Authors: Greg Keyes
PART
II
MANIFESTATIONS OF SEVERAL SORTS
He found her there beneath the cliff
In the shallows of the sea
Her body like a white, white swan
All still and cold was she
He kissed her on her pale wet lips
And combed her bonny hair
He cut twelve golden strands of it
And strung his harp with care
The harp it sang of murder
The harp it sang of blood
It rang across the lands of fate
To the darkling western wood
—F
ROM
“T
HOS
T
OE
S
OSTEREN,” A FOLKSONG OF
N
EWLAND, TRANSLATED INTO
K
ING’S
T
ONGUE BY
S
TEPHEN
D
ARIGE
A butterfly, as it turns out, is only a thing for making more worms.
—F
ROM
T
HE
A
MVIONNOM
OF
P
RESSON
M
ANTEO
CHAPTER ONE
E
MPRESS OF THE
R
ED
H
ALL
A
NNE STOOD
on the bow of the royal ferry and stared up at the walls and towers of Eslen, wondering at how alien they seemed. She had lived all but one of her seventeen winters on that hill, within that fortress. The island’s forests and greens had been her playground. Shouldn’t she feel like she was coming home?
But she didn’t. Not in the least.
When they reached the slip and the boat was secure, her horse, Faster, was brought around. She mounted it for the procession through the city but paused at the great Fastness gate, frowning at the massive stone of its construction.
“Majesty?” Cauth asked. “Is something the matter?”
Her pulse was thumping strangely in her neck, and she couldn’t seem to draw a deep breath.
“Wait,” she said. “Just wait a moment.”
She turned and looked back the way they had come, across the slow flood of the Dew River and the green fields of Newland beyond, to the malends on the distant dike turning against the blue sky. She knew that all she wanted to do was cross that water again and ride, keep riding until she was so far away that no one had ever heard of Eslen or Crotheny or Anne Dare.
Instead she turned, set her shoulders, and rode through the portal.
Crowds had collected along the Rixplaf Way, and each square was full of merriment, as if it were a holiday. They chanted her name and threw flowers before her horse, and she tried to seem pleased and smile for them, when it was the best she could do not to bolt Faster through the throngs at a dead run.
When she had returned from exile the previous spring, almost no one had recognized who she was. At the time she had been surprised and a little chagrined that so few people knew what their princess looked like. Now that anonymity was another precious thing forever lost to her.
By the time they reached the castle itself, Anne wanted nothing more than to hide in her rooms for a time, but she knew there wouldn’t be any peace there; that was where Austra would be, and she didn’t quite feel like facing her oldest friend. Better to confront her counselors and find out just what was being blamed on her absence this day.
“I’ll give an audience in the Hall of Doves,” she told Cauth. “I’d like to see Duke Fail de Liery, Duke Artwair, John Waite, Lord Bishop, and Marhgreft Sighbrand. Have them there in half a bell, would you?”
“It’s done, Majesty,” the Sefry replied.
John Waite, of course, was already waiting in the Hall of Doves when Anne arrived there. Plump, balding, pleasant of expression, John had been her father’s valet. He’d been imprisoned and apparently forgotten by Robert, which was a better fate than most of the late king’s staff had received.
“Majesty,” he said, bowing as she entered the room.
“Hello, John,” she replied.
“I understand you wanted to speak with me, Majesty.”
She nodded. “Yes, John. I was going to wait until everyone was here, but we may have something of a delay while they’re all found.” She took a seat in what once had been her father’s armchair, a straight-backed affair with arms carved to resemble feathered pinions. Made of white ash, it fit well in the white marble and abundant light of the Hall of Doves.
“My father trusted you more than anyone, John, and I know the two of you were close.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, Your Majesty. I miss your father a great deal.”
“I do, too,” she said. “I wish he were in this chair right now, not me. But it is me, as that’s how it is.”
“It’s what your father wanted.”
Anne almost laughed. “I’m sure he imagined Fastia here, not me. No one imagined it would be me here, I’m sure. Was I horrible to you, John?”
He smiled indulgently. “Just a bit of a prankster,” he said. “But I always knew you had a good heart.”
“I was horrible,” Anne contradicted. “And I may be horrible yet; I’m still learning. But I hope you will consider being gardoald and keybearer of the house Dare.”
The old man’s eyes widened. “Majesty—I—I haven’t the blood for that position.”
“You will when I create you lord,” she replied.
John reddened. “Your Highness, I’ve no idea what to say.”
“Say yes. You won’t thrust a knife in my back, John. I need men like that.”
He bowed deeply. “I would be most honored,” he replied.
“Good. We’ll discuss particulars later, but the first thing I’d like you to do is see to finding me some ladies-in-waiting and a female head of staff. Someone absolutely trustworthy, you understand? Someone whom I don’t have to worry about and who will not bother me much.”
John bowed again, but when he straightened, he had a puzzled expression. “Your young maid, Austra. I should consider her for head of staff.”
“No, I have other plans for her.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he nodded. “As you wish.”
“Thank you, John. Please arrange for some wine to be brought and then rejoin me here. As my gardoald, these discussions will concern you.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
She heard footsteps approaching and looked up in time to see Artwair come in.
“Well, Cousin,” she said. “Here I am, just as you wished.”
“I am pleased,” he said. “We need our empress here, Anne.”
“I’m here,” she replied. “When the others arrive, we’ll discuss those matters you deem most urgent.”
“Who else is coming?”
“John will be back. I’m making him gardoald.”
“That’s not a bad choice,” Artwair said. “You’ll have to title him.”
“I know. Can you think of a good one?”
Artwair frowned. “Haul Atref, I should think. One of Robert’s puppets slaughtered the former Lord Haul and all his kin. The castle is garrisoned but masterless.”
“Then I shall create him Lord Haul,” Anne said.
“Well, here’s my grandniece, back from her adventures,” a lowtimbred voice said.
“Grannuncle Fail,” Anne said, allowing him to gather her in a hug. “I trust all went well at Copenwis.”
“As well as it could. I still don’t like it, but I imagine they’re in Hansa by now.”
“Mother will be fine,” Anne said. She heard more footsteps and saw that the others had arrived.
“My lords,” she said. “Let’s begin, shall we? Tell me what I need to know. Duke of Haundwarpen, you first.”
Artwair drew himself up and clasped his wooden hand with his living one. “Hansa continues to occupy Copenwis, and they are massing ships there and in Saltmark. My guess is that they will disembark ground forces for a march on Eslen and send their navy against Liery. There are also reports of an army gathering at Schildu, on the Dew River. Their intention there is probably to cut off our river trade, then use the river to move down into Newland.”
“A familiar strategy,” Anne said. “That’s like what we did.”
“Precisely, Majesty.”
“Do they have the men to come at us from all of these directions and deal with the Lierish fleet as well?”
Sir Fail cleared his throat. “If I may?”
“Spell on,” she said.
“They haven’t the ships to take Liery, not alone. But there is rumor that a fleet is assembling at z’Espino. Moreover, it is nearly certain that Rakh Fadh is allied with Hansa, although there’s no way of knowing how many ships they have or will send.”
“What about our allies? Or do we have any?”
“Riders tell us that an embassy from Virgenya will arrive soon, probably sometime tomorrow.”
“An embassy? I’m their empress. I don’t want an embassy; I want the ships and troops we asked for three months ago.”
“You may take that up with the Virgenyans,” Artwair said. “Of all of the parts of the empire, they are the most independent, and they like to make a show of it.”
“There will be a show,” Anne muttered more or less under her breath. Then she turned to the other two men.
“Lord Bishop, Marhgreft Sighbrand, I trust you are well.”
“Very well, Your Highness,” Bishop replied.
“Lord Bishop, we made you master of the treasury, did we not?”
“You did, Majesty.”
“What is the state of it?”
Lord Bishop’s lips tightened. “Robert did a bit of looting before he fled the city, it seems.”
“Can we pay and supply our troops?”
“For the time being. But if we have another levy—even a modest one—it will make our belts very tight.”
“Even with the confiscated Church properties?”
“Even with that, yes,” he replied.
“I see. Well, we need to find some more silver, don’t we?”
“Yes, Majesty.”
She turned to Sighbrand. “Marhgreft?”
“Majesty.”
“The duke tells us that troops are gathering at Schildu. That is very near your greffy of Dhaerath, isn’t it?”
“It is. Very near.”
“I called you here to ask you to be my prime minister. I’ve been advised you would make a good one.”
Sighbrand’s lips twitched. “I’m honored, Majesty.”
“Yet I wonder if your heart would really be in the job when your lands are in danger, so I will give you a choice instead. You may serve here as my adviser and defender of the keep, or you can take command of the armies of the east and defend us from there.”
The old warrior’s eyes brightened a bit. “I am a man more suited to action, Your Majesty, than arranging court appearances and the like.”
“So I thought. Very well. You will answer to Artwair, who is supreme general of my forces, and you will answer to me. Beyond that, you have leave to organize the armies of the east as you see fit to guard our borders. I will have your title and powers drafted before this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Majesty. I will not fail you.”
“I don’t expect you to,” she replied. “I don’t expect any of you to.” She settled her hands on the tops of her thighs.
“Now,” she said. “All of you. Can this war be stopped?”
“You did appoint an embassy,” Artwair pointed out.
“Yes, based on the recommendation of the Comven and on an idea of my own. But you are not the Comven; you are men I respect. I’m not a general. I don’t know much about war. So tell me what to think.”
“There will be war,” Artwair said. “They have come too far to turn back, and Marcomir is old. He has the backing of the Church. This is his chance, and he knows it.”
“The rest of you agree?”
The others nodded their heads yes.
“Very well, then. It seems foolish to give them any more time to make things as they want them. We will take the war to them, gentlemen. Where shall we begin?”
Artwair frowned. “You mean now? But Your Majesty—”
“I won’t wait until we’re completely hemmed in,” Anne said. “You say there are ships at Copenwis? Copenwis is our city, our port. Let those ships become ours or burn.”
“Now, that’s her de Liery blood talking,” Duke Fail said. “I’ve been saying that for months.”
“I’m settled on it,” Anne said. “Make preparations. I would like to march within the nineday.”
“Surely you aren’t planning to go,” Artwair said. “You promised you were done with adventures.”
“This isn’t an adventure. This is the war you’ve been asking me to fight. And Copenwis isn’t so very far from Eslen. I can return at will.”
Artwair looked unconvinced.
“You need me, Duke. I promise you. You need my gifts.”
He bowed stiffly. “As you say, Majesty.”
She rose. “Tomorrow, gentlemen.”
Then she did go back to her rooms.
Just as she expected, Austra was there to fling herself into her arms and kiss her cheeks.
Austra was a year younger than Anne, a pretty young woman with hair the color of sun on grain. She had forgotten how good, how natural it felt to be with her; she felt her intentions falter a bit.
“It’s been so strange here without you,” Austra said. “In our old rooms, all alone.”
“How is your leg?”
“Mended, almost. And things went well at the monastery?”
“Well enough,” Anne replied.
“And is everyone, ah, well?”
“Cazio is fine,” Anne replied. “You’ll see him soon, although not as soon as you wish, I’m sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“He didn’t come back with me. I sent him to Dunmrogh.”
Austra face seemed to sag. “What?” she said faintly. “Dunmrogh?”
“I still don’t fully trust the heirs to that place. They might yet give the Church the dark fane there, and I can’t risk that. I need someone I can rely upon watching the place.”
“But he’s your bodyguard.”
“I have other bodyguards now, Austra. And you cannot tell me you wouldn’t be happier with Cazio safer.”
“Happier, yes, but in Dunmrogh? For how long?”
“He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m giving him Dunmrogh. I’m making him greft there and sending him the men he might need to hold that title should what remains of Roderick’s family object.”
“He won’t be back, then?”
Anne took Austra’s hand. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re going there, too. You have my blessing to marry if you wish.”
“What?” Austra’s eyes were like plates, and her throat was working oddly.
“You once told me that although I felt we were like sisters, we never would be, not really, because you’re a servant and I’m—well, now I’m queen, aren’t I? And if something were to happen to me, what would become of you? As a girl I always assumed you would be fine, but I know better than that now. Well, under the law, there’s no way for me to give a woman a title. But I can give Cazio one, and he can make you an honest woman, and your children will be nobles of Crotheny.”
“But that means you’re sending me away. I won’t be your maid anymore.”
“That’s true,” Anne said.
“I don’t want that,” Austra said. “I mean, it would be wonderful to marry and be a greffess and that sort of thing, but you can’t send me away!”
“You’ll thank me one day,” Anne said.
“Give Cazio a castle in Newland or make him ward of some part of the city. Then we can all stay together!”
“Now you’re wanting the dress and the cloth it was made from,” Anne said. “No. You will go to Dunmrogh. I’ve said it.”
Austra’s eyes were full of tears. “What have I done? Why would you do this? Anne, we’ve always been together.”