“What if Lynan decides to go for the throne? Will you stop him?”
Kumul looked up at Jenrosa, startled. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that.”
“Lynan has changed. Ager said he has become a leader. Can he go to war against Areava and in the end not take the throne from her?”
Kumul stood up quickly. “No. Lynan wouldn’t do that. I know him.”
“You knew Lynan the boy,” Jenrosa said. “How sure can any of us be that we know Lynan the white wolf?”
“White wolf?” Kumul barked. “Pah!”
Jenrosa stood up, too. Kumul tried to avoid her gaze, but she reached out and held his jaw. “Have you been listening to the Chetts?” she said, her voice suddenly fierce. “They almost worship him, and he’s only been with them a short time. If he decides to go for the throne, and Korigan supports him, do you think the Chetts will hold back?”
“He’ll need more than the Chetts to win the whole of Grenda Lear.”
“Are you so sure?” Ager asked. “This is just one clan. Seven thousand warriors. How many clans did Gudon say there were? Seventeen major ones, at least.”
“They are all horse archers,” Kumul said dismissively. “In the hills and fields and rivers in the east they would be trapped and slaughtered.”
“Unless they’re trained to fight differently.”
“Why should we train them? So Lynan can go after Areava’s crown?”
“We were going to raise an army to force the issue anyway,” Ager argued.
Kumul did not reply.
“Weren’t we?” Ager insisted.
“Yes.” Kumul had to squeeze out the word. His blue eyes glared at Ager.
“And what were you going to do with the army?” Jenrosa asked him. She stood in front of him, feet firmly planted, arms akimbo, as if she was confronting a particularly stubborn mule.
“Force Areava to submit,” he said numbly. “Force her to bring Orkid and Dejanus to trial.” His voice suddenly rose. “Force her to right the wrong of Berayma’s murder and Lynan’s exile!”
“And having done all these things under duress, how long would Areava let Lynan be left free in the palace? How long would any of us remain free?”
Again, Kumul did not reply.
“I am tired,” Ager said. “We can argue about this later.”
Jenrosa followed Ager to the entrance; when the flap was untied, he held it open for her to go through, but she shook her head. He gave her a quizzical smile, then shrugged and left, soon disappearing in the flurries of wind-swept snow. Jenrosa tied up the flap behind him and turned to face Kumul.
“He did not mean to corner you like that,” Jenrosa said.
“I know. But I do not... I cannot... agree with him, or Korigan or Gudon.”
Jenrosa stood in front of Kumul. “I know,” she said.
“What they want to do isn’t right.”
“I know.”
“You must be tired, too.”
Jenrosa pursed her lips. “Do you want me to go?”
Kumul became very still. “No.” He reached out and gently stroked her hair.
Jenrosa leaned forward, stretched up to tiptoes, and kissed him on the lips.
While Orkid talked at him, Prado adjusted his horse’s saddle straps. The chancellor was spouting something about the heavy responsibility the queen had entrusted to him, but it went in one ear and out the other. All Prado could think of was what lay ahead. It would take him a few days to get to the Arran Valley, and at least a month to recruit and supply his own mercenaries, then another month or so to get to the border with Haxus, picking up more troops on the way. Then a month, less if he was lucky, to get reliable information about Rendle’s movements and the location of the Chett tribe protecting Lynan. He was impatient to go. But Orkid was still mouthing.
“And don’t overuse your office. Remember, the queen can turn you into an outlaw as easily as a general. Don’t drain our forces on the border with Haxus for your little expeditions.”
Little? The idiot knows nothing about military operations.
“Queen Charion of Hume has been informed of your eventual arrival, and instructed to give whatever assistance is necessary. But step warily with her; Charion is a clever woman.”
“I’ve heard worse about her than that,” Prado said offhandedly. “Some say she’s a deceitful bitch who hates Chandra more than Haxus.”
“Be that as it may, she is Queen Areava’s subject. Treat her with the appropriate courtesy.”
“If you say so.”
“And who are these gentlemen?” Orkid asked, looking around at the six large and rudely dressed riders waiting for Prado.
“My first recruits.”
“Where did you find them?”
“Taverns, mostly. They are all ex-soldiers or mercenaries, a little down on their luck but interested in useful employment.” He half smiled at Orkid. “Useful employment in the queen’s service, of course.”
“I hope the caliber of your other recruits is slightly higher,” Orkid said distastefully.
“They’ll do for the job at hand,” Prado said shortly. “I’m not creating a parade unit, Chancellor. I want experienced warriors, and warriors used to not asking awkward questions.” He mounted and sat comfortably in his saddle. “Anything else before I go? Any messages for Prince Lynan?”
“Just do your job, Prado. That’s all I ask.”
“Then ask no more,” he said, and spurred his horse.
He left the palace knowing he would soon have a large force of mercenaries at his command. Never during the long years of his retirement in the Arran Valley had he thought this would ever come about. Perhaps, just perhaps, he considered, the good old days would come back again. The world had turned around, and once again it had need of men like Prado and the services only they could provide.
Orkid watched as Prado left the palace courtyard, his six followers close behind. The chancellor shook his head, angry at the obvious contempt in Prado’s voice.
Well, let him keep his arrogance,
he thought.
If he survives, he can be cut down a few pegs.
From her chambers Areava, too, watched the departure of Prado and his men. Like Prado, she sensed that the world had turned, but for something new not something old. The age to come would be unlike any that had come before, and she was unsure if it was for good or ill. Her gaze lifted to take in the whole of Kendra. It was still one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen, refreshing her spirit whenever she looked out upon it, yet some of the sheen had gone. More and more it seemed less an idea given form, an idea about statehood and the rule of natural law, than simply a place where power resided, and she was learning that power was like mercury, ready to flow whichever way fortune led it.
Her private secretary, Harnan Beresard, coughed politely from behind his small writing desk. He was a thin, reedy man who looked barely strong enough to support his own weight when he stood. Sandy hair, sparse on top, made him look younger than he really was. Areava looked at him blankly for a moment. “What were we up to?”
“Your correspondence to King Tomar and Queen Charion regarding their trade dispute.”
“Oh, yes.” She brought her mind back to the matter at hand, and started dictating. “While I see it as my duty to ensure both your states have appropriate access to Kendra, there is little I can do to fix tariffs within your own domains. My mother saw fit to leave local affairs to local rulers, and I am reluctant to change that policy.”
Still gazing out from her window, she saw Orkid striding across the courtyard to his own offices when a postrider suddenly galloped through the main gate. Instead of stopping for an attendant to take her horse, the rider went straight up to Orkid and handed him a message. Areava watched him read it, saw his figure tense. He said something to the messenger and she immediately rode off again.
“Your Majesty?”
“Where was I up to?” she asked absently.
Orkid looked up toward her chambers and saw her. He changed direction and headed toward her section of the palace.
“You are reluctant to change your mother’s policy about noninterference in local matters,” Harnan summarized.
“However, I am deeply concerned at this ongoing dispute between two such loyal subjects, and wish to see it resolved as soon as possible.”
She heard Orkid’s heavy footsteps coming up the stone stairs outside, then along the corridor to her chambers.
“To this end,” she continued, “I am therefore resolved to establish a party of learned councilors who will advise me on this issue and other issues regarding trade and tariffs.”
There was a knock on the door and a guard opened it. Orkid stood there for a moment, looking grim and displeased. Areava absently wished he would soften bis appearance by shaving off his beard.
“And I would, of course, expect each of you to send a representative to sit on this council. In kindest regards, so on and so forth. For my signature this afternoon.”
“Your Majesty,” Harnan said.
“Orkid? You look like a startled bear.”
“May I see your Majesty privately for a moment?”
Areava nodded. “Thank you, Harnan. I will call you when I am ready.”
Harnan stood up promptly, gathered together his writing materials and small desk, bowed to the queen, and shuffled out. Orkid shut the door behind him.
“I saw a messenger arrive for you,” Areava began.
“She came from the docks. I have a post down there.”
“I know. I pay for it, remember?”
Orkid looked uncomfortable.
“Oh, come now, Chancellor. You can’t expect to keep all your secrets for yourself.”
“My operations are an open book for you, your Majesty, you should know that. Something else troubles me.”
Areava nodded.
“The message was from one of my agents on a Lurisian ship that came in today. The ship recently completed a long voyage along Theare’s east coast, north to Chandra and Hume ... and Haxus.”
“So, Salokan is still letting trade get through? That’s a promising sign.”
“The last, I’m afraid,” Orkid said somberly.
Areava felt her chest tighten. “What word have you?” she demanded.
“The agent managed to journey with a caravan from the Oino delta to Kolbee itself. He reports the city came under curfew while he was there. Over several nights he heard large numbers of troops moving south through the streets. He assumed they came from the royal barracks. On his last morning he visited a market place near the barracks, and no one would open for business since there was no longer any business to be had. The Kolbee garrison had gone—all of it.”
“Salokan is mobilizing.” She tapped her fingers together. “And it ties together the fragments of intelligence we are getting from other traders and our spies, that Salokan is storing more grain and cattle than usual for winter, and that he is limiting the trade in iron ore in his own country.” She looked up at Orkid, unable to hide completely the fear in her eyes. “The king of Haxus is preparing to go to war.”
Orkid sighed heavily. “Yes, your Majesty, I believe so.” He cast his gaze down and his fingers fidgeted.
“There is more?”
“The agent reports there are rumors among many in Kolbee that Lynan has been seen in Haxus.”
“That isn’t possible. He escaped Rendle. Prado told us so himself.”
“That doesn’t mean Rendle—or some other captain—did not capture him subsequently, or that Lynan did not go to Salokan of his own accord.”
Areava felt unsteady. She grasped the back of a chair then sat down. “No. I won’t believe it. Not even of Lynan.”
“He killed Berayma, your Majesty. Fleeing to Haxus is a small treason beside that.”
Areava did not reply. Her skin had paled to the color of ash and her hands rested in her lap like dead weights.
“There is more,” Orkid said, his voice straining.
“Go on,” Areava said shortly.
“Some of the rumors insist that Lynan has been made commander-in-chief of the Haxus army to march south into Grenda Lear.”
Again, Areava did not reply.
“If true, there can be no greater proof of his guilt,” Orkid continued. “And there is nothing Lynan could do that would more alienate the people of Grenda Lear.”
“He would lead an army against his own people?” Areava asked, but Orkid knew the question was not directed toward him. “He would take arms against his own country?” Her skin now darkened with anger. She stood up suddenly, her hands bunched into fists. Her ice-blue eyes seemed to glimmer.
“How long ago was your agent in Kolbee?”
“About three weeks, your Majesty.”
“Three weeks!”
“He returned as soon as he could, but he had to be careful getting back to the ship in the Oino delta.”
“And how long would it take the Kolbee garrison to reach the border with Hume?”
“About the same amount of time, as long as it was not stopping to recruit new members or pick up extra units on the way.”
Areava started striding up and down the chambers, her fists still bunched and kept behind her back. “It is too late for them to attack. It will be winter in a month.”
“I agree, your Majesty, but King Salokan—or Prince Lynan—is well in place to launch an attack as soon as the spring thaw starts.”
“Then we must mobilize now and send regiments north.”
“The first snows will have come by the time they are ready to leave the south.”
“I don’t care. They have to march north. Our defenses must be ready by the time winter is over.”
“You’ll need to increase taxes, your Majesty. Our treasury is healthy, but will not withstand the expenses of war for very long.”
“Call my council immediately. They will support me.”
“As will all Grenda Lear,” Orkid said.
She looked at him grimly. “I hope you are right, Chancellor, for all our sakes.”
Somehow, despite his fogged mind, Olio had found the old library tower. He made his way to the top, carefully ascending each step with exaggerated caution. He stood in the middle of the chamber and turned in a circle, looking at all the old books unread by anyone for hundreds of years because no one could understand the writing.
All this knowledge waiting for someone to unlock the secret,
he thought.
What magic do they hold?
The question wearied him, and he slumped to the floor, careful not to smash the flagon of expensive red wine he was holding. He took a good swallow from it and grinned to himself.
I bet Edaytor and the theurgia would hate the idea that there’s power here they know nothing about and cannot use. What a joke.
Morning light crept in from the tower’s single window. He looked up and saw that the shutters were slightly ajar.
Lynan liked it here, he remembered. He was probably the last person to look out that window.
Olio stood up unsteadily and opened the shutters wide. He could see only part of the city, but in the distance he recognized the coastline of Lurisia and the distant mountain-tops in Aman. And westward were the Oceans of Grass. Somewhere out there was his brother.
God, Lynan, are you still alive?
He collapsed to the floor again, overcome by sudden grief.
I wish you were here, Lynan. I wish you were home.
The tears came unexpectedly, and he scolded himself for blubbering. He tried to hold back, but he could not stop crying.
After a while, exhausted, he lay down on the cold stone floor, hugging the flagon close to his chest. Sleep came quickly, and he dreamed that his younger brother was sitting with him in the chamber, watching over him.
The council received Orkid’s news with silence. No one knew what to say. Areava let them think a while on what it meant for the kingdom, and then asked Marshal Lief about the state of readiness of Grenda Lear’s armies.
“On your command last summer I mobilized a few regiments, mainly cavalry, to bolster our border units in Hume. They are there now.”
“Will they be enough to thwart a full invasion from Haxus?”
“No, your Majesty. Nowhere near enough. They can deal with any minor border incursions, but if they encounter anything stronger than a couple of enemy divisions, they’ll be scattered. I never really believed Haxus would actually go to war without some border raids to test our strength.”
“Nor did I,” Areava said bitterly. “Chancellor Orkid, what are our estimates of Haxus’ strength?”
“Twenty thousand infantry, at least five thousand cavalry. That’s their regulars. We don’t know how many militia they can call up.”
Marshal Lief said, “Your Majesty, in the last war they had a similar-sized army, but not the logistical support to send them too deep into our territory.”
“That was fifteen years ago,” Orkid said dismissively. “We don’t know how good their logistics are now. Besides, if they move quickly enough and capture Daavis, they would have the supply base they need to move on to Chandra, and from there onto Kendra itself.”
“How long would it take to mobilize our entire army, Marshal?”‘ Areava asked.
“Three months at least. We don’t have the equipment and weapons in our armories to field an army much larger than twenty thousand ourselves, although over time, as our weapon smiths, cloth makers and granaries went to a war footing, we could double or even triple that. But contingents would have to come from Lurisia and Storia and Aman, and that will take time as well. And if the bulk of our troops are in Hume to stop an invasion, we’ll need the fleet’s help to keep the army fed and clothed; we’ll also need the navy to move much of our southern forces north.”