“Sofia told me you were hiding like a coward out here.”
Yveni screwed his nose up at Raina as she leaned over the stall to look at Mathias. “I notice you took your time.”
“I was talking to Paole and helping him inventory what I returned. Is he really not going with you to Sardelsa?”
“Did he say that?”
“He didn’t say he was. He barely talked of it at all. Yveni, what did you do to him? He’s so sad.”
“Nothing.” He sighed. “At least, not to him personally. I have to go back, and he has to stay.”
“Why?” She folded her arms. “Why can’t he go?”
“He can. But…why would he? He’s made a life here. Even if we succeed, why should I ask him to uproot himself again?”
“If you don’t ask him, you won’t find out. Maybe he thinks you don’t want him to go.”
“I don’t.”
“Yveni, that’s horrible of you.”
He tsked. “Don’t be an idiot, Raina. I only meant that I don’t want him in danger, any more than I want you to be. I don’t want Gil and Sofia going either.”
“I think you’d better talk to him.”
“I don’t want to pester him.”
She reached over and took the piece of fruit from his hand. “Go talk to him. Now.”
“I can’t just—”
“Go. Now.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t want to—”
She turned him around and slapped his bottom.
“Raina!”
“Go. I’ll tell them where you’ve gone. Take the lamp, I can see well enough.”
Strange, somehow he’d thought that becoming a duc meant
he
would tell other people what to do. He forbore from saying this. She’d only be sarcastic at him.
Paole had undressed for bed when he heard the banging at the shop door. He glanced at the bedroom clock. Honestly, how could a herbalist’s have an emergency, and at this hour?
Cursing heartily, he pulled on his trousers, not bothering with a shirt, and prepared to give a bollocking to his inconsiderate visitor if they didn’t turn out to be a city warden.
The person banged on the door again. “Knock it off!” he yelled at them. They’d break the window glass doing that.
He flung the door open. “Do you mind—”
Yveni stood there, lamp in hand, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Um…hello. Raina told me to come over. I thought about lying to her, but I felt perhaps I should, in the end. Um…were you asleep?”
“Bit late to ask that, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Uh…look, I’ll tell her I came over and you told me to go—”
“Thought you weren’t going to lie to her. Do you want to come in?”
Yveni nodded, his head bobbing jerkily. Paole stood back to let him through. “Come upstairs.”
He only had a single room, with a bathroom to the side. It was all he’d needed. Now he felt vaguely annoyed Yveni should see it when he was about to leave and Paole’s home could be of no possible interest to him. “So what did Raina want you to talk about?”
“Well, this. You. Being…hostile. Sad, she said.” Yveni set his lamp down and blew it out. “You got my note?”
“Aye.”
“Are you angry with me? You know I have to go back, don’t you?”
“Aye.” The single syllable was all he could force out and still sound calm.
“Paole, I can’t ask you to come with me. It’s not fair to you, and it’s incredibly dangerous. I know we thought we’d have more time than this, but we don’t, and you have a life here. You’ve worked hard for it, and this is your home now. It’s right that you stay.”
“You have it all worked out, don’t you? Why did you bother coming over—to tell me what you’d already decided? Doesn’t look like I have a say at all.”
Yveni bit his lip and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Raina said Sofia was going.”
“Yes. Because Gil is.”
“And you haven’t stopped her.”
“I can’t. I mean, I
could
, but they’re husband and wife. I don’t have the right to interfere.”
“If we were married, would you be telling me to stay?”
“No! Yes, I…” He held out his hands. “Paole, if anything happened to you, I’d
die
.”
“But I’m supposed to sit here on my arse and wait for you to be killed? Because we’re not
married
?”
Yveni dropped his hands. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I.”
Paole smiled. “Yes. Come here, you nitwit.”
Yveni ran to him and Paole crushed him close. “How could you
think
I’d want to stay here when you’re in danger?”
“But your home, your business…”
“My love. You. Do you want me to come with you, risk aside?”
“Now who’s a nitwit?”
Paole laughed. “Well then. I’ll trust to your luck. But I can’t be seen as your lover. Your reputation—”
“Be damned. Either you come with me, share my cabin and my bed, or neither of us goes. The duchy of Sardelsa will have a duc with a male lover or no duc at all. That’s final.”
“Very good, Your Grace. Would Your Grace care to join me in my bed now?”
“Paole, please stop talking.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
They sailed four days later, with fifteen Uemiriens added to the thousand sailors and soldiers who’d come to invade Uemire. The farewells had been painful, even for those who departed quite willingly. Raina cried for the whole day before they left, and she’d definitely have tried to stow away despite his warnings if Paole had not begged her not to. He needed her to keep the business going, he said, whether he returned or not. “You wanted to be a healer and study at the university, so do it. Prove your father wrong,” he told her. She’d barely stopped sobbing long enough to hear him out.
Now it was done, and if they survived the trip, the hardest part would come once they landed. Yveni had done his best to conceal his nerves from the soldiers as he boarded the ship, but Paole knew how much he dreaded the sea journey. Now he came up beside him and put his arm around Yveni’s shoulders. “A fair day for it.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way. You’ve never been on a ship before?”
“No. So far I like it.”
“After a whole hour?”
“Well, it’s a start.” He bent and kissed Yveni. Yveni had made an announcement before they set off that Paole was his lover and should be treated with the courtesy due his consort. Paole had clearly decided to take full advantage of that position—not that Yveni minded.
“Ah, Your Grace.”
Yveni turned and Markov smiled at him. “Commander, what can I do for you?”
“More what I can do for you. Gil informs me that you’ve had no sword practice since you left the duchy.”
“No, I’ve had little need to.”
“Now you do. We’ll do our best to protect you, but in a fight, you can’t rely on that alone.”
“You expect me to practice here?”
“There’s a wide deck, and little else to do. Certainly I expect it. Weapons-master Alexis used to speak quite warmly of your abilities. Have you forgotten all you learned?”
“Of course not. Gil put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“Yes, I did.” Gil came up from the hatchway, grinning broadly. “Of course, I’m to be put to the test as well, Your Grace. Paole, you could—”
Paole put up his hands. “Not on your life, Gil. I heal people, I don’t use swords on them.”
“You might find those we encounter don’t make a distinction, Master Paole,” Markov said politely. “At least consider some hand-to-hand training.”
“Strange how no one mentioned any of this to me before I left,” Paole complained. But he allowed one of the officers to lead him to the upper deck where mats had been laid. Yveni would have liked to watch, but Markov was serious about the sword training. Respectful though the commander was, he gave no quarter in the practice, nor made any allowance for Yveni’s lack of fitness. He made Yveni warm up properly, then drilled him for a good two hours with sabre and foil.
He graciously allowed a short break when Yveni couldn’t lift the sabre any more. “Commander, I can’t continue.”
Markov only smiled. “Nonsense, Your Grace. You’ll find your second wind any time now.”
“Doubt it. Maybe I should concentrate on my shooting.”
“Funny you should mention that. I have plans for this afternoon.”
Yveni stared up at the man. Clearly power had made him insane.
“I’m dead.”
“Mflm.”
“You’re dead too?”
“Yflsm.”
“Good night, Paole.”
“Slmf.”
They arrived at Nukin port on a crystal-clear, warm summer morning—even though they’d had to weigh anchor some kilometres offshore for two days. They decided to wait out the bad weather Sofia Saw that would have turned their arrival into a dismal, soggy mess.
Presentation was everything. They sailed in with the Sardelsan standards flying proudly, borrowed Uemirien drums beating cheerfully, the soldiers on deck wearing new sashes in ducal blue and Sardelsan gold, and the civilians on board waving flags of the Unity and Sardelsa. Yveni wore another new suit, a rosette in blue and gold on his chest. He disembarked with Commander Markov at his side, the commander in his dress uniform and best sword. The Uemiriens remained on board for now, for Yveni worried the crowd might vent their anger at Uemire’s supposed crimes before he had a chance to change opinions.
The mind controllers subtly influenced bystanders to come and look, and the noise and attention drew others. Yveni, standing on a ladder set up by two soldiers, waited until a large-enough crowd had assembled to create a spectacle before he held up his hand. The soldiers all came to attention with an impressive, unified snap. “People of Sardelsa! I am Yveni, vicont of Sardelsa, son of Grand Duc Arkady. I’ve returned to my country, by the grace of the gods!”
The clamour that broke out was more confused than outright joyful, and shouts of “Prove it!” rose above the crowd noise. Markov held up his hand for silence. “I’m Markov, commander of the ducal army. I was sent to Uemire to avenge His Grace’s death, but by a miracle, I found him alive and return him to you.”
Yveni came in again. “You were told I had been killed by Uemiriens, but Uemire helped save my life and made it possible for me to return. Who will help me? Who are the loyal citizens of Sardelsa who will lead me home?”
Now the roars were genuinely happy. Yveni stood and let people rejoice and vow loyalty for as long as they wanted. At the back of the crowd, around fifty soldiers in a uniform he didn’t recognise moved into position, but took no action. Markov had seen them, but Yveni took his cue from his commander and pretended to ignore them too.
A group of well-dressed men made their way to the front of the crowd and introduced themselves as the mayor and councillors of Nukin. Yveni stepped down to greet them. “Your Honour, councillors, my apologies for the lack of warning. I’m still rather dazed at being able to return after all this time.”
“Your Grace,” the mayor said, “would it be rude to ask for proof of your identity?”
“Not at all.” He bared his arm and showed them the tattoo of a symbol that every Sardelsan learned to recognise. “Commander Markov, please show His Honour your papers.”
The mayor and his councillors examined the documents for some time, and asked Markov some pointed questions that verged on the hostile. Yveni smiled and tried not to show his nervousness. When the mayor stepped back, Yveni’s heart leapt into his throat. What was he about to do?
But then the man knelt, and so did the councillors. A great roar went up through the crowd, and like a ripple, the people began to kneel, the front rows first, and the ones behind followed.
Yveni grinned with relief. He held up his hand. “I come to serve Sardelsa. Long may she prosper!”
Another huge cheer and waving of hats. Yveni bid the mayor and councillors to stand. They approached with equally wide smiles.
“Your Grace, what are your plans? We can offer you hospitality…”
“Thank you, Your Honour, but I’ve been away a long time, and I want to return home.”
The strange soldiers at the back of the crowd melted away. Yveni couldn’t ask Markov about them until they had some privacy, but he had his suspicions.
Moving on wasn’t that simple, of course. The rest of the soldiers and the civilian passengers had to disembark, horses for Yveni, the officers and some of the soldiers borrowed or bought from the city’s stables, and Yveni and Markov asked to pose for photographs by the local newssheet. Yveni was delighted to spend as long as the reporters wanted, posing and answering questions. The more publicity, the more acknowledgement, the harder it would be for Konsatin to deny his existence or his return. And the greater Yveni’s support, the more likely he’d be able to challenge Konsatin’s regency and have him removed by whatever means necessary.
Paole watched the events on the ground with more anxiety than he’d felt the day Yveni had gone to meet the Sardelsan invaders. He could see just fine, though he wished Gil had supernatural hearing rather than sight because he’d have given a testicle to know what was being said. But when the crowd knelt and the waves of deafening cheers hit the watchers on the ship, Sofia hugged her husband and then Paole.
“It worked,” Gil crowed. “He’s pulled it off!”
“He’s made it work here,” Paole said. “There are three more towns before we reach the castle, and I didn’t like the look of those soldiers.”
“Me either, but they’ve dispersed. They’re wearing a ducal insignia but I don’t recognise the uniform.”
“Konsatin’s men?”
“Could be. The question is, does he feel confident enough to challenge Yveni here? I wouldn’t have thought Konsatin was that popular when we left, but a lot could have happened since then.”
“Like him building a private army,” Sofia said, shivering. “That’s not a good sign.”
“We never thought it would be plain sailing the whole way, love. What do you See?”
“A confrontation. Soon.”
“Result?”
She turned to the young man, Juen, on her left. “What do
you
See?”
“A battle,” he said. “But it’s not clear.”
“Too close to call,” she agreed. “Better warn the lad.”
But getting anywhere near Yveni was an exercise in patience, and even though the mood of the crowd was welcoming and joyful, Paole couldn’t help worrying. He didn’t trust this race, with its bigotries and twisted politics. He feared the people could too easily turn on Yveni, just as it had turned on the Uemiriens.
Gil squeezed his shoulder as they waited their turn to leave the ship. “He’s doing fine.”
“It’s not
his
actions I’m worried about. Do you think we should cover our heads?” Gil had hair as blond as Paole’s and was very obviously not Tueler.
“No. We have to trust him and Markov to look out for us, Paole.”
“And your wife.”
“That goes without saying.” Gil grinned as he nudged Sofia with his hip.
“I’ve been looking out for you for thirty years, my man. I won’t stop now.”
It took an hour before Paole reached Yveni’s side. They’d agreed public gestures of affection should be avoided, as it would be between a duc and duces, so he only smiled at his lover as he reached him. Yveni stood in a small knot of soldiers, a little distance from the crowd kept under discreet control by the army. “Well done, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Paole.” Yveni grinned at him. “Did you see? Wasn’t it wonderful?”
“Very much. A great relief. Now what happens?”
“Councillors Vitali and Artyom have offered to accompany us as Nukin’s representatives, and I’ve accepted. We’ve been offered lunch at the mayoral residence, and then we press on.”
“What about those soldiers? Sofia said she Saw a confrontation.”
“I need to ask her about that. In fact, excuse me for now.” But he mouthed a more tender, private farewell before he turned away.
Feeding and watering a thousand troops was a considerable feat even for a large city like Nukin, but the city councillors managed it. The city square was turned over to the army for several hours while the mayor feted Yveni, the army officers and the Uemiriens. That the presence of so many troops just outside the elegant mansion gave Yveni complete protection from the alien soldiers—helpfully identified as Karvin mercenaries by the mayor—was a fact mentioned aloud by no one.
Paole thought it worrying that the city’s official had accepted the Karvin troops so easily. Did they not see what a threat this posed to their peace and security? But he couldn’t ask Yveni and didn’t feel it was his place to ask any of the soldiers. He had to hope Yveni and Markov had considered all the implications.
He was glad when they finally mounted their freshly provided horses and started on the road to the castle, eighty kilometres from the city. A two, no more than three, day march, if all went well. Sofia’s warning sat heavily on his mind. A confrontation? Where would it come?
Sooner than any of them expected. They’d been travelling only two hours when they found their road blocked by Karvin soldiers and actual barricades. Yveni and Markov called a halt but made no move towards the barrier, forcing an officer to come forward and address them.
“By order of His Grace, the regent of Sardelsa, you must dismount and surrender into custody.”