Farindian Summer (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 4)

by Loren K. Jones

  ONCE THE PATTERN OF SHARINDIS’ DAYS had been set, she began to look for something else to do. Sora needed a distraction as well. The news of her big brother Bahrandik’s death still weighed heavily on her mind, and she had less of an outlet. Her normal tasks of running her household and doing delicate scroll-work for her father or the cabinet maker were not needed here.

  “I have to have something to work on,” Sora groused one day after the babies had been fed.

  “So do I,” Shari agreed.

  Sora looked at Lady Glora and asked, “What do the ladies of the court usually do when there is nothing they have to do?”

  “Plot against one another as often as not,” Glora answered with a wry grin. “Plan parties, plan revenge, plan on how to get our husbands ahead in the palace. Plan how to get ourselves ahead in the palace.”

  Sora gave her a surprised look. “Really?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lady Glora said in a breathy tone. “The Ladies’ Court is separate from the Lords’ Court, but just as competitive. We have our alliances, like Marina’s Circle. Outside the circle, we usually have other alliances. They are more for mutual aid when we want something done. Some are important things like getting a favored servant elevated to a better position. Some are frivolous, like getting our favorite flowers included in the decorations for a ball.”

  Shari shook her head slowly. “I can’t see myself doing any of that. Stavin’s as high as he can go, and I’m not interested in the other things. What I want to do is continue as a scribe.”

  “So why don’t you?” Glora asked.

  Shari all but snarled, “Because it’s not appropriate for a princess to be a scribe.”

  “Says who?”

  “The Elders.”

  Glora carefully didn’t make the rude sound she wanted to. Dahrin was a light sleeper. Instead she sat forward and grasped one of Shari’s hands. “Princess Sharindis Uralian Sarlis Ne’Aniston Zel’Andral, you and your husband are second in line to the crowns of Evandia. The only people who can tell you no are Kalin and Marina. If you want to continue as a scribe, do it.” She paused for a moment, then chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I have a better idea. Avrin, come here for a moment.”

  Stavin’s butler walked over and bowed deeply. “Yes, Lady Glora?”

  “Take a message to Princess Marina’s suite. Ask her to drop by after council.”

  Avrin bowed deeply again. “Yes, Lady Glora.” Then he turned and left the suite.

  “What are you doing, Glora?” Shari asked.

  “You’ve reminded me of something that Kalin and Marina should have thought of. You, Scribe Shari, are the foremost expert on a subject that is in the front of everyone’s minds right now.”

  Shari giggled. “Oh, really? And what would that be?”

  Lady Glora smiled and simply said, “Farindia.”

  Sora asked, “What about Farindia?”

  “Everything,” Glora answered. “You as well, Sora. There is no one in Evandia who knows as much about Farindia as you two. The history before the fall of Lux is pretty much standard, and our Archive has quite a bit about it, but the Kingdom of Farindia is your specialty.”

  Sora looked around. “There’s no southern window, so you’ll have to use your lamp all the time. Maybe commission another one. I’ll be your assistant. Not your apprentice, though. I’m not going to try and learn all of the things you and Stavi know.”

  The three ladies discussed the idea and what would be needed for eight spans before Princess Marina arrived. “You asked to see me, Shari?” she asked as she walked over to pick up Sahren with a wide grin for the baby.

  “I did, Mary,” Lady Glora said, drawing a look of intense curiosity from the princess. “We have an idea.” She explained what they had been discussing and saw the initial shock on Marina’s face change to cool calculation.

  “You’re right, of course. We do need an expert on Farindian history. We were using Stavin, but we didn’t think to ask Shari when he left. Master Fel’Larin and his Scribes have been doing what they can, but the information in our Archive on Farindia is limited.” She sat and simply nodded for a moment, and appeared lost in thought. “You’ll be joining us in council tomorrow.”

  Shari squeaked, “Me!”

  “You,” Marina confirmed.

  “But I can’t—I can’t see them. I can’t advise the lord ministers.”

  Marina chuckled. “Sure you can. Stavin set the example of knowing everything they wanted to know. You’ll just be continuing it. And don’t worry. If any of them decides to be nasty, I’ll slap them down. Or Dad will. You’re a princess of Evandia, and you’ll be treated as such.”

  Shari whispered, “Marina, I’m—I’m scared.”

  “I understand,” Marina assured her in a gentle tone. “So was Stavi the first time. So was I, back when I turned ten and Mom and Dad insisted that I take my place as crown princess. But you’re not alone.”

  “What about the babies?” Sora asked.

  “Any time she’s needed to feed the girls, she’ll be excused.”

  Shari was dressed as befitted a Chosen lady when Marina came for her the next morning. “Ready?”

  “No,” Shari whispered.

  “You’ll be fine,” Marina assured her. “Sora, give us about four spans, then interrupt. That should be sufficient for a first day with the ministers.”

  Sora grinned. “Yes, Princess Marina. We can’t have Princess Sharindis neglecting her daughters for the sake of the council.”

  Marina led Shari to the council chamber and seated her in Stavin’s chair before the rest of the ministers arrived. The hisses of indrawn breath as the men filed in made Shari nervous. The whispers that she was obviously not supposed to be able to hear were worse.

  “They brought in the blind girl?” one lord asked another.

  “What could Kalin be thinking?” another whispered.

  “Another useless barbarian,” yet a third lord said, and that was enough for Shari.

  “If you call me useless again, Lord Zel’Vincent,” she snapped, identifying the Minister of Culture by the southern-coast twang in his voice, “I’ll pass the information along to my father and let him challenge you on my behalf.”

  The room was silent for a moment, then Lord Zel’Vincent asked, “Your father?”

  “Princess Sharindis,” Princess Marina finished for him. “You will properly address my sister-in-law, Lord Zel’Vincent.”

  The elderly lord looked at her and bowed deeply. “Yes, Princess Marina. Who is your father, Princess Sharindis?”

  “Warmaster Charvil Kel’Horval,” Shari answered. “He’s got certain objections to people who dismiss me as useless.”

  The ministers were all sharing glances around the room. They all knew who Warmaster Kel’Horval was, and not one of them wanted to risk facing him. “My apologies, Princess Sharindis,” Lord Zel’Vincent said, bowing deeply.

  “As for you, Lord Zel’Vorlas,” she said, turning unerringly to face the Minister of Magistrates, “I am not blind. My sight is limited, but I assure you, I hear well enough to make up for it.”

  “I see quite clearly,” King Kalin said as he entered the room. “I see that you think my daughter-in-law is less than worthy of your company.” He swept the room with a scathing glare. “Princess Sharindis, like Prince Stavin, has been a scribe in Kavinston for several years. She’s here as an expert on Farindia. As for any challenges, it won’t be necessary to send for the Warmaster. Her brother carries Stavin’s Dragon’s Tongue, and I’ll let him challenge anyone who insults his sister again. Understood?”

  There was a general murmur of, “Yes, Your Majesty,” from the ministers as they sorted themselves out.

  “Very well,” the king said as he sat down, “let’s start with Farindia. Shari, what can you tell us about the population south of Kel’Kavin?”

  By the time Sora interrupted, Shari had proven that she was indeed a goldmine of information about her homeland. Not even one question the lords
had asked had been outside her knowledge.

  The king escorted her to the door himself. “Thank you, Shari. You’ve been an immense help. I’ll expect you to join us every day. Now go see to my granddaughters.”

  “Yes, King Kalin,” she replied with a deep bow, and walked confidently to where she could hear Sora.

  Chapter 22

  DARAK’S FORCE CAUGHT UP TO THE Pacification Force five days later. They rode past the troops to the front and were met by Dahvin. “Hardan! What are you—Darak?”

  “Captain Zel’Fordal,” Darak said with a deep bow in the saddle, “congratulations on your promotion. Where’s Prince Stavin?”

  “Ahead a bit,” Dahvin replied, and turned his horse to ride forward again. “What’s happening?”

  “Wait till we tell the prince, Dahvin,” Hardan said. “We’re here to reinforce you, but there’s more to it.”

  Stavin saw them coming and smiled. “Darak! What are you doing here? Kahn!”

  Kahndar rode up beside Stavin and bowed. “Prince Stavin, we should stop and talk.”

  “Why?”

  Kahndar rode closer and laid a hand on Stavin’s forearm. “Stave, trust me.”

  Stavin looked up into Kahndar’s eyes and nodded. “Colonel Zel’Fordal, find a place to camp. We’re stopping early today.”

  The colonel bowed from his saddled and replied, “Yes, Your Highness. As flat as this area is, we can stop right here.” He turned and rode back down the line, shouting orders while Stavin led the Royal Guard off to the side.

  Once everyone had dismounted, Stavin looked at Kahndar. “What’s so important?”

  Kahndar walked up to face Stavin and put his hands on Stavin’s shoulders. “Stavin, Kel’Kavin was attacked by three hundred men. We beat them back, but—Stave, Bahrandik was killed. Him and five others.”

  Stavin started gasping for air. “No. Not Bahr, too,” he whispered. The warriors closed ranks around Stavin, so they were the only ones who saw him collapse against Kahndar and sob for a moment, then take a deep breath and stand up straight. “What happened?”

  Kahndar told the story. He ended it by saying, “Bahrandik took five of them with him.”

  Stavin nodded and turned away. Barvil immediately took charge. “Darak, have your men set up with the Royal Guards. Kar and I will see to Stavin.” He acknowledged Darak’s bow, then joined his son and prince.

  “Are you all right, Stavin?” Barvil asked as he stopped beside the two young men.

  “No.”

  “Do you want to go lie down?”

  “No.”

  Karvik laid a hand on Stavin’s shoulder. “What can we do to help?” he asked, his concern clear on his face. Stavin had suffered lost before, but no one as close as Bahr.

  “He died a warrior, protecting our home. That’s how he would have wanted—” Stavin broke down again for a moment, then whispered, “Bahr was so proud.”

  “Once camp is set, we’ll have to discuss this with Colonel Zel’Fordal,” Barvil said as he walked around to face Stavin. “Two hundred and seventy-something is a significant part of the Chosen’s force.”

  “Not enough,” Stavin said in a harsh whisper. “Not enough for my brother.”

  Gavlin and Dahvin met them at the long table. Dahvin said, “Stave, they told us,” as soon as they were seated. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, Dahvin. It ends any speculation about them resisting us, though. Gav, we have extra men to act as scouts now. Start reassessing your options for when we cross the border.”

  “There are more on the way,” Darak said as he sat down. “Three hundred men of the Fifth Cavalry are some distance behind us.”

  “Some distance, Warleader Kel’Norlan?” Colonel Zel’Fordal asked.

  “The jackass in charge couldn’t, or I should say wouldn’t, keep up,” Captain Zel’Tarlin said angrily. “Major Zel’Devery had to stop and prepare hot meals at mid day.”

  “Little Kimmy Zel’Devery?” Gavlin murmured. “Oh, he never wanted to be put under my command.” The colonel grinned at everyone around him. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “Do as you wish with him,” Stavin said as he continued to stare at the table. “Put his men under someone else if you like.” He looked at the colonel now and took a deep breath. “I suggest keeping the riders ahead of the main force to bring out the opposition.”

  “Standard tactics,” Colonel Zel’Fordal agreed. “Now that we have the riders.”

  It took five more days for the Fifth Cavalry to catch up to the army. Major Zel’Devery was escorted up to the command tent as soon as he arrived. “Who is the senior officer?” he asked.

  Gavlin didn’t stand to acknowledge him, or even turn around. “You took your time getting here.”

  Major Zel’Devery said, “Colonel, I assure you that we made excellent time under the circumstances,” in a stuffy tone that made it clear he thought highly of his accomplishment.

  “Ain’t the way I heard it, Kimmy,” Gavlin said.

  “Sir, I object to the used of that disrespectful nickname.”

  Now Gav stood and turned around. He smiled at the expression of shock on the major’s face. “Object in one hand and shit in the other, Kimmy, and see which fills up first.”

  “You can’t be a colonel,” Major Zel’Devery gasped.

  “I assure you I can, Major. What’s the matter? Is it really such a shock to find out that I was promoted in spite of your best efforts? I’ve already cut your new orders, Kimmy. You and your force will be ahead of us. And rest assured, I do mean you and your force. You’ll lead from the front this time, not delegate it to some junior officer who you can blame for your incompetence.”

  “My-my-my proper place is in the rear, planning our advance.”

  Gavlin smiled bitterly. “I assure you, Major Zel’Devery, that there will be competent officers in the rear, planning your advance. All you have to do is obey your orders.”

  “Gav, Colonel—”

  “Have a standard camp listing ready in two spans,” Gavlin said as he resumed his seat. “Dismissed.”

  As soon as the major was gone, Dahvin stuck his head into the tent. “Do you think Uncle Kal sent him here intentionally?”

  Gavlin shrugged, but his lips were twitching. “It does fit in with what passes for his sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

  Chapter 23

  FORTY-ONE DAYS AFTER LEAVING TWIN Bridges, the Farindian Pacification Force reached the border. Stavin and the commanders of his force stopped for a final planning session. “Colonel Zel’Fordal, this is where things are going to start getting interesting.”

  The colonel nodded. “That, Prince Stavin, is quite likely the understatement of the year. Major Zel’Devery,” Gavlin said without turning his head, “lead your men forward.”

  “Yes, Colonel Zel’Fordal,” the major answered in a very subdued tone. His force had been divided into ten thirty-man teams, and were being sent ahead of the main force to scout the terrain and the enemy. He’d tried to object to Prince Stavin about it, but the prince had refused to even meet him. Instead, he’d sent that insufferable ass, Warleader Kel’Norlan, with instructions to obey or face charges.

  At the insistence of Barvil, Karvik, Darak, Kahndar, Dahvin, Gavlin, and Hardan, Stavin agreed to move his position in the force back with the support staff rather than in the front of the column. He fumed about it, but even he could accept the wisdom of the move. Accept, but not like.

  “I feel like a greenling again,” he muttered as he tied a bandanna around his face to limit the amount of dust he was eating.

  Barvil was right beside him. “It is kind of dusty back here, isn’t it?”

  “I never thought I’d pray for rain during a march,” Darak said from Stavin’s other side.

  “Don’t say that too loud, Darak,” Barvil said as he turned in his saddle. “Dust is easier to deal with than mud.”

  The force continued forward at the marching pace of the troops. Their destination was th
e Kel’Indra valley, east of Kel’Kavin. Their path would lead them through the heart of the lands controlled by the seven Chosen families of southern Farindia.

  There was little opposition for the first six days, but late in the sixth night a shower of arrows fell among the infantry tents. The response from the army was immediate.

  “On me!” Darak shouted as he led his men into the forest. He was echoed by the commanders of the army units.

  “Forward the Ninth!”

  “Forward the Third!”

  “Forward the Fifth!”

  The troops swarmed into the forest where the arrows had come from, but the archers had vanished. Not a single attacker was found.

  “And so it begins,” Stavin said as he joined his officers.

  Colonel Zel’Fordal looked around at his subordinates and snapped, “Report.”

  “Sir,” a captain with the insignia of the Ninth Infantry Brigade on his shoulder snapped in reply, “no attackers were found by my men.”

  “Nor by mine,” a major who wore the Third Infantry insignia.

  “None of my men have reported any contact with the enemy,” Major Zel’Devery reported, “but several of my teams have yet to report.”

  “Where’s Darak?” Stavin asked as he looked around. Looks were shared around, then Barvil bowed slightly.

  “With your permission, Prince Stavin, I’d—”

  “Go,” Stavin commanded, and Barvil turned away. “Darak’s men are more accustomed to tracking bandits,” Stavin continued as he looked at Gavlin and Dahvin. “They may be on a trail.” There was a sound from behind him and he turned to see the other officers glaring at Major Zel’Devery. “Did you have something to say, Major?”

  The major drew himself up to his full height, then bowed his head slightly. “I find it odd to think that these so-called warriors would be able to find what fully trained soldiers couldn’t.”

  Stavin’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the fool. His voice was soft with fury as he asked, “So-called warriors?”

  “I’ve seen nothing to indicate any competence on their part above that of the rawest recruits,” the major replied as his chin rose.