“So your friend did fail.”
The duke was walking so quickly that she could barely keep up with him. He seemed to have no destination in mind and at last the minister held out a hand, forcing him to halt.
“Please, my lord. Listen to me. Kentigern has lost his daughter. He’s waging a war of vengeance against Curgh. It was too much to hope that the timing of his departure from the castle would be precisely what we wanted. This delay is no one’s fault.”
“Of course it is! We paid the man a great deal of gold so that this siege would succeed, and now we find that he didn’t get his duke out of the castle soon enough.”
Yaella nearly laughed aloud. If anyone had suggested to Rouel that she could get him to do anything at a time of her choosing he would have been incensed. But, she knew, the Eandi were like this. They needed someone to blame when things didn’t go as they wished. It was part of what made serving them so trying.
She would have liked to let the matter drop, but she couldn’t allow Rouel to blame Shurik for this. She and Kentigern’s first minister had known each other for nearly twenty years, since beginning their apprenticeships with the same Qirsi master in Caerisse shortly after her Determining. Together they had learned to wield their magic; she was one of only a handful of people in all the Forelands who knew the full extent of his powers. He had even been her first lover and she his. She still remembered their first night together so clearly that she could make herself feel his lips on her skin. It had been the night of their Fatings, and though she had been with other men since, she always found herself returning to the comfort of Shurik’s arms, even to this day, despite the danger to both their lives. Now that Shurik had betrayed his duke, there was a chance that he would need to seek asylum in Aneira. If Rouel blamed the minister for this delay, he would never agree to offer Shurik his protection.
“If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me,” she said. “You
wanted to meet with Shurik again. I was the one who suggested that we decide then to begin the assault on the third night. I should have allowed for more time.”
He didn’t respond at first, but she could tell from his expression that he preferred to find fault with Shurik. More than that, though, he looked deeply disappointed, like a small boy who has been told to wait for a sweet. He didn’t want to delay the siege, but he was too dependent on her counsel to dismiss the idea.
“Why do you think we should wait?” he finally asked, his voice low and his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.
“Kentigern has been gone less than two full days, my lord. As soon as we begin the assault, as soon as Kentigern’s guards see us on the river plain, they’ll send a messenger after their duke. He’ll be on horseback, and he’ll be able to reach Aindreas in no more than a day. Kentigern’s army will be back before we can clear the castle of those men who remain. But if we wait, if we give Aindreas another day to march eastward, the messenger will have farther to ride, and the army will have farther to march. By the time they return, we’ll have the castle. Then the tor and the castle’s defenses become our allies.”
He recognized the logic of her argument. She could see it in the way he rubbed his jutting brow and clenched the muscles of his jaw.
“Our plan is sound, my lord. The damage Shurik has done to the gatehouse is not going to be discovered in the next day. This is the greatest opportunity any duke of your house has ever had to take Kentigern and hold it. We mustn’t allow impatience to undo all our planning. One day simply isn’t that important.”
They resumed their walking, the duke brooding in silence. But at last he gave a slight nod, the movement of his head almost imperceptible.
“Very well,” he said. “Tell the others. I actually believe the quartermaster will be glad to hear it. And this way I can go back to those men and show them how to fight without getting themselves killed.”
Yaella smiled, her relief genuine. “Yes, my lord. We will succeed. I’m certain of it.”
The duke nodded again before walking off. It would take him some time to get over his disappointment. It always did. But at least he had agreed. Perhaps if word of their siege’s success reached the Weaver soon enough, she wouldn’t have to dream of him again for some time.
The minister went to the master armsman and quartermaster to inform them of Rouel’s decision. Wyn Stridbar, the armsman, offered little by way of response, but as the duke had anticipated, the quartermaster looked profoundly relieved. After speaking with them, Yaella returned to her chamber. Perhaps because she was a woman, or perhaps due to Rouel’s tendency to oversee everything himself, the duke asked little of her as the castle prepared for this war. For the rest of that day and the morning of the next, she was able to keep to herself, only returning to the ward after the ringing of the midday bells on the fourth day of the waning.
Men were securing teams of horses to the carts bearing wood for the siege engines and tying down the last of the quartermaster’s provisions. Soldiers spoke quietly as they polished their swords or tested the tension of their bows. Few were practicing. It seemed the time for that had passed.
As he had been the day before, Rouel was dressed for war, and seeing that Yaella had put on her riding clothes as well, and strapped a sword to her belt, he approached her, smiling broadly.
“You look like a soldier, First Minister.”
She made herself smile in return. “Hardly, my lord.”
“I took the liberty of having your horse groomed and saddled. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, my lord. My thanks.”
He cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder toward the master armsman before facing her again. “I’ve been thinking that it might be wise to leave a bit earlier in the day than we had first planned,” he said. “We want to be certain that we’re on the river plain just at nightfall, and this way we guard against unforeseen troubles along the way. The forest will keep the Eibitharians from marking our approach.”
Mertesse Forest was a narrow strip of woodland that lay between the castle and the river. Compared with Aneira’s Great Forest, which lay to the south, it was little more than a viscount’s garden. It didn’t even rival Kentigern Wood, which most Aneirans dismissed as an inconsequential grove. But it would provide cover for their advance.
The duke stood before her, looking once more like a child awaiting the judgment of a parent.
“I think it a fine idea, my lord,” she said, pretending not to notice
how pleased he seemed by her reply. “It may allow our scouts to determine how many guards remain in Kentigern and how they’re stationed.”
“I agree,” the duke said, his blue eyes widening eagerly. “I’ll let the captains know.”
He hurried away and Yaella started toward her mount, nodding to the men as she passed among them. Most of the time soldiers had little use for Qirsi ministers. On a given day, she could walk every corridor in Castle Mertesse and draw little more than stares from the guards she encountered. From what Shurik had told her, Yaella gathered that he was treated much the same way in Kentigern.
But on this day the men of Mertesse greeted her as if she were one of their own. For this night, they knew, she would wield her magic on their behalf. The mists she called forth would conceal them from Kentigern’s archers and the fires she conjured would burn the gates and doors that guarded their enemy’s castle. Even if she never drew the sword she carried, she was, at least for a time, as much a warrior as each of them. In spite of everything, she had to admit to herself that she liked being treated this way.
She walked an easier road than Shurik and so many of the others. She had known it for some time, but only today did it occur to her how fortunate she had been. Her betrayal was subtle. She could continue to serve her duke to the best of her abilities and still be true to the Qirsi cause. If all went well, Rouel would not learn of her deception until long after she was gone from Mertesse. Shurik, on the other hand, was likely to be branded a traitor for the rest of his days no matter what happened. His was a cruel fate, and realizing this made her that much more determined to secure his safety when he was forced to flee Kentigern.
Reaching her horse, she stroked his mane and kissed him on the nose. Her saddle needed a few slight adjustments, but the stableboys had done a fine job combing him and readying him for the journey. She pulled on her riding gloves and checked her sword again. It would be hours still before the siege began, but Yaella felt her anticipation growing. She never expected to respond to the prospect of battle this way, and she tried to tell herself that she was merely eager for her role in the Qirsi movement to begin in earnest. But a part of her knew better. The truth was, she found war exciting. The army of Mertesse needed her magic, but Yaella almost hoped that she would be forced to fight with her blade. She had practiced swordplay
almost all her life, and though she was not nearly as powerful as Rouel’s soldiers or the men of Kentigern, she was quick and skilled with a sword.
It was mere fantasy. Rouel would never let her fight, not only because she was a woman, but also because he valued her magic too highly. Still, as she waited for the duke and his men to complete their preparations, Yaella drew her sword and checked the blade, wiping away a small spot of dirt and some finger marks so that the steel gleamed.
The army marched from the castle a short time later, with Rouel riding before it escorted by two men bearing the black-and-gold banners of Mertesse. Yaella rode just behind the duke, as did Wyn. The city’s streets were choked with people who cheered for their duke and his army so loudly that the minister feared the sound would reach Kentigern, alerting the Eibitharians to their advance. It took some time for the entire procession of soldiers, laborers, provision carts, and supplies for the siege engines to leave the walled city.
Once they were in Mertesse Forest, however, they quickened their pace. Their route carried them eastward toward the edge of Harrier Fen, rather than directly north toward Kentigern. The Tarbin grew shallower as one traveled east, and the larger encampments of Kentigern’s men kept to the west, nearer the castle. They reached the edge of the wood well before dusk, but Rouel wisely chose to keep his men in the shelter of the trees until nightfall. They could hear the river from where they were, its slow waters looking dark and angry beneath the grey clouds that had hung over the land throughout the day. The white mass of Kentigern Tor loomed over the river plain, appearing far closer than Yaella had imagined it would from the forest. Atop the tor stood Kentigern Castle, its grey stone a perfect match for the color of the sky.
As daylight finally gave way to darkness and torches appeared on the castle walls, the duke led his army from the shadows of the forest onto the river plain. They moved quickly and with astonishingly little noise given the size of the army. Yaella could smell the fen from where they were, but the ground was still firm, a far cry from the rank ooze of the slough itself.
The men forded the river far faster than the minister would have thought possible, but the carts proved to be another matter. Loaded down as they were, a number of them became mired in the river’s silted bottom. Soldiers scrambled back into the river to throw
their weight against the carts, but the crossing proved difficult. And before all of the wagons had emerged from the water, several of the horses began to whinny sharply in their distress.
Rouel, who had been watching the crossing from the north bank of the river, spat a curse at the sound and whirled in his saddle to look up at the castle. At first nothing happened, but then they began to hear shouts coming from farther up the river. Bright ward flames leaped to life on the castle’s towers and more guards appeared on the walls, many of them bearing torches.
“Get those carts onto the riverbank!” the duke bellowed, his horse rearing in the sudden turmoil. He turned again, looking at the soldiers who still stood on the riverbank near him. “You men, light some torches. Then unload the carts that have gotten across and get the laborers working. I want the snails built first, then the ram, and then the hurling arms. Lord Stridbar will direct you.”
The duke and his master armsman exchanged a brief look before Wyn swung off his horse, calling out instructions to his men. They were taking a risk, though not a great one. Kentigern had men stationed nearby, but their numbers were small. The encampment by the river was intended to keep Aneiran raiding parties from attacking houses and villages outside the walls of Kentigern. It wasn’t nearly large enough to repel a full invasion. No doubt those men were already on their way back to the castle, where they would make their stand with the other soldiers who had not gone with Aindreas to meet the force from Curgh. Even now the castle was being readied for the siege, something Rouel had hoped to avoid by waiting for darkness to cross the river. But at least here, the duke and his army remained beyond the range of Kentigern’s archers.
Still, just hearing the men of Eibithar call to their castle, and seeing those cries met by the bright yellow fires that sent dark smoke into the night sky, made Yaella tremble upon her mount. She was aware once more of the sword she wore on her belt, but she realized in that moment how foolish she had been to fancy herself a soldier. All she wanted was to raise her mists without delay and hide herself within them.