"Yes. You're the Regent's brother, right? Ectrix."
"Yes. Our family has been charged with protecting Quenlaque since the days of Lycen, foster-brother of the Warhawk."
"An important, loyal man. Lord Mrillis spoke very highly of your brother."
"He is always working for the good of Quenlaque." A wistful look touched the boy's face. "When the queen releases him, he will take me questing to earn my spurs."
"I wish someone could take me questing," he responded without thinking.
"If you like, I could ask my brother to take you questing with us," Ectrix offered.
"Thanks. I appreciate that." He tried not to laugh. The boy was certainly more polite and considerate that his modern counterparts. Grego could see he didn't really want a stranger, even an exotic one, sharing his trip with his brother. "I don't know what Emmi-- What Her Majesty plans, so I can't accept any offers."
"Are you here to marry her?"
"What?" His brain froze up for a few seconds, so he could only stare at the boy. "Where would you get an idea like that?"
"Baedrix and Eleanora thought the heir might bring a consort, to unite the two worlds."
"Emrillian is already the unification of the two worlds." He spoke slowly as he searched for words to voice what he had picked up from Mrillis and Emrillian, but never directly discussed. "Anyway, I'm practically engaged--betrothed," he corrected, when the boy's forehead wrinkled a little with the obvious question. Grego winced, realizing he hadn't thought of Brysta since he walked out of his house two nights ago. Were they really close enough to think about marriage? She had mentioned the idea a few times, mostly at the urging of their circle of friends in the Science Directorate. Grego had always hesitated, even when he had been operating under the influence of the mind-shielding spell, something had held him back from making such a commitment. "I think it would be better if she married a Valor of this world, someone to help her understand and guide her people."
"That was what I thought." The boy looked pleased that he shared his opinion. "She should marry my brother. He knows how to rule. Naylia is dead, and I heard Lady Vrissa saying it was time to find another wife for him."
"Matchmakers even here," Grego muttered, smiling. "Why don't we let the queen decide for herself?"
"Decide what?" Mrillis said, startling them both.
Chapter Six
"You're done--of course you're done," Grego corrected himself, feeling like an idiot. Baedrix and Graddon and Carious stood behind Mrillis, and the door of the tower a few dozen steps away hung open. Their meeting had ended at the perfect moment to catch him unawares. The last thing he wanted to do was come across as a tongue-tied fool, and ruin Emrillian's first impression with the people who would support her campaign to protect Lygroes.
"Baedrix should marry the queen. He's the strongest Valor, and even the lords in Court who don't like him will follow him," Ectrix said. He went a little pale, and his chin tilted up in the air as he spoke, making a lie of his brave, calm voice and expression.
"It never changes," Graddon rumbled, his rough voice rich with laughter. "No matter how many centuries a man sleeps, politics and matchmaking never cease their eternal tangle."
"Indeed, that is the queen's choice, and something she must leave for later. There are far more important things to deal with," Baedrix said.
Grego had no idea from the Regent's expression or his voice if his brother's words affected him in any way. This man had learned all the tricks of keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself.
"Like what?" Ectrix challenged.
"Edrout will know soon that Athrar's heir has returned," Carious said. "If he hasn't felt the reaction in the Threads already. We set out in the morning on our quests."
"Quests? How many?" The boy looked to his brother, who grinned and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You could earn your spurs very soon," Baedrix said, nodding. "Lord Grego?"
"Just Grego. Until I've earned my spurs, too," Grego added, offering a grin to Ectrix.
"You will play an important role, and I will ask you to trust in my brother and my sister to guide you." He glanced at Mrillis and Graddon. Both men nodded. "Many in Quenlaque do not remember that Athrar's heir is a daughter. You have imbrose, and you are a face no one has seen before. Your resonance of magic is unfamiliar."
"A decoy." He took a deep breath, fighting the giddy sensation that mixed with that falling feeling of apprehension he had felt the first time he entered a tournament and realized he was outweighed and under-armed. "Let me guess. I will go to Quenlaque Castle, riding out in the open with an escort, and let everyone think I'm the Warhawk's heir, while you and Emrillian will go around through a back way."
"Close," Mrillis said. "Graddon and I will go to the Wayhauk Mountains to assess our enemy's strengths. You will present a decoy and distraction, staying here until Shalara and Karstis arrive with their recruits. Emrillian will go to the Stronghold to awaken Meghianna, and retrieve Braenlicach."
"That's where it's hidden?" Ectrix said, eyes wide and shining. "Why didn't anyone tell us?"
"That is exactly why," Grego offered. "If nobody knows, nobody will ruin the secret, and the sword is that much safer from Edrout."
He met Baedrix's gaze. The Regent nodded, but there was a somberness in his eyes that made Grego suspect the star-metal sword's location had been a secret and burden he had carried alone.
* * * *
"The land is still shifting, crumbling, rising and falling in unexpected ways and places. We learned in my grandfather's day to conduct a new survey every five years." Baedrix unrolled the thick roll of parchment that Martus, the tower guardian, handed him. "This is the most recent view of the land, as of a little more than a year ago."
"Thank you, Lord Baedrix," Emrillian murmured. "You do realize you have your work cut out for you, educating me about Lygroes, don't you?" She leaned forward and studied the map. Next to it on the table lay a map Mrillis had produced.
The others gathered in her pavilion watched her. She could feel it. The weight of their attention pressed on her shoulders and made her head ache. Almost as weighty was the realization that because she acted as queen in her father's place, she might never have privacy again. Her pavilion was, in effect, the center of the government. Her lips quirked up in silent amusement when she decided to be grateful there were a little less than three dozen people in the welcoming party. How could she have fit hundreds into this pavilion?
Then she really looked at the maps. The differences between them tore at her heart. Her vision blurred and she realized tears filled her eyes. Emrillian blinked them away and finally looked up.
"Grandfather, you told me how it was, but it wasn't real until now." She gestured at the two maps. Seeing the questions on the faces of those closest to her, she continued. "The modern world only has maps that have come down from legend, like this map." She pointed at the one Mrillis had brought out. "The Death Zone keeps people from approaching the shores of Quenlaque. Their spy drones cannot fly over, their satellites cannot take pictures, to discern the actual shape of our land."
"Fly?" Martus asked, his voice cracking. The Valor hunched his shoulders when attention fastened on him.
"How can people fly if there is no magic among them? There are no Vales in Moerta," Eleanora said.
"Technology," Mrillis answered. "But we are here to learn about Lygroes, not Moerta. Lord Grego will be your teacher when that time comes. You were saying, Emmi?"
"The people of Moerta know little about the boundaries of Lygroes. That is our advantage--but only for a short while--when the enchantment ends." Emrillian felt a smile inching across her lips. This was beginning to sound like her old lessons with Mrillis, which put her on more familiar ground.
"What other danger will we face, besides the chaos from the dome falling, and Edrout trying to take advantage of the renewed magic?" Baedrix said, his voice soft.
"The feuding governments of Moerta could very well put aside
their squabbling to attack us, trying to take control of magic, to aid in their quest to subjugate the others. The government of the land where we lived will soon try to tap the energy of the Threads, to use in weaponry. We must wrest that power away from their machines, limiting them to our type of warfare, hand-to-hand, armed conflict. Our enemies will not work together, but they don't need to work together if they all battle to defeat us."
"The only way to win that conflict is to prepare," Grego put in. From the somber calm of his voice, Emrillian knew he understood more as each second went by. "That's what you need me for."
"The other Archaics, who should arrive soon. There are many, I believe, who would renounce their citizenship and swear fealty to the Warhawk throne, to defend our land against the modern world."
"Thousands," he whispered. He leaned forward, fastening his gaze on the map. "When I think of the hundreds of hours our Archaics gatherings spent in discussions about the legends. What we would do if Athrar really would come back, how much we would be willing to sacrifice for the old ideals..." A snort of laughter escaped him. "I always had a hard time not spilling the truth. When our friends realize that we just sat there, listening to them talk and dream and brag, and never admitted the legends were true, that Athrar would return...that he was your father. Emmi, I still have no idea if they'll hug you, bow at your feet, or try to strangle you!"
"Who would dare attack the High Queen?" Carious snarled.
"Peace, Lord Carious," Mrillis said. "It is the modern way of talk. How would you feel if your closest friend kept secret from you the fulfillment of your fondest dream? Wouldn't you threaten destruction, in jest?"
Carious and other Valors exchanged disgruntled, dismayed looks. Emrillian missed it, but someone smiled and someone else shrugged, and soon the tension fled. Her loyal Valors understood. Some things, she realized with a lightheaded feeling of relief, would never change.
"We will need all the warriors of the Archaics when the time comes," Mrillis said. "Your task, Grego, is to prepare the people of Quenlaque so they will not misunderstand or insult our allies."
"A huge task," Baedrix said. "Please, Lord Grego, teach me and my companions first, so we can help you. It will take longer, but there will be definite results."
"You mean instead of a stranger trying to change your way of life?" Grego asked, grinning.
They studied the map, comparing the new land to the old. Emrillian stayed silent, letting Mrillis and Baedrix lead the discussion. It felt strange to hear the names of legend bandied about as if the events were only a few years before. She had wanted to visit the vales, walk along the white sand beaches of the south, ride through the mountains of the north, sail along the rivers. Mrillis had told her the landscape had changed, but it had merely been part of the story until that moment.
A glance at Grego, when she could no longer bear to look at the disparate maps, showed he felt what she did.
"What about the Encindi?" Emrillian asked. "What have they been doing all this time?"
"Breeding, training, growing angrier. And reviving the blood magic, from all indications." Baedrix ran his finger down the mountain range on his map, and then down the larger, wider mountain range on the old map of Lygroes. It still neatly and effectively divided the continent. Emrillian was comforted that the people of Quenlaque held more than two-thirds of the land, and the Wayhauk Mountains took up nearly a third of what remained. "As far as our scouts can tell, they are moving out again for the first time in thirty years. And they are also building up their defenses. That was their greatest flaw before--they concentrated on attack, not defense."
"Moving out how?" She sat back, keeping her gaze on the map.
"Mostly movement through the mountains, finding their way through the new passages, discovering which old ones have been blocked. The time was when assignment to the border patrol was for young men who had just earned their spurs, and for the very old who still wished to be useful. There was more danger from the terrain than the Encindi, but the duty was still honorable and necessary. Now--" Baedrix shrugged. "In the past few years it has become something of a bane and a challenge. Those who crave glory bought at peril of their lives ask for such duty."
"Since the attack on the Threads blocking the tunnel?" Graddon said. "Since Edrout tried to kill Emrillian?"
Baedrix frowned, his gaze unfocused. He rubbed at his chin. Emrillian had already decided that was a sign of deep thought. She admired him for the simple wisdom of stopping to think before answering, so he had the right answer.
"I believe so, my lord."
"Then Edrout was frightened, when he failed in killing me," Emrillian said. She clasped her hands together in the folds of her overtunic in her lap, to keep them from shaking. "It could be he has been looking for me, here in Lygroes, all this time. Or he has been preparing for the final battle, because he knows he erred badly when he awoke me from the enchantment."
"Let us hope he never learns how badly, until it is too late for him to mend it," Graddon murmured. He nodded, staring at the map. Then he cocked his head to one side, met Emrillian's gaze, and winked. "Do the Encindi have boats?"
"They can't navigate around the Wayhauk Mountains where they extend into the sea. It takes them too close to the dome, and it burns anyone who tries to penetrate it," Carious said. "Our spies say their ships are made for fishing close to shore, and are too small to hold more than a few warriors."
"Then that will give us an advantage," Mrillis said. "When we bring down the dome, we must have ships full of warriors ready to move down both coasts, land, and come up behind the Encindi before they realize what has happened, while they are still trying to penetrate the barrier of the mountains."
The talk changed to the ocean currents, the types of boats in use, the strength of the royal fleet. Emrillian had little experience with ships of any kind, despite growing up on the coast, but Mrillis had trained her to understand the necessity of protection on the water and coastlines. There was so much to plan for, so much she had to acquaint herself with, before she could feel even middling competent in her duty. She wondered that Mrillis had ever pronounced her ready to rule.
As she listened to discussions of sea strength, sailors at the ready, schedules of sailing tours and inspections, she caught herself rubbing the Warhawk ring on her finger. It comforted her, reminding her of that short moment of reunion with her mother, the sight of her father with healthy color on his face.
From the naval strength of Quenlaque, talk changed to the Death Zone. Baedrix and his people understood the magical barrier from living inside it. No ship of Quenlaque could pass out through the barrier. Those who deliberately attempted to pass through were burned, as Carious had said. Those who were pushed against the barrier by storms, or lost control of their boats in the unnatural currents, passed through a wall of fog instead of lightning and fire. Passing through that fog, they found their ships headed back toward Lygroes, though navigators and pilots swore they never turned by a degree. The only way to enter and exit Lygroes was through the tunnel under the sea, until the enchantment lifted. Those who surveyed the Death Zone with technology saw only poisoned land and sampled poisoned air, corrosive gases, and wastes of sand.
"One thing about modern people should help your battle," Grego said, grinning. "They trust machines more than common sense. If you can bollux their sensors and computers, you'll never lose a battle."
"Computers? Sensors?" Eleanora laughed. "There is a whole new language we must learn."
"Indeed. Will Lord Grego teach us this language as well as all the history we have missed?" Baedrix asked.
"That would help." Emrillian sat back in her chair, wincing as she felt the ache in her back. "Grego, I think you should start your lessons immediately. Don't wait for our friends to show up. Lord Baedrix and I ride out before dawn to fetch Braenlicach. We will return here, hopefully by afternoon the next day."
"How can you cross Lygroes and return so quickly, Highness?" Carious shook his head.
"It is many days of hard riding. And how can we be sure that the Stronghold will allow you to enter it, or that the Queen of Snows will relinquish the sword without a fight?"
"He doesn't know about the tunnel," Baedrix said, before Emrillian could respond. "There is a tunnel to the Stronghold, like the tunnel beneath the sea, that turns a journey of nearly a moon into half a day."
"Half a day of walking," she added, and fought not to laugh when everyone in the tent displayed various expressions of shock, wonder, and disbelief.
"Then why hasn't our enemy found it and used it to attack? And why does no one... Ah, yes, of course, to protect it." Carious nodded and bowed a little in his chair. "Forgive me, Highness."
"The tunnel is bound to the same protective enchantments that shield the Stronghold. Only women of Rey'kil blood may travel it, or men who were born in the Stronghold." She nodded to Baedrix. "The Regent's family is descended from Lord Lycen, who was Lady Meghianna's son, and it is tradition for them to all be born there, to ensure the door stays open."
"Lady Meghianna left her sleep when my parents went there for Ectrix to be born," Eleanora said, her voice soft, her gaze dim and unfocused. "I went with them. Baedrix stayed home--his first duty as regent-in-training. I remember going there and being terrified and fascinated and thinking how very sad and empty the place was. I remember Lady Meghianna was so delighted to see all of us, and she was very good to me. I pestered her with a flood of questions." She blushed prettily. "I think I would like to go back with you."
"Later. When we awaken the entire Stronghold and send women with imbrose to study there once again," Emrillian said. "For now, I depend on you to learn from Grego, so you can teach all the women whom you think would be the most apt pupils."
"Forgive me, Highness." Martus, the tower guardian sat far around the loose circle of chairs in the pavilion. "I feel uneasy, sending just you and the Regent to the Stronghold, even with the guarding enchantment. Magic is not tame, like a candle, but a raging fire."
The Rift War Page 10
