25.
If I ever find Mother Paltina, I am turning her into gumbo. Painstakingly, Emilia bent her left arm once, twice, as many times as she needed before her joints stopped smarting, replaced instead by a slow ache. Even with the last week of rest, comfortable in Ishnad with no urgent threat from the Royals, it didn't seem any better.
I'm getting as bad as Gulcasa.
She glanced up at herself, in the small, smeared mirror in her room, then shook her head very firmly, as if that could erase the thought. She straightened her dress, tied her hair band snugly in place (a year ago, Valena had been doing that), then stepped into her boots. Her brother had told her to come to his study first thing in the morning, and there was no sense in putting it off.
She leaned towards the mirror, fanning out one of her lace hairties. Then left her room.
Gulcasa was seated at his desk, closely examining the wood's fine veneer. No, Emilia realized after a moment, he was unconscious, slumped over the desk. Or dead.
She ran, and halfway across the room, he started up, hair in his face.
Emilia skidded to a stop. "What-"
Gulcasa groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "The hell?" He blinked, as if realizing where he was.
"You fell asleep at your desk?" Emilia tried to hitch her mouth into a smile, to think of this as a joke. "That must've been some fascinating paperwork."
He raised his eyes to her, and she noticed how raw their edges were. It was not an affectionate look.
Emilia clasped her hands behind her. "Sorry."
Gulcasa didn't reply to that, merely leaning back in his chair. Emilia walked to his side of the desk. His long hair, the same pure red as her own, as their father's, was tangled. "I will be leaving Ishnad soon," he said, his voice scratchy at first. "From what I guess, Yggdra will soon seek her crown, and I must stop her at all costs."
"Why? Is it...do you believe the legends about the Holy Sword and the tiara?" According to tradition, the gods guided those who bore the insignias of Fantasinia's royal house.
"Six months ago, I didn't. But I'm..." He stared at his hand on the desk. "I'm learning new respect for the old lore."
"Justice lies with the Holy Sword," Emilia quoted. "But - isn't that just the same as the Bronquian code? The Fantasinians have the sword, so that gives them the excuse to kill anyone in the name of justice?" Something flitted in the back of her brain - What, then, did the Bronquian code mean? - but she had no time to examine it.
"Telling Yggdra that would make no difference. According to my spies, her army is mobilizing itself, sending scouts to the south. She's heading for the Holy Land. We must not let her go unescorted." Emilia crossed her arms and looked critically at him. If he noticed, he didn't bring it up. "Zilva's been traveling for a week already, but has had nothing special to report. The theocrats are wallowing in their own trouble, as usual."
"And you've been helping?"
Gulcasa glanced up, and a slight smile touched his lips. "Anything that will stymie Yggdra's movements is a gain. Including holy war among religious sects."
She had no arguments to that. "Okay, so Zilva's down there, getting info and stirring up trouble." Zilva would probably enjoy that. Emilia hadn't seen Zilva since Elena's betrayal, but she imagined the assassin probably wanted a big thorough project to vent her anger through. In Zilva's position, Emilia would. "What about you?"
"I expect to leave within the next two days. In case the Royals wish to draw our attention away from Yggdra, Baldus and Eudy will hold Ishnad. Aegina still needs to recover, but Luciana will come with me."
"Good luck. She won't want to leave Aegina."
"I'm due to talk to her. I think I have the right incentive."
"Okay, this is wonderful," Emilia said. "I know what everyone but me is doing."
"You will also be coming to the Holy Land."
"Eyes of the Imperial Army, huh?"
"Yes, that. And...if fate is favorable, kidnapper extraordinaire."
Emilia lost her complacency. "What? Me? Isn't that more Zilva's line of work?"
"Zilva may beat you to it. But I need someone who can move a captive quickly, and for that, you are my best."
Emilia couldn't help glowing a bit at that, even if it did come from a brother who had once threatened her with a dead bear. "So, who am I nabbing?"
"The pope."
Emilia's smile twitched, then faltered. "The pope?"
"Without a pope, Yggdra cannot be legitimately crowned."
"Really? That's inefficient." Emilia looked at her shoes, thinking. "So I'll be heading for Saint Meriata's then."
"No. I understand from Zilva that he's gone into hiding." Gulcasa looked up as there was a knock at the door. He made a cursory attempt to smooth his hair. "Enter." Now was the usual time for someone to bring him a tray of breakfast.
Luciana stepped in and immediately genuflected, then rose and shut the door. She didn't approach Gulcasa, her mouth set in a thin line. The emperor studied her a moment, then inclined his head, inviting her to speak first.
Luciana's voice began evenly, but it swiftly built with emotion. "Your Imperial Highness, I respectfully beg permission to remain with my sister right now. I will be happy to slaughter anyone who threatens our borders, but Aegina's in a great deal of pain, and that nurse isn't going to take care of her, so please let me stay and watch over her." At the end, she grimaced, as if realizing how desperate she sounded, then masked her emotions and stood straight.
Gulcasa paused a moment. Emilia knew he wouldn't change his strategy, but this gave the illusion that he was considering Luciana's plea. And maybe he was trying to find a gentler way to refuse.
"Has Aegina's nurse been negligent? What specifically have you seen?"
Luciana winced. "Forgive me, Emperor. I - I spoke hastily." Though she didn't know them well, Emilia knew the twins trusted hardly anyone beyond each other. And Gulcasa.
"I know you aren't happy to be leaving your sister, but she is in good hands," Gulcasa said after a moment. "And Luciana, you will be able to devastate our enemies in the south."
"What do you mean? Your Imperial Highness," she added, still abashed.
"Your youngest sister is, at this moment, planning to pursue her crown."
Luciana's lips tightened again, but this time it was with anger.
"The coronation must take place at Nacht Altar, in the Holy Land. Which only the pope and the Fantasinian heir apparent may enter. You are Ordene's firstborn; the birthright is truly yours."
Luciana took a step towards him, eyes wide with shock, then sank back into a genuflect. "You - I-"
"I would not begrudge Fantasinia its queen if she were my vassal, a vassal who has constantly proved her loyalty." He regarded her. "Luciana Rune Artwaltz, will you come with me to the south?" She stood, looking almost as radiant as though he'd asked her to be his empress, and saluted, her fist to her left shoulder. "Prepare yourself, we will not be lingering in Ishnad."
When they were alone again, Emilia looked sharply at her brother. "Do we have to leave this soon?"
"Yes." He stood, his movements stiff. "What's keeping breakfast?"
"Don't you think-" She broke off, uncertain how to proceed.
"Don't I think what?" The tension was back in his voice.
Emilia took a deep breath. "Ever since Galleon Prison, you've been weaker." He turned angrily to her. "I mean, you're not as healthy. Something happened there, didn't it?" She tried to stop her own anger from building, but wasn't wholly successful. "Something with the ritual. You got hurt, didn't you?"
He brought his hand lightly down on the desk, but it was enough to stop her. "Emilia, when you began training as a rider, was it easy? Was it comfortable? Weren't you bruised, and sore, and often bandaged? Aren't you still?"
"But-" Now she was the one pleading, and he didn't even pretend to think her words over.
"Are you with me or not?"
"I - ARGH!" Emilia stamped both feet then kicked over his chair. Then stood for a moment, breathing hard. "Don't think," she said after a moment, her voice with forced calmness, "that just because I'm worried, I'm somehow against you."
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Forgive me, Emilia."
Emilia punched his arm. "Look, you just need to sleep more regularly, okay? Don't go to pieces. Because - I just - Gulcasa, if you keep doing this, you're going to fall apart!"
There was knock at the door. "Enter," Gulcasa said flatly.
One of the minor Dragoons hurried in with a wide tray, set it on the desk, bowed, and scuttled out the door. Gulcasa lifted the lid: half a loaf of walnut bread, fresh butter, honey, bacon, oatmeal, three eggs, two small oranges and an entire pot of coffee.
"Holy cow," Emilia said. "Why do you get all the special treatment?"
He looked sidelong at her, still weary. "Stick around, we'll have some breakfast."
Emilia gave him a wary look. "I don't want to talk about Brongaa. It just-" It just makes everything worse.
"We won't," Gulcasa promised, slicing her some walnut bread.
Sand got into everything. Her eyes. Her hair. Her clothes. Even her shoes, somehow. Into Twit, Twit's feathers, Twit's claws. Every evening, Emilia found Twit teary from irritated eyes. She ate her camp rations (mostly very tough jerky), spitting sand out occasionally, often just giving up and eating it with the food. In the past two weeks, there hardly seemed to have been a single moment when she wasn't waiting. Sometimes she was only waiting for word from Gulcasa, his progress through Nyllard Desert being much slower. Sometimes, when she'd gotten wind of a rumor of the pope's whereabouts, she was waiting outside of a village, hiding her riders as well as possible behind sand dunes and the mercilessly wind-carved stone formations. But if Pope Joachim showed himself, she never had the luck of recognizing him.
Most often, she was waiting for reports from Zilva, tidbits on the pope's location. Emilia passed the waits in planning how exactly she'd dive towards the fleeing pontiff. (How fast would His Holiness run, given the combination of deep sand dunes and very long robes? How should she grab him? The back of his shirt? Might break his neck. His arm? She wasn't sure if she'd be able to swing him up. Best to go for the belt, hoist him up that way.)
She saw plenty of the Royal Army - first the wreckage of their battle at the desert's mouth, then further south where they fought bandits at one of the many merchant towns. She didn't care if they saw her. She was racing them to find Joachim Lia Blaucent.
There was no way an ancient geezer would be able to outrun a griffon. Not without a miracle.
Granted, he was a holy man...
Emilia legged Twit faster, sweeping over the desert, its oases, its small towns, looking for any signs of suspicious activities.
Then Emilia began to stalk the Royal Army.
Zilva's women were always able to find her, and since she, high in the air, couldn't scour for clues, she decided she might as well follow a very obvious target. Yggdra was also looking for the pope; even if the princess found him first, Emilia could move faster than anyone in Yggdra's army. That was the benefit of having killed all of Fantasinia's riders. Therefore, even if Yggdra found the pope, Emilia would be the first to catch him. But, so far, it hadn't happened. As far as Emilia could tell, Yggdra was up to her usual business, taking the least efficient routes and getting mixed up in other people's problems.
Emilia was making sweeps one glorious sunset, keeping her eye on the battle raging on the sand. Zilva had infiltrated some religious group (Emilia couldn't keep them straight), and Yggdra had gotten in with some other group (glancing at their flags, Emilia thought they were affiliated with the pope), and they were launching into each other.
The Scarlet Riders rested through the night, and as they lofted into the air the next morning, Emilia saw that Zilva and her sect had withdrawn. Much of the Royal Army was guarding the town. Emilia glanced, looking for the rest of the units. Frowning, she saw that a northern road had been recently churned up, as if by many travelers.
She turned their course north.
They quickly caught up with army, overtaking most of it. But, three miles up the road, were more units, hurrying. Emilia scanned ahead. She saw the glitter of water, a long stone bridge - a small island. It was bare of trees, but there was a ruined village, dominated by a half-fallen cathedral.
She easily outstripped the Royal Army, making no secret of her passing. She only pulled up once they'd flown over the bridge, hovering at the cathedral's tumbled spire. "Okay, everyone," she said, out of breath. "We have a pope to find."
"Should we dismount?" one rider asked.
Emilia's confidence faltered, and she glanced back at the land. The Royals wouldn't stand aside as she searched, and while the Scarlet Riders could look more thoroughly on the ground, they'd be almost defenseless. "No, we're staying up here. Stay in fours and check as much as you can!"
Emilia grew more nervous the longer she stayed on the island, knowing the Royals were approaching, knowing the pope could easily hide in places she couldn't see from her griffon. She needed Zilva, but no, Zilva had gone and gotten pummeled just yesterday. Crap, what good was the Scarlet Princess if she couldn't bring home a half-dead priest?
She lifted higher into the air, hoping to get a panoramic view of the island, to see if she could spot a tiny figure scurrying to a new hiding spot, preferably tripping over his cassock.
"General!" one of the riders screamed.
Emilia went into a roll, dropping altitude, righting herself in time to see two of her small squadron fall lifelessly through the air. Above them, a full cadre of griffon riders swung around, readying for another charge.
Emilia and her remaining rider fled in opposite directions, heading for the ruins. Emilia could hear her pursuit - shouts, the griffons shrieking - and she made for the buildings, darting through the narrow spaces between them, under what had once been a wildly carved archway. She shifted sideways, sweeping between two houses - and was met on the other side by an enemy rider, a girl with long green hair who was somehow familiar. Emilia shot upwards, into the waiting wings of another enemy. She grit her teeth and kept going.
The two griffons collided, and somehow Twit kept rising, blood flying from her beak, the other griffon slumping to one of the ruined roofs. More riders approached - but these were her own, the separate squadrons unifying into a defensive crescent. Emilia quickly counted them - about a fourth were missing. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the enemy riders were gathering themselves, preparing for a charge. And the Royals were coming.
She signaled the retreat, hurrying to the west. She'd saved most of her riders' lives, but they flew with the laughter of their enemies behind them.
"Princess Yggdra found the pope. He was in a ruined cathedral on a deserted island," Zilva's messenger told her. Emilia broke her stick of turkey jerky in two.