“Very well. Kendred Olavayir was murdered, along with his first runner. His second runner survived, which is how one of us found him.” Which was true enough—if he left out their own investigation.
Arrow said, “Mathren again?”
“It appears to have been at Evred’s command,” Camerend said. “That is, he hired the assassins. No one in either the royal guard or the Royal Riders was part of it. Commander Noth personally questioned those who had liberty that day.”
“Evred hired assassins?” Arrow repeated. Hadn’t he spent every day with Evred? But not in the mornings, when he’d thought Evred still asleep while he drilled with Sneeze and the rest of the eagle Riders, behind the cow barns. And there had been a few nights when he couldn’t stand Evred’s drunken drivel any longer, and came back to sleep in the guest suite. “Did Mathren find out?”
“We have no idea, as he communicated with us only to send us with messages, or to conduct inspections. But he has to have, as the assassins were disguised as an honor guard. Which means they possibly used guard horses, but definitely guard coats.”
Arrow’s bow-mouth flattened into a tight white line. “I bet I know where those assassins came from. I bet I even know who they are.”
Arrow cast a fast glance toward the hall in the direction of the nursery, and Camerend understood: what he saw in the new king’s face was the anger born of fear.
“Every stable hand and wood gatherer in the kingdom is supposed to be protected by the law. To be promised justice,” Arrow stated, fists on his narrow hips. “But when it’s kings getting their throats cut, and their families, suddenly it’s just the way things are. But if I’m going to be a king, I’m going to change that.” A quick step and a turn. “I don’t want to worry every damn night about my boy getting stabbed in his cradle. So let’s get Noth to yank every one of those shits out of the Captain’s Drum and squeeze them until someone yaps.”
“And then?” Camerend asked, aware that Noth was already ahead in this matter.
“For the ones who did it, the most public execution I can contrive,” Arrow stated with fear-driven fury. “I hate that kind of shit. Floggings, executions. But I’ll watch it and not even blink. I want the entire city to see that there will be consequences when they ambush us, whoever’s behind the orders.”
As a royal runner, Camerend was required to listen, not to argue. This new king had passed the first, easiest test—no. It was too easy to impose ordered hierarchies of trust over the fluidity of everyday human behavior, just because one desired. He would allow himself this much observation: Anred-Harvaldar was better trained than Evred, and far more transparent than Mathren.
Mindful of the communication net that the royal runners and Darchelde had exerted themselves to hide from the previous kings, as well as from the regent and his brother, Camerend felt the urge to tell Arrow about the golden notecases. But then he remembered the old story about Evred-Harvaldar becoming more and more obsessed with who had them, and whether or not they could be compromised. He had loathed magic and mages because he could not control them, and had finally got rid of them, forbidding his jarls to use them.
Arrow solved the question for the moment by taking off with rapid strides, determined to tackle the quartermaster, though it was still not yet dawn.
TWENTY-THREE
Camerend retreated to the third floor, where he found Mnar sitting by the fire with her knees under her chin, the way she’d sat since they were first-year runners-in-training, proud of their dark blue tunics too big for their skinny bodies. She sipped coffee, well dosed with with listerblossom from the smell.
A quiet step. Shendan entered and sank down in her chair. “Isa sent me,” she said to Camerend’s look of question. “She’s keeping vigil, she and Frin, down in Darchelde.”
“How does she even know?” Mnar asked. “It’s not like she’s touching anything here.”
All three of them exclaimed, “Cassads!” and gave little smiles, humor an all-too brief relief, release.
Camerend then related his conversation with Arrow, and finished, “I like this young king so much that I was tempted to offer him a golden notecase. Not that Kendred was so terrible,” he amended, uncomfortable at slandering three recently murdered people. “Just lazy.”
Shendan, feeling no such compunction, stated, “Kendred was a selfish sot, and I believe the effects of his neglect are going to be a burden for these two new rulers to deal with, once they materialize. You were right not to mention the golden notecases.”
“Agreed,” Mnar said. “Arrow Olavayir might be grateful at present, but what if he starts brooding about how long we’ve had magic transfers, and why didn’t we offer them to the other Olavayir kings? We don’t know him, really.”
“That occurred to me as well. Should I have kept silent about the other two matters? Fox’s record, and the truth about Evred?”
“Probably,” Mnar said, grinding her bony chin on her equally bony knees.
“No, on both,” Shendan said, with a glance of mild reproach in Mnar’s direction. “It was always possible that a king would start the academy again before our descendants could. That was an excellent notion, to mention Gand, rather than our ancestor Fox.”
“That’s why I did it,” Camerend said. “If I leave out the Fox drills, the rest is all Indevan-Adaluin’s ideas on humane handling, of shared command, of using the least possible force to attain the goal.”
Mnar sighed. Just because you offered people the best didn’t mean they would heed it. But she found this new young couple so profound an improvement on Kendred, Evred, or Mathren, that she kept silence.
“As for the golden notecases, why not wait? There’s plenty of time to reveal their existence. We’re sworn to the kingdom, not to any specific king, and our use of them is to that end.”
“I’m too tired to argue,” Camerend admitted. “And too much has happened too fast. We are no longer ahead of the news, as it’s happened right under our noses.”
Shendan opened her hand in agreement. “As for matter of Kendred’s assassination, you could have left the report to Noth, but you want the new king to trust you. Bringing information to him will begin that trust.” She shook her head slowly. “And so the last of Dannor Tyavayir’s branch of the Olavayirs has come to a bloody end.”
Mnar said, “The infamous Dannor’s bad blood really was persistent, wasn’t it? A remarkable number of them handsome and utterly without conscience.”
Camerend raised a hand. “Not all. Not all.” He still had nightmares about Sindan Olavayir and his singing.
Sleet rattled at the windows in wind-driven gusts. Then Camerend rose, and tapped the backs of his fingers to a piece of paper. “With so many runners now going into service for the new king and queen, we’re going to have to shift ourselves about considerably.” He turned Shendan’s way. “Are the youngsters ready to come to training, say, by spring, assuming we deem it safe?”
Shendan said, “I wanted to discuss that very thing. Yes, by all means. And Senrid is another subject to be brought up. It’s time to discuss the specifics of his training, early as it is.”
Camerend heard this in silence.
Shendan went on, “You were forced to be raised here—that was my agreement with Tanrid Olavayir, to protect Darchelde. Though you were a hostage, and knew yourself to be, no harm came of it. I propose you not wait until he’s older, but bring your son here right away, to be raised under your eye.”
Camerend turned to gaze into the fire, hiding the extremity of his conflict. He knew that Shendan regretted their lack of mother-son relationship as much as he did: he had not been permitted to visit Darchelde until Garid became king.
He eyed his mother in silence, wondering if she had discussed this prospect with Isa, who he knew could not bear to come back to the royal city, which would mean effectively surrendering her son. Shendan had been forced to surrender him when he was small, but she had exerted all her influence through Tanrid-Harvaldar’s gunva
er to make certain that the tutors the king hired were pre-selected by her.
Camerend said slowly, “Perhaps I’d better go talk to Isa face to face. I need to assure her that the danger is over. And it’s always a delight to see my son.” On Shendan’s nod of permission, he transferred.
Up in the garrison wing, Arrow confronted Captain Noth, having come straight from his interview with the grizzled quartermaster. Arrow slammed the door to the central command office and said, “I thought that shit-sack was going to spit in my eye as he kept repeating he only followed orders. I can’t have him shot for that, but I’d stake my life he’s Mathren’s man.”
“Yes, he is,” Captain Noth said. “Very loyal.”
“Then he can go be loyal up at the Nob,” Arrow snarled. “Along with that assistant, smirking around behind the door listening. In fact, that snake will be well-deserved by those turds up at the Nob, from everything my father said.” His face spasmed in grief at the mention of his father, and he added truculently, “All Mathren’s men can go with him. Starting with the supply annex.”
Noth hesitated out of habit, then made a decision. Under Mathren, offering an opinion could get you flogged, demoted, even killed. He’d grown up with that system, thinking it eternal. The events—and the revelations—of the past few days, the last two watches, proved that wrong.
So maybe it was time to speak up. And if this new king was going to be like Mathren, best to find out now. “The fact is,” he said, “we all took orders from Mathren. It was your life if you didn’t. And we all considered ourselves loyal, as well. But with what we’ve recently found out—well, all around me I’m hearing there are many ready for a new life. Right now the Royal Riders are split over the private army business, for example.”
“They don’t believe us,” Arrow said.
“Some don't, it’s true. Many others do believe it, and feel betrayed. They had been told repeatedly that they were the elite, the most trusted. Clearly that’s not true if there’s this shadow army whose purpose is unknown. As for the rest, they may or may not know, but none of them are talking.”
“At least they aren’t fighting,” Arrow muttered. “And so?”
“And so, my advice is not to gut entire service wings. Send off the captains and their own assistants, if you wish. But leave us a functioning castle. I believe we have enough trustworthy men deserving of promotion to ensure orderly changeover.”
Arrow rocked from toe to heel, clearly turning these words over in his mind. Noth permitted himself a cautious hope.
“All right.” Arrow smacked his hand on the desk. “You know ‘em better than I do. I certainly can’t replace the entire garrison with my three ridings, much less the quartermaster’s staff. Whom do you suggest as a replacement?”
It was Noth’s turn to think. Men were, in his experience, seldom all one thing or another. They had all professed loyalty. They had to. But some were more outspoken than others. He searched his mind for the quiet ones who did their work without talking hot. “As for the quartermaster’s staff, Pereth oversees garrison repairs, and I know he gets along with the cobblers and the weavers. He’s a family man, married local. Two small boys. Seeing as he’s in repair, I doubt he was part of building a private army.”
“Good,” Arrow said. “He sounds good. Let’s put him in charge, and everyone over him can get dispersed to other garrisons. None in command, either.”
Heartened by this frank exchange—and the fact that this new king could take advice—Noth saluted, fist to heart. “It’ll be done by day’s end.”
Back in the royal runner roost, displaced air stirred the fire, and Shendan turned her gaze toward Mnar. “I can see you still care for Camerend, though your heart is given to Vanda, who can never return from the north.”
My heart among half a dozen others, at least. The words weren’t spoken, but they both were thinking them.
Shendan said, “Why don’t you offer Camerend the comfort he needs?”
Mnar sighed. “You’re talking like a mother.”
Shendan’s mouth lifted on one side, into a crooked not-quite-smile. “Really? And yet I never had the raising of him.”
“Then maybe you’re not thinking like a mother. I don’t know. I never was one, nor wanted to be. My fuzzies and fledglings are more than enough for me. As for Cama, first, I would never want back the terrible days of my teenage-passion. Second. He can get sex anywhere—if he wants to break his ring pledge—but what he can’t get is a sister. Nor I a brother.” Mnar crossed her arms.
“Ring pledge.” Shendan sighed. “The ring is not a magical wall.”
“That’s right,” Mnar retorted with the heavy sarcasm of hurt. “No stone or iron. Just a vow, so why not break it a little here and there?”
Shendan sighed again, more deeply. “Mnar. Ring pledges can be set aside, too, if people find themselves so changed that nothing keeps them together except the vow. As is happening here.”
Mnar shook her head. “I don’t believe it. I know Isa. I don’t know Frin as well, but....”
“You haven’t seen either of them except briefly in the past ten years. I live with them—I love them both—I’m training Isa to lead the family’s magic learning when I’m gone, when Camerend must be here. But I see what I see, and that is, she’s ever more bound to Frin. She lives with her with her gloves off, sleeps with her—and both Frin and I see her preparing for days, weeks even, to brace for Camerend’s visits.”
“I didn’t know that,” Mnar said.
“Of course not. He doesn’t see it either. And Frin hasn’t the heart to tell him.”
Mnar looked down at her hands. “I thought if ever a three-ring pledge would last forever, it would be theirs.”
“Three ring, two ring, ten ring, the number matters little.” Shendan turned to the fire. “All permutations of human relationships can endure, can flourish—if the individuals want it, need it, make the day to day decisions and effort to strengthen it. Though I love Isa, the truth is, I was sorry from the beginning when she proposed to Camerend, because I could see, though he couldn’t, she didn’t want him in the same way he wanted her, she wanted what he represented.”
“She loves him!”
“As a friend, as a duty.” Shendan turned her palms up.
“But they have a child!”
“Duty. And now that little Senrid is weaned, I suspect she considers that duty done. Her passion is reserved for Frin. She gives herself to Camerend when she can bear to, not because she wants to.”
Mnar squeezed her eyes shut. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”
“Why ever not? You cared for him once, and Vandareth is in permanent exile. You will only see him if you go to the north coast,” the older woman said.
“Cama’s comfortable with me. I’m comfortable with him. There’s no heat. I prefer it that way. We work together much better without the messiness of ardor. And even if he were free, and he did catch fire, it would be terrible because I know myself. I don’t do love well,” Mnar said with a wry, sidewise look. “I’m jealous and possessive. Every single relationship I’ve had was bliss for a short time, then torment for an eternity, until they had to get away from me.”
She rubbed her temples, then dropped her hands. “The worst was Vanda. You joke about his half-dozen lovers, but there are more than that. Why do you think he really volunteered to go north? That was my fault, and all because I was ‘in love.’” Her tone mocked the words. “Every boy or girl he was with was competition to me. Did he like them better? I had to fight against spying on him to know who he was with, to count who had him the most. Even though I knew from the start that he will never choose just one.”
Shendan sighed. “Very well. I’m as sorry as I can be, especially that you never told me how serious your emotions were.”
Mnar shrugged. “What could you have done? One thing adulthood taught me is, keep my messes to myself.”
They fell silent, lost in tired reverie, the only sound the crackl
ing of the fire, as far to the south in Darchelde, Isa clasped Camerend’s hand between her gloved fingers and said, “The crystal web was me,” she said, her beautiful eyes earnest. “I have kept you in a trap, bound by love. I have to set you free,” she said. “And you must take our son, lest I ruin him, as I have our love.”
Down a floor and farther along, Danet woke from a brief but deep sleep, at first bewildered by her strange surroundings. Then surged the tide of memory, and though she’d scarcely slept three hours, and not at all the night previous, she was now wide awake, her mind running stubbornly over things to be done. Duty had been the earliest prod in her life.
She had been raised to put duty first, which she had never quarreled with, as she reveled in order. Part of order was understanding everything in her immediate world, and her own place in that world.
She sat up in bed, looking down at her familiar palms as she tried out the word gunvaer.
It slid right into meaninglessness, impossible to grip. She looked around the enormous bedchamber—the very one that the great Hadand Deheldegarthe had lived in. Maybe she had slept in this very bed. Probably, considering how infrequently anyone ever changed furnishings, in her experience. Maybe even the same sheets, as excellent linen could last at least a century. Only the mattresses would have changed.
Hadand had never had the choice of becoming gunvaer either, in the sense that she’d come to the royal city as a two-year-old. But she’d done her duty. If a great woman could square herself to this duty, then Danet could only try to follow as best she could. Maybe that would help convince her that she was a gunvaer.
But first, she had to make sure that everyone else saw her as gunvaer.
What would Mother say? Make a list. Beginning with what you need to know.
She went down to the baths, then slipped back inside the gunvaer suite, trying not to disturb Tesar slumbering in one of the inner rooms. She dressed in her house tunic, rebraided her hair, and set out at a brisk walk back toward the state end of the castle.
Time of Daughters I Page 23
