The Road to Hell - eARC (45 page)

“
You’re
appalled?” Gadrial gasped, and the duchess’ eyes flashed.

“You think it’s easy to watch a husband or a son pay fealty to a set of rules that chew them up and spit them out through no fault of their own? I understand why they do it—why it’s important to them—better than you probably ever will. But Gadrial, child, it hurts to watch them
do
it, knowing they’re innocent of any wrong-doing and knowing it’s tearing them apart, inside, too.”

Gadrial felt quite abruptly small and selfish and mean.

“No, dear, don’t feel that way,” the duchess said, deciphering her stricken expression. “You’ve no idea how comforting it is, knowing Jasak has someone as wonderful as you waiting to help him when he finally lets you back in.”

“Why has he locked me
out
?” she wailed. “I don’t understand it. Not at all! It can’t be this folderol about being a witness. We spent months together getting back home. If ‘witness contamination’ was going to happen, it already would have!” Then she lifted her hands to her cheeks, which scalded hot. “Oh, Rahil…” she whispered. She met the duchess’ gaze, eyes wide with horror. “It
did
. I fell in love with him.”

She covered her eyes, moaning, and Jasak’s mother gathered her in again and kissed her hair once more.

“I know. Which is precisely why you and I are having our breakfast alone this morning. I told Thankhar to take himself off with his son and fend for themselves, and Jathmar and Shaylar are enjoying breakfast in bed. And I’ve already promised both of them that I will personally be present during
their
questioning, whether by military or civil authorities.”

“I don’t understand,” Gadrial murmured into the duchess’ silk-clad shoulder, which was obviously spell-protected, since the material was not only unspotted, it wasn’t even wet. “How can you do that?” She sat up again, peering curiously into the duchess’ face. “You’re not a soldier or a witness, so how can you attend the court-martial? And the Duke said the parliamentary hearings will be closed sessions, too.”

The duchess chuckled. “My dear, you’re not Andaran. Trust me. I’ll be granted admission, whether
they
like it or not.”

Gadrial frowned in confusion.

“I think I’d better find out what you mean. I’m in love with the heir to a dukedom,” she said, feeling more than a little dazed at the notion, “and I have no idea what that entails, politically. Or even
socially
.” She bit her lip. “How can you possibly keep all those crazy rules straight? And why would you want to be present when Jathmar and Shaylar are questioned? I mean, they’re the reason your son’s being court-martialed. Why would you want to protect them? You haven’t known them long enough to consider them friends, the way I do.”

The duchess sighed and gave Gadrial an odd little smile.

“You do have a way of getting to the heart of things, don’t you?” she said. “Very well, let me start with your last point. Why do I want to protect them? Because they’re helpless. And because it’s my
duty
to protect the helpless. That would be the case even if they hadn’t become part of my family, my household.”

When Gadrial just stared at her, totally mystified, the duchess settled back with the unmistakable air of someone about to launch into a lengthy lesson.

“An Andaran noblewoman has a lifelong duty to help anyone who’s helpless, whether they ask for assistance or not. I know very well what you Ransarans think of the notions we Andarans hold dear, the concept of service before self. But it’s very real for us, very serious. We aristocrats enjoy great privileges, but they come with great price tags. Sometimes those price tags can bring terrible pain, even rip your world apart.”

Gadrial’s eyes widened.

“Oh, yes,” the duchess nodded. “You may laugh at our militant notions all you like,” she said, arching one brow in a delicate challenge Gadrial had no intention of taking up, “but many a case of serious injustice has been set right by an Andaran noblewoman who’s taken up the cause of the person being wronged.

“We may not serve in combat, but we do fight.” The duchess leaned in as if bestowing a secret. “At school in Ransar, I learned that Ransarans and Mythlans think Andaran women are oppressed. Yet they somehow never noticed that Andaran men are every bit as controlled as the women are. They fight the wars, and we ensure the home front is worth their sacrifice. Sometimes that involves a bit more force than some of the administrators who
think
they run things quite expect.

“Andaran women aren’t in uniform, but we might as well be. If the Union of Arcana expects otherwise, they’re in for quite a surprise. The Andarans at the Commandery are fully cognizant of our power…and more than a little wary of our wrath. And before I’m done with this business, the
rest
of the gentlemen who think they run our worlds will be more than a little wary, too. I promise you that!”

Her eyes flashed in a way that delighted Gadrial.

The duchess was a fighter!

“Having said that,” the duchess continued smoothly, “let’s turn to Jathmar and Shaylar. They’re utterly helpless and at grave risk of enduring serious further injustice on several levels. That makes them my business. My official, Andaran-duty business. But it doesn’t end there, my dear. Since they’re Jasak’s
shardonai
—a decision on his part which I whole-heartedly support—they’re not simply in the
custody
of my family; they
are
my family, and that makes those duties even heavier and more vital for me to uphold.”

Gadrial’s brow furrowed.

“You’re serious about that. It isn’t just some abstract concept for you, is it?”

“No, indeed, it is not. Jathmar and Shaylar are legally a part of my family, part of
my
household.”

“
Your
household?” Gadrial echoed. “I thought Andaran men were in charge of Andaran households.”

She could hear the outrage in her own voice. So did the duchess, whose lips quirked again.

“That’s the general perception. But as with many other things about Andarans, it’s, ah, somewhat less than accurate. Thankhar is the lawful head of the family, but by long tradition, an Andaran wife is expected to run everything—and I do mean everything—about the home front when the men leave for war. It’s been so long since the Portal War that some people have forgotten about times when nearly every Andaran governorship was being managed by the Governess, but that is and remains the Andaran tradition.

“The fact that far too many men and women—and too many of them Andarans, like that toad Thalmayr, I’m sorry to say—have forgotten how Andaran women fight is secondary to this discussion, however. The point that
is
pertinent to this discussion is this: the duties and obligations of the Andaran code are as binding on its women as on its men. And that, my dear, is where I shall nail their balls to the floor.”

“Oh!” Gadrial couldn’t help it. She gaped open-mouth in astonishment; then clapped both hands over her lips. “Sorry,” she gasped. “I just had no idea it really could work that way.”

“It does and it will,” the duchess assured her. “Under Andaran honor codes,
I
am the one responsible for the safety and well-being of every member of my household. That’s true whether they’re blood-kin, servants in my employ, or invited guests. I’m required, under a fairly stringent set of rules, embodied in Andaran
law
, to ensure their comfort and their safety.

“An Andaran woman who deliberately allows a member of her household to be injured can be punished quite severely under those laws. I don’t mean common accidents, which can’t be foreseen. I mean if she allows
anyone
to deliberately injure them. It’s a serious charge and therefore a serious obligation.

“Its origins lie in the endless wars between various noble houses during the pre-Union centuries. A woman who aided her husband by luring his enemies into the home under a guise of hospitality, then betrayed them, was rightly viewed as a dishonorable murderess. That’s why the law is so stringent on that point. And that law has all kinds of ramifications in the modern world, which we Andarans understand quite well. Unfortunately, those ramifications are poorly understood outside the Andaran nations, and it’s been entirely too long since they were publicly reasserted—and demonstrated.

“What that translates to in our current situation is simply this: I’m legally obligated to protect Jathmar and Shaylar, which means I must ensure their safety, which means I cannot allow anyone to bully, browbeat, threaten, or batter them, even emotionally. Not while they remain part of my household. And since they’re a
permanent
part of my household, that duty’s legally binding upon me in perpetuity, either for the duration of their lives or mine. Oh, and should they have children, that duty will extend to
them
as well.

“I cannot
perform
that legally-binding duty if I’m not present during their interrogations. Therefore, I must be granted access to the hearings, whether military or civil. They
must
allow me to attend. Even if they desperately want to keep me out, they can’t.”

“
Can’t
?” Gadrial’s eyes widened, and the duchess smiled serenely.

“Can’t.” She picked up her cup and sipped hot bitterblack. After so many years married to an Andaran, she’d actually developed a taste for the Union Army’s beverage of choice. “It’s always possible they might be foolish enough to try. In fact, I rather wish one of them—a Mythalan, by preference—
would
be that foolish, although I doubt they’ll oblige me. I would
so
enjoy ‘bringing the hammer down,’ as Thankhar so charmingly put it.

“But, as I say, I very much doubt any of them will be that stupid. And since they can’t keep me out, they must adjust their behavior accordingly. Politicians—and officers—who might not balk at savage attacks in my husband or son’s presence will think twice before indulging that sort of nastiness with
me
in the chamber.”

Her Grace’s eyes twinkled.

“Thankhar is a politician and bound by the rules of his office, whereas I’m
not
a public-office holder. That gives me far more latitude in which to kick up a fuss. I assure you, Gadrial, I can be every bit as difficult, stubborn, and cantankerous as they are, when I put my mind to it. And unlike
them
, I’m perfectly prepared to take every single archaic, persnickety, underhanded, and devious advantage that antiquated social code you dread bestows upon us ‘poor, downtrodden women.’”

Gadrial stared at the Duchess of Garth Showma in genuine awe.

“Perhaps it’s impertinent of me, Your Grace, but I’ll say it, anyway. Jasak has a
seriously
wonderful mother.”

“Thank you, my dear.” The duchess’ smile went tender and abruptly watery, and she lifted one hand to touch Gadrial’s cheek. “I’ve hoped for a long time that Jasak would find someone very special. He’s going to need you.”

“He won’t even talk to me,” Gadrial whispered.

“No. Not yet. He’s like his father, that way. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to put Thankhar’s head through the nearest wall. Try to understand, Gadrial. Jasak’s entire focus over the past several months has been getting you and the Sharonians safely home, with as little further hurt as possible. He’s also had the responsibility to bring back a prisoner who quite seriously wants him dead. I refer to the
shakira
he caught abusing a
garthan
under his command. And he’s also had the worry of making sure Otwal Threbuch and Jugthar Sendahli reached home safely, as well.”

Gadrial blinked. “Why would he worry about a pair of veterans who can take care of themselves very capably?”

“Two reasons. One, Otwal must testify before the Commandery and the court-martial board, which means his life’s as greatly at risk as yours until this whole mess has come to an end. The Olderhans have enemies, Gadrial, a fair number of them. That’s something you must understand from the outset.

“If you link your life to my son’s, you’ll also become a target of those enemies. In the main, that means political swipes, violated privacy, and the occasional attempt to destroy one’s reputation—or career. That’s a very serious matter for you to consider, Gadrial, which is another reason I wanted to speak to you privately.

“More importantly, as far as Otwal’s concerned, the man Jasak is responsible for handing over to the Judiciary General on capital charges is a Mythlan with high family connections. Very,
very
high. If the witnesses whose testimony can exonerate my son—if that’s possible—were to suffer accidents prior to testifying, the court would almost certainly hold against him.”

Gadrial nodded.

“Yes, I understand that. In fact, the Duke mentioned it the day we arrived. I just hadn’t realized Jasak was thinking about possible attempts to kill us
during
our journey. But that’s the real reason the Duke sent Hundred Forhaylin out to New Ransar, isn’t it? Not just to insure our privacy once we got closer to home.”

“Did Jasak tell you that was why Hathysk was sent to meet you?” the duchess asked, arching both eyebrows, and Gadrial shook her head.

“No, but he did let me leap to that conclusion without disabusing me of it,” she replied a bit tartly, and the duchess chuckled.

“I do love my son, but he
is
very like his father, isn’t he?”

Their eyes met with a shared warmth, amusement, and exasperation, but then the duchess sighed.

“Unfortunately, you’re quite right about the reason—
reasons
, plural, I should say—Thankhar sent him to meet you. A piece of advice, my dear, from a veteran of the nasty little game of politics: never,
ever
underestimate what a
shakira
will do to protect himself, his family line, and his culture. Before you point out that you’re only too familiar with
shakira
machinations, let me say this. There have been times when Thankhar’s put our entire residence and every member of our family under the heaviest wards money can buy from the top security magisters in the business. Ugly accidents tend to befall people who go head-to-head with line lords or who merely incur their wrath.