Part VIII – Beltane
February – August 463 HE
Chapter Twenty-Nine — Warison
15 February – 15 April
There was a great deal to be done. Soil carts had accumulated, not to mention laundry, and a great many things had to be moved back to their proper places. The roadway had to be restored, and with mages and blazebalm on hand Kel saw no reason not to do the job properly, replacing mageblasts and bombs as well as restoring the pitcovers, though the new keys were kept locked in her safe. Once wagons could again pass up and down restarting cultivation and fieldcare became a priority, but there were other things for which ogre strength was needed. Palisades and alure needed to be repaired, broken sections drawn like rotted teeth and new wood emplaced for petrification, impromptu but heavy awnings taken down, broken casts removed from killing field and glacis, and cracked arrows from rooves and gutters. And besides all the physical legacies of the siege, Kel had her hands full with paperwork: decency required her to write to the kin of her dead and the army demanded she notify commands, quartermasters, and those responsible for pensions. After which there was the troubling consideration that the Scanrans didn't have a great deal to do.
Provided they came unarmed and made declarations under the Honesty Gate, Kel gave them access to the main level, though it meant posting guards to secure areas that were off-limits and ensuring the King and others were escorted when not safely behind doors. And with little else to occupy them, the Scanrans came, at first in small groups, then larger ones and as individuals, cautiously looking around with fascination. Many watched the ongoing repairs with more than military interest, and basilisk abilities to loosen and set stone as well as petrify set tongues wagging; immortals dwelling in friendship fascinated them, and many were quick to offer help hauling or scrubbing. There were, however, a lot of them, and they weren't going anywhere for ten weeks, so what mattered was to stop them getting bored
Kel had inadvertently started shaping one part of an answer with her words to Harald when she had turned from burning the Scanran dead to find Stanar watching, Zerhalm and Irnai beside him. On his other side Jacut misinterpreted her surprise.
"'E asked if 'e could watch direct like, Lady Kel, on be'alf of all our pris'ners, an' I didn't like to say no. I 'ope I did right."
"Surely, Jacut. I was kicking myself for not letting the prisoners know they're all at liberty under their oaths again. Which includes the encampment down there. Is that likely to be a problem?"
Stanar shrugged. "Probably, Lady Kel. We've always understood there'll be hard words."
"Mmm. The man who went after the hostages was Stenmun Gunnarsson, Clan Somalkt, so there must be other Somalktir." He nodded tightly. "Go with Zerhalm and Irnai, if you will, to tell those men some truths. The liegers of Rathhausak are here, and the prisoners. Tell them why, and what you have seen."
They went next evening, after the Tortallan funerals, and Irnai told Kel and her father what had happened. The Rathhausakers had been in a place every coerced Scanran understood, and if Loyalists were more hostile, testimony of exactly what had happened at Rathhausak from Scanrans who'd been there bore on them hard; they really didn't like what Maggur had done, and the manner of his death left all reflective. But Stanar and his fellows were in another category, even for coerced troops and despite close, wincing attention to his account of Scything Wheat; they'd surrendered to save themselves, not withdrawn from combat, and if then oathbound had had no business giving oaths to begin with. Death before dishonour was the prevailing view—a common warrior philosophy that, as Kel's father observed with a sigh, would if pursued to its logical conclusion divide the world into the dead and the forsworn.
"Yes, I surrendered," Stanar had told them, "because I was in a hopeless place and you can't do anything if you're dead. I faced the Protector and you all found what kind of a fight that means. And yes, it was dishonour, but how many stories do you know where you have to go through dishonour to win something greater? I, Stanar Petarsson, Clan Somalkt, surrendered my axe to a woman—the one who fed Maggur Reidarsson to stormwings and counts dragons as friends, to whom gods lend ears and voice. And because I did I am alive to tell you I have spoken with dragons."
His laugh, Irnai observed gleefully, had hit them like Lord Sakuyo's.
"I, of no account because clanhome and kin fell to Maggur Reidarsson's axes, told the Hamrkengingsaga in full to wyrm and draca, the draca a kit, and for my pains was told the whole night long that everything it says of dragons is ridiculous. I have spoken to the giant spidren, and can tell you she is more interested in eating cheese than you, and would like to sell you old webbing to pack windows in winter. I have spoken with basilisks and ogres, stormwings and darkings I didn't even know existed, and learned things that make my head spin higher than Maggur Reidarsson's ever went. It's been the most astonishing eight months of my life!
"I have also come to know the Protector a little, and my world has been turned upside down many times over. I don't need to explain. And she treats me as a man of honour still, though I put hope before despair. You think I should have died. Do you think I didn't think so too, often and long? We all did. The Protector disagrees, because she wants a better Scanra as much as any, and thinks living people who can work and change their minds are more use than dead people who can't do either. And she's right. If honour says otherwise it's a watchdog's fart—heed it and all you'll find is stink. Yes, I who fought at the Bloody Plains, surrendered to a woman. I am no longer ashamed I did so, and whoever wants to know more can find me and all who surrendered working by the terms of our oath. There are fields to plough if we would eat, and that's what I'll be doing. I know why, too. Do you even know why you're here?"
Irnai could recite the whole thing word for word, and though she couldn't match Stanar's vocal range she caught his manner eloquently. The pitch had been made, and Scanran comings and goings over the next fortnight showed discussion underway. From it a more formal answer to Scanran boredom emerged: visiting the encampment herself Kel made a short speech, asking every man to consider what he believed should happen to end the war as justly as possible, so there should be no cause for another—answers in as few words as possible, to be copied for every person who'd sit round a table discussing their children's and grandchildren's lives. In a move that had Raoul slapping his thigh—was there no end on it?—she asked everyone at New Hope to do the same, and at dinner that evening the King opened discussion by saying that depleted as his treasury was and wholly at fault as Maggur had been he didn't believe it practical to seek reparations, but personally found the idea of a fifty-foot wall along the entire border very attractive.
"Walls are splendid things, sire, I agree. I'm very grateful to the ones around us, and have fond memories of the Palace enclosure, as my Lord of Cavall can tell you. But where will you get the bricks and mortar?"
"Now that's an excellent question, my Lady. One reason good walls are so hard to come by."
"And good walls do so many things, sire. Hold up kingdoms. Protect those we're sworn to protect. And cast long shadows where nothing grows and it's always damp."
Alanna later told Kel, cackling, that the look on Jon's face had been beyond rubies, but what mattered to Kel was the effect on her people. Jonathan had elected to stay and must expect to have his ears bent, sometimes out of shape. Discussion groups developed, with a strong propensity to try to collar anyone who might have another view to consider, and the King was as prime a target as Kel herself. To be fair he took it in good part, explaining honestly why he thought some things impossible, looking dubious at others, and above all listening to what people were saying.
It wasn't all high politics. Everyone wanted to give Kel and Dom a wedding present, and bubbling discussion groups made possible rapid consensus that a collective gift would solve many problems, and a proper house was the obvious need. There was ashlar, basilisks could excavate cellarage, providing scree to reshape, and the triangular space between the last barrack and the path to the cave, now free of coffins, would do nicely. A red-faced Kel protested but found herself peppered with impertinent questions. Did she hope to emulate her mother's fecundity? How many children had each of her sisters had? Who would be part of her household besides Dom and Tobe? Would a dozen guest rooms suffice? And did she intend to combine the administrative heart of her fief with her family dwelling? Nor were Dom and Tobe exempt—what did their idea of a perfect house look like? Kel managed to delay things for all of three hours by saying she'd hoped to use any new structure as an example of Geraint's basilisk-ogre-mage architecture, but Vanget, confronted by a delegation, caved in and Geraint was summoned.
Fuming, Kel gave up—except she couldn't if she didn't want to live in something she disliked, so taking many deep breaths she left Dom and Tobe to talk to the eager would-be builders and steadfastly ignored the absurdly large hole that began to be excavated beyond the last barrack, other than to drag people away from it when necessary for things that actually mattered. Chief among them was ploughing: with the mild season and early winter harvest Adner had an unarguable case, but besides nearly three thousand Scanrans camped in the valley, where further visitors—expected by the horde—were to be put was a real quandary. It wasn't as if Adner could leave good land fallow in case it was needed for tents, and while Kel was in principle willing to make visitors camp beyond the cultivated areas that would now put them three miles or more from New Hope, which in practice wouldn't be such a good idea. Food could be dealt with—wagon trains had already arrived and more were scheduled—but rooms were a stubborner problem.
The visiting companies weren't going anywhere until the Scanrans left and Kel dissuaded Vanget only with difficulty from bringing the troops from the eastern border, who had finally managed to arrive. Some had been sent back, but there were extra companies billeted at Giantkiller and Mastiff, with more in Riversedge and Bearsford, so that while those in the valley remained outnumbered three-to-one, parity was available within a day's march. Kel was herself unconcerned but couldn't deny facts, and Harald Svensson accepted that in Vanget's shoes he'd be reinforcing as fast as he could, so keeping extra troops out of the valley itself, on logistical grounds, was as much as she could manage. To her surprise the King was supportive, acknowledging Vanget's concern but going with an escort of the Own to visit the encampment and gauge Scanran temper for himself—intensely curious and stoical in the face of frequent rain making life unpleasantly muddy and damp.
Kel winced and went to consult Numair and Harailt, who with Alanna's help managed to cobble together rain shields powered by black opals that didn't cover the whole camp and caused problems where water poured from their edges, but with some rearrangement kept most Scanrans dry and provided water butts that didn't have to be filled from New Hope's spring or the Greenwoods. They made the mages very popular, and Harailt and Alanna took to spending time with the Scanrans—Harailt indulging his scholarship with men who knew old sagas, while Alanna wanted to discuss swordplay and exercise her healing arm, solemnly applying to Kel for permission to take weapons with her.
Laughing, Kel was struck by a thought and promptly deputed Alanna to organise weaponwork competitions. Spinning from the whole cloth she specified, as well as individual disciplines, a combination event to produce a champion judged on versatility. Intrigued, Alanna recruited Raoul and went to see Harald, and within a day Adner was cursing even more because the practice areas soldiers were now using between the encampment and New Hope took yet more land out of commission. Kel let him extend cultivation further south to compensate, but that worsened the problems there'd be with new arrivals, and at her wits' end she found herself seriously wondering whether she should build more hoists—if she could get rope from Mindelan—and stick everyone on top of the cliffs. Downslope towards the abatis the wind wasn't too bad, but when she imagined trying to lodge her grandmother Seabeth-and-Seajen four hundred feet up a rockface she thought she'd really rather not. Still, she'd rather that than have the caves too crowded, and the green couldn't be used because it would be needed for spectators when the shrines were the focus.
A better answer first came in the form of Barzha, who returned fifteen days after Maggur's fall. Kel didn't ask where the Stone Tree Nation had been but Barzha was happy to tell, reporting that Maggur's head had plummeted from great height into the burned shell of Rathhausak, and they'd been gone so long because the energy absorbed from the battle and what Kel had asked of them left them so charged up that flying fast and far was the only relief.
"Rathhausak was a waypoint, Protector—I think we were in Galla before we stopped and we found all sorts of interesting things to do. It's always entertaining to bear news, and you've sent a shock along this border even the Vassa felt."
"Hardly on my own. You didn't happen to see those giants, did you?"
"Heading up the Smiskir, grumbling. Why?"
"Oh, just wondering where they'd gone."
"Back to the Icefalls by now, I should think. "
"Is that where they live?"
"Mostly."
"Doing what?"
"Fighting. Eating goats when they can catch them." She smiled. "Would you save them too, Protector? Giants are dim and quarrelsome at the best of times."
"So I hear. But those particular ones … tell me, would I be right to think they weren't Chaos-touched and those who died were?"
"You are a clever Protector. I think so, as does Quenuresh, but sunbird fire leaves no trace so we can't be sure. Does it matter?"
"It struck me those coerced giants were smarter—they helped assemble the trebuchet and worked together to bridge pits. Was that all Gissa? Or had she selected the cleverest she could find, and if so do they want to go back to a life of regular fighting and occasional goats?"
"What would they do otherwise?"
"Heavy lifting? Fix rooves and paint ceilings?" Barzha cackled and Kel grinned. "Yes, I know, but the point is that if they're willing to give up fighting and exchange fair labour for regular goats, they'll be welcome. You might spread word."
"I might at that. You're very touching, you know. And not wrong— that lot were brighter than most so they might be able to work it out. But you're not going to be short of immortals, and none of us like giants—they grow big, not up."
"What do you mean, not short of immortals? Your Majesty?"
Barzha cackled again. "You do polite menace exceptionally well, Protector. But it's nothing I've done—just beings responding to your invitation whose travel has been delayed."
"Does that mean sat it out until the result was clear?"
"Such a suspicious streak you have. Not really. Safe travel for groundpounders hereabouts hasn't been easy."
That was true. "So who's coming?"
"More of the same, mostly—basilisks and ogres. There's a few tree- and watersprites but I doubt you'll see them unless they say hello. And you might understand if I tell you kudarung are on the move too."
The winged horses had willingly acted as steeds and messengers for the old raka queens, so Kel did understand. But basilisks and ogres now … "How many basilisks? And farming or mining ogres?"
The answers made Kel's eyebrows very mobile, and by the time no less than twenty-two basilisks and almost a hundred ogres, mostly miners, showed up two days later she had a plan. All the immortals had been travelling in smaller groups but found themselves clumped on the edge of the combat zone when Maggur's troops crossed the Vassa, and were very conscious they were arriving in the aftermath of bitter strife and loss. Kel waved that aside and settled to plain questions about what they all wanted—a familiar tale—and what she could offer given present circumstances. She had Geraint with her, with sketches, as well as representatives of the resident immortals, and once she'd laid out what she was asking and offering she and Geraint left them to discuss it.
"It's a massive project, Lady Kel. Even with all those immortals I'm not sure it can be done in time, nor anywhere near."
"Have you figured in Scanran labour? Thirty basilisks cutting, three thousand Scanrans hauling stone, and a hundred ogres finishing up? Anyway, it doesn't need to be completed—just far enough along that there are several hundred usable rooms. I think the bottleneck will be the woodshops and smithy for doors and hinges."
He did swift calculations in his notebook. "If you can really get the Scanrans hauling stone, Lady Kel, you might be right."
"Get them working with basilisks, Geraint? I could charge for the privilege. The competition is keeping them amused but not really busy, and I'll be happier if they're going to bed tired from honest labour. I just hope these basilisks and ogres don't mind singing for their supper before they're served it."
They didn't, and much began to happen. That many beings couldn't be quartered in Immortals' Row and the whole problem was restriction to structures within the walls anyway, unnecessary in peacetime. So the target was the cliffs south of New Hope: there would be a basilisk-and-ogre house, with rooms in proportion, and smaller apartments for guests and subsequently new population; for every basilisk or ogre working on dwellings for themselves another worked on spaces for mortals. The part of Kel with warm feelings for Orchan of Eridui insisted ground-floor windows have solid rock bars, but in limestone cutting stairs and setting about first-floor rooms was no problem for basilisks. The Scanrans listened as she outlined what was happening, asked disbelieving questions, and promised they'd look in the morning. When stone blocks began popping from the rock faster than any of them had ever seen, and ogres handed them to the nearest Scanrans with a smile and directions to stack them on the far side of the fields, they began carrying without demur. Within a day they'd adjusted routines to accommodate stints cheerfully hauling stone and talking to whichever basilisks were resting, and even Geraint admitted her insane schedule might be met. Real crowds wouldn't arrive for a month but a first wave from Corus would wash in before the end of the week, and from what Kel gathered of reactions to news of Maggur's last defeat—not to mention vacant fiefs—a tide of people wanting the King's ear was to be expected.
The day after the new immortals arrived he found her in the Eyrie, surveying openings beginning to punctuate limestone, and politely asked what was happening. She explained four objectives were being met—temporary mortal and permanent immortal quarters, a symbolic declaration of peace, and keeping three thousand Scanrans amused—and his smile was dazzling.
"Very good indeed, Keladry. When did you know these new basilisks and ogres were coming?"
"Two, no three days ago, sire. Queen Barzha had seen them."
He shook his head admiringly. "You thought this up in a day?"
"I've been worrying about accommodation for weeks and wondering about trying to cut enough rooms, but it wouldn't have been fair to our basilisks. Twenty more was a godsend and I'm taking advantage."
"You underestimate yourself, Keladry. As I continue to do. It's a habit I must break but you do make that very difficult, you know. And I haven't even thanked you for winning this war, I won't say single-handed because it would annoy you, not wrongly, but even so—no-one has done anything resembling what you've achieved, and no other killed Maggur."
"That was Queen Barzha, sire, not me."
"Oh stop the vocatives, will you? Yes it was Barzha and I think I understand why that matters, but no, it was you. The elemental set you off and you've been like a charging warhorse ever since. Gods know I'm not complaining but it hasn't been easy dealing with the consequences. And what I'm to do with the vacant fiefs is a nightmare. Every possible collateral line is screaming claims, and all of the local administrations are probably as ghastly as Torhelm's was."
"Warison."
"What?"
"Warison. The nobility needs fresh blood. Rule out all collateral lines by fiat under the provision for high treason against your person and award those fiefs to soldiers who really won this war for you and have the temperament and skill to lead people. It's right, it'll be good for fiefs and liegers, and it'll give the Council of Nobles more people who actually know something about the north. Their presence among nobles will ease relations with the Army Council, and you'll be able to count on them to help tell nobles what you can and can't expect an army to do."
"Gods, Keladry." He laughed. "I'd forgotten, again, what advice from you is like. It's a marvellous idea, but oh the howling at such innovation."
"Not so—my Lord of Trebond's your precedent if you need one. Most of King Jasson's creations were military and how did anyone get into the Book of Gold anyway? It was generals who shared out the Thanic Empire and commanders who became nobility in new kingdoms."
"So it was, and Trebond's a point. Everyone thought Alanna was cracked but Coram and Rispah have done an enormous amount for that fief. Warison, eh? Well, there's some more warison we need to talk about, Keladry. How much of what we can see is going to be New Hope? And should you be invested before or after the treaty signing, your handfasting, or your wedding? Ha! It's good to see you for once looking as flummoxed as I usually feel dealing with you. But we do need answers. Come and see me tomorrow morning, please. We've been dancing around this too long. Alanna's become unbearable, and Thayet will be very cross if she gets here and finds I still haven't sorted it out. So will Roald and Shinko, and that'll be bad for my good humour. So come and face the fanfare. You never know, you might even be pleased."
Kel knew perfectly well she'd been contradictory about the issue, and if it was partly just the oddity of transition from stigmatised squire to commander and putative Baroness in less than three years, it was also wanting to hide from accepting a lifetime responsibility for the centre of Tortall's northern border; or anywhere else. More than one lifetime too. Charging warhorse? Runaway, more like, and if Jonathan didn't like chasing after, what did he suppose the rider was feeling? But another part of her was eager for it; she had no choice anyway, and additional responsibilities she hadn't begun to understand until recently. Enough was enough—if you were to rule a fief and had a say in where its boundaries would lie, you didn't squander it.
She spent the evening with Dom. An earlier meeting with Turomot had informed them that while Dom would become Tobe's legal father, whether he became a baron would depend on the terms on the barony, and that Kel's title could be heritable through the female line or the male. Dom had no desire to be a baron though he was willing to bow to necessity, but about boundaries he had clear ideas extending to the silver mines in the Brown River valley and the Great North Road. A fief needed income, a northern fief especially, and good as the Guild was the majority of its profits would go to individuals, not New Hope. There were Spidren Wood and Aldoven's valley and Whitelist's centaurs to consider, ogre mining and farming, Adner's ambitions, and the scope of hunting game. It all added up to a vastly bigger fief than New Hope was a military command, and Kel took her nervousness about trying to ask for it to bed with Dom, who didn't mind her asking at all.
Jonathan had taken over one of the guest rooms in the caves, which left his guards happier, but he'd asked to meet Kel in the messhall, ostensibly because the tables would be useful for maps. Kel suspected he had other motives and when she found him contemplating the panels her heart sank a little, though there were maps spread out. To her surprise her father was there, and Jonathan looked up as she entered.
"Ah, Keladry. I asked your father to attend because you're not yet of age—Turomot pointed that out and I'm still bemused—and your ennoblement inevitably intersects with the duchy of Mindelan. But before we get down to it there's something else. Even without godlight these panels are very good—unusual style and simple in their way, but beautifully clear and effective. The carvers were among your people?"
"Yes." Kel was cautious. "Civilian and military. It was the first flush of excitement about petrification really."
"Well, I want to commission them. The tale here is the creation of New Hope, but there's another tale now, of its survival and triumphant establishment as a fief. And coming down from the Eyrie yesterday I couldn't help noticing the inside wall of the steps—yards and yards of smooth rock. So—a series of ascending panels. I'll make the announcement tonight, with your consent."
Kel sat down hard. One of those carvers had died, but snapping at Jonathan would be neither gracious or helpful and in her embarrassment she had a thought that might be both.
"Thank you, I suppose." He grinned. "I hope they'll include the Scanrans' point-of-view, though, and there's at least one man among the coerced who's a mean whittler, Tobe tells me. Perhaps he can carve too. Gods know how they'll sort out who does what panel but it would be good if the intent was, um, truthful rather than overly triumphant."
Jonathan's eyes narrowed, with admiration rather than dissent. "Astonishing. I'll slant it that way. Can basilisks petrify plaster?"
"I'd think so. Why?"
"Duplicate panels—these and the new ones. Make a mould and cast in plaster. Petrify. I'll have them up in Corus before you can say boo."
Kel sighed. In for a groat, in for a bushel, and Lalasa would be thrilled. "Use water—Numair can hold it to the panel and the basilisks can render it as icelight. Contour will reverse but it should work."
"Gods, what a thought. Colour?"
"Ask Numair, but water's easy to dye."
"True." He grinned again. "I'll have New Hope shining in Corus more literally than I'd hoped. But now, boundaries. Come and look at the map. It's an exercise in logic, really."
They went to the table where maps in different scales showed the whole of Tortall, the north, frontier, army district, and—obviously new and compiled from the Eyrie—the Greenwoods and parallel valleys between the Brown, Great North Road, and Vassa. Kel's father said nothing as the King began to point.
"The minimum starting point is plainly the Greenwoods valley from Great North to Frasrlund roads and that's a goodly fief. Anywhere else there'd be no problem, but the treaty grant to Aldoven includes the blind valley to the east and Whitelist's centaurs and herds range beyond the Great North Road and into the western valleys. I'm not disturbing those treaties, so we have to expand—and that brings us to the silver mines at Tirrsmont. When the fief was disbanded they came into royal administration and there are people who want them to stay there—if they can't have them themselves. It's tempting. Money's always welcome. But." His finger shifted to the maps of the district and frontier. "What do I want of New Hope? A strong, prosperous fief, holding the middle border, and for all you've the Guild you've nothing else but agriculture. I could take the mines and face your constant need or simplify everything and make them New Hope's. And if I do, in effect the old Tirrsmont landgrant comes with them."
Kel's mind whirred. Asking for more was apparently not a problem. "What about Riversedge?"
"Remains an independent settlement, but it'll be surrounded by your territory. Haryse and Disart talked to them last week and they're fine with it—delighted, Haryse says. They didn't like Tirrsmont at all but very much hope the land will be resettled."
"There's good soil there, so certainly, as numbers allow. And I'd think many refugees will be happy to go home, if they're still under New Hope administration."
"Good. And with the way you've set up your own council you're already in a position to deal with multiple settlements across the fief. So we come to Anak's Eyrie. I'm very sorry about Sir Tyrral—a good man who tried—but the facts are he's dead, left no heir, and oddly enough there are no claimants for a sacked fief hard on the border. If there were I'd take them seriously, and I've no doubt with news of peace there'll be a dozen shortly, who can rot. Sir Tyrral's surviving people want you as well as wanting to go home, so that landgrant comes in too. And that means your eastern border's not the Brown River either, but extends as far as South Bend waypoint on the Northwatch road."
Kel swallowed. "That's more than sixty miles from here." Outside haMinchi land she could think of maybe five fiefs that big, and all were south-central, where plains and rolling downs encouraged size.
"Yes it is. Now, further south the Brown River is a natural boundary until we come to Bearsford and the Great North Road. You're only ten miles from the road here and I want New Hope astride it. It's all unclaimed, like so much of the north—there's the old fort at Steadfast and the new one at Mastiff, but nothing else this side of the Grimholds. And the garrison at Mastiff will come right down, so …"
His finger traced a line a little north of west from Bearsford to the Vassa east of Steadfast and Kel swallowed again. That was more than seventy miles in the other direction and the area the King was suggesting was … close to two-and-a-half-thousand square miles. Only Conté and haMinchi lands were greater.
"You're serious?"
"Entirely. Work it out."
She already had. "You're building your wall deep rather than high. And you want another northern counterweight to the south."
"I am and I do."
"What does Lord Ferghal say?"
"Good question. I've spoken to him by spellmirror, and so's Vanget. He was surprised but not unhappy, and looks forward to meeting you."
The haMinchi forces had reached Northwatch in time to see Scanrans withdraw, and as the irregular cavalry raiding further east had also withdrawn most were there still. Lord Ferghal had been summoned for Beltane and no proxies would be required for that Council session.
"Do you accept."
Deep breath. "Of course I do, sire. And I'll counterweight the south as much as you like. But the border … I don't know. It's not enough." She glanced up at his muffled sound and shook her head. "Not the fief—that's enormous. I mean the border, the treaty. And what you want doing with the Great North Road. You're giving me a hundred miles of the Frasrlund road, and there's the junction bang in the middle of it. The problem is it's a T not a crossroads."
"Nothing I can do about that, Keladry, but if you're happy with those borders we come to the next thing, which is your rank."
"Rank?"
"Do I want a Baroness ruling the largest single landgrant in Tortall, while His Grace of Mindelan hasn't a quarter of that area?"
"His Grace isn't complaining, sire, and didn't win you a war."
"Even so, Piers. And you did win a peace—that's the whole point. No Yamani wars, no Carthaki wars, and with any luck no more Scanran wars for a good while. In any case, Keladry, I've decided two things. There's been a Mindelan extension grant being prepared since the promotion but I'm going to add to it, with Ennor's consent and Seabeth-and-Seajen's, so your father's borders will meet yours south of Steadfast, just. And as it would be absurd under these circumstances to make you a Baroness, you'll be Countess of New Hope."
Kel's eyes hurt because they were trying to widen and narrow at the same time. Reluctant to think about ennoblement at all she'd never even considered higher ranks, nor that the King might decide to create a Mindelan block to match the haMinchi one that ran from Northwatch to the Berint. And everything she thought she'd learned from Turomot about nobility and marriage was moot because she hadn't a clue how a countship—countessship had too many esses—might differ from a barony. Baronessy was stupid too. Her father sat forward.
"My dear, I'm aware of your conversation with Turomot, and he's apologetic he couldn't steer you to the right questions. He says the differences are mostly ceremonial but you do have some choices. If you wed Domitan before you are created, he will become Count-Consort when you are. If you wed him as Countess of New Hope he will become Count. Inheritance might still run in either the male or female line, at His Majesty's discretion in the terms of the grant. There's only one precedent Turomot can think of, centuries ago, when a deputy's widow was created heir to a barony after a rather brutal siege killed the ruling family—and she had only a son so she chose male inheritance."
Kel knew about that one, the only grant to a woman in the Book of Gold and now a thoroughly conservative fief. But her eyes still hurt.
"Alright, Papa. I'll have to talk to Dom about the before and after thing, and I want to know what the legal differences are for counts and count-consorts, but we choose the female line. It'll be easier for Tobe, and no offence but there are enough inheriting lordlings already." The King—no, Jonathan—smiled, and she knew he wouldn't fight that; Alanna would beat him with a staff. "Will a future Countess have the same choice—marry a count-consort before inheriting or a count after?"
"Probably, my dear, but Turomot was unsure. It may not be resolved until it has to be."
"Oh yes it will—it goes in the grant. I'm not having a daughter or granddaughter faced with that kind of nonsense. There's no precedent worth a groat anyway so you can rule on it by fiat, sire."
"And what should I rule?"
"Same rights as a man—to whom this wouldn't apply."
"Not quite true—there are cases where timing of marriage and inheritance has been critical, but I take the point. Your son-in-law when you have one will become a count, regardless." A king blew out a breath. "There'll be squawking but you're right about precedent and Turomot will agree to clarity, so they can lump it. And female descent for female creations was the rule in the Thanic Empire, which had quite a few of them, so they can lump that too. Talk to your Domitan, but my sense is that I should create you Countess at Beltane, with the treaty signing."
"Why?"
"Symbolism and practicality—most of the Council's here and the rest will be soon, as well as half Corus and the gods know who else. Believe me, you don't want the issue hanging around afterwards for people to get over their shock and start thinking of objections."
That made sense, and she'd rather Dom was beside her, not a step behind. "I still need to talk to Dom, but if he's happy with it, alright." What was she agreeing to? "Is it like the ceremony for Papa and Mama?"
"Not quite—more of it, I'm afraid, as you'll be a new creation. And there will be some, um, history to rehearse. You're looking very grim."
"I expect I am. Tell me, sire, have you sent for Master Oakbridge?"
"Gods, no. Do you want me to?"
"I think you'd better. On Beltane we'll have—should have—a treaty to sign, a handfasting, and now a creation. The treaty will be signed in the field, because we couldn't get all the Scanrans in here even if we wanted, but it'd be fair rude not to invite their signatories to the feast. Whenever it is, because there's everything else to do, which is certainly happening at the shrines."
"Yes, we'll be busy. Why Oakbridge, though?"
"Do you want to tell me whether Lady Yukimi comes before or after some Scanran aide, Anders as my eldest brother and Papa's heir, the Councillors, and oh, Quenuresh or Var'istaan as treaty-signing members of my council? And by the way, Papa, do you know if His Imperial Majesty intends to send a delegation? Oakbridge'll need to know and should bone up on the fact that most New Hopers are Sakuyo's Blessed, because the fact that almost all are commoners will matter less to any Yamani than he'd think. Then there's blódbeallár. And the claims of kin for a handfasting—what precedence will grandma Seabeth-and-Seajen have over Fanche as a member of my Countess's Council? Or Kuriaju? I couldn't care less but I'm bothered if I'm telling her she ranks below an ogre and a widowed miller's wife."
There was silence until Jonathan drew a shuddering breath. "Oakbridge it is, and his entire staff. With a couple of Turomot's brightest clerks. Good call, Keladry." He frowned. "Piers tells me you want the pages?"
"I do. Padraig ought to be here, and there are plenty of people to act as examiners—Wyldon can chair, with the most conservative knights among the visitors. Big tests at once, to put them out of their misery, then run them off their feet fetching and carrying. We'll need everyone we can draft."
"Makes sense. There'll be squires too—not all, but many—and Thayet's bringing a fair number of Palace staff. It's going to be worse than the blessed Progress, which I'd have sworn wasn't possible." He shook his head. "Oh well. Funfunfun, as Shale would tell me. You wanted Kawit too."
His voice had become more serious and she matched him, nodding.
"Oh yes. You're worrying about how your lords will take the idea of an immortal as moderator. Don't. Think about the effect, not so much on those lords, though it'll do them no harm, but on Scanrans. I chose a draca as Quenuresh's illusion for a reason, and though Kawit is wyrm she's going to bring them to a dead halt. No rhetorical axe-waving. Shocked attention. And no lies, because the griffins will be there too."
She looked at the great swathe of land that would become New Hope, with the shining Vassa along miles of her border—to hold fast, somehow, so no Scanran raiding party or army ever crossed it again. The maps didn't show Scanra in any detail, and that was what was missing from all this heaping of riches and coals on her aching head.
"So yes, Kawit as moderator, if she will. And I think she will." The dragons had an interest of some kind besides her proposed place of embassy, though Kel wasn't sure what. "She'll also know if we go off track and do something the gods won't accept. Which would include continued hostility from Scanrans, so it'll serve us well."
"Yes, alright. I did ask her about a position, as you suggested, and she said she'd consider it, but thought a different arrangement might be better. Perhaps this is what she meant."
Kel nodded absently. "I wouldn't be surprised—older immortals sense the timeway more clearly and by Midwinter she might've been able to see possibilities beyond the roil. I'm sure Diamondflame could, though he wasn't saying and couldn't know which would actually come to pass." Her mind was on Scanra and Jonathan's huffing laugh surprised her.
"Gods, Keladry. With mortals I'm beginning to think only the young can do that. Just what do we still have in store? Do you know?"
She blinked. "No, of course not. I can't see it at all and I've no idea what it wants—only that it has a sense of repetition, or harmony maybe, that I find heavily ironic and Lord Sakuyo finds hysterical."
There was another silence and Jonathan shook his head. "I should have stopped while I was ahead. If you understood that, Piers, please tell me—later. A lot later. Just now I need some lunch."
Over the next month people began to arrive, the southern cliffs acquired doors and windows gleaming at night, and the competitions reached entertaining conclusions with champions happily shared between armies and companies. The Scanrans were still cheerfully carrying stone and wondering if basilisks could be begged, stolen, or borrowed to do things to cliff faces they knew; Kel sent Idrius to discuss Guild terms and concessions, and as the chiefsmen present were senior in their clans a number of contracts were actually drawn up, though no-one was prepared to sign anything yet. All the same, it was a sign of the goodwill prevailing, competition and joint hunting parties having created a degree of military camaraderie while circulation through New Hope to visit prisoners and Rathhausakers and see the sights brought civilians into it. According to Fanche there was even a budding romance but Kel wasn't going to deal with that before she had to.
The King's commission for panels to tell New Hope's story had also worked well, much as Kel didn't care to think about it. Coupled with news of her proposed rank and confirmation that Tirrsmont and Anak's Eyrie would lie within her boundaries, Jonathan for the first time won her people's genuine approval. He'd needed Lady Kel to kick him into action, but hadn't they all? She was bemused by the logic, but quiet pleas to the carvers led to conversations with coerced chiefsmen who knew the Scanran tale of the last two years and had seen the final assault. Loyalists were also willing to speak—there was no shame in narrating experience and already some pride as survivors of the bloodiest day in border history since Jasson's reign. And after the messhall panels and sketches the carvers made had been considered it was agreed there would be at least one Scanran panel. Discussion of how to parse the story into panels was ongoing, though some had been decided and starts made, and Kel reluctantly answered questions about the tauros attack and meeting the Black God. Quite how they were going to deal with her rape she left to them, not even needing a minatory glance to ensure that they'd be very careful indeed, but for reasons she only half understood she told them the Hag and her hyena had been present, and sent them to Numair for a first-hand description. She also insisted the Black God and Lord Gainel attend Rogal's death, if they chose to represent it, as Lord Sakuyo and a sunbird should attend the burning of the trebuchet. The last meant Ebony had to show them what a sunbird looked like, and she was able to shuffle them out while they were still blinking.
Even with all that Kel was glad of early arrivals, for herself and because they helped entertain Scanrans after the competition ended. Thayet, Roald, and Shinko had left Corus with what for royals amounted to lightning speed, despite Shinko's confirmed pregnancy—anxious for so long, report of Maggur's death and a blódbeallár truce had set them into as excited a spin as it had Corus at large; news of the King's decision to stay at New Hope and of Kel's handfasting had them on the road within two days. Queen's Riders escorted them and Kel sent Mikal's company to meet them at Bearsford.
They came in style, befitting a Queen and Crown couple of Tortall mindful of to whom they were on show. Kel's opinion of pomp and circumstance hadn't improved but she understood the value of display and soldiers lined the roadway from stonebridge to moatbridge as the head of the long column came past the fin. Mikal's men peeled aside to let royalty mount the roadway first. Roald and Shinko were old New Hope hands, and with repairs completed there was nothing new for them to see north of the fin except the Scanran encampment, but to Thayet, leading, all was new and measured glances around as she climbed, with a longer stare at Pizzle and his fellows, did not conceal wide eyes. Kel wasn't sure if it was protocol or symbolism, but she stood foremost to greet her queen and in effect restore her husband to her by standing aside. Their white-knuckled handclasp and polite embrace were an object lesson in royal control, and there was a fair amount for them to endure before they could be left alone, as they undoubtedly wanted.
Thayet needed no coaching to make a declaration under the Honesty Gate, but the welcoming party beyond made her blink before she smiled. In the proper nature of things guests didn't greet guests, so New Hope's council, including the immortals, took precedence in their own domain over the King's Council, and Councillors found themselves flanking Harald Svensson and senior chiefsmen, hair and beards braided and turned out in the best dress they could muster with help from New Hope's laundry and seamstresses. They were all thoroughly self-conscious, unused to Quenuresh and discommoded by Junior, who had come to investigate and inserted himself into the bustle, but Kel saw their stares at Thayet and Shinko and smiled to herself. All were great warriors, no doubt, but Thayet wasn't the Peerless for nothing and Shinko could leave any man dreaming; it wasn't a capacity Kel had but she'd seen its potency in women who did—endlessly, with the string of beauties Neal had pined for—and Thayet and Shinko made the Scanrans desire their notice, to see them smile, before either had spoken a word.
Complementary notes were struck by Yuki's formal greeting to Shinko, Numair's emotional welcome of Daine, and Daine's explanation to Kel that Kawit and Kitten would come nearer the time. Harald overheard, and Kel's confirmation that the wyrm and young draca Stanar had met were returning sent a ripple through the Scanrans that boded well. Ruthlessly following up, she introduced Daine as the Godborn before getting her to interpret a conversation with Junior in which she thanked him again for all he'd done, asked him to relay to his parents news of the negotiations and her request for their presence, and learned they approved the swiftness with which she'd used sunbird- and dragonfire to restore order. The Scanrans' sight of full communication with an unspeaking immortal was another shock to their systems.
Kel had intended to give Thayet the tour but seeing how she and Jonathan—not the King—looked at one another she wavered, and when she saw Lalasa and Tomas among the entourage smoothly suggested Queen and Crown couple must need to rest after their journey. The amused gratitude in Thayet's and Jonathan's eyes signalled agreement and she deputed a surprised Brodhelm—mobile but limping—to show the royals to their rooms. Before they'd left, trailing a gaggle of Councillors, she extracted Lalasa and Tomas from the mob trailing though the barbican and whirled them off for tea.
She'd sent Lalasa a letter concerning a wedding dress that had met her on the road, thanks to the quick wit of a courier who'd thought to check who was in the vast party and wound up carrying a variety of extra notes when he went on his way. What sounded like warehouses of material and all the Protector's Maids would be following, and a dress to outshine stars was promised, but what had set Lalasa on the road had been news of Maggur's death at—as the tales already had it—Kel's own hand. She'd heard the proclamation, run to the Palace to learn more, met Shinko hopping about in what sounded a very un-Yamani manner to be ascribed to joyful relief, and agreed to leave for New Hope at the drop of a royal hat. Listening, Kel decided she'd be avoiding Corus for years but Lalasa's sheer joy at war's end and Kel's survival—which she seemed not to have expected—was infectious. From that first morning after the battle when Kel had awoken with tingling knowledge of peace part of her had been rejoicing but black memories with the work of repair and writing to the kin of the dead had subdued it; now it was released by a friend's joy and her tongue was loosed. Lalasa more than anyone knew what her terror of heights had been and what going out on the fin had meant; happy marriage after abused youth made her sensitive to the path Kel had trodden since her rape; and ennoblement was for her so sweet an icing on the cake it was very hard not to laugh with her. Kel's happiness was complete when Dom came by to find out where she'd disappeared to. He was supposed to extricate her but instead stayed, catching up with Lalasa and making Tomas's acquaintance. Kel realised she and Dom were for the first time acting as a couple, entertaining friends, and was moved almost to tears at such a simple thing, so often experienced as a guest and so long thought another mystery for ever beyond her grasp.
When she did surrender to duty and left Dom to see Lalasa and Tomas to the best guest room she could wrangle, in the corral headquarters, Kel was unapologetic about having kept people waiting and saw approval in Shinko's eyes.
"Keladry-sensei, my esteemed mother-in-law is resting." Her eyes twinkled and Kel didn't think Thayet was getting much sleep. "Roald and I wondered if you might show us the building-work and Lord Harald invites us to see the encampment of his soldiers."
Kel wasn't sure about Shinko's award of a Tortallan title to a senior chiefsman or the protocol of visiting the Scanran camp, but dealt swiftly with other queries, swept up Councillors at a loose end, and set about making the most of it. Many Scanrans had gone back to stone-hauling after the excitement and were as surprised as flattered to find themselves meeting Tortallan royalty and a Yamani princess; by the time the party reached the camp they were on something as close to parade as was possible. Kel had snagged a squad of Uinse's men as escort, but the look on Nond's face when he realised he was the senior Councillor escorting the Crown couple into the middle of three thousand Scanrans was one to behold. Yet all was well—very well, in fact, for Roald's Scanran was respectable and however he'd been prevented from fighting himself knew what the war had been like, while Shinko had made her usual effort with a language and could hold up a conversation. They charmed and impressed all they spoke to, said right things, and managed with Kel beside them to project the unwavering strength of Tortall in meeting any challenge as well as its present willingness to deal. On their way back Kel explained that to Nond, thanking him for deft help with the exercise, and left him beaming confusion, to Roald's amusement.
"You've got the Council dancing, Kel. It's very impressive."
"Yes, well. They hadn't been in combat for a long time, if ever. It has a sobering effect." Not to mention what they'd seen her do, but Runnerspring, sent to Corus, was best unmentioned.
"I imagine. Was it very bad?"
"We buried more than two hundred and burned ten times that."
"Gods, that many? I gathered the traitors were all dead but father wasn't very forthcoming about how, or the rest of it."
"Ask others please, Roald? It's not something I want to talk about."
"Alright, Kel—so long as you know how grateful I am. We both are. The trials of Torhelm and Runnerspring as well as all those people from Genlith are going to be grim, so I can't say I'm sorry the traitors who took up arms died, but I am sorry it fell to you."
That was a long speech for Roald and Kel wasn't unappreciative, laying a hand on his arm; she just didn't want to rehearse slaughtering men by the thousand when she was managing to feel cheerful. The Black God took a lot of weight but couldn't take the burden away, nor should he; her hands had snapped mageblasts and dragonscale, and the irony of receiving a title and lands for becoming the greatest killer alive was never lost on her—as a woman and before she was of age, if further obscene absurdities were needed. If it hadn't been for Dom and the warmth he offered so unstintingly when blood swam around her she'd have been screaming days ago; but he helped more than she'd thought possible, and quiet remarks by Wyldon told her he guessed at her inner torment—fading, as it had to if she was to survive, and cushioned by the god, but pulsing yet.
"Don't worry about it, Roald, but … go carefully? It's clean now but this roadway was an abattoir. We're coping, and we'll go on coping, but everyone's reeling still." She met his eyes. "And please visit Seaver's grave at Haven? Quinden and Garvey have none."
She wasn't going to say more about having killed three of those who'd been pages with her—four, counting Joren—and buried two more, but the grasp of his hand told her he understood. She wasn't sure how she felt about those deaths, and a conversation with Neal was overdue, but Roald's acceptance of the havoc she'd wrought among his cohort and her own was a step in letting them fade from oppressive consciousness.
"Of course, Kel. I'd do that anyway—poor Seaver. Did you hear Yancen got himself wounded too? Shoulder, in a tangle with slave raiders. He'll be alright but it was a near thing."
Other conversation eased Kel's emotions, and there was a dinner for her to host, welcoming Thayet. Throwing caution to the winds she put a reluctant Dom at her side, doubled the usual high table, included all her own council and Irnai as well as Scanran chiefsmen, and insisted Lalasa and Tomas attend as personal guests, telling them they'd have to get used to it. She sat them by Daine, opposite Fanche and Saefas, so they'd have a familiar face and people she could count on to be sensible, but they like everyone had to deal with interspersed Scanrans, and Scanrans had to deal with darkings wandering the table-top and spidren, basilisk, and ogre at table-ends—the only place there was enough room. Barzha didn't attend, but the Stone Tree Nation was in daily evidence, perched on roofs and merlons with a sated, sleepy look, but also quite talkative and for stormwings polite.
The cooks had made an enormous effort, and for Thayet as much as the Scanrans it was a first encounter with New Hope's goddess-blessed food. Thayet hadn't been living on bulk food supplemented by game for months, and had some idea what to expect from Lalasa's wedding feast, sighing her pleasure. The Scanrans exclaimed, settled to with gusto suddenly careless of their surroundings, and became as animated as stuffing themselves allowed; as everyone reached repletion the buzz of conversation in three tongues rose. There were, unavoidably, speeches, but Kel kept hers brief, the royals followed suit, and wine that had come with the queen served a valuable purpose for once; people shifted seats to pursue and switch conversations, followed the cheese-boards to where they were snagged by Quenuresh, argued keenly, and listened with interest. Feasts were as integral a tool of diplomacy as treaties and weddings, and this one began a more serious wave of thinking than had yet prevailed.
The documents listing suggestions about what was needed to ensure peace were still being prepared but key issues had emerged—no surprises there—and while any large solution remained a matter of hope there were a lot of constituent issues that could be discussed. Yes, cross-border trade was needed, in both directions, but in what, exactly? And where did those old rules about building wharves on the Vassa come from? Who, if anyone, was responsible for maintaining the Smiskir road? What rights did fiefs or clans have to vary tariffs set in Corus or Hamrkeng? Throughout the hall there were people who had answers but Kel thought the more valuable thing was questions that didn't yet have any. In particular, what happened if the Craftsbeings' Guild traded directly across a border, rather than through merchants? And what arrangements would apply to flying immortals—griffins, stormwings, perhaps dragons—who might as readily fly north of the Vassa as south of it? Those weren't going to be answered this evening, but Kel did get Jonathan, Turomot, Harald, and Idrius into real discussion about how the Guild might best be legally understood in Corus and Hamrkeng, and the rights and privileges of its members.
Thayet's arrival had other effects, besides mellowing Jonathan. Her presence insisted on the seriousness of negotiations but shifted the atmosphere from military to more open debate and, in some measure, festival. Women in the queen's party helped; so did the changing shape of daily life as rooms carved in the cliffs were occupied while ploughing continued up and down the valley, and sprawling, ever increasing bustle overran military dispositions. New Hopers rejoiced in not needing guards for every step outside the walls, and the watch remained skeletal, though Kel and Vanget, via Giantkiller, had screening patrols out. Peace might not be secured but was staking a claim, civilian greenery wrapping military stone.
Other arrivals mattered too. Daine could deal with animal injuries too serious for Zerhalm, including some to Scanran ponies. Lindhall Reed and Bonedancer had escorted Daine in her pregnancy, and the flying fossil was another strike at Scanran susceptibilities. Its invulnerable, friendly disregard of propriety made it another wondrous visitor, beady-socketed discipline of Junior after he tried to assert the superiority of feathered flight made it impressive, and after a darking had (as Lindhall apologetically explained) shown it the dance of corpses, whenever it saw Kel out in the valley it would glide to perch on her shoulder, clattering its beak curiously at Ebony. Nari wasn't happy to be displaced, and took to perching on its head until it flapped away again, but the picture Kel made on Alder's back with its head rising above hers was one that sank deep. A very pregnant Buri also arrived, to Raoul's relief and delight, and would stay until she was delivered.
Having agitated mightily by spellmirror, and with Kel's laughing consent, Owen was also allowed to come from Northwatch and took less than an hour to pronounce Scanrans very jolly fellows now they weren't invading anything. His presence pushed Kel to arrange a private evening with fellow knights—Roald, Neal, Prosper, and Wyldon, who'd taught them all—and lay down her burden concerning the dead; whimsically enough, it was Lord Sakuyo's feast day. Merric and Seaver could be grieved; Garvey, Quinden, and Vinson—not that he'd been a knight—were another matter, and behind them loomed Joren. Each had made choices and objectively Kel didn't see why she should feel guilty about them; subjectively she was oppressed by their faces in dreams, living and—as she alone had seen all of them save Joren—dead, and was horribly aware she'd killed or buried half her year. Facts wouldn't change, but Wyldon and Neal were unconcerned to find themselves in agreement that she bore no blame, and their unity was a flicker of the improbable she found comforting. Owen's grey eyes rested on her wisely.
"It's just like you to feel bad for them, Kel, but they don't deserve it. Merric'd tell you it was nonsense and it is. We can well do without those bullies and their mentors. Now they're gone we can all be prouder of being knights—remembering Merric and Seaver too. I know I am."
When she thought about it Kel was too, and a sense of having restored to her dream of knighthood something of the honour others had smirched, hating her for nothing she'd done, was more than balm; it was healing. She hadn't broken the code of chivalry, which reckoned no more of a thousand battlefield deaths than one, and had a conviction that her rape, echoing the contempt for women Joren and the traitor knights had all felt, was part of a pattern that had seen, if not justice done, a better future assured. The evening helped her mood, though the roadway could still welter in blood and coruscate with dragonfire if she didn't make her eyes impose on memory its cleaned lines and the sunlit harmlessness of Chargy and his friends.
Better still, Kel's mother arrived with Anders. She'd waited to receive news from Yaman and was bubbling not only for her youngest daughter but because her eldest would be coming. Sitting in Kel's rooms with Piers, Dom, and Tobe, she drank tea and waved letters.
"The Yamanis won't come for the treaty signing—His Imperial Majesty doesn't think it's properly His business—but he's sending Prince Eitaro, no less, to witness your marriage, with Lord Kiyomori and Takemahou-sensei in official capacities, and he asked Patricine and Toshuro to accompany Keiichi. You couldn't keep the girls away with a stick, and I've told Avinor if he doesn't pull his nose out of his books for once I'll come and get him myself, so we'll have you all together." She beamed, even Conal's absence filled by the thought of having her children assembled for the first time since—Kel had to think—Patricine's wedding, when Kel was a child. "You must let Yuki know Keiichi's coming, Kel sweeting, and tell Shinko about the delegation. Lots of bowing. The only worry is that no-one likes the look of the Copper Isles and Rittevon messes tend to export trouble."
"I don't think this one will, Mama. And I'll bet the Rittevons will be gone before the end of summer. We just need to take any opportunity that offers to give them a shove—accept refugees, threaten to cut off trade if Tortallan or Yamani traders are threatened, that sort of thing. Emperor Kaddar should do the same—I've been working on the Hag. Then we'll all be on the Crooked God's good side, too."
"Sweeting?"
"She's been saying things like that for a while, love. I don't quite understand her sense of what's happening, but it's been very persuasive so far. You're one of Sakuyo's Blessed too. I find squinting helps myself."
"Piers!"
"What? Assuming the Rittevons are going to fall, which George has been saying for years they're ripe to do, Kel's advice was sound. I'll write to His Imperial Majesty with proper caution. End of summer, Kel?"
"Yes. It's raka business and revolution's summer work. Talk to Barzha for shrewd guesses—she's in touch with the kudarung."
"I shall."
"Kel sweeting, I obviously have a lot of catching up to do, but I refuse to be flummoxed. You're getting married and everyone will be here—Anders is scouting for Vorinna and Tilaine, as well as wanting to see you, and your grandma's planning her trip. What are you looking so concerned about?"
"Accommodation." Kel sighed. "I thought I had it sorted but with Patricine and Toshuro—and their children?—and Avinor and Grandma and whatever horde she brings it's unsorted again."
"Oh sweeting, it'll be alright. We can bunk down in the caves."
"You and four hundred soldiers and fifty ogres and gods alone know how many servants. It's all very well laughing, Mama, but not a month ago I was seriously considering lodging Grandma and the rest up the cliff. The ogre lads were willing to do the hauling for Guild credit."
She had to explain that, then take her mother and Anders to see the hoist. After a long moment staring at contraption and cliff Ilane's voice came out hollow.
"Kel, sweeting, you seriously thought about lodging your Grandma at the top of this cliff?"
"She's got to go somewhere but I didn't think you'd approve. And I've had Oakbridge summoned so he can explain to her why Fanche Miller will have precedence except at the wedding itself, or maybe not even there, I'm not sure. But you'll probably have to explain it too."
Ilane stared again and dissolved into laughter. She was far too polite to howl with it but she did reach a point where she helplessly slapped her leg and Kel stared in disbelief. This was ridiculous.
