Lady-Protector

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  “It’s important?”

  “You should know. I don’t think you want too many others knowing.”

  “There are always too many who know … unless no one else knows, and sometimes that’s worse.” Mykella turned toward the front of the palace.

  Salyna took two quick steps to move up beside her older and smaller sister.

  Chalmyr nodded but said nothing as the two sisters entered the anteroom.

  “I didn’t expect you to be here so late,” Mykella said.

  “It’s no problem, Lady. I thought you might need me to be here for a while.”

  “Thank you.” Mykella offered a smile, then led the way into the formal study.

  Salyna followed and closed the door—firmly—before she stepped up to the side of the desk, turning to face her sister. “Mykella, I had some of the guards go out to the villa with me. We took a cart to get those sabers. They were dusty, but they weren’t old at all.”

  “They weren’t? They looked old. They weren’t like the saber you use.”

  “They aren’t. According to Ghalyan, they’re the kind of sabers issued to the Northcoast heavy cavalry. They’ve never been used, and there were twenty-one of them.”

  Mykella frowned. “What else?”

  “According to the villa servants who are still there, that’s about how many retainers Cheleyza brought with her and how many left with her when she fled.”

  “She had a squad of Northcoast troopers at the villa?”

  “We can’t be certain … but it is rather strange.”

  “Why did they leave the weapons?” prompted Mykella.

  “I’d guess they weren’t for them. No cavalryman would willingly leave his blade, especially if he thought the Southern Guards might come after them.”

  “Joramyl planned to bring in Northcoast troopers secretly? Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think—except no one gathers twenty-one new sabers without reason. I also found one empty cartridge box.”

  Mykella glanced toward the window. Had Joramyl been planning an armed coup before deciding on murder? Or had Cheleyza and her “steward” had something else in mind from the beginning? “I need to think about this, but Cheleyza’s involved more than we thought.”

  “You never trusted her, did you?”

  “No, but I honestly didn’t think she was planning to take over Lanachrona by force. Even two squads wouldn’t have been enough to take the palace, let alone the Southern Guards.”

  “She could have been coppering her wagers.”

  “In case Father discovered?” asked Mykella. “She was probably making sure she could escape if things went wrong … and she did just that.” After a moment, she added, “I’ll tell Areyst, but I’d just as soon you just keep it to the fact that you found the sabers in a storeroom.”

  “I can do that. And they will help in training the auxiliaries.” Salyna paused. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

  “You will.” Mykella smiled.

  The study door hadn’t even closed behind Salyna before Chalmyr announced Areyst.

  The commander stepped into the study. “Lady.”

  “Commander, do sit down.” Mykella settled herself behind the desk, taking a long look at the officer, from short-cut blond hair and pale green eyes to his trim, but muscular figure. “I’m glad you’ve returned safely. You look concerned, though.”

  “So do you. I saw the Lady Salyna depart as I was entering the anteroom.”

  “I let her recover the old sabers I discovered in the hidden room in Joramyl’s villa—I told you about them. You were checking something else, I think.”

  “Empty cartridge boxes.” Areyst’s voice was dry. “And?”

  “The sabers weren’t old…” Mykella explained. “… and that is why, I believe, Cheleyza was so prepared to flee when I acted against Joramyl.”

  “The sabers were not there solely for her protection.”

  “I don’t believe so, either, but I don’t know exactly what else she might have had in mind. There were not enough arms to foment a rebellion or attack the palace.”

  Areyst nodded. “There is another difficulty … of sorts. Klevytr’s retainers saw the bodies of the Ifrits before they turned to dust, and some were claiming that they were Alectors that had been returned to life. I suggested that was unlikely since they had been killed, but…”

  “Before long word will be all over Tempre,” Mykella finished. “That can’t be helped. We have another problem.” Among many. “Klevytr knew about his daughter by early afternoon. By then, only the first half squad had returned to Tempre.”

  The commander nodded, slowly. “Khanasyl has an informant within the Guards. I may even know who he is.”

  “Someone who is always at headquarters and friendly to all the men?”

  “Who else could it be? The first half of third squad returned to Tempre about a glass after midnight, and they were required to stay at headquarters. They did not return to duty status until a glass before noon. Seltyr Klevytr did not approach you until early afternoon, but before the remainder of third squad had returned. Word will always get out.” Areyst shrugged. “Was Seltyr Klevytr polite and civil?”

  “Not at first. I had to display some Talent to calm him down. I don’t think he saw what happened when I became Lady-Protector.”

  “Or he chose not to believe it.”

  “Or Khanasyl suggested it was some sort of trickery.” Mykella tilted her head. “Didn’t the Seltyrs have a higher position under the Alectors, especially on Dramur?”

  “You’re thinking that he knows that the attackers were Ifrits and that he’d rather have them as rulers than you?”

  “I was thinking more that he believes that the First Seltyr should be Protector of Lanachrona, rather than a woman.”

  “From what I’ve seen, Lady, most Seltyrs feel that way. So do many High Factors.”

  “And you, Commander, what do you feel?”

  Areyst met her eyes. “If you do all that you are capable of, you will be one of the great rulers.” His lips quirked. “Unhappily, you will have to do all that in order to maintain your rule.”

  “Then that is what I will do.” Mykella managed to keep her smile wry although a part of her was warmed by the feelings she sensed behind Areyst’s cool assessment.

  21

  Novdi morning, Mykella slept later than usual, if only by a half glass, but immediately upon waking, she washed up and pulled on clean trousers and shirt, boots, and jacket, carefully laid out by Wyandra the night before, then slipped down to the Table chamber. She was gratified to see that iron plating totally covered the inside of the door. A quick inspection revealed that no wooden surfaces could be seen. The Table radiated a slightly brighter shade of the pinkish purple, but was not pulsing.

  Not yet.

  Mykella walked over and looked into the mirrored surface, concentrating on Cheleyza. When the swirling mists cleared, she could make out her aunt, in a morning dressing gown, standing beside a low and long divan of some sort and facing a man attired in a dark green shirt with yellow piping, mostly covered by a worn leather vest—most likely a hunting vest, Mykella thought. Both Cheleyza and the man were talking and gesturing—vigorously.

  Mykella studied the man, a good head taller than Cheleyza, who was not only elegantly proportioned, and anything but short. He was not only taller, but had broad shoulders. Still, there was something about him … his neck and features, and the same black hair, if cut short. Abruptly, she saw the similarity. In all likelihood, Cheleyza was arguing with her brother Chalcaer, and Chalcaer was anything but pleased.

  Not for the first time, Mykella wished she could hear the words.

  Mykella didn’t see much point in looking for most of the others she’d used the Table to follow, not so early in the day. Instead, she focused on trying to reach the deep green, but, as with her last attempt, she could not reach or connect to it.

  What if I have to go to it … or almost to it
?

  With that thought, she let herself flow downward and into the stone beneath the chamber, sinking deeper, until she was surrounded by the blackness. Only then did she begin to seek the deeper green. Even so, she could approach it but not link to it, or even control it in any fashion.

  What am I doing wrong?

  She attempted another approach, that of following the green thread, trying to find the line of amber … but the amber was gone, as if it had never been. As the chill crept more deeply into her bones, she finally rose back upward, straight to her own apartments. There, for close to a quarter glass, she huddled in a quilt, warming up, trying to think about how else she might be able to control that deeper green … and whether she would have the time before the Ifrits appeared with greater weapons.

  Finally, she made her way to the breakfast room, where both her sisters were already eating. She slipped into her place quietly, waiting for Muergya to pour tea into her mug.

  Rachylana looked up from the tiny omelet on her platter and stared at Mykella. “Are you all right?”

  “I feel fine.” At least physically. “Why?”

  “You’re … there’s a green shade to you … but there’s not…”

  Salyna stopped eating and looked at Mykella, then at Rachylana. “She looks more rested to me.”

  In turn, Mykella studied Rachylana with her senses, not just her eyes. Was there just a hint of a thread of green in her life-thread? While she half hoped not … there was. Not so much as with Areyst, whose green line, while narrow, was thick enough to be easily sensed, but a definite green thread.

  “What is it?” snapped Rachylana. “Now you’re looking at me. Why?”

  Mykella offered a laugh. “You definitely don’t look green.”

  Rachylana glanced at Mykella, then shook her head. “You do … and you don’t.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who didn’t get enough sleep last night,” suggested Salyna.

  “I was thinking about the season-turn ball … It will be rather dull with all the envoys gone. They all have departed, haven’t they?”

  “The Deforyans and the southerners have left,” Mykella replied. “I don’t know about Vaerlon. He’s Skrelyn’s envoy.”

  “I saw him when he came to meet with you,” said Salyna. “He looked full of himself. He was also looking at every wall in the palace like he was counting up what everything was worth.”

  “Cheleyza said the coastal princes were envious of us,” Rachylana added.

  “She’s doubtless trying to get her brother to attack us,” Mykella said.

  “They won’t, will they?” asked Rachylana. “I know you said you thought they might, but do you really think they’ll attack?”

  “Rachylana—” Salyna’s voice contained equal parts of exasperation and incredulity.

  “I’d wager more than all of Cheleyza’s ball gowns on it,” said Mykella quickly. “Cheleyza wants her child to rule Lanachrona. The coastal princes want what we have. Southgate wants more power for the Seltyrs and advantages in trade. The only way for all of them to get what they want is for the coastal princes to conquer or weaken Lanachrona.” Where the Seltyrs are already unhappy with a woman ruler.

  “You never said she was pregnant,” replied Rachylana.

  “She did. You just weren’t listening,” declared Salyna.

  Muergya entered the breakfast room with an omelet and ham slices for Mykella, who took a sip of her tea in the welcome lull in conversation.

  After taking several bites of her omelet, Mykella asked, “How are you coming with the arrangements for the ball?”

  “It’s hard because we don’t have many golds…”

  Mykella nodded and listened while she ate.

  Salyna glanced to Mykella and raised her eyebrows, but Mykella just smiled and continued with her breakfast. In less than a quarter glass, she had finished, returned to her chamber, washed up, and headed for her formal study.

  When Mykella stepped into the antechamber, Chalmyr rose, as always, and nodded. “Lady, there’s a message from Commander Areyst on your desk. His messenger said it wasn’t urgent. So I just left it there for when you came in. You’re never that late.”

  “Thank you.” Mykella entered the study, opened the sealed missive, and began to read.

  Lady-Protector—

  We have just received word that Commander Choalt has arrived in Viencet. He is increasing the training schedule. He has brought another three squads of recruits. Two more squads of recruits are coming from Borlan, and three from Dekhron and Krost. With those recruits already raised in Tempre, by rotating troopers and mixing the recruits into existing companies, we will have two more companies available by summer.

  Even with two more companies, what Areyst had not mentioned was how likely the Southern Guards was to be outnumbered. And how many more golds would be required to pay the additional troopers.

  Always, always, the golds bothered her, especially the puzzle about what Joramyl—or Cheleyza—had done with the thousands and thousands of golds diverted from the Treasury. Had she missed something at the villa? Mykella didn’t think so, but it was worth another search.

  With that thought nagging at her, and nothing urgent for the moment, she sent word to the duty-squad leader that she would be riding out to the villa.

  Then she got out the ancient maps of Corus and began to check the actual locations of those Tables named by the soarer. While she knew Alustre was far to the east, the map confirmed just how far—and that Lysia was even farther. The Table where she had almost frozen so many weeks before had to be Blackstear, because none of the others was that far north.

  Little more than a glass later, she dismounted at the villa that had been Joramyl’s and launched into a thorough search, beginning at the uppermost levels and going through every room and every piece of furniture and every drawer.

  Along the way, she did find ten golds hidden in a wallet discarded or forgotten by Cheleyza, as well as a bundle of letters to her aunt, but all were various thank-you notes. Mykella kept them for future reference, to see who appeared to have been overly friendly to Cheleyza. The only new hint of what might have happened to the golds was a scrap of paper, caught in the side of the drawer of the small writing table in the hidden study. That section looked to have been torn up, as if to have been burned, since one corner was brownish and fragile. Had Joramyl been interrupted and let that small scrap slip down into the table?

  As soon as she found it, she immediately read over the words.

  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . chest contains the golds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  . . . . . . . . . . . cavalry needed to sustain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  He sent the golds to build a cavalry force! The conclusion was inescapable. But to whom? And why?

  Mykella shook her head. There was only one possible answer.

  After that, she went through the small study again but found nothing else. Nor did she discover anything else in the remaining rooms on the main floor or in the cellars below that might have shed more light on the missing golds. Once again, she had just enough proof to be certain of what Joramyl had intended but not enough to convince anyone else. In fact, if she revealed what she had discovered, most people would immediately have decided that there was far less danger to Lanachrona—rather than more.

  When she could find nothing else to search, she sat down in the small once-locked study with Hrevor, the former assistant steward and now acting steward for the villa.

  “The villa steward came to Tempre with Lady Cheleyza, you said? Were you the steward before?”

  “No, Lady. I was assistant under Elwayt before he became the palace steward when old Tunstyl’s heart failed. I thought I might become steward here … but then Paelyt arrived…”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  Hrevor swallowed.

  “Go ahead.”

  “He didn’t know what he should. Not what any steward or assistant steward should. He kne
w horses and stables, and victualing, but he didn’t know about wines or overseeing a kitchen. That didn’t bother him, either. He’d just ask me or tell me to do it in the usual fashion.”

  “Didn’t that surprise you?”

  “At first, I just thought it was because he was an outlander. When he gave orders to the grooms and ostlers, and the hunters, though, they jumped. I heard things. I think he used to be a cavalry officer in Northcoast…”

  “You didn’t say anything?”

  “I told Elwayt, and he said he’d mentioned it to the Lord-Protector. The Lord-Protector said that the Lady Cheleyza needed her own people, and if that made her happy, and Lord Joramyl happy, then that was fine with him—that’s what Elwayt told me, Lady. He truly did.”

  Oh … Father … Mykella barely managed to keep from shaking her head. “What else was different about Paelyt?”

  “Sometimes, a wagon would arrive from Northcoast. He insisted that only he or his men would unload it. It was the same when the wagon was sent back, and the men who guarded it I’m fair-on sure were cavalry or soldiers.”

  “When was the last wagon sent back to Northcoast? Do you remember?”

  Hrevor frowned, then tilted his head. “Couldn’t have been more than a day or two afore your father died, Lady. Might have been three. No more than that. Only a chest or two and maybe three kegs of good Vyan wines. Still had almost ten guards, though.”

  Mykella had a good idea why.

  In the end, she learned little more from Hrevor, and it was close to twilight when she finally rode back to the palace.

  22

  By early Londi afternoon, Mykella was standing at the study window, fretting again. While she and Haelyt had been able to figure out most of the Treasury ledger entries that had been falsified, neither of them had been able to determine all those who had physically received the golds. She had also received a note on behalf of Kiedryn’s family, thanking her for the provision of a stipend; but Kiedryn’s widow had declined the chance to return to Tempre, writing that Vyan was much better suited to their circumstances. Mykella couldn’t say that she blamed the woman. In a way, it had been Mykella’s fault that Joramyl had forced Kiedryn to suicide. But it wouldn’t have happened, either, if Father hadn’t trusted Joramyl so much.