A Flight of Marewings

by Kristen S. Walker

  He had plans, but the late duke had never listened to Galenos for anything except military strategy. All that had kept him going for the past ten years was the promise of the succession. He had tried to get old Basileos to put it down in writing that Galenos would be his heir, but the duke had never stopped hoping for a child. There had been a son, four years ago, but the boy had not lived more than a few months. The duke was convinced that some kind of curse was striking down every member of his family—all except Korinna, the illegitimate daughter he had never formally acknowledged but provided for by giving his mistress an estate. She was the convenient reward that he had promised Galenos.

  Now that same girl was Galenos’s last hope for taking control of the duchy, and she proved as young and ignorant as he had feared. She had never even been to a city before, nor dealt with the kind of complex political environment that she would face with the council. He had only an hour to dress her up and try to prepare her for the meeting.

  He bathed and changed his own clothes swiftly, without the aid of a servant. He folded and pleated his kattar into a plain style, a nod to aristocratic fads but still simple and utilitarian. Even the simplest kattar hindered his movements and hung about him awkwardly, but he had learned years ago that it was better to act the part of a politician if he wanted to be accepted by them.

  When he was ready, he asked for Korinna to be brought to his library. There was no time for the midday meal, but servants brought a bottle of wine and a tray of delicacies: honeyed dates stuffed with spiced nuts, flatbread with garlic chickpea mousse, little pickles, and olives.

  Korinna arrived still flushed from her bath. He stood up from his chair and looked her over without a word. Her hair was arranged in thick coils upon her head in the current fashion; her kattar was draped in more complex pleats that opened at the sides to allow glimpses of her slender curves; the dress underneath was made of a fine linen that clung to her frame. Even her sandals were expensive, made from leather straps woven in an elaborate pattern. The whole outfit was much more lavish than the old-fashioned country frippery she had been wearing when he first saw her—yet she still had her head up with the same stiff-necked expression of the old duke. She could be pretty if she didn’t remind him so much of her father.

  He cleared his throat and gestured to the other chair in front of the hearth. “Have a seat.” He poured two glasses of the wine and handed one to her. “We need to discuss our strategy for the council meeting.”

  She put down the glass on the table untouched and picked up a piece of flatbread. “It’s simple. I’ll tell them that I’m my father’s only living child and the duchy is mine by right. It was his wish that you should marry me and share this inheritance, and acknowledging the union is merely a formality.”

  Galenos sipped his wine and leaned back in his chair. “So you think that you can just march in there and demand that they hand over control of one of the most powerful cities in Seirenia to an inexperienced girl fresh off her mother’s farm?”

  Korinna blushed, but her eyes flashed angrily. “I’m not that inexperienced in governance. I’ve been running Anoberesovo since my mother’s died in the plague four years ago—”

  “Do you really believe that ruling Kyratia is just like running your little grain farm on a bigger scale?” He shook his head. “Do you even know the names of the council members who we’re meeting today?”

  “No, I… I thought that you would tell me.” She looked down.

  “And if I tell you their names and which guilds they represent, will that be enough to know how to deal with them? At the end of the month, when the harvest comes in and the House of Lords and Ladies objects to their taxes once again, will you know how to answer them? Will you say no and earn their ire, or will you try to curry favor by lowering the taxes and then be able to make up the difference in the budget?”

  Her gaze darted back and forth, avoiding him. “I have more to learn, but I know that my father had advisers who could help me—”

  “His advisers have their own agendas, and you have to consider what they tell you by looking at what they hope to gain.” Galenos set down his glass and folded his arms. “What about the rulers of the other cities nearby? If you saw an army outside these gates tomorrow, and they were flying a black dog on a red field, would you know who was attacking us or how to negotiate with them?”

  She looked blank. “Wouldn’t it be your job to defend us?”

  Galenos smirked. “If I become your husband and the new duke, then I can no longer be in charge of the Storm Petrels. I’ve promised the command to my brother, whom you met earlier. You’ll have to renew the contract with him if you hope the Storm Petrels to continue fighting for Kyratia.”

  Korinna suddenly smiled and folded her arms. “You’ve been working for my father for years. You have the experience that the council members want. That’s why we have to be partners and rule together.”

  The girl was even more stubborn than he had feared. He dropped the mocking expression and shook his head. “If you tell the council that I have the experience to rule, then I’m the one that they’re going to listen to and I’m the one who’s going to rule.” He leaned forward. “Your experience may qualify you to run a household, even one as complicated as a duke’s. I’d need someone to manage the servants, oversee the kitchens, keep up with the shopping, organize parties—”

  Her chin went up again, the picture of Basileos’s arrogance in his own youth. “I have no intention of being a mere housewife.”

  “A housewife is all that I need you to be—and my link to the Votsis bloodline.”

  “Then I won’t marry you. I’ll petition the council on my own.”

  “There has never been a city run by a single woman on her own.”

  Korinna tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “I’ll be the first, then.”

  “You still run into the problem of the lack of experience, and I will note that you do not seem to have any negotiating skills.” Galenos picked up his wine again and took a large sip. Perhaps the vintage was wasted on the girl. “Our best hope of petitioning the council is together, but it will have to be done strategically. Council members will ask for favors and we will have to be careful not to promise too much. We may have to go so far as to make promises of marriage alliances for some of our future children.”

  Korinna stared at him. “That’s ridiculous! How could they ask to marry someone who hasn’t even been born yet?”

  “These kinds of deals are common. A future son or daughter with one of their future sons or daughters, to join our families and give them more political standing.” He shrugged one shoulder. “If you want to play in the political arena, you must get used to these ideas. After all, your own father suggested the idea of your marriage to me when you were nine years old, and I doubt that I was the first one he offered you to.”

  Korinna covered her face in her hands. “Why do you keep pushing me so much about all of this?”

  He tensed and leaned forward again. “We need to be prepared for this meeting, and we’re running out of time.”

  A movement in the corner caught his eye. Galenos turned and saw it again—the ghost of the dead duke staring at him. It never spoke or moved to tell him what it wanted.

  He poured a third glass of wine and set it down for the spirit. He looked at the girl to see if she noticed, but she was still hiding behind her hands.

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Look—we can discuss our marriage later. What I need from you right now is for you to understand what kind of situation we are going in to. I don’t have the time to explain every nuance before we go into the meeting, so you need to let me do the talking and just back me up. Can you trust me enough to do that?”

  She dropped her hands back into her lap and took a deep breath. “I guess that I don’t have a choice. If you think that you know how to handle them, then I don’t really have confidence that I would be able to do better.”

  “Well, then that’s set
tled.”

  When they were both ready, Galenos escorted Korinna to the Council building on foot through the narrow, winding streets. On the wider main streets there were cattle carts and their droppings; the smaller side streets were a little cleaner for foot traffic.

  He chose their path to avoid major crowds and they arrived well before the appointed time.

  The City Hall was one of the newest buildings in the older part of the city, only about fifty years old. Basileos’s grandfather had commissioned the three white domes from the famous architect Jaxenth: one to house the Council, one to house the Court, and one for a new temple dedicated to Deyos. All three were large and dominated the eastern side of the city, and the construction project had lasted decades. The government buildings satisfied the council members; the temple was built to make sure that Deyos’s house was the grandest in the temple district. But about ten years ago, a new shrine to Varula, the god of the vine, had been erected by followers of his cult. Varula’s shrine outshone the old Deyos temple.

  Galenos surveyed the battlefield: sixteen council members, eleven men and five women, armored with fine embroidered kattars so thickly pleated that they could barely move without fear of unpinning something. Each of them had been elected to represent a different guild. Each of them had been in their office for over a decade, meaning that they had all overseen Kyratia since before Galenos, a young upstart mercenary captain, had first signed the defense contract with the late duke. They sat around a single circular table, spread with their midday meal, but as they leaned back and stared at Galenos none of them touched the food.

  He launched his opening volley by bringing forward the girl with a stiff bow. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Kyratian Council,” he said, pitching his voice at a deep rumble to convey authority, “may I introduce Korinna Votsis, the daughter of the late Duke Basileos.”

  Korinna made a polite curtsy but said nothing. He hoped that he could count on her to remember her place in the delicate negotiation.

  The representative of the Moneylenders Guild, Eutychon Drakon, lifted his reading glasses and took a paper from his pocket. His face was already red from drinking wine despite the early hour. “According to our records, there are no surviving members of the Votsis line. The duke’s first marriage was childless, and his second marriage produced only one son, who died in infancy.”

  So, they were going to start on the offensive. Galenos bowed again. “Korinna was not born to one of Basileos’s wives. She is his natural-born daughter by Pherenia Chrysanthan, his mistress.”

  Thais Verenos, a woman still known for her refined beauty in her middle age and Councilor for the Musicians Guild, folded her arms. “Did Basileos ever acknowledge this daughter in a court of law?”

  He shook his head. “He never legally claimed parentage of Korinna—”

  “Then she is not a Votsis,” Thais said firmly.

  “—But he made sure that he was publicly known as her father,” Galenos continued without acknowledging the interruption. “Basileos took financial responsibility for her and her mother by giving them an estate in the country, he made regular visits to their home, he talked about his daughter openly and even proposed offers of marriage on her behalf.” Galenos looked around the room to make eye contact with each council member. “Since there is no other surviving Votsis, Korinna is the only potential heir to her father’s title.”

  Diokles Onekechiros, an old crony of the late duke and the representative of the House of Lords and Ladies, nodded and smiled up at the girl. “I can personally attest that the duke named Korinna as his daughter, and I met her on several occasions when he took me to his mistress’s home on holiday. Because he had no children by his wives, he doted on the only daughter that he had.”

  Eutychon of the Moneylenders cleared his throat. “It sounds as though you would have a good case to set before a judge if you wanted to get the girl declared a Votsis, but that still wouldn’t make her the duke’s heir. He never told this Council that he had any intention of passing his title on to her.”

  Galenos shook his head. “Actually, as several of you already know, he spoke of a different idea.” He took a deep breath and delivered his counterstrike: “Basileos said that he would have me marry his daughter, Korinna, and become the next duke.”

  The Council stared back at him, but he didn’t flinch under their collective gaze. He remained still while he waited for their response.

  Pelagia Rotinon, the first female Councilor of Kyratia and fearsome representative of the Merchants Guild, the most powerful group in a city that built its economy on sea trade, lifted turned her sharp gaze on him. For all that her face was lined with age, her eyes were as clear as a youth’s. “Warlord Galenos Mrokin. You believe that you are the best candidate to rule Kyratia?”

  He looked back at her. Though he had studied many enemies of the battlefield and guessed at their movements, he couldn’t tell which way the old crone was leaning—and he knew that her vote would be the most critical to swaying the rest of the Council. He answered her honestly. “Councilor Pelagia, I have protected the duchy of Kyratia and its people for over a decade. I have grown to love this city and all of the surrounding lands as my own home. I worked closely with the late duke and I respected him as I would have my own father.”

  He turned to the window, which looked out over the main marketplace. “When I look at Kyratia, I see a city which is prosperous in her economic dealings and respected for her military prowess. We enjoy many comforts because of this. However, I feel that we lag behind our neighbors in other areas because we do not invest in our schools, our artists, or our mages. Kyratia needs a powerful leader now to unlock her potential and guide her into a future where she becomes one of the most advanced cities of the Seirenian Peninsula.” He looked back at Merchant Pelagia. “I would be honored to become that leader.”

  Several of the council members, including Moneylender Eutychon, looked uncomfortable. Galenos had known going into the meeting that the Moneylenders and three other guilds would oppose him no matter what he said, while the Miners and the Blacksmiths would always support him. It was the uncertainty of the other council members that determined if he would be successful, and Merchant Pelagia was the key.

  The old crone betrayed nothing on her wrinkled face. “We have heard your petition, and we will take it under consideration. The Council will contact you later with our decision.”

  Korinna started to open her mouth, but he silenced her with a shake of his head.

  Merchant Pelagia narrowed her eyes. “Actually, I would like to hear the girl speak.” She leaned forward. “Why haven’t you petitioned us for yourself? Are you just a silent partner to your future husband?”

  Korinna lifted her chin, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I’ve never spoken to the Council before. The Warlord has worked with you for ten years, so we thought it would be better for him to talk.”

  “I see.” Pelagia wrote something down. “And what would you plan to do as a ruler of Kyratia?”

  Galenos could see the trap closing in. He scrambled for an evasive maneuver. “Korinna and I have only just begun to discuss our joint plans for the future—”

  “I want to give money to single mothers.” Korinna stepped around him, right into the trap. “I don’t think they should be forced to rely on the chance that someone in their family will support them, or give up their children to the temples. They should be able to raise a family of their own on their own terms.”

  Moneylender Eutychon sputtered. “And why should we take responsibility for them? We don’t have money to pay for every foolish girl’s mistakes.”

  Galenos bowed a final time. “Thank you for your consideration.” He turned and walked out of the room, taking Korinna by the arm so that she couldn’t stay behind and argue.

  The moment that the door to the council room closed behind them, she whirled to face him. “I thought you knew how to handle them,” she hissed. “You barely put up a fight at all while they
cast doubts on my parentage, and then you pulled me out when they started insulting us.”

  After the tension of the council room, he had to rein in his patience to answer her calmly. “Be careful about how and where you speak. There are many ears in this city.” He looked around as he spoke, but didn’t see anyone lurking nearby. “I handled them as I knew the situation demanded. If I fought them too much, they would not have listened to a word I said.”

  She threw up her hands, but lowered her voice. “I thought that you were going to make deals with them—offers of marriage and other things that they wanted—”

  “And I told you not to say anything stupid.” Galenos looked down at her for a long moment until she turned her head away. He was angry with himself for the disaster of a meeting. He should have realized that Merchant Pelagia would want to question the girl and prepared her better. It was his fault if his troops weren’t ready for battle. “We can discuss this somewhere else while we wait. I don’t know how long it will take them to make a decision, but it won’t be today. Would you like something to eat?”

  Korinna glanced back at him with an uncharacteristic shyness. “I—I guess so.”

  “Good. I’ll take you to the market.” He offered his arm to her with polite deference, but she refused. He bit his tongue and led her outside.

  3

  Korinna II

  Korinna folded her arms and kept her hands to herself as she followed Galenos out of the Council Hall. She could still feel her arm smarting where he had grabbed her and dragged her down the hallway before. She tried to follow his advice not to discuss politics where they could be overheard, but when they were a block away from the Council, she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.