The Godspeaker Trilogy

by Karen Miller

  How could he tell her the truth in his heart? How could he make her understand about demons? If he told her he wanted to save Yuma and Dimmi, she would not believe that meant he would still fight for Ethrea. She would think he betrayed her. She would give him to Han.

  If she gives me to Han, I will never save Yuma. I will never save Dimmi. I will never see Vortka again.

  “I will fight for you, Rhian,” he said. “I will fight for Ethrea.”

  That is not a lie.

  “You'd better,” she said, there was no laughter in her. This was not the Rhian who danced hotas in the morning. “Because if you don't… if you don't …I swear to you on the graves of my family, I'll give you to Han. And when he kills you… I'll cheer .”

  She was not Lilit. She did not love him even though he had sinned. She was Yuma for her people. If he failed her, he would die.

  As her hand touched his chamber door's handle, she turned. “There's a council meeting at nine. Be there.”

  “ Zho ,” he said. “Rhian hushla .”

  “Jones,” said Ursa, staring at the fool's closed chamber door. “Jones, you might as well let me in, for I'm not leaving until I've seen you.” She knocked again. “Jones!”

  A passing servant slowed, and stared.

  “He's a heavy sleeper,” Ursa explained. “Don't mind me.”

  The servant blushed and nodded. “Madam physick,” he muttered, and went on his way.

  The door's latch and handle rattled, then it pulled open a reluctant half-handsbreadth. “I don't need physicking, Ursa. Go and bother someone who does.”

  “Tcha,” she said, and pushed hard on the door.

  “Ursa,” Jones protested, falling back. “Why don't you ever listen to me?”

  “I could ask the same question of you, Jones,” she retorted. “As I recall, I told you not to get mixed up in any of this. Dead wives and slave ships and heathen warriors and didn't I say it would all end in tears?”

  Jones shrugged, his eyes red-rimmed, his face too pale. “Did you? Well, it always cheers you up to be proven right.”

  He turned away to stare out of his chamber window at the dawn, shoulders slumped, hands dangling defeated at his side. She'd never been a demonstrative woman, but it was hard not to go to him. Not to show him…

  “You've heard about the armada, of course,” he said, then grimaced. “I expect half of Ethrea's heard by now.”

  She was as tired as he looked. She'd not been to bed yet. “I heard. I've been up all night physicking the sailors who came back.”

  That turned him round. “Are there many sore hurt, Ursa? Are any like to die?”

  “A dozen, maybe,” she admitted. “A score not dying, but poorly enough. Another score you'd call the walking wounded. None of them witch-men. They've all vanished, it seems.”

  “I think for good,” he said, “though Rhian denies it. The emperor wants Zandakar, in payment for his losses.”

  “Blood for blood?” She snorted. “That's civilised, I must say. Rhian's not—”

  “No, no. She defends him, like always. It's caused trouble between her and Alasdair. He and Duke Ludo…they're hurt by what happened with the armada.” He shuddered. “What they must've seen. I can't bear to think of it. And the council's siding with them. They want her to hand Zandakar over. They don't trust him any more – or me – because of Jatharuj. Because we didn't – we didn't—”

  She stared, shocked, as Jones dropped to his bed like an old man not strong enough to stand on his own two feet. She knew about Sun-dao and Zandakar because he'd told her, but—

  “You said that part of what happened in Jatharuj was being kept secret.”

  “It was,” he said. “But Alasdair was angry. Duke Edward says Hettie's abandoned me because I didn't help destroy Mijak when I had the chance.”

  She'd not seen him so desolate since the night Hettie died. “That old fool? That blustery duke? Oh, Jones, what would he know?”

  “I was so certain Jatharuj was about the knife. And about finding Vortka. What if I was wrong, Ursa? What if I've been wrong about everything ?”

  “ You haven't ,” she said fiercely. “You've been proven right every step of the way. Not right at once, maybe, but in the end, you've been right. And Hettie would never abandon you. Something's keeping her from you. Whatever evil that's in Mijak, that's what's keeping you apart.”

  “You think so?” he said, his voice unsteady. “It's not because I've let her down?”

  “Let her down? Oh, Jones! You couldn't let Hettie down if you tried! You couldn't let anyone down. It's not in you.” She sat beside him, and gave him a little shake. “Stop blathering nonsense. When did you last eat? You've gone light-headed for lack of food.”

  “I think my appetite died with the armada,” he whispered. “Oh, Ursa. Mijak's coming. What are we to do ?”

  “The only thing we can do, Jones. Hold fast to our faith, and to each other.”

  He pulled away from her and pushed off the bed. “I don't think that's going to be enough. I think we're about to become another Garabatsas.”

  “You don't know that, Jones,” she protested. “What are you doing? Are you giving up ? You can't give up. Rhian's relying on you. A lot of people are relying on you.” And Rollin's mercy, I'm one of them . “Jones—”

  “Ursa, please. Just go. I know you mean well, I know you think you're helping. But you're not. At least you are , but—” He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I'm not fit for company.”

  She stood, not sure whether to be insulted or frightened. “This isn't good, Jones. I'm speaking as a physick now, not as your friend. Brooding, blaming yourself, it's not good. I don't like it.”

  He offered her the travesty of a smile. “Don't worry. I'll be fine. I just…need some breakfast. You go. Get some rest. After last night, you've earned it.”

  She'd only upset him more if she insisted on staying.

  Troubled, she left him. But instead of seeking her bed in the castle chamber given over to her use, she trudged her way to Helfred's palace and sat in the small public chapel, praying.

  Hettie, if you can hear me, you'd best get back here. Now.

  Rhian and Alasdair shared a bed after the night's long, fraught council meeting, but they were as distant as though he still sailed with the armada.

  He didn't sing in the morning. He didn't speak. He didn't smile.

  Dressing in silence, heartsick and dreading the council meeting to come, Rhian stared in the mirror at her scarred face.

  Now my marriage is a battlefield, just like my kingdom. And in supporting Zandakar to save one, I might easily destroy the other.

  As they left their apartments to meet with the council she lightly touched her husband's arm. “Alasdair. I love you.” You, not Zandakar .

  He'd not slept well. Nightmares of the armada. Awake beside him she'd tried to give him her comfort, but even in his dreams he turned away. Now he sighed.

  “If you love me, don't defend him. Don't use him. Don't trust him with this kingdom. With my life.”

  “How can you ask me that? You know what Hettie told Dexterity, when this began. You know —”

  “All I know, Rhian, is that you'll trust a dead woman and an enemy before you'll trust me.” He opened the parlour door, and stepped aside. “Shall we go? The council's waiting.”

  Her dukes were subdued when they greeted her. So was Helfred. Dexterity looked ravaged. Their eyes met, and he tried to smile.

  “Gentlemen,” she said coolly as Alasdair took his seat. “Where is Zandakar? Mister Jones—”

  And then he joined them. Fresh from the tiltyard, dressed in dust and sweat and battered huntsman's leathers. Decorated here and there with blood. “I am sorry, Rhian hushla ,” he said, so self-contained. “I was training.”

  “So I see,” she said, and did not smile to see him. “Be seated. We have a great deal to discuss.”

  If he felt the weight of the staring dukes' displea-sure, he didn't show it. Sliding into a chair, h
e looked at Dexterity, his pale eyes worried. He nodded at Helfred. He nodded at Alasdair, and pressed his fist to his chest.

  “Alasdair king.”

  Alasdair looked him up and down. “Zandakar.”

  This morning she was too weary for pacing. Taking her own seat, glancing at Ven'Cedwin to see if his quill was inked, she folded her hands on the table and sighed.

  “Some four weeks, gentlemen, and Mijak will be here. Now we decide how best to pass the time.”

  The meeting lasted seven hours. Prompted by Dexterity, she invited Zandakar to share his opinions of Kingseat harbour. Its vulnerability. How he thought his mother and brother would attack. How Ethrea could defend against them. What more training its soldiers required. How best to use their limited resources.

  He spoke slowly. Steadily. His newfound fluency failed him, sometimes, but still he made his points. Gradually the hostility of her dukes subsided, and they began to care more for what was being said than who was saying it. Even Alasdair lowered his prickly guard. They argued. They compromised. They made difficult decisions.

  The last, most difficult decision taken before the council broke for a brief respite was to count Linfoi as lost before Mijak reached it. They could not justify the resources it would take to defend Ethrea's least populous and poorest duchy. Its people would be sent south, its livestock left to fend for themselves. Its garrison's soldiers would be sent wherever they were needed.

  “I'm sorry, Ludo,” said Rhian as the council took a brief break from deliberations. “I hope you understand I've not chosen this course because I hold duchy Linfoi in any low esteem.”

  Ludo shook his head. “Of course not, Majesty. I can't fault your reasoning.”

  She glanced over at Alasdair, nursing a goblet of ale by the chamber window, alone. “I'm not sure your cousin agrees with you.”

  “He does,” said Ludo. “But still…it hurts.”

  Of course it did. Everything hurt now, with Mijak four weeks away. “The command for your duchy's evacuation will go out by tonight. I'll have Henrik brought here to the castle, if that's what he wants. Although since it's almost certain Mijak will attack Kingseat first, perhaps he'd be safer somewhere else.”

  “Safer?” Ludo pulled a face. “Do you honestly believe anywhere will be safe?”

  This was the first private moment she and Alasdair's cousin had shared since the return of the ruined armada. “Ludo—”

  He was still dashingly handsome, even with bruises all over his face, but something was different. His eyes were…older…than they'd been. “Yes, Rhian. It really was that dreadful.”

  And then it was time to resume their preparations for war.

  Edward and Rudi would take charge of a defensive position running along the Morvell-Hartshorn and Arbat-Meercheq borders. From that vantage-point they'd look to defend the kingdom's four middle duchies, and support duchy Kingseat in the south. They'd be assisted by Davin of Meercheq, to be released from house arrest, and every nobleman of those duchies.

  Adric and Ludo would have the care of duchy Kingseat, and thus leave the defending of Kingseat capital to Alasdair, Zandakar…and Rhian herself.

  “Because I can assure you, gentlemen,” she said coldly, “beacon or not, beloved by the people or not, I've no intention of cowering in a closet hoping the warriors of Mijak mistake me for a player's dummy. I'll have a care for my person, but I'll not be a coward.”

  Helfred cleared his throat. “Your sentiments are admirable, Majesty. And no less than I – than we – expected. Perhaps we could revisit the matter another time? Certainly you've given us food for thought.”

  In other words, he was going to fight her. And he wasn't alone. Only Zandakar looked approving. But then he would approve, wouldn't he? His mother was Mijak's own warrior queen.

  Let them think what they like. I'll not be moved on this.

  She looked around the table. “Gentlemen, we must pull together now as never before. Whatever concerns you have about Zandakar's place in this, banish them. If he has proven nothing else to us today, he has proven how we need him, and his knowledge of Mijak. Of warfare. He thinks like our enemy…but he is our friend.”

  She looked at Alasdair when she said that. Alasdair looked back, no softness in him. No willingness to compromise.

  But he will. He will. He has to. He's not stupid, only stubborn.

  It was Adric who spoke aloud what she knew her councillors were thinking. “And Emperor Han, Majesty? What part will the Tzhung play?”

  “That has yet to be decided,” she said. “He and I will meet, in good time.” She turned to Helfred. “Eminence, I regret I must ask so much of the Church. But you and your clergy are best placed to oversee the emptying of duchy Linfoi and the relocation of its people, as well as keeping the rest of the kingdom abreast of events and its courage high.”

  “What is the Church for, Majesty, if not the succour of its children?” said Helfred. “There's no burden you can place upon it that God can't help us bear.”

  She loved him, then. She could have kissed him. “Gentlemen,” she said. “I think we know what we must do. May God bless our kingdom, and give us the strength to prevail.”

  In the days and weeks following the armada's return, the whole of Ethrea was transformed into an armed camp. With the duchies' garrisons filled to bursting, Rhian instructed Helfred and his clergy to tell her people that they should in their villages and hamlets, in their towns and in their parishes, form their own armed militias so they might defend themselves, if needed.

  As for Ethrea's army…she was so proud. From sunup to sundown, in rain, in heat, bleeding and hurting, her soldiers trained until exhaustion felled them. In her castle garrison, in the garrisons of Kingseat and every other duchy, from the newest recruits to the old men limped out of retirement, they sweated and strained and swore and cursed, and wept when they promised: “ We will prevail .”

  Mindful that he was one man, and could not lead everyone, Zandakar demanded to see every nobleman and seasoned soldier the kingdom possessed. He trained them to battle Mijak in groups of thirty at a time, a new group starting every three days. At the end of those three days his bruised and battered students were scattered throughout the duchies, to pass on what they had learned quickly, crudely, no time for kindness or finesse.

  Rhian, Alasdair and her dukes trained with the first group like any common soldiers. She trained so hard, she truly thought she'd die. She crawled into bed at night weeping with pain.

  After those brutal three days, the dukes left Kingseat to take command of their garrisons. Rhian farewelled Edward and Rudi first, the old warhorses who'd become like family, like uncles. They were strong men, but they wept in the castle forecourt and received her royal blessing. She embraced them afterwards, so afraid to watch them ride away.

  “You needn't fear for the north, Majesty,” said Edward. “We'll fight until the last sword and pitchfork are broken. We'll make these heathen Mijaki rue the day they heard of Ethrea.”

  “I know you will,” she said. “But if you don't take proper care of your safety, you'll be the rueful one, Edward. My word as a Havrell.”

  He laughed a little, and so did she, but they both knew their hearts were breaking.

  “God keep you safe, Majesty,” said Rudi. “It's been an honour serving you.”

  “The honour is mine,” she replied, and punched her fist to her chest.

  Next she gave Adric her blessing. “Have a care, Your Grace,” she told him. “Kingseat needs its duke.”

  Flushed, Adric nodded. “Majesty, I've not always been comfortable, I know it, but I don't take your trust lightly. I won't let you down.”

  She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe choosing him hadn't been a mistake, after all. “Be guided by Ludo, Adric. He's a duke too, remember, and more seasoned than you. If he advises you, listen.”

  “I will,” Adric promised.

  Farewelling Ludo was hardest. She watched, her throat aching, as Alasdair and
his cousin embraced.

  “Godspeed,” Ludo said, all his humour extinguished. “I'll see you again when it's over, Alasdair.”

  “You will,” said Alasdair, his eyes over-bright. “By God, you will.”

  She kissed Alasdair's cousin, and tousled his hair. “I'll keep trying to convince Henrik to join us in Kingseat, Ludo.”

  Ludo smiled. “He won't come. He'll stay where he can rally Linfoi's people.” He kissed her cheek. “Look after Alasdair. Look after yourself.” Then, holding her close, he whispered, “The best thing my cousin ever did was marry you. Find me another Rhian, when we've won.”

  “Oh, Ludo,” she said, and let the tears fall. “I'll find you someone far better than me.”

  Her dukes departed, soon after. She stood with Alasdair, in silence, until they rode from sight.

  With her dukes gone, Rhian became a second Zandakar. At first her soldier-students were wary, these were not men who knew her. To praise the romantic idea of a huntsman queen in chapel, that was one thing. To face her on the tiltyard and run at her with a training stave, that was something they found difficult to do.

  Until she showed that she could kill them. When they believed that, then she could teach them. They believed…and they learned.

  Helfred and his clergy laboured without rest to see the people of Linfoi settled, and the other duchies prepared. Lost for purpose, at first, Dexterity joined the prolate in keeping Kingseat's spirits lifted. He held puppet shows at the harbour markets, and every day made children laugh.

  None of the deserting trading nations returned to help them. Rhian sent messages to Han, but received no reply. After a week, the council stopped asking when they could expect the aid of Tzhung-tzhungchai. She shared her days with Zandakar and her soldiers, dancing hotas and sweating. Her nights she spent with Alasdair, when they slept like strangers.

  And every morning she woke thinking: does Mijak come today?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “ T here !” cried Dmitrak, and laughed out loud. The light of newsun was everywhere, it showed him his heart's desire. “There is Ethrea , nest of demons in the world!”