Conquests and Crowns

by S E Meliers

  He turned on his heel and headed back the way he had come. Prairie looked up without surprise as he re-entered her campsite. ‘Ask your mistress, who -?’ he started, but she held up a hand. He stilled. She tilted her head and closed her eyes, listening to a voice he could not hear.

  ‘Charity,’ she said at length.

  ‘Charity?’ he repeated, astonished.

  ‘The answer to your question,’ Prairie explained. ‘The Prophet says she sees it quite clearly. You need Charity.’

  ‘Charity,’ he said through his teeth, ‘is dead.’

  ‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘No apparently not. He is with the Rhyndelian army.’

  ‘What?’ he was astonished. ‘He jumped off a cliff. Charity is dead.’

  ‘No, the Lord Charity is not dead,’ she sighed wearily. ‘Do you doubt the Prophet?’

  ‘Charity, alive?’ he said to himself. ‘That would mean Patience is not a widow, and that would impede Cinder from marrying her, which would mean the heir would be illegitimate.’ He considered. ‘Not necessarily a bad thing,’ he decided. ‘And Charity would be the ideal solution to my scenario. He would happily attack the Hallow, without harming Patience.’

  He frowned. ‘But a fight would be messy, and there’s no guarantee that the Hallow will expire… unless I use it for cover,’ his eyes rested on the arrows the wanderer had been assembling. ‘How good are you with a bow?’ he asked.

  ‘Very good,’ she replied without pride. ‘Who is it that you wish for me to shoot?’

  ‘A Hallow,’ he smiled. ‘I will also need a message delivered, to the Lord Charity.’

  She consulted with the Prophet, after a moment of silence she sighed. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Just very well?’ he was surprised by the quick capitulation.

  She shrugged. ‘The Prophet says she has seen it happen, and it must be done.’

  ‘I do not suppose she has shared the details of her vision with you?’ he asked, his one eye narrowed.

  ‘I do not ask for details,’ she shook her head.

  ‘Could you ask?’ he prompted. She rolled her eyes, but lapsed into the unfocussed silence he associated with her form of communication. ‘Well?’ he asked when the silence became long.

  She refocussed on him. ‘She says it is not in the interest of the future for you to know the details or the outcome of your venture.’

  ‘Interesting,’ he frowned, pondering her possible reasons for not letting him know the details he desired. If she would not share the details, he thought, it would be because if he knew the details or the outcome, he would change his plans. What could occur that would make him change his plans? An injury to the Lady Patience, he realised. Did he dare proceed knowing that the safety of the heir may be at risk? He shrugged. The heir was a bonus, very convenient… he would hate to lose it, but there were plenty of other wombs that could be seeded with heirs, and Cinder had proved himself virile twice now, so why not again? An heir for a Hallow, he raised his good eyebrow, was a fair trade if that was the way it was to go. What other outcomes could there be? The Hallow survived the attack? He shrugged; he would simply have to resort to another means to destroy his wily foe.

  ‘I suppose this means I will not be travelling with you to Guarn,’ Prairie smiled, pleased.

  ‘I guess not,’ he was distracted from his musings. ‘No, in fact, it is best if you are not seen with me, in case you are seen at the fight.’

  ‘So you can deny culpability if I am caught,’ she nodded wryly.

  ‘It would be better for you to die, than be caught,’ he told her.

  ‘And you would, no doubt, find a way to ensure my death rather than risk me point a finger at you,’ she gave him a long look that made him shift uncomfortably. Her gaze seemed to drill down into his soul.

  ‘It would be your word against mine. It is easy for me to claim I am being falsely accused by an enemy. I have many enemies; I would be believed,’ he shrugged.

  ‘Yes, I believe that,’ she regarded him. ‘You are not a likeable man.’

  ‘As long as your arrow hits the Hallow true, you may insult me as you like,’ he smirked. ‘The high esteem of a slattern of a wanderer is not a prize I hold in high value.’

  ‘As we are so obviously not friends; what will you pay me for this task?’

  He was astonished. ‘Pay you?’

  ‘Obviously,’ she nodded. ‘I will be endangering myself for you, you need to make it worth my while, or maybe my arrow will fly awry and strike the Lady Patience instead.’

  ‘You would not dare – your Prophet would be angered by your interference,’ he growled.

  She shrugged. ‘How do you know that is not what she has seen must happen?’ she asked with a challenge. ‘Maybe the success of your venture relies on the accuracy of my shot, and my accuracy,’ she grinned, ‘improves with gold.’

  ‘Very well,’ he ground his teeth. ‘I will make it worth your while.’

  ‘You will make it worth my life,’ she replied sternly, ‘as that is what I am risking.’

  Patience

  They made a pretty tableau, Patience thought fondly, the shutters spilling bright sunshine to gleam off the bowed heads of Charm, Joy and Rue, all three engaged in play around the long, low table. Rue had brought the masterpieces of some wood artisan – a chest of brightly painted figurines. There were knights in armour mounted on their noble steeds or standing ready with their swords, soldiers with determined spears, dragons rearing, and alarmed looking maidens clutching painted favours.

  Patience was thankful for the distraction. Rogue had brought Chain, as they had arranged previously, and Rue’s entertainment of her children allowed her the opportunity to interview him without interruption. Rogue had been summoned away shortly after arrival on some errand that Patience suspected was mendaciously urgent - Patience had noted that her Hallow seemed uncomfortable by the domesticity of the schoolroom – so Patience was effectively alone in this interview, and not entirely comfortable. There was always that undercurrent that Patience did not fully comprehend, and she worried about what she could, or could not say, to this grim looking man.

  Rue, she noticed, had increased her vivaciousness shortly after Chain’s arrival. She wondered at her sister; of all the handsome, rich, influential men who were prepared to throw themselves at Rue’s petite feet, this one, this Hallow, had caught her eye. Patience tried to examine Chain with the eyes of a woman, but her role as imperilled Lady and mother must have masked any subtle appeal Chain held to the woman inside.

  Chain was not a handsome man. His features were not unattractive, merely unremarkable, down to his eyes which were an undistinguished grey. He was a typical Shoethalian in height and musculature, but his dark blonde locks hinted at a Rhyndelian heritage which intrigued Patience. He was not, however, someone who would fade into a crowd: there was something compelling about him, a charisma that focussed attention on him. If he were your enemy, you would be afraid. As an ally, Patience was immediately comforted to think that he would be watching over her small family.

  Maybe it was this charisma that had caught Rue’s interest, she pondered.

  Under his Hallow’s cloak, garish with black-dyed snakeskin and rattling beetle carapaces, Chain wore a long and tightly sleeved linen shirt under a leather jerkin that was scarred like skin rather than stylishly slashed and punched. His boots looked to be made of the same leather, or have suffered the same punishment. She wondered what he had done to cause it to look so tortured – had he been dragged behind a horse? At least one of the tears, she realised, was as the result of a wound – the leather was stained with old, browned, blood around the puncture. Why he had not replaced it she did not know, unless all his clothing saw the same sort of wear and replacement was futile – a little like Charm and his hose, she thought, amused by the comparison.

  His proffered hand was calloused, scarred, big and warm. ‘It is my pleasure,’ he said, bowing over her clasped hand. ‘The safety of your children will be my p
aramount concern in your absence.’ His eyes, however, lingered on Rue, who pretended indifference very convincingly, but who had managed to angle herself so her figure was on best display. Well, Patience thought, distraction aside: if he was guarding Rue and Rue was with the children, then he was also guarding the children, regardless of his motivation.

  ‘I am grateful for your care,’ she acknowledged honesty. ‘I will be less anxious knowing that you watch over them.’

  His flat grey gaze met hers. ‘I will ensure their safety,’ he assured her seriously. ‘You need not be anxious.’ He was a neat man, she noted, his movements compact and sure, with no unnecessary gesture wasted, and the stillness of a hunter hovered over him in repose, his eyes keen and missing no detail. ‘I will procure different quarters for your family during your absence. These rooms are on too main a thoroughfare, and without internal connection, leaving them vulnerable to attack and hard to defend. The Prince has also arranged certain…’ he considered his choice of words, ‘precautionary methods of travelling in safety and with discretion from Amori into Shoethal that I am privy to. The chambers I will move your family to will be closer to these… options.’

  ‘The Prince has been very busy leaving orders for the security of Amori,’ she commented with a now familiar concern. ‘Is there something I should know? Any reason I should be aware of that it would be unwise for me to be separated from my children?’ Always her enquiry met the same assurances, but always she determined to ask, as she felt that there was a collusion to keep her calm due to her condition.

  ‘No,’ he was confident, and his confidence eased her anxiety a little. ‘Amori is the foothold for Shoethal into Rhyndel. It will always be of particular interest to both sides as whoever holds it controls passage between the two countries. There is no particular threat that we are aware of. The Prince merely takes precautions to ensure that Amori remains in his control.’

  ‘There is another threat to my children,’ Patience examined his face keenly. ‘An internal threat. Are you willing to place your duty to my children above the wishes… of authorities within your religious order?’

  Chain’s face was solemn. ‘I answer to only one authority,’ he said grimly. ‘And that is the Prince Cinder. His wishes are for the safety of your family. It is the Prince, not an avaricious Priest, who will speak for me to the Monad when the day comes for my judgement.’

  All relies on the goodwill of the Prince towards her; Patience was bemused but comforted. She had the biggest guarantee of the continuation of that goodwill currently kicking the walls of its confining womb. ‘You will ensure that any direction you receive is definitely, unequivocally from the Prince?’

  ‘You suspect foul-play?’ he enquired with mild curiosity. He was assessing, she realised, more of her intelligence from their conversation than obtaining information and considering risk. The realisation amused her; she was used to people assuming that she was not clever, rather than trying to gauge how clever she really was. She also realised that he was quite well informed about her; Rogue must have briefed him considerably, or, instead of being as alone as Patience had thought her, Rogue must work closely with him, and maybe others. It was an intriguing thought.

  She watched Joy bang a wooden toy soldier, brightly painted in greens and yellows, against a table, pleased by the sound, whilst she considered the Hallow Rogue had assigned to her children and sister. Was he Rogue’s second in command? Did Rogue have a second? She determined that she needed to discover more of the power structure of the Hallows. The thought occurred: was she being deliberately isolated from this knowledge? ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘After everything, it would be consistent of him would it not?’

  ‘He is much weakened,’ Chain considered it however.

  ‘By Ro - ’ she remembered in time not to use that name, not even to one that Rogue had such faith in. ‘By Spider’s thinning of the ranks of Priests and Hallows?’

  ‘Unfaithful Priests and Hallows,’ he qualified absently. ‘Yes, that undermined Gallant’s power considerably. We removed every known ally and sympathiser. He has few friends left amongst us. But, he has amassed considerable wealth, and gold buys many friends...’ he raised his eyes thoughtfully to her face, but did not say what Patience knew he was thinking.

  ‘It is commonly known that I would do anything for my children,’ Patience provided for him. ‘And I have Prince Cinder’s favour,’ she rubbed her belly, ‘and his future – though that is not commonly known, and I would like for it to remain so until I have the chance to inform him myself.’

  ‘Secrecy is a Hallows way,’ he assured her. ‘It is certainly something to consider and remember,’ he continued, ‘that your children are, effectively, your weakness. But, rest assured, my Lady,’ he held her gaze earnestly. ‘I will not allow anything to happen to your children. They will not be taken from me.’

  She nodded, but added: ‘Gallant is not the only threat. I am considered traitor by many Rhyndelians, though they would not dare say it where it could be overheard. My children could be used as punishment for my defection.’

  ‘They could also be held as figureheads behind which to mount a rebellion against Shoethalian rule,’ he agreed.

  ‘Where do the… safe and discrete methods of travelling lead to?’ she asked hesitantly.

  ‘To a place in Shoethal,’ he gave her another long look, as if he could read her mind. ‘A hidden place. Spider has it already in use: hiding other children for you,’ he was amused and also thoughtful. ‘It may be a wise precaution.’

  ‘It should be done,’ she agreed. ‘And with discretion, soon after my departure.’

  ‘Will it be noticed?’ he pondered, not necessarily to her. His eyes fell on Rue. ‘Highly likely.’

  ‘Yes, she is rather… public,’ Patience agreed wryly but with amusement. ‘An ailment?’

  His eyes brightened. ‘That would do it.’

  ‘I will speak to her about it. It would be good if she were to begin to be unwell before my departure, rather than immediately after.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Spider will pass along my letters?’

  ‘There are ways for that to be achieved,’ he conceded.

  ‘This is a great trust,’ she assessed him silently.

  He regarded her with compassion in his gaze. ‘Yes,’ he acknowledged. ‘I will endeavour to be worthy of it. My blood, for your blood.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, quietly.

  ‘My Lady,’ his lips brushed the back of her hand, and he withdrew.

  Patience stood, drawing Rue’s attention. ‘If I may leave you with them?’ she asked.

  ‘We will be fine,’ Rue assured her. ‘I am assuming you plan on explaining to me, in depth and detail, regarding your cinereal companion?’

  Patience smiled, amused. ‘In depth and detail,’ she promised. She made her way through the castle. The necromancer occupied a suit of rooms not far from her own chambers - however he did not seem to spend much time there. He was impossible to find, wandering as he did. His companion, however, seemed to spend considerable time in the gardens, and the necromancer always returned to her side… eventually. Their relationship, Patience sighed, was… uncomfortably voyeuristic… Intense... Sinisterly appealing… Patience’s head ached in trying to find the correct term for how she felt watching their interactions. She did not want to examine why she felt so hyperaware of them; what it said about her own relationships with men.

  She found the woman, Song, in one of the rose gardens. She had a basket and was collecting the blooms. Her dress, today, was not dissimilar from Patience’s own, a far cry from her initial appearance in Amori. The gown was green, with a trailing vine around a neckline that was just a little too low for decorum. Song was not wearing a bodice, as was the fashion with the simpler gowns where corsetry was not worn underneath, and Patience considered the travails her own breasts had undergone with the birth of three children and breastfeeding of two whilst noting with envy the other woman’s perk
ier bust.

  Song’s smile was polite, but Patience was not comfortable in her company. The instinctive competition put her too far behind, despite her higher station. Holding a one sided conversation also quickly grew awkward, so Patience kept it brief. ‘I am hoping to find Shade,’ she said sitting in the shade of the roses. The other woman inclined her head, and returned to her bloom collection. Patience wondered if she intended to completely strip the bush, and what she intended to do with the flowers.

  From her seat, she saw the necromancer enter the courtyard through one of the farthest portals. He flowed across the green grass like a shadow. ‘My Lady,’ he bowed when he drew near. ‘Song,’ he kissed her offered cheek lingeringly. ‘Are you simply enjoying the sunshine fortuitously, my Lady, or did you seek me?’ he asked wrapping an arm around Song’s waist.

  ‘I was seeking you,’ Patience replied redundantly. ‘I need to discuss with you… I have been asked to travel to Truen,’ she glanced around carefully to ensure no one was within listening distance.

  ‘We will be unheard,’ Shade sat carefully on the grass. ‘When is this journey to take place?’

  ‘As soon as I am able,’ she replied. ‘My children will remain here.’

  ‘A wise choice, considering the times,’ he nodded.

  ‘I would ask for you to accompany me,’ she tried to read his expression. He gave very little away.

  ‘That is certainly achievable,’ he agreed easily.

  ‘In Truen, there is a man…’ she hesitated, was she really going to request this? Yes, she decided, she was. ‘A man who is a threat to my safety, and that of my children.’

  ‘And you would like this man to go away?’ he prompted, his face bland.

  ‘If by go away, you mean I would like this man’s heart to cease beating,’ she glanced at him through her eyelashes. His expression did not change from politely attentive.