Jerya slanted a glance at Twist. “Did Cathay go with her?”
Twist yawned again. “I’ve always thought it was remarkable how single-gender the Citadel appears to be. There are female students, but the Citadel believes the path to avoiding distraction is for the girls to pretend to be boys.” He shrugged. “It works, I suppose. If, like Cathay, you’re not looking for romantic adventures because you’ve already found one and she’s leaving the Citadel.”
Grimacing, Jerya said to Lady Siana, “You might as well stay, if you can bear the crowd.” She moved further into the parlour. Her uncles and Alanah moved in behind her, while the guards clogged the hall outside. Lady Julina stood, held out her hand to Jant, and bent down and kissed his head when he stood beside her.
Jerya walked over to the window, glanced outside, and then closed the curtains, casting the room into shadow. “What has my sister done now?”
From across the room, Twist stared at her for a long moment, as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start. Dread churned in Jerya’s stomach. “Is she well? You would have told me immediately if she wasn’t, yes?”
Relaxing, Twist said, “She’s mostly fine. During the Antecession ceremony an altercation with the sword Jinriki triggered an odd,” he hesitated, as if looking for the right word. “An odd event. All the Logos-workings vanished, and Tiana had a direct encounter with the spirit of Niyhan. Now she’s on a quest, at his command.”
It was Jerya’s turn to stare at Twist. “How much of this is verifiable?” She’d spent her life protecting her baby sister, sometimes from Tiana’s own dangerous, irresistible whims.
“Most of it,” Twist assured her. “The Magister agrees that Niyhan did manifest, and did give Tiana something special. A weapon to be used against the Blighter, if she can acquire the rest of it. Oh, and she reconciled with the sword. Which will probably come in handy... Though really, one has to wonder how many weapons Tiana needs.”
“That sounds like two too many to me.” Jerya wrapped her arms around herself. If Tiana was being guided by the Firstborn, that could change everything. They couldn’t rely on the Firstborn’s aid; the divine creator’s last lesson taught that Blood protected Ceria now—but if they’d decided to involve themselves again, things were changing. She had to make sure they changed in favor of her family.
Despite the fragments of politics and metaphysical meaning and spin bobbing through her mind, she kept returning to an image of Tiana, her baby sister, carrying such a strange and awful burden. “Is she well? Is this new weapon hurting her somehow? The sword seemed bad enough.”
“Oh, she’s distracted but other than that she seems healthy. Now, I’ll have more for you about the Blighter later. Kiar discovered all manner of secrets about him, but while we’re this private—” and he glanced around at the rest of the family watching their conversation—”can we talk about the King?”
All her worries about Tiana faded under a surge of grief. Jerya closed her hands into fists. “What about him?”
“What happened to him?” Twist spoke gently, which momentarily enraged Jerya. He went on. “Kiar said something but she was coming out of the phantasmagory at the time and I couldn’t know if it was just a dream. And then a dragon attacked us.”
The curtains were dark, with bright flecks woven into them. Jerya wondered if they were supposed to represent stars. It was really very interesting to think about, and think about the curtains she did until she had herself under control. “Something. Something happened to him. I suppose we’ll announce it soon, once things settle down. There can be a quick coronation. Maybe in two weeks on Arising-day, since it’s traditional.”
“There are stories already,” said Alanah abruptly. “I heard one little boy telling his friends about how King Shonathan fought the old Bastard beyond the wall Shanasee built. He said the mud was what was left after King Shonathan won.”
“Hah,” said Jant fiercely. “My messenger told me the tale of how Shonathan battled the ghost of his brother Math in my Shan’s barrier. They don’t forget, even when they never knew.”
“I don’t like either of those stories,” said Yithiere. “Allowing them to cast the Blood—any of the Blood—in the role of enemy is too dangerous. We must tell them something else, and enforce it.”
“The truth...” began Twist, and looked inquisitively at Jerya.
Jerya thought back to her last meeting with her father, in the phantasmagory. It had been ugly and painful. She’d been helpless, too familiar a sensation. But under the guise of tormenting her father, the Blighter had been trying to accomplish something. It was hard to understand, but in the end her father had died because he’d made the Blighter angry. He’d made the Blighter fail. “The truth is... complicated. Alanah, did the child you overheard say what happened to the King after he defeated the Bastard?”
“Oh, he flew off into the dawn to find the Bastard’s secret stronghold in the hole in the night. Shonathan is still quite the hero, after all these years.”
“Yes,” Jerya said flatly. “He is.” She took a deep breath and made a decision. “He died, but he died saving Ceria, and he died fighting. But he died. And after he died, the Blighter destroyed the phantasmagory somehow. I don’t know how.” She looked around the room, staring into each shadowed face. “And this is the last time we talk about it. From now on, all we know is that he left to fight the Blighter and he hasn’t returned. We’re waiting for news. Twist, I’m going to need you to help me stay in contact with Tiana, as if the phantasmagory still existed. And we’re not going to release any other story to replace the tales children tell, Yithiere.”
He scowled. “No coronation, then. Without a coronation, you aren’t Queen. This is a foolish decision; perhaps you aren’t ready to be Queen.”
“The people need hope, Uncle.” Jerya softened her voice. “If they believe that the ruin of their city is the side effect of a great victory, they’ll rebuild much faster than if they learn the devastating truth.”
“And what of when they hear the truth after they’ve accepted the lie?” snapped Yithiere. “When they realize the Blighter is still out there, undefeated, his armies and his fortress devouring our country? How much hope will they have then? They will be betrayed, and worse, unprepared.”
“You’ve spent half your life lying, boy,” grumbled Jant.
“Have I? I do what is necessary to keep the innocent safe,” said Yithiere. “But if you are correct, then I must be experienced with the consequences. Trust me to know when it is too dangerous.”
Jerya shook her head. “I will always listen when you think it’s dangerous, Uncle. But sometimes danger must be risked.”
Yithiere moved closer, his head low and his nostrils flaring like the wolf that was his eidolon. “I know that. You think I don’t know that? But they cannot be allowed to turn on you. The Blighter is too close, too uncontrolled. The Royal Guard is a skeleton force given the size of the Blight itself.”
“Then watch them for me? Warn me if their fear outraces their hope and we will see if we can turn them in a different direction.” Jerya hardly thought about what she said. Her only goal was to keep Yithiere behind her, not in front of her. Only those who knew him well understood how unpredictable he was; he kept to himself too much in public for the people to see him as anything other than the war leader who had fought off four Blights. If he decided to ignore her leadership and go his own way, her power would wither before it had fully developed. And without somebody stabilizing him, he’d be dragged down by his own fears before the Blighter could get to him.
Yithiere’s mouth tightened. “I will watch.” It was more a threat than a promise.
Great-Uncle Jant spoke impatiently. “I’m far more concerned about the Justiciar’s Council and the duchies than about what the city does. What will they do without a monarch or a monarch’s regent? Firstborn weapons or not, we need their troops to contain the Blighter, but if the fiction is that the King is off fighting a one-man war instead of calling o
n them, will they come?”
Jerya dragged her eyes away from Yithiere, toward the little silver-haired old man. He’d spent his life in the Palace, writing books and studying the family magic. He knew a great deal about many esoteric subjects. She hadn’t thought politics was one of them.
“They’ll send them,” she said firmly. Doubt was an impossible weakness here.
“I don’t know,” said Jant. “My messenger told me about the troubles on the roads now. Perhaps they’ll stay home and trust us and the Firstborn to deal with the Blight.” He grimaced, as if personally offended by the Firstborn involving themselves.
Jerya repeated, “They’ll send them. They have to, or there won’t be a country left to live in. And they’re armies, they’ll cut right through any troubles on the road.”
Yithiere shrugged. “The duchies are all far away from the fairy tales you want to spin for Lor Seleni. They know, or will find out, that the enemies we face are akin to our own magic. This Firstborn story weakens our authority; that news we should suppress if we can. And even so, trust may be lacking. How do we even teach a common soldier how to fight something made out of eidolon stuff? They’re used to fighting men who are afraid of death, and who stop when stabbed.”
Alanah cleared her throat. “As it happens, I have some ideas on that.” When everybody looked at her, she shifted her weight. “It used to just be a theoretical exercise, after growing up in the Bastard era. I’m happy to share them with the troops.”
The meeting went on, devouring the rest of the day. Jerya did her best to keep both her uncles too busy on details to question her own focus. She knew what was important: Seandri sitting in her place in the Tabernacle of Broken Hearts, and the Justiciar’s Council, who had thought concealing the attacks on Ceria was better than letting her have power. She’d show them. She’d have to, or even if Tiana’s Firstborn Weapon defeated the Blighter, there’d be nothing left for her family.
Chapter 7
The Regent and the Road
PUFFY WHITE CLOUDS tumbled across a summer-blue sky. The breeze was brisk but the air was warm, and smelled of the harvest. It was the perfect day for a picnic. Unfortunately, they were on a quest instead, which was much less pleasant, and didn’t involve your own bed at the end of the day.
They rode west. That was all Lisette knew: west. The group had met in the courtyard of the Citadel, their horses and mules packed for a long journey, and Kiar had asked Tiana for a destination and she’d immediately pointed... west. That was it.
For three days, they’d been riding west, in entirely the wrong weather for the season. Only the sun, low against the southern horizon, gave any clue it was almost winter. Every time it shone in Lisette’s eyes, it felt like a metaphor for how little they knew about the quest.
It was ridiculous, Lisette thought, and felt guilty for thinking it. She was trained to deal with all sorts of ridiculous whims. She’d had no problems when her charge decided she wanted to grow up to direct plays rather than be a self-directed weapon. It had been fun. They’d been in a city. She liked cities. She liked having someplace warm to go after they spent time outside. She liked not being on a horse all day. She liked, if she was on a journey, to know where she was going and when she could anticipate it being over.
But being a Regent wasn’t about doing what she liked.
When she’d agreed to the expedition, though, she’d thought Tiana meant to sleep indoors. She thought they’d travel on the roads and find posting houses at the end of each day. She fully expected they’d visit some of the country nobles and gentry along the way, as a break from posting houses. She thought they’d use remounts and eat supper in dining rooms most of the time. She knew how a Royal princess ought to travel, even with such a small escort. Especially with such a small escort. But that was too dangerous, Tiana said, and Cathay and Kiar agreed. Lisette didn’t expect any better of Cathay, but she tried not to feel like Kiar was a traitor. Kiar knew how it was supposed to be done, and Kiar usually liked to do things properly.
They did travel on a road, once they came down from the mountain. Tiana had asked the guide to lead them down a side route, not the main road. She didn’t want to go past Lor Seleni. There was no need, she said, and it would slow them down. So they came down the mountain on a path more suited for goats than horses, and it took them two days just to reach one of the Regency roads. It ran west, so Tiana was willing to follow it for a while, although she regarded that as a convenience, not a necessity. That night they’d slept on the ground, just as they had on the mountainside, because, Tiana said quite reasonably, if the Blighter decided to attack them in the middle of the night it’d be best not to have lots of noncombatants around. And they’d be harder to find if they weren’t advertising their location at every posting house they passed.
It made sense, but it also made Lisette cranky. A Princess fighting a Blighter traditionally had an army as her escort. If they were with a proper army, they’d have beds. They’d have baggage trains, if they were with an army. They wouldn’t have left Tiana’s cook and maid behind. Instead they had a dozen guardsmen, which was too many for the group to move quickly, and too few to actually accomplish much, and none of them were very good at cooking. And they had to travel carefully, to spare their horses and their own muscles. Berrin said they’d have to pick up at least a few remounts when they could, but that wasn’t feasible until they found somebody with the right kind of horses to sell.
The wind picked up, gusting a pin straight out of Lisette’s hair and whipping the freed lock against her cheek. She tucked it up again as best she could, and then smoothed her horse’s mane. She’d never spent quite so much time on Dustling’s back before but the horse was doing well.
She dropped back to ride with the guards, tired of the whine in her own mental voice. Tiana didn’t notice, and that was another thing that irritated Lisette, as much as or more than the rustic sleeping arrangements.
Maybe it was the heart of everything, really. Tiana had been distant since she’d picked up Jinriki, but since Antecession, she’d been positively withdrawn. Her face turned west so often, even when they were grazing the horses, that Lisette sourly suspected she’d developed a crick in her neck. Cathay, who had once upon a time focused exclusively on pleasing Lisette, now brooded like a tragic hero over Tiana. And Kiar spent all her time reading, on and off horseback. Lisette expected to be useful. At Court, someone always wanted her attention. But right now all she had to do was make sure her mare didn’t get into any trouble on the road and Dustling was better at that without her help.
“My lady,” said Slater gravely, touching his helmet but keeping his gaze pointed ahead. “Is there a problem?”
“Not as such,” said Lisette, summoning a smile. “How are the guards dealing with the journey?”
Slater’s gaze slid sideways to examine Lisette. “Some of the less experienced ones are a little tired, but they’ll toughen up. For most of them, this is an adventure.”
“Better than being with the main army, I suppose,” sighed Lisette. She turned in her saddle and looked back over the more than half-dozen men ranged behind them. Most of them had the same blank expression Slater cultivated. Berrin grinned at her, as he usually did. He always seemed to find something to grin about.
Another guard behind Slater dozed, his head sagging on his chest. Lisette remembered him: young, maybe the youngest of the unit. Not so young he needed to take naps, though. She frowned. “Are they having trouble sleeping? I can certainly sympathize but—”
The young guardsman jolted awake, as if somebody had stuck him with a pin. He looked around wildly, and then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. When he opened them again, his face drained of all color. He stiffened and touched his helmet at Lisette.
Lisette nodded, smiled at him and faced forward again as Slater said, “If so, they’ll get used to it. Young Ryely is new and a little bit nervous.”
He hadn’t appeared nervous to Lisette. He’d looked exhausted
, until something had woken him up. She wondered what might have done that, and cast her gaze over the rest of the column, noting the other dozers. Then every drooping head jerked up, wide-eyed and alert, although nobody had said a thing. An idea occurred to Lisette, arriving with the weight of intuition.
**Jinriki?** She thought, as loudly as she could. **I know what you’re doing and you have to stop.** She paused and waited, before thinking at the sword again. Her thoughts were less polite this time: things she’d never say aloud.
Slater kept talking blithely. “You don’t need to worry about them, you concentrate on taking care of the Royals, eh? And we’ll take care of you.” He considered, then rubbed his chin and added, “Sorry about the cooking. None of us are used to cooking for refined palates. I’m not sure we have taste buds anymore. Except Berrin, and he’s busy with the horses after we stop.”
If Jinriki heard her, he didn’t answer. She smiled at Slater again, distractedly, and sent her horse trotting ahead to get closer to Tiana. If Jinriki wouldn’t talk directly to her, she’d have to bring up her suspicions to Tiana, who had been able to limit him even before Antecession.
**Don’t.**
**Why shouldn’t I?** Lisette snapped, and instantly regretted it. She tried never to snap at anybody. But she expected her thoughts to remain locked inside her own head.
**Because I asked nicely, and you know I don’t have to do that.**
Lisette’s hands clenched on her saddle, and the scars on her palms ached. **You have to stop tormenting the guards.**
**Why?** Jinriki’s mental voice was mocking.
Green Wild (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 2) Page 7
