“Why?” Arten asked simply, looking closely at Java.
“Because the empire is in shambles right now.” Java stepped back to look up into Arten’s eyes. “The eight duchies can’t stand independently anymore, and there are several missing dukes as well. Only four of the eight royal families still survive. We need help to restore the order that Frander destroyed.”
The arrival of Arten and Naria had been announced to the other dukes, and that night there was a brief, but productive, conference. Kaster and Werrin had been acting as Java’s advisors and as a buffer between her and the other royalty. Ander and Shair had also positioned themselves as her seconds and had acted to protect her from the more aggressive of the dukes. With Samantha and Panit at their sides they had been able to keep Java from being overwhelmed by the demands of the empire, but they were all hard pressed at times to handle the load.
Java sat at the head of the table, with Jah’Moke at her right hand, backed by the triplets. Robin sat at her left hand, backed by Carlin. Tyrus and the other five Adepts were spaced on both sides of the table, at Java’s request. Altogether they presented a reassuring sight to the four dukes that remained. All of them had had a hard time adjusting to just how long Frander had ruled them, and the changes that had taken place while they were under his spells. Java stood and waited for the dukes to quiet themselves before speaking.
“My friends, I have a proposition to place before you, and the other dukes who choose to attend the wedding and conference. As you know, there is a large amount of damage to be repaired in the empire. The eight duchies that Frander conquered are no longer independent, nor self-sufficient. Frander drew far too much power here to Glimmerrey and controlled everything himself. Food and other goods that we all used to produce for ourselves must now be shipped from other duchies. I have promised to return the duchies to the ruling families, and that is a promise I intend to keep. The problem is that the condition of the duchies now is much like it was after the revolution and returning to independence right now would be suicidal.
“What I propose is that we once again form ourselves into a single entity, but not a kingdom or empire, ruled by one man, or woman, or family. I propose that we band together, each an equal and independent part of a whole. Jah’Moke has a term for it: A confederation. A union of allied duchies, loosely governed by a council of dukes or their representatives from all the duchies, for the good of all the duchies.”
Duke Harrison stood and waited for Java to acknowledge him before speaking. “Empress Java, are you saying that you would step down, give over the empire and your position, to establish such a confederacy?”
“I am. Jah’Moke agrees.” Java smiled and reached out a hand toward Duke Harrison across the room. “This isn’t what we wanted. The only reason we came here was to rescue Sammy. Being named empress was the last thing on my mind.”
The dukes all looked surprised by her remarks, and Java sat down to open the floor for further discussion. Duke Adam immediately stood to take the floor.
“What about the four duchies that don’t have any surviving members of their royal families? Who will decide the succession in those duchies? Will you place your chosen successors on the thrones, or will you retain them as your own duchy?”
Java stood to face the duke squarely. “I have a duchy, Duke Adam.” She paused to smile at Arten and Naria. “As to the succession, I don’t have any say in the matter, and will not be making the decisions. You will. The Council of Dukes is the only acknowledged authority in such instances. There are only eight dukes here right now, but invitations to the wedding and a council are already on the way to the rest of the dukes. After Jah’Moke and I are married, I will ask for the council to convene and chose new rulers for the vacant ducal seats. All the royal families are related to some degree, and there must be someone who’s only one or two generations removed who will be acceptable. I will also ask for a vote on my proposal for the confederacy.”
Duke Arthur stood next and waited for Java to seat herself again before asking his question. “What is to prevent someone like Frander from trying to take over the confederacy once it is formed?”
Arten stood, surprising Duke Arthur. “We all will, Arthur. It was the combined effort of the duchies that overthrew Frander. It will be the combined effort of the duchies that prevent such a takeover again.”
“Arten, are you that sure of this girl?” Arthur asked, looking closely at his cousin through the haze of the intervening years. It had been fifteen years since he had last seen Arten, and the years had passed all too swiftly under Frander’s spells.
“This girl is my daughter, Arthur,” Arten answered levelly, though his eyes betrayed some of his anger at Java being referred to as “this girl.” “Java proved herself long before Naria and I adopted her, and she has continued to prove herself since then. Her proposal sounds somewhere between heresy and wild-eyed madness, but I believe it will work if we let it.”
Duke Wilson stood next, looking about the room to assess the mood of each of the other dukes. “What if we choose not to join your confederacy, Empress? What then?”
Java took a deep breath and studied the floor for a moment before answering. “Then you will be allowed to go your own way, with the option of joining us at a later date, or not.”
Samantha stood next, glaring at the dukes. “Even if you don’t join us, Lender’s Dale, Greencastle and Hiddendell will be joined together. It may take years, but you’ll see that Java is right. It was only our strength together that allowed us to retake Lender’s Dale, and to free you as well.”
Duke Wilson’s face pulled down into a mighty frown as Samantha spoke. She had only been a child when Frander had conquered Portsmouth. Now she was the duchess of Lender’s Dale, his equal, and a married woman to boot. “Duchess Samantha, I understand your loyalty to the empress, but...”
“My loyalty is to Lender’s Dale!” Samantha snarled, glaring at Duke Wilson through slitted eyelids. “I love Java, but I wouldn’t support her against my home. She knows that, and so do Kaster and Arten.”
Kaster stood next, nodding. “We do indeed know Java. As for her suggestion, I favor it for other reasons. As you all know, Greencastle is a small duchy, the smallest of the old kingdom. We have had to dedicate far too much of our time and resources to protecting our borders from incursions by our neighbors. Even Hiddendell has threatened us in the past, though I can’t see that happening again in the foreseeable future.” He paused to share a grin with Arten before continuing.
“Each of us has, at some time since the revolution, had to fight off the forces of a neighbor to retain what is ours. In Frander’s case, it was our own divisiveness and isolation that allowed him to carry on as long as he did. He took Glimmerrey by deposing Duke Fuller, then began his conquest of the other duchies. He ran all but unchecked until he took Lender’s Dale and would have taken Greencastle as well if Arten hadn’t supported us.”
Ander stood and waited for Kaster to relinquish the floor. “This is a very strange discussion, my friends. I’m here because of Shaireese. I joined the fight against Frander because of Java, and because it was the right thing to do.” Looking at Java, he smiled softly. “Java, you will forgive me, but I need to consider this proposal carefully before I commit to it. I, we,” he paused to quickly glance at the rest of the dukes, “must know that it’s the best thing to do for our duchies and people.”
Java nodded and smiled. “That’s all I ask, Duke Ander.”
* * *
Java called all the royalty, along with her friends, to join her in the palace courtyard after they had eaten that night. She had asked the palace staff to build a small fire.
“Please, everyone, join hands with me in a circle. I want—I wish to honor our dead.” She spoke in a harsh whisper that sounded like she had been crying. “This has been a year of loss for us. So many people we had thought safe were lost to Frander’s madness.” She looked to where Merrit and Anness stood together.
Java started singing
a dirge, and the people around her joined in. The song was traditionally sung at Mid Winter, when those lost during the year were remembered and mourned. But there was hope as well. Merrit knew Lothar had survived. Anness and the triplets knew Braden Salem had been in Brian’s Ford during the attack. While the news from Morrisdale had been grim, only seventy-six people had lost their lives.
* * *
The dukes sent the army back home with their thanks, and in the case of the mercs, with full pay. Only squads from the assorted Royal Guards remained to see to the welfare of their dukes and duchesses. There were only about three hundred of them total, and there was room in the palace to house them all. Java found herself with an honor guard made up of men from the Hiddendell Royal Guard, Greencastle Royal Guard, Lender’s Dale Royal Guard, and the Helena Royal Guard, as well as the remnants of the Imperial Guard. There was some muttering among the Imperials about the inclusion of the others, but they understood that Java’s family would want to ensure her safety.
Java, with the support of her family and friends, worked through the winter to distribute food and needed supplies to the duchies of the empire. The elder dukes were constantly being surprised by her drive and knowledge as she guided the empire through the toughest winter that most of its inhabitants had ever encountered.
Some of her decrees seemed highhanded and outright unreasonable to some of the elder royalty, such as forbidding anyone to have feasts while people were starving in other parts of the empire. Even the palace was on short rations, by her order, and meals were seldom relaxed.
Java’s temper, never the most even or controlled, wasn’t helped by the bouts of morning sickness that plagued her through the beginning of the winter. Neither Naria nor Marta had had any experience like this, but Werrin had, and she made it her business to aid Java to the best of her ability.
“I was sick every morning for four months with each of the boys, Java. Believe me, I know what you’re going through.”
Caloo’Ah had also joined in, and she nodded her agreement. “Jah’Moke did not pain me so, but Cah’Fene left me weak and shaking for hours each day. It will pass, though, and you will have a beautiful son.”
Java smiled softly at her future mother-in-law. “Are you sure it’s a son? Even the triplets can’t tell yet.”
Werrin and Caloo’Ah shared a look and nodded. “Girls do not make their mothers sick, Java.”
* * *
Mid-Winter came, and Arten stood aside to allow Duke Harrison to act as Elder. As the somber days passed, Java decided that she needed someone younger to play the part of the child. There were no young royal children present, but there were the triplets and Sam. After a hushed conference with Sam and Pan, she decided that the triplets would light the first fire together.
As the sun dawned on the first day of the new year, Mayrie led her sisters to the pile of wood that had been laid in the palace courtyard. Clasping hands in a circle, they melded their powers and called fire from the sky to light the first fire of the new year. Maylee sculpted the flames into a dragon, while Maygren created a roar that shook snow from the roofs of the nearby buildings. The fire dragon spread its wings before sinking into the wood and igniting the small fire that would be used to kindle the rest of the fires in the palace.
Adept Tyrus stood aside to watch the three youngsters and had to stifle laughter at their theatrics. The other adepts simply shook their heads and muttered about show-offs and children.
The dukes were impressed, but kept their reactions hidden. Living under Frander’s control had left them cautious of Magi, especially young, undisciplined Magi such as the Terrible Trio. The Firewalkers had brought the triplets’ nickname with them, along with far too many stories of their escapades.
* * *
The year continued with Java’s belly growing. And growing. And growing. Java’s slender figure was accented now by a bulging belly and swollen ankles.
“I look horrible!” she whined one day as she gazed into a full-length mirror.
“You look wonderful, Java,” Jah’Moke said from his seat by the fire.
“Liar!” Java screamed back at him, never taking her eyes off the mirror. “I’m fat and dumpy and ugly.”
“You are beautiful, Java,” Jah’Moke repeated, then ducked when she threw a vase at him. Jah’Moke kept moving and ducked out of the room. He hadn’t been very old when his mother had been pregnant with Cah’Fene, but he remembered her temper and mood swings quite well. He ran into the triplets in the hallway. Literally.
Mayrie grabbed him when he ran into her, partially to keep him from falling, partially to keep herself from falling. “What are you running from, Jah’Moke?”
“Java. She thinks she’s ugly and fat now,” he said dispiritedly.
“We’ll go see her,” Maygren said, and led her sisters into the royal suite to find Java still sitting in front of the mirror. “Hi, Tubby.”
“I’m not fat!” Java snapped automatically, glaring at the girls.
“That’s not what Jah’Moke just said,” Maylee said brightly. “He said you think you’re fat and ugly.”
“If I could catch you I’d wipe that smile off your face, Maylee,” Java snarled, but the triplets just laughed.
“It’s time to check the baby, Java,” Mayrie said, walking over to a sofa and spreading a blanket. “Come over here and get away from that mirror. You’re not doing either of you any good by brooding over how fat you’re getting.”
Java glared but complied. The triplets melded their power and began a probe of Java’s belly, as they had every week since Java had announced her pregnancy. “There’s something strange going on here, Java,” Maylee muttered.
“It’s as if there was...”
“...More than one baby.” All three looked up into Java’s startled eyes.
“Don’t you even...” Java began, but the triplets had directed their talents fully on her now, and all three nodded.
Java had told them from the beginning that she didn’t want to know whether she was carrying a boy or girl, but that consideration was brushed aside by their discovery. “Twin boys. Identical,” Maygren announced.
Mayrie nodded her agreement. “Well developed, but small.”
“Normal in all respects,” Maylee added, glancing at her sisters. “Mama said we were small too.”
“You three had better not be joking,” Java snarled. But the looks the triplets turned on her made her moan, then whine, “You aren’t joking. Oh, no, now I’m going to be twice as sick.”
* * *
Warm weather brought with it the visitors who had been invited to the wedding. Duke Raman and Duke Hilliard arrived with their retinues and were greeted with open arms by the resident royalty. Java was feeling sick that morning, so Jah’Moke welcomed the dukes in her place.
“We welcome you to Glimmerrey,” Jah’Moke said formally, bowing deeply to the dukes.
Duke Hilliard nodded, but frowned at being greeted by a Latté barbarian. Arten stepped forward and nodded. “Hilliard, it’s good to see you. How was your trip?”
“Surprisingly quiet, Arten. I’d hoped to be greeted by this young empress we’ve been invited to see wed,” Duke Hilliard said softly, his disapproval of being greeted by Jah’Moke evident in his posture and his tone.
“My daughter isn’t feeling well, Hilliard. The twins are taking their toll on her strength,” Arten said softly, his tone telling Hilliard that he had stepped on Arten’s toes.
“Your daughter?” Hilliard asked, suddenly apologetic. “Is that why I recognized the name Java?”
“It is,” Jah’Moke answered, stepping into the dukes’ conversation.
“And you are...”
“Jah’Moke Cawfy, Java’s betrothed. The future emperor,” Arten supplied, watching Hilliard closely and seeing the shock on his face. Duke Raman stepped up next, after overhearing the exchange between Hilliard and Arten, and bowed graciously to Jah’Moke.
“Prince Jah’Moke, on behalf of my people,
I thank you. We’ve heard that you’ve been with the young empress from the start.” Turning, he motioned a pair of young women forward. “This is my wife, Duchess Melody, and our daughter, Princess Cari.”
Jah’Moke hid his surprise at the introduction and bowed low to the duchess and princess. He had at first assumed they were sisters. “I am honored.”
Princess Cari smiled brightly and stepped forward. She appeared to be about sixteen to Jah’Moke, though she was taller than he by several inches. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Prince Jah’Moke.”
Jah’Moke smiled and bowed, then chuckled. “Lies and exaggerations, probably.”
Arten laughed as well. “Cari, the last time I saw you, you were only about six. Has it really been so long?”
Duchess Melody nodded. “Eleven years, Arten. I don’t think I can express how much we appreciate your aid in overthrowing Frander.”
“Our pleasure, Mel,” Kaster said from behind his sister, making her spin in place and jump into his arms.
“Kas! I was looking for you! Where’ve you been?” Melody asked, smiling broadly and hanging her arms around her big brother’s neck.
“Attending to business, Mel. Come along now, the rest are waiting inside.” Looking over at Cari, he grinned. “Everyone’s here, Cari, so behave or I’ll turn Dena loose on you again.”
Cari looked at Duke Kaster through narrowed eyelids. “You better not, Uncle Kas.”
The elders all laughed at the exchange as they walked into the palace. Jah’Moke, Arten, and Kaster led the visitors to their suites to freshen up, then went to find the rest of their family. Java was seven months pregnant now, and informal court was being held in the garden. Jah’Moke walked over to kiss her, then informed everyone who the visitors were. Duke Harrison immediately excused himself to go find Duke Hilliard. Their fathers were brothers, so that made them true cousins and they were much closer than most of the other dukes. Duchess Bethany sighed.
“There’s going to be trouble about them not coming to our aid, the way you aided Kaster, Arten. Harry felt betrayed by Hilliard’s refusal to send troops. And now, knowing what could have been...He is really being tiresome about it.”
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