Authors: Greg Keyes
The kiss went on a little longer than its sincerity. Too many questions were behind those lips.
They pulled apart, and Winna smiled.
“So,” Aspar said, glancing down at her belly.
Her eyebrows went up. “I hope that’s not a question,” she said. “Aspar White, I truly hope you’re not asking a question.”
“No,” he said quickly. “But, ah, when?”
“When do you think? In your tree house, back when we first saw the woorm.”
Cold crept along his spine. Winna had conceived the same day she’d been poisoned by the woorm. Of course she had.
“That’s not the look I was hoping for,” she said.
“I’m just—I’m trying to take this all in,” Aspar said.
“Yah, well, me too. Where have you been, Aspar? And what, by any damn saint, is
she
doing with you?”
“That’s a long story.”
“Does it start with you leaving me here?”
Aspar wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but he nodded. “Yah.”
“Well, tell me.”
“Sit down, then.”
She took a seat on the bed.
“I went off after the woorm, followed it for a long time up through the Bairghs. Deep up in there I caught up with it, but I wasn’t the only one. Hespero had been tracking it, too, somehow.”
“The praifec?”
“Yah. He tried to kill me, so I reckon he knows we don’t work for him anymore.”
“Tried to kill you?”
“Yah. He was in the wrong place to do it, up on a cliff and me below, so I gave him the slip. But Fend was there, too.”
“Right. Riding the woorm.”
“And there were Sefry in the mountain: Leshya’s people. I think they were fighting the praifec. But I was a bit occupied. The Briar King showed up, so only you and Stephen were missing.”
“You didn’t find Stephen?”
“No. I killed the woorm with the praifec’s arrow. Then I had a bit of a fight with one of those Mamres monks. He hurt me pretty bad: broke my leg. If it hadn’t been for Ogre, I’d be dead, and that’s certain.”
“Ogre…”
“Died saving me.”
“I’m sorry, Aspar.”
He shrugged. “I meant to pasture him soon, but the chance just never came up. But he died fighting. Anyway, then Fend, ah, killed the Briar King.”
“What?”
“With the same arrow. Turns out it can be used any number of times, not just three. He was about to use it on me when Leshya showed up and got me out.”
“Convenient.”
“Yah. But I got sick after that, really sick. When I came to my senses, Leshya had found us a hiding place, but I wasn’t able to travel for months. Fend found us. He’s on my trail again, and he’s not alone. We can’t stay here, Winna.”
“You were alone with her for four months?” Winna asked.
“Yah.”
“That must have been awfully cozy.”
He felt a flare of anger. “That’s kindertalk, Winna. There’s nothing there. If anyone’s been courting all this time, it seems it was you.”
“Emfrith? He’s sweet. He’s not you. He’s not the father of my child.” She stood up. “And as for kindertalk, yes, I’m young enough to be your daughter, but that doesn’t make me a fool for being jealous. It just means I love you. I was actually beginning to lose hope, to think you were really dead, and then you show up with her? Just don’t get all angry and don’t dodge my question. You tell me nothing happened between you, and I’ll not raise this again, ever.”
“Nothing happened.”
She let out a deep breath. “Fine,” she said.
“We’re done with that?”
“Yah.”
“Good.”
“That’s all? Don’t you have more to say than that?”
Aspar closed his eyes for a moment. “You know how I feel about you, Winna. But maybe it would be best for you—”
“Stop,” she said. “Just stop there, Aspar. There’s no best for me. There’s only you. You know I never asked anything more than you could give, but you have given me something.” She patted her belly. “I never imagined a normal life from you, holter. You never promised it, and I still don’t expect it. But whatever happens, this child is ours.”
He stared at her belly, remembering the greffyn being born. “Winna.”
“What?”
Grim take the Sarnwood witch.
“Let’s get you somewhere safe, then. Somewhere you can have this baby without fear.”
“You’ll go with me?”
“Yah.”
She smiled and rushed to hug him, pressing the hardness of her belly into him.
“I’ve missed you, Aspar White. You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you.” She took his hands. “Where shall we go?”
He kissed her hands and answered. He meant to say that they would go to Virgenya or Nazhgave, anyplace that seemed outside the sickness wasting the world.
“To the Mountains of the Hare,” he heard himself say instead. “I can protect us there.”
And he kissed her again.
CHAPTER FOUR
T
WO
M
AIDS
F
ASTER WAS
thunder beneath Anne as she galloped across the Sleeve. Anne felt a fierce grin pull at her mouth, and she shouted her joy up to whatever saints were listening.
It had been so long since she had ridden for the sheer fun of it. Once she had spent most of her time like this, eluding the pursuers her mother would send to bring her back for lessons or court. Just she and Faster and sometimes Austra.
Austra should be with Cazio by now. She hoped they were happy.
That thought brought her spirits down a bit. She wasn’t a carefree girl anymore, was she? The horsemen following her right now weren’t chasing her; they were her bodyguard, at her command.
She saw more horsemen up ahead, where the Sleeve began to turn, and slowed down a bit. They wore red, gold, and black over their light armor, and their shields bore a serpent and a wave. She recognized neither the colors nor their emblem. They were practicing some sort of riding formation, wielding compact bows. Targets had been set up, and they were already well feathered.
As she continued to watch, she noticed that one of the riders was quite slight, was indeed a woman. She fastened her gaze on that one, watching as she stood in her stirrups and casually loosed an arrow. It struck, quivering, in the heart of one of the targets. She wheeled her mount, already drawing another shaft from her quiver.
“Whose colors are those?” Anne asked Captain Eltier, the short, balding Craftsman who commanded her horse guard.
“The earl of Cape Chavel, Highness,” he replied.
“And Cape Chavel has women warriors?”
“Not that I know of, madame.”
A few moments later the horsemen broke off their activity, and two came toward them: the earl and the woman.
They stopped about ten kingsyards away, dismounted, and knelt. Anne saw that the woman was young, probably no more than fifteen.
“Rise,” Anne said. “How are you today, Cape Chavel?”
“Very well,” he said. “Just riding with my light horse.”
“And this is one of your archers?”
His smile broadened. This is my sister, Emily. Not officially a member of the company, but I can’t stop her from practicing with us.”
Emily did a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“You do very well with that bow,” Anne told the girl.
“Thank you, Majesty,” she said.
An impulse struck her. “Would you two care to ride with me for a bit?” she asked.
“It would be an honor, Highness,” the earl said.
They mounted back up and continued along the edge of the Sleeve where it dropped off steeply to the marshy rinns far below.
“That must be Eslen-of-Shadows,” Emily said, pointing to the somber stone structures poking up here and there through the canopy.
“It is,” Anne said, feeling the faintest chill. That was another place where she once had spent a lot of time, but unlike the Sleeve, she had no interest in revisiting it.
“It’s big,” Emily said. “Much grander than the one in Ralegh.”
“Well, more people have died here, I suppose,” Anne said.
“Oh,” the girl said. She sounded uncomfortable, as if suddenly remembering how many of Anne’s family had lately gone there.
“Come this way,” Anne said. “There are more cheerful things to see on Ynis.”
She nudged Faster back to a run, and the others fell easily in with her. The earl and his sister were as used to riding as walking; she could see that right away.
She led them toward the twin hills of Tom Woth and Tom Cast, glancing wistfully at the Snake, the sharp descent she once had used to escape pursuit into the rinns. None of that today. She led them instead up the grassy slope of Tom Cast, switching back and around until they reached its great bald summit, from which vantage the whole island of Ynis was laid out for them.
“It’s so beautiful,” Emily gasped. “So much to see in every direction.”
Anne had been there a hundred times before, but not since returning. She was surprised to discover that it all looked suddenly new to her, too.
East, the city of Eslen rose up in three magnificent tiers topped by the many-towered castle itself. North was the Dew River and the vast lake that was the King’s Poel, flooded by her uncle Robert and now colorful with hundreds of ships flying the colors of Liery, Crotheny, and Hornladh. The mist-covered rinns stretched south to where the mighty Warlock River shimmered like fish scales in the midmorning sun and also to the west…
“Thornrath,” the earl sighed.
“I never could have imagined,” Emily murmured.
“The mightiest wall ever built by Mannish hands,” Captain Eltier said.
That it was. The island of Ynis was formed in the confluence of the Dew and Warlock rivers where they opened into Foambreaker Bay. Thornrath cut the bay in half, a wall of ivory stone more than three leagues long. It had seven great towers and seven arches each big enough for two men-of-war to sail through safely. It was seven hundred years old; since its building Eslen had never been taken by sea.
“It’s all very grand,” Emily said. “Thank you for showing me this.” Her eyes sparkled.
Anne nodded. “Well, you came a long way to see it.”
She turned to her brother. “Why did you bring her here, Cape Chavel? I’m sure she was safer in Virgenya.”
“No, I don’t think she was,” the earl said. “There she might be taken hostage and used to persuade me to return. Here I can keep an eye on her.”
“Anyway,” Emily said, “I’d rather be here than safe. It’s all very exciting.”
“What will you do when your brother goes to war?”
“I was hoping for a favor there, Majesty,” the earl said.
“What is that, Cape Chavel?”
“If some lady could be found who needs a maid…” He trailed off, looking a bit embarrassed.
“What’s this?” Emily said. “Why can’t I ride with you?” She turned to Anne. “I’m really not much good at sewing.”
“I might be able to manage to please you both,” Anne said. “I am presently in need of a maid, and your brother, for a time at least, will ride with me. I want to see personally how his men perform.”
“Majesty,” the earl said, “that is
very
generous.”
“It is also very dangerous, Cape Chavel. Any maid of mine is in constant peril.”
“I can handle a knife and sword as well as a bow,” Emily said.
The earl pursed his lips and shot his sister a look probably meant to silence her.
“It’s true,” he conceded after a moment. “She can handle herself. There’s peril everywhere, Your Majesty. You may attract danger, but from what I’ve heard, you’re also good at repelling it. And to have my sister near me—it really is more than I could have hoped for.”
“Well, I promise nothing, but we shall try it out for a few days and see how we get along.”
Emily clapped her hands together but did not giggle. That in itself was promising.
A few bells later, in the Warhearth, the fresh air of the sunlit Sleeve seemed very far away. It wasn’t just the lack of windows but the heaviness of the room itself and the massive paintings of her family’s martial past. One picture in particular seemed to have singled her out. It depicted from behind the first few ranks of an army on some sort of rise, so near the bottom of the frame of the painting that only the tops of helms were visible, and in the next rank full heads, then down to shoulders. At the crest of the hill stood a woman in armor, also showing her back, but with her head turned back to her men. Her hair was flame, twisting about her in coruscating strands, and her eyes were incandescent, inhuman. Her lips were parted and her neck was taut, as if she were shouting.
Before the warriors loomed a massive, mist-shrouded citadel of dark red stone, and in the mists gigantic shadows seemed to move.
Genya Dare, at that last terrible battle, had fought right here, where Eslen now stood.
Genya Dare, who had let one Skaslos live to be the secret captive of the kings of Crotheny—until Anne let him go.
Follow me,
she was saying.
Follow me, daughter-queen.
“Majesty, if you would like to do this another time—”
Artwair.
“No,” she said, shaking herself back to the moment. “I’m fine. I was just wondering how the artist knew what Genya Dare looked like.”
“He didn’t,” Artwair said. “The model was Elyoner Dare.”
“Aunt Elyoner?”
“No, your father’s grandmother. A Merimoth, originally, but her mother was a Dare from the Minster-on-Sea branch of the family.”
“That’s her?”
“Well, she didn’t look exactly like that when I knew her. She was a good deal older. Why do you ask?”
Because I almost lost my virginity in her crypt.
“No reason,” she said.
He shrugged, then pointed at the map he had spread out on the table. “Sir Fail will blockade Copenwis to prevent more reinforcements by sea. They will expect an attack by land because it’s the best and quickest way to take the city. The city isn’t really built for siege, and the highlands around it make it too easy to bombard with engines. That means they’ll try to meet us somewhere on the Maog Vaost plain before we get there.”
“And so?”
“And so I propose taking a somewhat indirect route to the city: moving east a bit and then doubling back to attack.” His finger described a half arc.
“We can send a smaller mounted force the obvious way and have them camp to provoke the waiting force to settle. They’ll have orders to retreat back to Poelscild. By that time we should have the position we want.”
Anne nodded. “If you think this is the way to do it.”
“We could take a larger force, but that would leave Eslen weakened, and we would still be delayed. If we go heavy on cavalry and light infantry, I think Copenwis might fall quickly.”
“We’ll try that, then. And if we’re taking mostly horse, I’ve a mind to take Cape Chavel with us.”
Artwair frowned a bit. “His reputation is good,” he said. “His mounted archers are said to be without equal. But he got those from his father, and the man himself hasn’t been tested in battle. Besides that, I worry about his loyalties.”
“You think his allegiance to me is feigned?”
“I don’t know what to think, Majesty. That’s just the problem. I don’t know him.”
“Aren’t we better putting him to the test now rather than later?”
“I suppose. But with you riding along…”
“Not that again, I hope.”
He looked very much as if he did want to revisit that subject, but instead he shook his head.
“We’ll try him,” she said.
“As you wish, Majesty. Now, if we can talk about the defenses along the coast…”
Another two bells of that, and Anne headed up to her rooms, ready for a rest. She hardly had begun to undress when she heard a soft rap at the door. Throwing on a dressing gown, she went to see who it was.
The knock was from the Sefry guard, of course.
“Forgive me, Majesty,” he said, “but someone requests an audience.”
“In my rooms?”
“Majesty, it’s Mother Uun.”
“Ah.” She hadn’t seen the ancient Sefry for a long while. It wasn’t her habit to drop by for no reason.
“Send her up, then,” she said. “And find some of that tea she drinks.”
“Majesty.”
A few moments later, two Sefry women were shown in.
Mother Uun was old even for a Sefry, and Sefry lived for hundreds of years. Even in the dusk light coming through the window, the spider work of veins in her face showed through translucent skin. She had her hair in a braid so long that it was wrapped around her waist three times, like a sash.
The other woman looked very young, but with the Sefry it was hard to know what that meant exactly. Her face was oval, her eyes some dark color, her mouth a bit crooked, as if she were always on the verge of a deprecating smile.
“Majesty,” Mother Uun said, bowing. “May I present Nerenai of the House Sern.”
The young woman bowed again. “A pleasure, Majesty.”
Her voice was pleasantly husky, with a lilting accent Anne did not recognize.
“The pleasure is mine,” Anne said. “To what do I owe this visit?”
“Intrusion, I’m sure you mean,” Mother Uun said. “I’m sorry for the late hour. I won’t keep you long.”
“Sit,” Anne said. “Please.”
The two took their places on a bench, and Anne settled in her armchair.
Mother Uun’s gaze seemed to pick through her. “Your power is growing,” she said. “I can see it all around you. I can feel you when I close my eyes.”
Anne suddenly realized how glad she was the Sefry had come, happy to have someone she could talk to who might not think her merely mad.
“I—things are happening to me. I do things I don’t understand sometimes, as if I’m in a dream. I think things…” She sighed. “Can you tell me what’s happening to me?”
“Not everything, I’m sure, but Nerenai and I have come to offer what knowledge we have.”
The tea arrived at that moment, and Anne waited impatiently while the two had a sip.
“There is a woman I see,” Anne said. “She burns, and she has power. She helps me, but I don’t know if I can trust her.”
“A woman? Not one of the Faiths?”
“She killed the Faiths,” Anne said.
Mother Uun’s eyes widened. “That’s interesting,” she said. “I don’t know what that might mean. Nerenai?”
“The Faiths are advisers,” Nerenai said.
“Not very good ones,” Anne replied.
The younger Sefry shrugged. “They are limited, it is true. Or were, I suppose. But they see things in the flow of the great powers that others cannot. And they have followers in the temporal world.”
“Yes,” Anne said. “I’ve met some of them. They kidnapped me.”
Nerenai frowned, and steepled her fingers together.
“The burning woman must be your arilac,” Mother Uun said. “It could appear as anything.”
“Arilac?”
“In the oldest stories about the thrones, there is a mention of the arilac, a sort of guide who appears to lead those who have the power to claim it toward the throne. She is your ally in that, at least.”