Daughter of Independence

by Simon Brown

  Rodin was too depressed to be affronted by the chancellor’s familiarity. In fact, and Rodin was still learning to appreciate the irony, the only thing close to a friend he still had was Malus Mycom. His family was indeed virtually extinct. He did not even see his elusive nephew around anymore. Almost all his Axkevlerens had died or run away, and the family servants with them. The city itself carried on automatically, but parts of it were obviously in decay as merchants and landowners moved out to their estates or to another city. Only those areas directly controlled by the Royal Guard, which mainly included the palace precinct, and the poorer areas in the outer reaches of Omeralt, still had crowds of any number.

  ‘What is it she wants to see us about, do you know?’ Rodin asked.

  ‘The messenger did not say . . .’ Mycom scratched his head. Dry flakes of dandruff floated in the air. ‘In fact, you know, I don’t remember a messenger.’

  Rodin looked down in thought. ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  ‘She summoned us,’ Mycom said softly, ‘using the Sefid, I expect.’

  ‘So casually,’ Rodin said, shaking his head. ‘There is so much of the Sefid around now I suppose she can do it almost effortlessly.’

  They resumed their progress to the dome. ‘Are you still unable to Wield?’ Mycom asked.

  ‘Yes. I still try now and then, and I can feel the Sefid starting to obey, and then it just, well, doesn’t. The Wielding is made but there is no effect. It’s like rowing in water, and seeing the water all around the boat, but not moving anywhere, not even causing a ripple.’

  ‘I wonder what the empress is doing with it,’ Mycom thought aloud.

  ‘Or what it is doing with her,’ Rodin said under his breath, and afterwards Mycom was not sure the prince had said it.

  The guard at the entrance saluted and opened the wire door for them. The pair entered and the door sprang shut behind them. They stayed on the landing for a short while so their bodies could make some adjustment to the heat and humidity.

  ‘I think the forest is growing,’ Rodin said. ‘Surely it cannot go much further. It must be right up against the glass.’

  ‘You know, I don’t think there is any glass from this side of the door,’ Mycom said easily, as if he were discussing an interesting bug or plant. ‘In fact, I don’t think there is a dome anymore.’

  Certainly from their position the forest did give the illusion of going on forever. Rodin glanced behind him. Yes, there was the door, and it was set in glass, and the glass seemed to curve away from them, supported by thin silver tracery. But then, as the eye followed the curve, the tracery gradually disappeared and then so did the glass. But the sky retained its curious yellow-green tint, and the air remained trapped and heavy and the world smelled everywhere of tree and vine and rich rotting humus.

  The sound of birds filled the trees.

  ‘I never see them anymore,’ Mycom went on. ‘The birds, I mean.’

  ‘I think I saw a sparrow the other day. Which is strange, because normally they don’t live in forests.’

  They started down the spiral staircase, one foot at a time, one hand always on the railing in case they slipped. As they descended the staircase became more like the twisting bole of a fig tree.

  Lerena was waiting for them at the clearing, sitting in the middle of the bench. When she saw them she smiled and patted the bench either side of her. They took their places.

  ‘How are things going in the big wide world?’ she asked as if she was talking to children about their own fantasy universe.

  ‘As well as expected, your Majesty,’ Mycom said. ‘Was there anything in particular you wanted to know about?’

  ‘Have you ever seen a child bounce a ball against a wall?’

  ‘Your Majesty?’ Mycom glanced at Rodin, who could only shrug. ‘I think so.’ He strained to remember. There was a time when he noticed such things. ‘Yes, I’m sure I have.’

  ‘The further away from the wall they are, the harder they have to throw the ball.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘And there is always a point beyond which no matter how hard they throw the ball it is too far to bounce all the way back to them.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty.’

  ‘For me, that is what it is like to use the Sefid. It helps me see over a great distance, although “see” is not quite the right word. It helps me understand, comprehend, perceive, over a great distance.’

  ‘I understand,’ Mycom said encouragingly.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t,’ Lerena said, not quite dismissively, ‘but the analogy will have to do, just as the analogy about the child and ball will have to do. The point I am trying to make is that the further away something is, although I still perceive something of what is going on, the harder it is for me to act on it. So, I can easily call you and Prince Rodin to me just by thinking about it. It is only slightly harder for me to summon someone from a nearby estate. If I really put my mind to it, and was prepared to so profligately use the Sefid, I might even be able to draw Duke Paimer to me all the way from Beferen.’

  ‘That far?’ Mycom said, although he was not as impressed as he tried to sound. He would not be surprised if she could summon everyone in Beferen to attend her.

  ‘But beyond a certain distance I cannot perceive clearly, like a child too far from a wall to make it out clearly. The child knows with certainty that the wall is there, but has no hope whatsoever of bouncing a ball off it. Well, that is what it is like for me when I try to perceive my fleet in the New Land.’

  Now Mycom was impressed, and his face showed it. ‘That far?’

  ‘Not now. The fleet has gone completely, Chancellor. The will that drove it, the collective entity that was “my” fleet has been dispersed, emptied, destroyed.’

  ‘Destroyed?’ Rodin asked. ‘Are you sure, your Majesty? Was it a storm? It is close to monsoon season, I believe.’

  Lerena turned her head to regard her second cousin. The movement reminded Mycom of an eagle searching for new prey. ‘It was no storm. No sudden running on the rocks. Nothing natural. My enemies have destroyed my fleet.’

  ‘But how? Your Majesty, Kydan has not the capacity –’

  Lerena’s arm shot out so quickly that Rodin jumped, but not quickly enough to avoid the hand that grasped his wrist. He yelped in pain.

  ‘They have the capacity, dear cousin. Now Kydan has not only rejected my embrace, but also my punishment. I want the city to be destroyed and its people scattered. I want the blemish of it removed from the world.’

  ‘Of course,’ Rodin gasped. He could feel the bones in his wrist being ground together. The pain was excruciating, but he dared not pull away from her.

  Lerena smiled sweetly, glanced at Mycom, looked back at Rodin, then threw his wrist away from her. ‘Organise an invasion. I want the biggest fleet and the biggest army ever gathered.’

  Rodin held his wrist in the other hand. ‘Yes, your Majesty.’

  ‘I want it to leave for the New Land as soon as it can. Before the winter storms.’

  Rodin did not argue. Somehow he would do it. Anything to avoid Lerena’s anger.

  ‘That is a very short time, your Majesty,’ Mycom ventured.

  ‘Then make good use of it,’ Lerena replied shortly, her voice rising. ‘Go. Start now.’

  The two men sprang to their feet. Rodin tried to salute, but his injured hand would not flatten properly.

  *

  This will not do, the creature thought. The enemy was gone. They had fled.

  Its family gathered around it, as empty as night. Hungry.

  The ground nearby moved. Two figures scrambled out from the dirt and joined them; their uniforms were still mostly intact.

  The creature remembered the fires, then. That had stopped the family. The discovery that fire could destroy its children had come as a terrible surprise, but it would think of a way to deal with it.

  It sniffed the air. Food could be found to the south. A way off, more than the family could cover
in a single night. And there was something else in the air as well, something drawing the creature on, something more important than food. That was south as well, at first, then further west, away from the sea.

  It started walking. The family followed, as silent as the stars above.

  *

  When Heriot returned to the house with Poloma and the children, she felt pleasantly tired. Hattie greeted them with a smile and served hot stew for dinner and took Berrat and put him in bed. The others sat down to eat and Heriot and Poloma spoke to Sookie about the day and what had happened when the great ship Hetha was sunk in the bay, about how the people cheered and why the prisoners did not.

  ‘Are they going to be sunk too?’ Sookie asked.

  ‘No. They are going to fix up the foundry and the shipyard, and work on the farms and in the mines.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘Yes,’ Heriot said.

  ‘Not all,’ Poloma said, speaking to Sookie. ‘Some will become sailors again.’

  Heriot looked at him in surprise. ‘Really?’

  Poloma nodded. ‘In small numbers, working with some of our sailors.’

  ‘Are you going to ask the council to build another warship?’ she asked, smiling at him. ‘I will support you in that if you help me find the money to expand the university. Perhaps a tax on trade? A small tithe just to get things started?’

  ‘Just to get things started,’ Sookie echoed.

  Poloma laughed, but to Heriot it sounded forced. ‘No. I am not going to build another warship. The sailors will be needed for Ferberin, Richer and Kethleralt. Although I dare say we will change their names. I think Herris, Kayned and Karhay might be suitable. I will suggest it to Avier and see what he thinks.’

  ‘What are we going to do with them?’

  Poloma shrugged. ‘Trade. Defence.’

  ‘Kydan will need more ships,’ Heriot agreed, seeing the wisdom in it.

  ‘So will Sayenna,’ Poloma said carefully. ‘Its own, I mean.’

  Heriot glanced sharply at him. Sookie, seeing it, looked at Poloma as well. Just then Hattie returned from putting down Berrat, with a heavy bag in each hand.

  ‘I’ve made a start,’ Hattie said. ‘I’ll finish tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Hattie,’ Poloma said.

  ‘Made a start with what, Hattie? Where are you going?’ Heriot asked.

  ‘The packing, and I’m going with you, of course, and the children,’ Hattie said easily.

  Poloma cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Hattie. Will you join us?’

  ‘I’ve eaten already. Too hungry to wait for you all to come home. I’ll go to bed myself now. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ Poloma said, trying to sound cheerful. He did not meet Heriot’s eyes, but concentrated on his stew.

  ‘And where are you sending me and the children?’

  ‘A visit. A long visit.’

  ‘Who?’ Sookie asked eagerly. ‘Who am I going to visit?’

  ‘Your uncle.’

  ‘Her uncle?’ Heriot asked.

  ‘What’s an uncle?’ Sookie said.

  ‘Uncle Arden,’ Poloma said. ‘An uncle is a close friend. Someone who is part of the family.’ He pushed his plate away from him and slowly, as if giving himself time to think, lifted his eyes to meet Heriot’s gaze. ‘I need someone from the council in Sayenna.’

  ‘You already have Arden. He represents the council.’

  ‘He is not of the council. I want someone there of the council, in an official capacity. I want to draw Sayenna closer to Kydan. These are dangerous times, and it is important. You are the logical choice. And since you are still feeding Berrat, he must go with you, and I will not separate the children, so Sookie must go with you as well. And so must Hattie, to look after the children when you cannot.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Heriot said.

  ‘You are saying that for my benefit,’ Poloma replied. ‘And I appreciate it. But it all makes sense if you think about it. It is time for you to see Arden again. It has been too long. And I think it is important he sees the children. He will want to. And I do need a councillor in Sayenna. War is coming and we have to draw together. To ease the way, you will be giving the city a gift from us.’

  ‘Three warships,’ Heriot said, at last understanding how everything fitted together.

  19

  Paimer rode from Beferen to the former estate of Queen Sarra Kevleren. It was not until after he had ordered a horse and escort that he stopped to think about what he had done. Any Kevleren – for that matter, any wealthy Hamilayan – would have ordered a sedan. But riding in a sedan was something he no longer felt comfortable doing. It was not that riding a horse made him feel less superior to those around him – Sefid forbid! – but that it was more convenient, and would save time there and back again, and was altogether less complicated; for a start there were no bearers to feed and supervise. Montranto was at the estate installing the new guard, so Paimer left Avenel behind to run the city while he was gone.

  This time of year was very gentle to Rivald. Away from the pine forest with its lack of undergrowth and away from the grey sea with its cold waves, Paimer noticed the province actually gained some colour. Green barley fields, pastures filled with bluebells and daisies, oaks and poplars and flame trees all vibrant with new growth, a lightness in the air and, for the first time in a long time, some warmth in the sun, all made the journey to the estate a very pleasant and restful experience. With the advantage of height, even the coast looked halfway inviting, rugged and white with seabirds wheeling over its cliffs.

  The estate itself occupied a shallow valley, and the main house was situated at the northern end of the valley, just by a stream not quite wide enough to be considered a river but big enough to have trout and whitefish darting beneath its waters looking for larvae and spring flies. Paimer’s party was stopped at the gated entrance, more for formality than anything else, since the guards had been expecting him and wanted to show they were on their toes. From the gate a long white trail wound through the estate to the house, and here and there Paimer saw guards walking the woods and keeping lookout from every vantage point.

  The house itself was as Avenel had described it to him, but cheerier somehow, although Paimer conceded that might be due more to his mood. It had two storeys, the top one made from a light wood and grey granite, with a lot of glass in between lead frames. It looked south over the valley without being obtrusive about it. Although large in area, the house settled against the mouth of the valley like an old man resting back in a comfortable chair.

  As the party approached, a group of people came out of the house to greet him. Paimer recognised Montranto and Dayof Axkevleren, and from their physical likeness knew that some of the others were his own relatives, although much changed. When he reached the group he dismounted, and Montranto signalled to a servant to take the duke’s horse and lead it away, together with his escort.

  ‘Commander, I spied many of your men on the way here. I was impressed.’

  Montranto bowed and stood back a step to stand behind the waiting line of Kevlerens and their Axkevlerens. Paimer took a deep breath and hoped his memory did not fail him.

  The first three were easy. First cousins. Atemann he knew from his own childhood. Although younger than Paimer he looked older, as if each year of his life had counted double. Then Atemann’s son, Beremore, about Lerena’s age but tall and thin and with the hollow-cheeked look of the fasting asceric. Then Painter’s first real shock, Atemann’s brother, Bayer, who seemed wizened and bowed and not at all right. Bayer’s eyes did not focus on Paimer, and his hands shook like leaves in a storm. Although Paimer called him by name, he did not think Bayer knew who he was; Paimer wondered if Bayer knew who he himself was anymore. Then Paimer reached a half-dozen cousins of the third rank, and quick-thinking Dayof came to his rescue, introducing them together with their connections to the duke’s branch, and finally bringing forward the last three, distant Kevlerens who were almost as f
ar removed from the central trunk as it was possible to go and still be considered family. Paimer welcomed them all to their new home, and bade them treat it as they would their own, and then all went inside. Although his cousins tried talking to him, and although he pretended to listen, what really drew Paimer’s attention was the house’s interior. Queen Sarra must have lavished all her attention on her winter retreat rather than her official palace in Beferen. A huge tapestry hung from the back wall, and many of the windows were made from stained glass. Wooden pillars were carved into intricate shapes, and several clear glass skylights ensured the whole house was filled with a wonderful sense of space and airiness.

  Then Beremore said, ‘And not one of us has been able to Wield for several tendays.’

  Paimer was running a hand along one of the pillars, but stopped when he heard the words and gave his full attention. ‘None of you?’

  Beremore smiled apologetically, as if it was his fault. ‘Not one of us. At least, as far as we can tell that includes Bayer, but we do not know if he has the ability to even try. Since losing his Beloved he has been in a world of his own; it just hasn’t been this one.’

  Bayer ambled by just then, one of his Axkevleren guiding him by the elbow.

  ‘You must tell me everything you know about what has been happening in Omeralt, even rumours,’ Paimer said, facing his relatives. He caught a glance of Montranto in the background, waiting near the entrance, studying them all very carefully. For a moment the duke again felt distracted. Montranto reminded him of other duties.

  *

  Chierma had spent some time setting up his office over several days, carefully considering where to set each item so it was not too obvious. On the day he was ready he sent Feruna home early, rested back in his chair behind his desk and waited. He did not have to wait long.

  ‘Shame on you,’ Englay said. ‘I expect better of my successor than this. You are too lazy.’ She smiled to show she was not being serious.