Mistress of Ambiguities

by J F Rivkin

  “Mercy for the enemies of our House, but another law for those of your own blood who stand in your way,” said Lhejadis suddenly. “Enough to answer for indeed!”

  “You do the matriarch an injustice if you suppose that she was that careless,”

  Nyctasia said evenly. “As for Emeryc’s family, they are all three safe and unharmed, as I have repeatedly explained.” She half smiled. “Though were I guilty of all you say, I could only be accused of upholding family tradition.

  Because in my place you would have done away with them, do not make the mistake of assuming I have done so. For your own sake, I pray you, consider how foolish you will feel when they return.”

  “If they live, where are they?” Lord Anseldon challenged. “And when may we expect this return which is to make fools of us all?”

  Nyctasia shook her head gently. “Forgive me, but surely the fewer who know their whereabouts, the safer they will be. There is nothing to be gained at present by taking unnecessary risks.”

  “That is to say that you do not trust us. Why, then, do you seek our advice?

  Consult with Therisain and your other lackeys.”

  “I know their advice without asking. I can do no wrong in Therisain’s eyes, which makes him a good ally, but a bad advisor. Now, you think I’m mad-thus you’ll see the flaws in my plans, and if you care more for Rhostshyl’s welfare than for my downfall, you’ll warn me of them. Oh, it’s your advice I need to hear, I know that.

  “Of course, I may not follow it,” she added. “But for all our sakes, and for the sake of the city, let me hear what you have to say.”

  “Very well,” said Lord Anseldon coldly. “It’s said that you mean to dismiss half the city guard-only madness itself could suggest such folly.”

  “Nonsense! Nonsense and idle rumor,” Nyctasia cried indignantly. “There’s no question of half, or even a quarter, of the garrison-only of those who were conscripted from among the laborers on the municipal estates. We’ve peace in the city now, and there’s the harvest to be thought of.”

  “And how long shall we have peace if the city’s defenses are to be weakened?” demanded Lady Elissa. “Rhostshyl has barely recovered from civil war. We should be strengthening her forces now, with mercenary troops if necessary-the more so if you reject the proposal of alliance with Ochram!”

  “I have not rejected it!” Nyctasia protested. “I have barely had time to consider the matter.”

  The Edonaris had recently received overtures from the ruling family of Ochram, concerning the possibility of a marriage-alliance between them, and only Nyctasia was of sufficiently exalted rank to enter into such a union with the High Lord Aithrenn. Her allies and opponents alike had urged her to consider the advantages for Rhostshyl of closer connections with the Maritime city-states.

  Ochram was a major port and center of shipping; the alliance could go far toward restoring Rhostshyl’s prosperity.

  The marriage itself would be no more than a diplomatic formality that would hardly interfere with the lives of those concerned, and, having arranged a marriage-alliance for her sister, Nyctasia was in no position to refuse without good reason.

  “They have not made a formal proposal, merely a suggestion that we discuss the matter,” she continued. “And I have invited His Lordship to come to Rhostshyl at his pleasure, to do so. More than that I cannot do at present. He must see for himself what the city has suffered, and how much remains to be done before she will be again the proud and powerful city she was.”

  “Exactly so,” Lord Anseldon agreed. “Hardly the time, one would think, to invite outright rebellion by conferring these senseless pardons of yours and decreasing the city guard!”

  Nyctasia appeared to be troubled by these arguments. “I don’t believe there will be rebellion,” she said slowly. “Folk in this city have had their fill of warfare. The partisans of the Teiryn were crushed once, and those who remain are thankful to have been spared. They’ll not be eager to chance a second defeat, against greater odds. After all, we hold the city, we have more dominion over Rhostshyl than ever before. Surely even the most foolhardy of the Teiryn would not be so rash as to attempt to overthrow us now. And you must admit that most have accepted the terms of the peace.”

  “Of course they accepted,” Lady Elissa said bitterly, “We demanded no concessions, and surrendered every advantage! Not even the Teiryn are fools enough to refuse such terms.”

  Nyctasia sighed. “‘Who can put a price on peace, or weigh clemency in the balance?’” she quoted, then remarked wryly, “By the vahn, the older I grow, the more serviceable I find the Principles of the Philosophers.”

  It could not be denied that the marriage-alliance of the Edonaris and the Teiryn had brought about an uneasy, but thus far stable, peace between the warring families. The majority of the surviving Teiryn had come to see that they’d been given a chance to temper defeat with dignity. They had been at the mercy of the Edonaris, and a marriage treaty, as between equals, was a more than generous offer from a victorious enemy. Those who still could not be brought to take this view of the matter were among the prisoners in question.

  “I imagine we’ll see outbreaks of trouble,” Nyctasia concluded-“And possibly brawls between hotheaded bands of youths. But I do not anticipate a concerted uprising-do you?”

  “Perhaps not, but we must be prepared for one, nevertheless. This is no time to take risks with the city’s security-no time to think of reducing the municipal guard, just when they’ll most be needed to keep the peace.”

  Nyctasia was in complete agreement, and had been so from the start. She had long since decided that the numbers of Rhostshyl’s warders must be augmented when the final pardons were declared, but she had spoken of this decision to no one.

  Instead, she had instructed certain of her courtiers to spread rumors to the contrary, so as to allow her opponents to challenge her on grounds where she was prepared to give way. The pardons would be carried out, but it wouldn’t do to have her powerful kin believe that their views held no weight with her at all.

  Should they conclude that it was useless to try to reason with her, they’d be all the more inclined to try other means to gain their ends.

  “There is much in what you say,” she said, as if reluctantly. “Carelessness could accomplish what the Teiryn failed to do.”

  “Yes,” said Lady Elissa, with the air of one who has finally succeeded in explaining something to a simpleminded child. “And the Teiryn may have lost much of their following, but they might well seek allies elsewhere. With Rhostshyl weakened by civil strife, it would be no difficult matter to persuade the governors of Heithskor that the time is ripe for conquest. If the Teiryn have learned that they cannot take the city, they’ll stoop to serve another power that will destroy the Edonaris for them-and reward them with a place among Rhostshyl’s new rulers. Can you doubt that Ettasuan ar’n Teiryn would sell Rhostshyl to her enemies, to have revenge on the House of Edonaris?”

  Erikasten was startled into speech. “Lord Ettasuan! ’Tasia, you don’t mean to pardon him with the rest?”

  This too was a point Nyctasia was willing to concede, but she said only, “I think to do so, yes. A general pardon ought not to admit of exceptions.”

  “But he’s tried to kill you-you know he’ll try again if he’s set at liberty!”

  “Brother, if I were to condemn everyone in the city who’s tried to murder me, the dungeons would not be adequate to hold them. Of course, if Ettasuan’s fool enough to try it again-and I daresay he is-he’ll be arrested and brought before the magistrates-”

  “Have you forgotten that Ianesse ar’n Teiryn is dead?” Lord Anseldon interrupted. “Ettasuan will be head of the House of Teiryn if you release him.”

  Nyctasia never forgot details of that sort. “Only until Jehamias comes of age,” she pointed out. “A matter of mere months. And I needn’t restore Ettasuan to his rank, if you think it ill-advised. Yet what harm could he do, even so? He has little enoug
h support now, even among his kin, and his health is not what it was since his imprisonment. I should not be surprised if he succumbed to the hereditary scourge of the Teiryn within the year.”

  At this, the others immediately assumed that Nyctasia had employed a slow-working poison to ensure the accuracy of this prediction. No one voiced this suspicion, but Nyctasia replied as if it had been spoken. “No. How often must I explain that it is unnecessary to murder the Teiryn? They will perish of their own accord, if given the least chance to do so. For that reason alone I would pardon Lord Ettasuan, lest he should die while still in our hands. Such a thing would not be to our honor, though we had no part in his death.”

  Nyctasia was aware that the others did not believe her, but she only shrugged, abandoning without regret all attempts to convince them. Alter all, they would not disapprove of her resorting to poison in such a case; on the contrary, they’d no doubt think the better of her for it. The one point where everyone in the room could agree was the desirability of Lord Ettasuan’s demise.

  “But, for all that, his fate must finally rest with the heir of his House,” she observed. “I may pardon our enemies, but his threats against Jehamias are another matter.”

  “Jehamias!” Lord Anseldon said with scorn. “That one will do whatever you bid him, you know it well.”

  To his surprise, Nyctasia smiled. “Yes,” she said unexpectedly, “and very convenient I find it. Come, confess that our interests are better served by Jehamias as a willing ally than as a sacrifice to our victory. Already many of the Teiryns’ supporters acknowledge him, and more will follow when he becomes titular head of the House of Teiryn.”

  “As he never will, if Ettasuan has his way. But perhaps the spells that safeguard you now shield young Jehamias as well?”

  Nyctasia allowed this to pass unanswered. If people chose to believe that she had such powers, so much the better. Rumors of that sort could be better protection than spells themselves.

  “A watch will be kept on His Lordship, should Jehamias consent to his release,” she said firmly, and turned to Lady Elissa. “Yet I fear you wrong him, Madame, if you believe that his hatred of our House would outweigh his loyalty to his city. A fool the man unquestionably is, but not, I think, a traitor. Still, whether Ettasuan prove treasonous or no…”

  She had meant to conclude, “Heithskor would be no threat to Rhostshyl, even with his complicity,” but even as she began to speak, an entirely different idea occurred to her. It was true that she feared no invasion from the inland city-state of Heithskor. Though Rhostshyl’s defenses had been weakened, the city was still well-protected by its sister cities of the Maritime Alliance, whose members were all pledged to mutual defense. Nyctasia had often praised the foresight of her ancestors for bringing Rhostshyl into the Alliance. Since she’d come to power, she had taken pains to confirm and reinforce those ties, and she was confident that the coastal cities would honor their treaties with Rhostshyl.

  No doubt the rulers of Heithskor would be pleased to annex Rhostshyl and its widespread estates, but they would not take arms against the entire Alliance to do so.

  Yet it might be wise, Nyctasia realized, not to insist that the city’s borders were secure. What better way to unite the disparate factions at court, the remaining rivalries in the city, than to offer them a common enemy?

  “Whether Ettasuan prove treasonous or no…” she said, and hesitated, “…

  Heithskor remains a threat, with or without his complicity. Rhostshyl is vulnerable, as you say, and I have perhaps been inclined to rely too much on the good faith of our allies.”

  “You have,” said Lady Elissa. “‘Friends may prove fickle, but foes are faithful.’ The security of the city must depend on no other power.”

  Nyctasia seemed to be listening to her and weighing her words with care, but she was already so engrossed in her own plans that she barely heard. She would have her people begin to spread rumors at once, she decided, that spies in Heithskor reported preparations for invasion. She nodded thoughtfully and said aloud, “We are agreed, I believe, that the safety of the city is paramount. But that is why we must strive above all to reconcile the differences that divide our people, to lay old enmities to rest. Unless the city is unified it cannot stand firm against a threat from without.” Divert your opponent’s eye from your true objective, she thought.

  “And the city guard?” asked Lord Anseldon.

  “I shall see to it,” Nyctasia promised. If she were to raise a force of mercenaries, it would lend substance to the rumors as well. Perhaps Corson would be willing to undertake the matter. “I was certain,” she said, with every appearance of satisfaction, “that you would know where I had neglected my duty.

  Mhairestri always told me that I was too liable to let my visions cloud my sight. I need you-Rhostshyl needs you-to warn me when the welfare of the city may suffer from my misjudgment.”

  As ever, when Nyctasia most desired to be persuasive, she mingled as much of the truth as she dared with her deceptions. She did indeed need the help of her kin.

  When she had first returned to her homeland, she had been forced to assert her authority to the fullest, and compel the others to acknowledge her ascendancy, in order to carry out her plans. But she could not continue to govern Rhostshyl alone; there were other matters for her to attend to, other ways in which to serve the city. Now that the marriage-alliance had been established, and a measure of stability restored to the city, it was time to propitiate those who had opposed her, and to win their support, if this were possible. To do so, she must relinquish some of her power over them, relegate some of her duties to others. It had worried her to discover how reluctant she was to do this. She had not yet escaped Mhairestri’s influence.

  Now she stood, to indicate that the audience was at an end, and thanked the others warmly for their candor. It was the most courteous of dismissals, but a dismissal nonetheless.

  6

  erikasten was not surprised when Nyctasia bade him to remain behind when the others took their leave. “I’ve been wondering why I was summoned to this counsel,” he said. “You would hardly consult my judgment on matters of state.”

  Though he agreed with Anseldon and his party about certain of Nyctasia’s measures, his views would have little weight until he came of age.

  Nyctasia resumed her seat, and motioned for him to do the same. “I’m worried about you, ’Kasten. You haven’t enough to do.”

  “I take it you’ve something in mind for me to do?”

  “Very good, quite right. There is a commission you could undertake for me, if you would. It will require you to travel into the Midlands, to our kinfolks’ vintnery at Vale.”

  “In fine, you want to be rid of me,” Erikasten said with a sneer.

  Nyctasia matched his tone. “Indeed I do. You’re like the tom whose littermate has young. I’m afraid you’ll eat the kits.”

  Erikasten drew a sharp breath. “It’s the talk of the court, how coarse and common you’ve grown,” he spat.

  “Isn’t it a pity? I once had such exquisite manners, alas. Let it be a lesson to you not to keep low company. But if I shock you, I shall at least be certain of your attention. I’m sorry I’ve neglected you of late. I seem to have the least time for those I love the most. But I have been giving a great deal of thought to you, and how you might best serve the city. ’Kasten, you could really be of great help to me in the Valley lands.”

  “I suppose I’ll never be seen again, like Emeryc’s heir? Was he one of those you love the most?”

  “If you believe that I’ve done away with Leirven, you should thank me,” Nyctasia said sharply. “But you know better.”

  When Rhostshyl’s civil war had claimed the life of their older brother, his title had come to his son Leirven, still a young child. But should Leirven die without an heir, Erikasten would succeed him.

  “The others believe it,” Erikasten said carefully. “Lhejadis says it openly.” He knew he was betraying nothing that
had not already been reported to Nyctasia.

  Nyctasia shook her head. “Poor Jade, she’d like to believe it, but I don’t think she does. She’d be glad to believe me guilty of any atrocity. She was genuinely fond of Mescrisdan, you know. But it’s more than that. She’s resented me since we were children, before you and Tiambria were born.” She paused. “Do you remember my telling you, long ago-when I was nursing you through some ailment or other-what a very sickly child I was myself?”

  Erikasten did not want to be reminded that Nyctasia had once been all but a mother to him and his twin sister. He nodded, frowning. “You said it was the vahn that healed you.”

  “So it was. Certainly it wasn’t our court physicians. Their judgment was that I’d not live to come of age.”

  A true Edonaris, Erikasten was quick to follow this. “Then Lhejadis might well have become Rhaicime-”

  “If I had died, yes, She would have stood a very good chance of inheriting either our mother’s title or Lehannie’s. It really was rather hard on her that I recovered.”

  “But now Tiambria and Deirdras are the heirs apparent,” Erikasten pointed out.

  “If Deirdras still lives, as you claim, Lhejadis wouldn’t benefit by your death.”

  “It might not be difficult to have Deirdras’s claim set aside, especially now that Emeryc is gone. But even that wouldn’t be necessary if I were not only dead but disgraced utterly-if my name were stricken from the family records.”

  Erikasten understood. If that should come about, it would be as if Nyctasia had never inherited the Rhaicimate from their mother, Teselescq. That title would pass to Tiambria, leaving Lhejadis as the successor to Lehannie.

  “It would suit Jade very well if I were condemned for any number of monstrous crimes,” Nyctasia was saying. “As for the others, if they believe that I had Rehal and her children murdered, so much the better. They probably respect me for it.”