Sateyuka was a handsome woman, with clear, intelligent eyes and the no-nonsense demeanor of someone used to giving orders. Ashinji knew right away his decision had been a sound one. “I’ve come to ask a very great favor of you,” he said quietly. “I’ve no time to explain. I must leave Sendai immediately and I need someone trustworthy to care for my daughter.”
“What has happened to Jelena, my lord?” Sateyuka asked.
Ashinji sensed the strength of the hikui woman’s Talent, but felt only mild surprise. She was doing an excellent job of shielding her thoughts but she could not hide her emotions quite so well; Ashinji felt her alarm like a burst of heat on his skin.
“It’s too complicated. Please Sateyuka. Time is running out. Will you shelter my child?”
On impulse, Ashinji mindspoke.
You are Jelena’s dear friend. She trusted…trusts you, so I will, too. We both need you to do this for us. I promise, when I return, everything will be explained to you.
Sateyuka’s face blanched. She stared hard at Ashinji for a few heartbeats, then gazed at Hatora, still calmly sucking her fist as Eikko bounced her in her arms.
Yes, Captain, of course I’ll look after your daughter! After all, I was there when she took her first breath. I love Hatora because she’s Jelena’s.
“You are the first okui who has ever mindspoken to me,” Sateyuka added aloud. She reached out to stroke the baby’s cheek. “I’ll keep her for as long as you need me to.”
“What about me?” Eikko asked in a tiny voice. “Am I to stay here as well?”
“The mistress will need your help with my daughter,” Ashinji replied.
Sateyuka cocked her head. “You look strong and capable, girl. I think I can find something for you to do in my shop when little Hatora doesn’t need you. Can you read?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Eikko replied, then added, “I can do figures also.”
“Sateyuka, I really must go.” Ashinji swung Hatora from Eikko’s arms and held her close. “I’ve a very long ride ahead of me.” The baby squirmed as he kissed her cheeks and forehead. He knew her thoughts, even though her mind could not yet form words to articulate them.
She knows I’m leaving her and that I have no idea when I’ll return.
Hatora’s face crumpled and she let out a wail.
“Please, baby,” Ashinji whispered, unable to hold back his own tears. “Don’t cry!” For a while, he could do nothing but weep, and when at last he felt strong enough, he handed his still bawling child over to Sateyuka and departed.
With Hatora’s cries ringing in his ears and her mental anguish piercing him like a flight of arrows, he flung himself onto his horse and took off into the night.
A Simple Defense
Sen Sakehera peered through his spyglass, humming tunelessly to himself. He swept the glass from left to right, scanning the valley below. Off in the distance, nearly lost in bluish haze, the twin towers of Tono Castle stabbed defiantly skyward. The big bay stallion beneath him snorted and stamped at the rocky ground, tail thrashing with impatience.
Prince Raidan maneuvered his own mount alongside that of his co-general. The two stallions glared at each other, ears flattened.
“By the One, I think we’ve beaten ’em,” Sen announced. “The valley looks quiet and Odata’s colors still fly over the castle.” He lowered the spyglass and closed it with a snap.
“I’m expecting a scout in shortly,” Raidan responded. “We’ll know more then.” The two men sat their horses atop a ridge overlooking the broad expanse of the valley; below, grasslands rolled away in a series of gentle folds to merge with the rich farmland of the valley floor. Behind them massed the combined elven forces, some twenty thousand strong, consisting of the professional army at its core, augmented by the levies of Alasiri’s great lords.
The elves would face a human army estimated at between forty and fifty thousand professional, well-seasoned troops. Though not quite as outnumbered as they had feared, nevertheless, both elven generals knew their only chance for survival lay with superior tactics and magic.
Raidan gazed toward a dark smudge in the distance, almost directly opposite their current position-the high ridgeline pierced by the Tono Pass. The pass provided the only way for the Soldaran army to gain entry into the valley from the south; it was the key to the elves’ entire defensive strategy.
“I pray there’s been no more plague,” Sen muttered. He twisted in his saddle, first one way and then the other. “Where is that son of mine?” he grumbled. “I need him.”
“If we push, we can make the castle before nightfall,” Raidan said.
Sen scratched his chin and scowled. “Let’s hope that scout gets here soon,” he said. “We need to know how much time we’ve got. I’ll see you at the castle.” He wheeled his mount away from Raidan’s, then trotted off along the ridge toward where his Kerala troops waited.
Raidan raised his hand and his own aides, who had been hanging back at a discreet distance, now urged their mounts forward. “Give the order to march,” he commanded and they dispersed to their duties. The prince did not move off right away, but stayed awhile longer on the ridge, pondering the enormity of the task at hand.
The elves had devised a deceptively simple defense plan. The valley was shaped like a wineskin; at its narrowest point, the pass acted like a spout. That spout would be defended by a small elite force, which would serve to delay the Soldarans, and at the same time, trick them into believing they faced sparse resistance.
At a specified time, the elves would turn and flee toward the castle. Emboldened by the apparent weakness of their opposition, the humans would rush into the narrow neck of the valley.
Unbeknownst to the Soldarans, the bulk of the elven army, along with most of the mages, would be positioned behind the rocky ridgelines above the valley floor. They would sweep down in a pincer movement, catching the humans by surprise and surrounding them before they realized their mistake. As the final piece of the trap, the remainder of the elven forces, bolstered by their most powerful mages, would sally forth from the castle to meet the charging Soldarans head on.
In theory, the plan should work.
If only we had about ten thousand more troops , Raidan thought.
“The army is ready to move, my lord Prince!” an aide called out. Raidan waved his hand in acknowledgment, then turned his mount’s head toward the steep path that led down off the ridge into the valley.
***
“Isn’t this exciting, Little Brother?” Raidu crowed, a savage grin twisting his mouth. “Soon we’ll be real warriors, with the blood of dozens of humans on our blades!”
Raidan frowned, disturbed by his eldest son’s eagerness to kill.
“I’ll be glad when all of this is over,” Kaisik murmured in reply.
The prince had convened a final council in the great hall of Tono Castle. All of his war leaders, along with their senior staffs, were present, as well as the contingent of mages, led by a dour-faced old man whose name Raidan couldn’t remember. A generous meal had been laid out, and for the first hour or so, there had been no talk of the coming fight.
“Look after your brother, Prince Raidu,” Sadaiyo Sakehera spoke up. “I made the mistake of not looking after mine, much to my sorrow.”
Raidan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Heir of Kerala. He heard no genuine sorrow in the younger Sakehera’s voice; rather, Raidan thought he could detect a subtle smugness in the other man’s tone. If Sen Sakehera noticed, he gave no sign.
When the servants had cleared away the last of the dishes, Raidan raised his hand to gain everyone’s attention. “Our scouts report the Soldarans are less than three days’ march south of the pass,” he began. “That should give us enough time to get our forces into position. Everyone here in this hall knows the gravity of our situation. If we fail to turn back the Soldarans here at Tono, they will charge north to take Sendai and there’d be no stopping them. It would mean the end of Alasiri as a free nation.”
“Do we have a contingency plan, in case this one proves unsuccessful?” Odata asked.
The ever-practical mistress of understatement , Raidan thought.
“Fall back with whatever forces we have left and retreat to Sendai, where we’ll make a final stand,” he replied. He scrutinized the faces before him and saw a range of emotions-calm resignation, fierce determination, naked worry. He measured his next words very carefully.
“The king lies ill with the plague, as you all know. When I last saw him, he hovered very close to death. His daughter remains by his side.” Raidan paused to gauge the reaction of the assembly to the mention of Keizo’s hikui daughter. The group remained quiet and attentive, but he could feel a dangerous undercurrent tugging at the edges of his senses. He forged on. “None of us can ignore the possibility that my brother may die, and that I and both my sons may fall in the coming battle. If that happens, the elves will need to put aside their long-held prejudices and embrace the only Onjara who will be capable of leading them…my niece Jelena.”
Angry shouts erupted around the room.
Morio of Ayame stood, his face florid. “Your Highness, I don’t understand this sudden change in attitude! You can’t possibly expect us to elevate a hikui to the throne!” Morio’s eyes blazed with accusation, but he was too clever to let slip anything that would reveal his participation in Raidan’s previous conspiracy.
“My brother-in-law’s right!” Coronji of Tohru shouted. “My lord Prince, it doesn’t matter that she’s Keizo’s daughter. The elven people would never accept her!”
“You’re both fools. Jelena is a true Onjara!” Sen Sakehera retorted. “Would you rather our people have no one to lead them?”
“We can serve as a regents’ council for the prince’s next oldest child,” Morio shot back. “Why put a hikui bastard on the throne when we still have legitimate Onjara heirs?”
Sen Sakehera leapt from his chair. “The prince’s other children are babies! Why elevate a baby when we have the king’s own legitimized daughter, a grown woman, who is fit to be our queen?”
“Of course you would take her side, Sakehera!” Morio snarled. “After all, you allowed her into your family and now your bloodline is sullied…”
“ How dare you!” Sen’s face purpled with fury. Raidan had never seen him in such a state before.
Stung a little himself by Morio’s insults, the prince shouted, “Enough!”
Both men subsided, but by the look on his face, Raidan knew Sen had been deeply offended by Morio’s words.
“My lords, we can’t afford to let dissent divide us like this, not now,” the prince admonished. “It’s clear some of you have strong objections to the inclusion of my niece into the order of succession, but I am telling you all now…put aside your prejudices for the sake of Alasiri!” He paused, but no one spoke up. “It took a long time for me to accept Jelena as a part of my family, but I have,” he stated. “She has shown herself to be intelligent, brave, and worthy of our name. I need to know that all of Alasiri’s great lords will stand behind her if the worst happens.”
“I will stand behind her,” Sen declared.
“As will I,” Odata added, after a pause.
No one else spoke. The silence of the gathering gave clear testimony to the stubbornness of long-held bigotry. The prince understood the ugliness of the emotion all too well. He let his face settle into a mask of calm determination, and waited.
Finally, a voice broke the stillness.
“I, too, will stand behind the daughter of our king,” Kaita of Arrisae pledged. The youngest of Alasiri’s great lords, she had just come into her title upon the death of her mother, less than a year ago. Raidan nodded in acknowledgment.
Kaita’s declaration broke the barrier, and one by one, the other lords stood and offered their support, even Coronji, who had never before broken ranks with his brother-in-law, Morio. Only Morio remained in his seat, silent and stone-faced. When at last all had stood, every face turned toward the Lord of Ayame, who kept his eyes focused on Raidan.
The assembly held its collective breath, waiting for the explosion…
…which never came.
Morio’s eyes remained hard, but his expression softened a little. “I can’t pledge my support to the hikui, Highness, but neither will I openly oppose her. That is the best I can offer. I beg you not to ask any more of me.”
Raidan felt some of the tension in his body drain away. “I will accept that,” he replied, then addressed the entire assembly. “Make no mistake, my lords and ladies,” he intoned. “I have no plans to give up my life or my throne, should it come to me through my brother’s death. My niece has made it clear she has no desire to be queen, and will assume that burden only if forced to by necessity. But know this. I have the utmost faith in her ability to lead the elven people.”
Morio had one final shot. “I pray to the One she is never put to that test,” he said.
***
“Such grand words of support for my hikui cousin, Father,” Raidu commented. “If only you had the same confidence in me.”
The mildness of Raidan’s tone stood in sharp contrast to the irritation he felt. “I have always supported you, even when you’ve given me ample reason not to,” he replied.
After the war council, Raidan had retired to the chamber he shared with Raidu and Kaisik to prepare himself for bed. Both his sons had accompanied him, but while Kaisik seemed eager to seek his pallet, Raidu remained alert and restless.
“Morio was right, Father. The people won’t accept Jelena as queen, even if there’s no one else for the job. Besides, she’ll never get the chance. We’re going to win this fight and you’ll take your rightful place as king.” Raidu’s smile reminded his father of a young wolf’s toothy snarl.
“Our uncle’s not dead yet. Stop talking about him as if he were!” Kaisik snapped. He had already undressed and now lay on his pallet, a light blanket pulled up to his chin. He glared at his older brother, his brown eyes uncharacteristically stern.
“Easy, Little Brother,” Raidu soothed. “I meant no disrespect to our uncle.” He turned to look at Raidan. “I can’t sleep now, Father,” he announced. “I’m going out.” He strode to the door and departed before Raidan had a chance to object.
The elder prince sighed in annoyance. Raidu was a grown man, no longer bound by the strict rules governing his younger brother. He could come and go as he pleased.
No doubt he’s spotted a comely servant girl and has gone off to find her. A quick tryst in a corner somewhere and then he’ll return…
Raidan, still dressed in his dusty undertunic and breeches, removed his boots and lay down on the big bed. He doubted he would get much sleep this night.
The prince turned his head to stare at his younger son’s face. The boy’s eyes were closed, as if he had already fallen asleep. The prince thought about the stark differences between his two sons, and about what he believed their relationship to be like.
Raidu had always been protective of Kaisik, and yet, they seemed more like master and servant than brothers. Raidu commanded, Kaisik obeyed; most folk would agree that this was the proper way of things. Still, it pleased Raidan to see Kaisik speak up to scold his brother.
Raidan made the decision to work harder to encourage his younger son’s independence.
“Kaisik,” he called out softly.
The boy’s eyes popped open. He had not been asleep after all. “Yes, Father?”
“Tomorrow, I want you to ride out with the scouts to reconnoiter the pass,” the elder prince said.
“But, Father, Raidu is going up to the west ridgeline. He’ll want me to go with him.”
“I don’t care. It’s time you had some experience on your own. Raidu can do without you for one day. He’ll just have to fetch and carry his own gear, now won’t he?”
“Yes, Father,” Kaisik murmured, but Raidan couldn’t tell if he heard relief or worr
y in the boy’s voice.
A sudden noise broke the quiet. Someone pounded on the outer chamber door, shouting with great urgency. Kaisik sat up on his pallet, eyes wide with alarm. Raidan jumped up and reached the door in three quick strides. He jerked it open to reveal a man dressed in castle livery, standing at the threshold.
“My lord Prince, come quickly! There’s plague in the castle! My lady needs you now!” the man cried. His fear stung Raidan like a cloud of angry hornets.
The prince rushed to pull his boots back on. “Stay put!” he growled, jabbing his finger at Kaisik, then turning back to the servant he ordered, “Take me to your mistress!”
The servant led the way through a series of darkened back corridors into the part of the castle frequented only by the staff. Muttering about “the end times” and wringing his hands, he kept glancing over his shoulder as if to assure himself Raidan still followed.
The two men rushed through the castle’s cavernous kitchen, lit only by the crimson glow of banked fires, and came to a hallway lined with wooden doors, most of them thrown open to reveal plain, serviceable furniture. At the far end, a whispering, weeping clutch of castle folk clogged one of the doorways.
“Step aside!” cried Raidan’s guide. “Step aside for his Highness!” The servants melted against the walls, their heads bowed. The air thrummed with their fright. Raidan stepped into the room, and Odata greeted him with a curse and a question.
“Goddess’ tits! What are we going to do now?”
A Prince No More
This is not good, not good at all,” muttered Sen Sakehera. He paced the length of Odata’s small study in quick, jerky strides. “You’re the physician, Raidan. Is there anything we can do to stop this from spreading?”
“Yes, but it’ll make defending Tono nearly impossible,” the prince replied. “We’d have to seal up the castle.”
In total, three castle dwellers had already fallen ill: a housemaid, a kitchen drudge, and the guardsman Raidan had been called out to examine.
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