Time of Daughters II

by Sherwood Smith

  Manther Yvanavayir is also resigning, as he has never recovered from the chest wound that makes him cough every winter. But if the kingdom ever calls for defense against invaders, we will count ourselves among the first tenth.

  Anderle Fath, “Ghost”

  Connar read it through twice, fighting the sharpness of disappointment. But Ghost had the right. He’d served ten years as a captain—more than ten years, if one counted the garrison apprentice years between the academy and his first captaincy at Larkadhe.

  At least losing Ghost didn’t upset his chain of command for the spring campaign too badly. He’d just swap Ghost with Stick Tyavayir. Surely he could convince Ghost to command Ku Halir while he took Stick Tyavayir up Andahi Pass in his stead. Their command styles were nearly alike, after working together for ten years.

  But a few weeks before New Year’s Week, another letter arrived, under a jarl’s banner, making it an official communication from jarl to king. It was from Camrid Tyavayir, Stick’s older brother, and new jarl as of last Convocation, writing a formal letter withdrawing his brother from the army now that his ten years were up, stating jarlate need.

  The crucial line being:

  ...while today’s army furnishes plenty of capable captains to command garrisons, I have no uncles left, and I only trust my brother to patrol the Spine east of Tyavayir, where the Bar Regren once came on the attack, and could again now that they hold the entire peninsula.

  Whether intended or not, Connar saw in that a jab at him for abandoning the Nob. He didn’t know Camrid, who had never been at the academy. But everything Camrid said was true, and inarguable. Including the fact that younger brothers did have two chains of command, one being familial. And Arrow had always permitted the jarls to withdraw their sons at need, which he’d regarded as compensation for getting those sons into the academy instead of training at home.

  Connar tossed away the letter, cursing as he prowled his chamber. Of course he had “capable captains,” but they were all right where they should be. He’d have to shift everyone around, which meant a lot of explaining away his real reasons, if he didn’t want word somehow reaching the Idegans. He had no doubt they had spies salted in the royal city at least, if not in the lower ranks of the army, as he himself now had two of Jethren’s men up in Lorgi Idego.

  He couldn’t pull in Braids, who guarded the kingdom’s eastern border, and anyway Braids was entirely a skirmisher captain. Henad Tlennen as well. Cabbage Gannan was dead.

  Connar gazed out at the sleet-wet courtyard below, and considered yanking Neit from runner duty. He knew from Rat Noth’s and Braids’ reports after Ku Halir that she was good; he remembered that she had been the only one to think of sending for reinforcement when the Bar Regren ambushed them at Chalk Hills. But during the short time she’d been a captain, her companies had been small. Whereas Plum Noth might have a larger command, but he had yet to prove himself in battle.

  “It’ll have to be Mouse Noth,” he said aloud, which meant getting a runner all the way to Parayid and back with Mouse well before winter ended and he could muster the army. And that meant sending a runner now.

  He summoned Jethren, who hid the sharp elation that burned through him when he understood that Stick Tyavayir was also out of the chain of command above him.

  “Sleip is back, right?” Connar asked.

  “Both scouts are back.” Jethren struck fist to heart in corroboration.

  “Send the fastest one down to Mouse Noth at Parayid. Replace him with Pepper Marlovayir. I want Mouse running shield to Rat Noth when we attack Andahi.”

  It was out before Jethren could stop it: “What if Rat Noth doesn’t want to come?”

  “What?” Connar rapped sharply, jerking around to face him.

  Jethren had been holding repeated conversations in his mind ever since summer, over and over. His campaign to smear Braids had failed utterly. Rat seemed unassailable.

  But Jethren had seen what he’d seen, that day in Ku Halir’s courtyard. “Not Mouse Noth. I don’t know what he thinks. It’s Rat Noth, as fine a commander as ever was found, and loyal,” he added in haste as Connar’s expressive black brows drew down. “But when you talked about the kingdom reuniting, he didn’t like hearing it.”

  Connar made an impatient movement. “He didn’t like gaming at Ku Halir, either.” Connar hadn’t noticed Rat being more silent than customary on the ride from Hesea Spring to Ku Halir. It had been Pepper Marlovayir who’d chattered about how grim Rat’s memory was of the battle, and how much he probably hated being back. “But he follows orders.”

  Jethren had imagined this conversation in infinite varieties over the months since they left Ku Halir, always leading to this same point, which he had wanted so very badly to say to Connar. But there had to be the right context.

  He decided that was now. “Just as well he’s so loyal.” And forced a laugh. “For a man who can wave his hand and raise an army all on his own.”

  Connar’s mouth twisted. “What are you talking about, ‘wave his hand.’”

  “At Frozen Falls. He sent a runner off, who came back with an army. Which is good,” Jethren amended, seeing the irritation tightening Connar’s features. “Or we’d be dust.”

  Connar said, “I’m the only one who waves a hand and raises an army. And Rat knows it.”

  “Right. Right. Just a thought.”

  Jethren got out as fast as he could, cursing under his breath. Always, always he had imagined Connar looking shocked, exclaiming, That’s right! Or, I never thought of it that way, and demoting Rat, then promoting the most dedicated and loyal....

  What was the use of air-dreams?

  Jethren slammed back to work, trying to avoid Connar as much as he could, while Connar thought with disgust how much he loathed hidden jealousies among his captains. What did you expect from someone who’d been trained by the likes of Retren Hauth, seething with secrets and lies? Everyone trained as an assassin, from stable hands to captains?

  He was just as glad not to see Jethren over the next few days. The man was meticulous, useful, and an excellent sparring partner, but Connar wouldn’t tolerate slander among captains. Maybe Jethren should be the one left behind—

  Every time Connar’s thoughts ranged in that direction, he came up against the fact that two of his most trusted commanders were no longer available to him, unless he forced the issue by calling up the King’s Tenth, which meant one of every ten men in the kingdom coming to his call. But to do that, by the treaty forced on Bloody Tanrid, he had to have Convocation agree to it. And Convocation was a year off.

  The timing was exactly as he’d planned. Cama Arvandais was surely going north this spring, leading the Idegan army, and Connar was certain he’d be far beyond reach at the Nob by the end of summer. Leaving Lorgi Idego wide open. It had only taken a season to clear the north back in Inda-Harskialdna’s day, so surely he could do the same.

  He didn’t have long to brood.

  The first thaw occurred, bringing the inevitable flood of runners, including Neit, finally returned. To Danet, she gave a sheaf of letters that she’d picked up at outposts along the way, and delivered a verbal report that mostly repeated what Danet already knew about how well the academy girls had done in the wargame at Ku Halir.

  Then, the moment she was free, she went to Ranet, and handed her a letter. “From Henad Tlennen,” Neit said tersely. “To be given to you by my hand, with no one around.”

  Puzzled, wondering, Ranet began to read.

  In her chamber, Danet was also reading the guild tallies she received every quarter —and then rereading them.

  Sage and Fnor were startled when Danet yelped, “Damn!” and surged to her feet. She slammed open her door, then caught herself up when facing the closed door opposite.

  Connar’s chamber, not Arrow’s.

  Forcing her voice to neutrality, she said, “Sage, will you request Connar-Harvaldar—” No, you didn’t summon a king, even your own son. “That is, find Connar-Harval
dar, and request a moment of his time? I’ll go to him wherever he is.”

  Her scruples were unnecessary. As soon as he recognized Sage, Connar ran up to Danet’s chamber. “Ma? Something wrong?”

  Danet had been pacing back and forth, rehearsing her words to herself. It was so important not to seem like she was interfering with his governing; and while she was glad that he and Ranet seemed to have repaired whatever had gone wrong between them, she suspected that Ranet had no more an idea of what Connar was planning or doing than she did.

  So she held out several pieces from the sheaf of papers Neit had brought. “I have to get all this into records, and I don’t know how to account for these very large orders for what appear to be military supplies, including bandages and various healer concoctions, to go to Larkadhe.”

  Connar had been very careful in dispersing those orders over a wide area, but he saw at once that he’d underestimated Danet’s ability to translate numbers into a strategic map.

  And so he lied. “It’s preparation for the next garrison game. Which will be early, this year, and up north. I’ve seen what the south has to offer. We’ve twice met in the midlands. I haven’t been north in years.” He was aware he was talking too much, and shut up.

  But it worked. Her expression cleared. “Ah! Your father would have approved. If you want my help, I’ll always be glad to pull these things together for you. And I know how to balance our demands against local need.”

  Connar leaned forward to kiss her bony cheek, the sagging skin soft. Worry crowded his heart at how she was aging. But she still worked hard, and she wanted to help. “Thanks, Ma. I’d thought to spare you extra labors, but I’ll remember what you said.”

  “I like doing it,” she answered, smiling wider, to hide the curl of question in her heart.

  He walked out, and straight past Ranet’s closed door.

  Behind that door, Ranet sat behind her low table, her arms around her knees, which she hugged up against her as she stared down at Henad Tlennen’s letter. Neit sat across from her, concerned at her stricken expression.

  “Braids didn’t want to tell you about Cabbage’s murder,” Neit finally said, to break a silence that had tightened to painful. “But Henad felt you had to know. I was to answer any questions. As for the rest of it, Stick said to remember that the plans to attack Lorgi Idego are still speculation, until Connar gives actual orders.”

  Ranet looked up, her huge pupils making her eyes look dark. It was unsettling, in her too-pale face. “Who else knows?”

  “About which part?”

  “Everything.”

  Neit considered. “About Cabbage’s death? Besides Henad, Stick, Ghost, and Braids? Maddar Sindan-An almost certainly. Kendred was with her before Braids took him south. As for people here, I’d say Quill knows everything. Probably more than anyone. The king—Arrow-Harvaldar, I mean—before he died put Quill onto investigating the accusations against Braids.”

  “Quill....” Ranet repeated.

  “The royal runners go everywhere, they collect reports, they interview. They carry out royal orders, and they are careful to differentiate between eyewitness and secondhand reports. I learned that much from Lineas, when we were up at Larkadhe.”

  Ranet’s lips curved in what was almost a smile. “Then we can assume that what Quill knows, Lineas also knows.”

  “I’d expect so. Especially with respect to Kendred’s witness to Cabbage Gannan’s murder. As I said, she was the one Kendred went to. Oh, and of course there’s Fish Pereth, who would have been riding in Connar’s wake with the remount and extra arrows, but you know first runners are oath-sworn to keep their masters’ counsel for life, so I wouldn’t try him, even if he has been shifted over to the roost. If nothing else, his life wouldn’t be worth spit if he blabbed. As for who suspects Connar’s plans to invade Lorgi Idego, the same—except for the Stalgoreth people. I don’t think anyone’s sent any runners up there with pure speculation.”

  “Thank you,” Ranet said.

  Neit knew a dismissal when she heard it. She took her leave, aware after years of running all kinds of messages that Ranet was struggling against extending her dislike of what she’d heard to the bringer.

  But Ranet had already forgotten Neit. You might even approve of this invasion, Henad had written.

  I don’t know what is in your mind these days. We haven’t talked, you and I, since we were girls. If you were already aware of all these things, I beg you to help me to understand. If you weren’t, Braids said your life would be easier for you to remain ignorant as long as possible. But I thought you would want to know.

  Ranet read it through again, then went about her normal activities. That night, she dismissed her runners, opened her door, and waited. When Connar came up the hall, he saw her outlined there, still in her day robe, trousers, and boots, he stopped, surprised.

  She held out a hand to invite him in.

  He noted the open palm, the sweep of her hand into the room, rather than reaching for him. Her lovely face was inscrutable, the rise and fall of her breasts fast beneath the robe, the breathing of suppressed emotion.

  Intrigued, he followed her into the room.

  She shut the door and stood with her back to it. “Henad Tlennen wrote to me. She says, among other things, that she thinks you intend to invade Lorgi Idego.”

  Connar’s brows rose. “I told Rat Noth that I’m going to reunite the kingdom. Stick and Ghost were there. Word seems to have spread fast.”

  “But you haven’t told any of us.” She snapped her hand out toward the rest of the second floor.

  “I’ve only told those necessary. I don’t want word leaking to the Idegans. The family, I haven’t told for different reasons. Noddy will worry. You know how much he hates fighting. It seems to be in his nature. Ma will also worry. Easier on them to find out after I’m successful. Or dead.” He laughed, confident.

  “It’ll be a slaughter,” she stated. “On both sides.”

  He continued to smile, clearly amused. “The Idegans’ll be a challenge.” She could see in his stance, the quirk of his eyes, that he liked it that way.

  She gazed at him, so many emotions surging wildly that she held herself tightly against screaming with frustration.

  But she could see that none of it mattered to him. He was big and strong and he was now the king. All the power was in his hands.

  Though that didn’t mean she couldn’t try. “Why not wait for Convocation?” she asked. “Then you can call for the King’s Tenth.”

  “Because I know what they’ll say, after they take days and days to say it. The south doesn’t care about the north. Khanivayir and Zheirban, possibly Marlovayir and Gannan, will be all for it. Olavayir—my cousin—will support us. He has no reason not to. There’s so much trade between Olavayir and the north, reunion would spare us those stiff tariffs we’ve been paying.”

  Ranet knew that all that was true.

  “I won’t get all the jarls behind me, so why trouble with them? I can manage without the tenth. The whole plan hinges on coming in behind Cama Arvandais when he takes his army up to clean out the Bar Regren from the Nob. He’ll come back to find us there, and if he’s reasonable, he’ll accept the new rule, the way Da had to accept Hal Arvandais’s cowardly declaration of separation at a time when Da had no army and no treasury. I know it bothered him all his life. He mentioned it again not long before he died. Call it justice.”

  But he’s dead now, Ranet wanted to say. She didn’t. It would be needlessly cruel. She knew this “justice” was an excuse, not a reason, for this war.

  She gazed up at Connar’s charming smile, his steady, watchful blue gaze, and her questions about Cabbage Gannan withered. I don’t know you at all, she was thinking. She had regained that precious intimacy with him, but that was body with body. She did not have a true meeting of minds, much less hearts. Those remained as distant as Lorgi Idego and Marlovan Iasca: two entities with all that insurmountable mountain in between.

 
; And it wasn’t she who’d failed. That mountain existed between him and everyone. It occurred to her then that in all the years she’d known him, he had never asked, “What do you think?” or “Why don’t we talk it out?”—even though he’d grown up in a family that was always talking.

  Her throat ached. “All right,” she forced herself to say neutrally. “I’ll keep silent.”

  He rewarded her with a kiss, which she submitted to, though the heat had utterly gone from it, drowned by a cataract of sorrow.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Neit went straight to the state wing. Noddy lit up with pleasure when he saw her, and as there wasn’t much business anyway, he invited her to join them.

  “I probably won’t be here long,” she warned.

  Noddy swung heavily to his feet. “I’ll go get Noren, and send for a meal.”

  Vanadei—whose job that was—leaped up and moved toward the door. “I can do that.”

  Noddy waved a hand. “No, I will. I’ve been sitting too long. You know how my back gets if I don’t move around.” With a beaming smile at Neit, he left.

  Neit turned to the others, her own smile dropping. “Henad wrote to Ranet. Told her everything. I could see she was upset.”

  Lineas gripped her hands together. “Of course she would be. Wolf’s daughter Marend is a sentry at Andahi, the Jarlan of Senelaec told us when she was here with Andas.”

  Neit opened her hand. Having gone up the Andahi Pass to Andahi Castle, she was very familiar with how the Idegans had resumed old customs, female archers on the walls to defend the castle, men riding out. “Marend Arvandais is there, the Faths have cousins over there, the Farendavans also—and speaking of families, the entire Arvandais clan used to be Tyavayir four generations ago. There are a slew of second and third cousins having visited, and even married, back and forth. They stopped when the Idegans divided off from us, but all the old people still know each other.”

  Quill had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Neit couldn’t remember ever having seen him angry, but he was now, lips a white line, red across his cheekbones. “I can’t get away,” he said, low and savage. “Without raising question. I’m convinced the only chance there is of halting Connar is to disrupt his command chain, beginning with Rat Noth.”