from ten times that kind of attention. The Baroness of Sevendor’s frosty appearance at court is still being spoken of in the proper circles. That warned off the weak-willed opportunists, mostly. And you having a safe and secure outlet for your . . . pressures,” she said, making a face, “has done you a world of good. She’s good for you, Min, I know that. I didn’t want to mention Isily, but . . .”
“I understand,” I repeated. “I do. More than you know.” I took a deep breath. I was about to do something stupid, and I needed to steel myself. “Particularly in light of the child we have together.”
She looked at me, stricken. Then she gathered her wits. “You know?”
“All of it,” I nodded. “How she’s being raised in Wenshar by a couple of loyal retainers. How Mother plans on using her as a pawn and leverage against me. How she was conceived directly by her order.”
“Oh, Min,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to ruin your happy life and perfect little family! I am so sorry, I never meant—”
“I know,” I said, quietly. “It’s not your fault. You were trying to protect me. You weren’t wrong to do so. But I found out, and I’ve placed a watch on the girl. Isily does not know I know. No one knows I know, save for a few I trust.”
“You don’t know what a weight that lifts from me,” she admitted. “I felt awful, keeping it a secret. Like a betrayal. Yet . . .”
“Agreed. Which is why we’re discussing it now, because I can’t let our mutual policy be overturned by mistrust between us. I have to have your trust, Penny, and you mine. It’s not about my life, as much as we both try to protect it. This is a lot bigger than us. There is a kingdom at stake. Hundreds of thousands of lives. That’s bigger than my libido or my hurt feelings or even Alya’s. So I cannot let it stay a secret, not from you. Not between us. And now that we both know about it, we can work together.”
“I’m so glad you feel that way, Min,” she said, guiltily. “I’ve been carrying this around for two years, now. What if Alya finds out?”
I winced. “Let’s not speculate on my worst fears while a hundred and fifty thousand goblins march down the Cotton Road. If we get through this battle, then we can work on my personal life.”
“And mine,” she sighed.
“What, you have a personal life?” I asked, surprised.
“Would it shock you that I might have found a man encompassing my lofty standards and discerning eye for character?”
“Only if he didn’t also have a battering ram in his tights. Why, did you find a soldier boy you like? One that mommy and daddy won’t object to?”
“Oh, they don’t care anymore,” she dismissed. “Orsirio is enjoying being one of the highest status magi in Remere. Mother is obsessed with my sister’s social positioning. They won’t care if he’s a drooling idiot, as long as he can legally wed and beget grandchildren.”
“So who is this mysterious suitor?” I asked, surprised but delighted. I could tell Pentandra was, indeed, infatuated over someone. She’d once had that look for me, a few years ago. A lifetime ago.
“Captain Arborn,” she replied, softly.
“Arborn? Of the Kasari?” I asked, amazed. “I knew you were goofy over his tall-dark-and-handsome looks, but . . . Pen, he isn’t Remeran. He’s not even one of us Narasi barbarians! He’s Kasari!”
Arborn had appeared at Gavard Castle with five hundred of Kasar’s best rangers, as part of our bargain. The Kasari were now ranging the lands north of our position, scouting and laying traps, and most importantly clearing any stray civilians out of the march of doom from the north. Arborn was their commander, and he had been in and out of the castle all week.
“Exactly,” she snapped. “He isn’t landed, he isn’t titled, he has no social position for my parents to capitalize upon. He spends his time on dangerous missions deep in the wilderness, facing horror and evil all the time. He’s a man,” she emphasized. “Not a silken, perfumed fop like my cousin Planus. He’s kind. He’s loyal. He’s trustworthy,” she emphasized. “Really, not just out of politeness’ sake. I’ve . . . I’ve really fallen for him, Min,” she admitted, hoarsely. “It’s as if he’s the first real man I ever met.”
“Hey!”
“Oh, you were a boy and we both know it. And I was a silly girl who thought I would be happy pursuing my career and my research. I’ve humped plenty of brawny stable boys,” she said, with a trace of pride. “I’ve done some incredible research in my field, when my administrative duties leave me time.
“But I’m of an age where that is ceasing to be as important to me,” she admitted “I look around at what is available to me in the way of a husband, however, and I’m . . . disappointed. Oh, they are manly enough. But they are boors, men who care not for a wife’s intellect, and only for her body and her capacity to breed heirs.”
“What makes you think Arborn is any different?” I asked, curious. It was true, the Kasari ranger captain was far outside of Pentandra’s family’s social sphere, but then I knew that they had never held out hopes that their magically-talented daughter would prove to be a marriage prize.
And love? Remeran culture is full of tales of love, the place is soaked in it. But rarely between husband and wife. Remeran nobility married for dynastic positioning and to produce heirs. Love was something you cultivated with exciting young mistresses or dashing young guardsmen.
“The fact that he has nothing,” she replied. “He has the clothes on his back, his horse and his weapons. When he goes home to Kasar he sleeps in a camp. He doesn’t own land, doesn’t want to rule a domain, and has no aspirations of founding a dynasty. All he has is himself . . . his big, strong, hyper-competent, , constantly-ranging self to offer me.”
“And that’s sufficient?” I asked, curious.
“It’s ideal,” she breathed, smiling beatifically. “I have money, Min. I have power. I have respect, lands, title . . . none of that a husband could grant me in marriage.
“But a man who has nothing to offer me but himself? And such a worthy self? There is no competition betwixt husband and wife there, Min. He has no need to dominate me with his importance or his wealth. If he is to tame me, it will be with his soul.”
I stared at her and blinked. “You do realize what a horny little schoolgirl you sound like, don’t you?”
“It’s the truth!” she snapped. “Believe me, I’ve studied the matter. Sex magic isn’t all about friction and fantasy, you know. There is an awful lot about male and female mating involved, believe it or not!”
“I know, I know,” I said, defensively. Those hadn’t been my favorite parts of the discipline, but Penny had studied them religiously . . . and had forced me to be familiar with the basics.
“Then you should know that I have no desire in a man I could dominate easily – and I dare you to show me one in the Riverlands who would be immune from that without returning cruelty in return. The man I wed must have my respect, first and foremost. And he must respect me, and the life I have built before we bind our fates together. He must be my steady rock. He must be strong enough to resist my childishness and do so without berating me for it. He must be as kind and gentle as he is strong and fierce. He must be able to lead me, as a husband, and more importantly he must be worthy of me following him. Else our marriage will be a sham,” she pronounced.
I blinked. “Penny, I’m . . . I’m stunned. And you think Arborn has these qualities?”
“He has yet to fail me,” she pronounced. “Should we both live through this battle, I plan to press my suit.”
“Penny, surely you
know that traditionally a man is the one who pays court,” I reminded her gently.
“And you think a woman has no influence on that decision?” she snorted, surprised. “Min, I’ve studied men the way you think you’ve studied thaumaturgy. Men are simpler. Arborn has a reputation as a lifelong bachelor. It will take some extraordinary measures to overcome that resolve . . . but if there is a woman alive who can do it, she’s me, Ishi willing,” she added.
I gave her a hug and wished her the best, then saw her off at the stables. She had just departed with her guard when I received a message mind-to-mind.
Min, where are you? Terlaman demanded.
In the stables. Reflecting on Pentandra’s social life. Why?
We just received a report from our forward outposts, he told me, the goblin’s vanguard has moved ahead of the main column and is making their way toward the bridge now.
Shit. How many? How much time do we have?
It sounds like ten thousand or so, he said, grimly. More than half are riding fell hounds. They’re sending their light cavalry in advance. If they keep going like they’re going, they’ll reach Northbridge by dusk.
Just in time for a night attack. Very well. Then it’s time to button up, I decided. Recall our patrols, deploy the siege engines, and activate the bridge defenses. And tell the magical corps it’s time to start their defensive spells along the entire south bank. Send word to Rard and the rest of the army. I’m going to don my armor and prepare myself. I’ll join you in the headquarters room when I’m ready.
Yes, Commander, Terleman said, smartly. Shit, at least they didn’t attack in winter, he pointed out. This would be a lot harder to do in the snow. I guess those iron shoes weren’t pertinent.
We have no idea what the goblins are planning, I countered as I began to walk to my quarters. But if they were using those shoes for traction on ice and snow, that moment has passed. I saw Rondal coming out of the mess pavilion we’d set up in the bailey to feed everyone, and I gave him the sign to make ready. He caught my eye and understood at once. In moments, dozens of men were streaming out of the tent on their way to their stations. Deploy your men, Commander.
High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series Page 43
