“Go more toward boyish than you’d like, but not so much as Salyna wants.”
“Can I tell her that?”
“You can tell her I suggested that, and if you two don’t agree on something, I’ll decide.” Mykella smiled, knowing that neither of her sisters cared much for her fashion sense or taste.
“We’ll work it out.”
“Good.”
After breakfast, Mykella skipped using the Table and headed to her study, glad that her headache was only dull pressure that seemed to be easing.
“You might wish to read this first, Lady,” offered Chalmyr, as Mykella stepped into the anteroom. “It came by courier from Southgate.”
Trouble of some sort. “Thank you. I will.”
When she entered the study, she found another nine missives stacked on the left side of her desk. She ignored those and slit open the envelope that bore a white and black wax seal. She smoothed the two sheets and began to read.
Lady-Protector—
Greetings to you from the Seltyrs’ Council of Southgate, and with our best wishes for a continuation of the warm and open relations that have characterized the interactions between Southgate and Lanachrona over the past several decades …
Warm and open relations? The very words suggested to Mykella that her predecessors had been too generous in dealing with the Seltyrs of Southgate. She continued reading.
… and our hope that rumors that have recently reached Southgate are distortions and not rooted in fact or policy. Some have suggested that Lanachrona is embarking upon an expansion of its ability to wage war and that excessive tariffs are contemplated in anticipation of such action. The Council has disparaged such reports, believing that no ruler would embark upon such a course immediately upon ascension to authority, but would appreciate greatly your confirmation that the continuation of past policies and practices is indeed your determination so that such unfounded rumors can be expeditiously laid to rest.
Trade and commerce, particularly between Lanachrona and Southgate, have laid much of the foundation for the long and peaceful state of affairs in the west of Corus for many years, and we trust that you share our belief that any change in the terms of such trade would be adverse to all and perhaps even to peace and stability in Corus. Certainly, we of Southgate are pledged to continue the past policies, and we reaffirm that determination as proof of our goodwill and friendship, and trust that you will do the same …
The remainder of the communication comprised flowery nothings. Mykella read the missive again. The second reading left her more uneasy, and she stood and walked to the study door and out into the anteroom.
“Chalmyr … would you see if Lord Gharyk and Forester Loryalt would both be available in a glass?”
“Yes, Lady.”
Mykella returned to her study and began to read through the other missives. She’d finished three when the door opened, and Salyna stepped inside. She wore almost-shapeless gray trousers and tunic. “Do you have a moment, Mykella?”
“At least half a glass. What is it?”
Salyna closed the door and sat down in the chair nearest the corner of Mykella’s desk. The circles under her eyes remained dark, and her hair had been cut to neck length.
“Your hair’s shorter,” observed Mykella.
“Longer, and it gets in the way. Rachylana would say that I’ll never attract a match that way, but by the time any suitor is ready to come here, I’ll have time for it to grow. Besides, he’d better appreciate me for more than my hair. That’s the smallest of my problems.”
“What can I do?”
“One of the small problems—the frigging undress uniforms. We need to decide, so that they’ll be ready when the training’s over. Rachylana wants the women to look like Seltyr’s daughters playing at being guards, and I think they ought to look like guards…”
“She mentioned that this morning.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her the uniforms ought look more boyish or masculine than she wants, but not so boyish as you want, and that if you two can’t agree, I’d decide. Has she talked to you today?”
Salyna shook her head. “Would you really decide?”
“Only if you two can’t work it out.” And I’d rather not. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Not so far. Commander Areyst has been very helpful since he returned. He did send Bursuin to Viencet.”
“He was the one you disarmed in sparring? Was he being difficult?”
“More like quietly making things harder to accomplish. He cited rules that hadn’t been used or enforced in decades. Even Zhulyn was rolling his eyes.”
“I suspect Areyst transferred him to work under Commander Choalt. Did he?”
“That was what Zhulyn said. How did you know?” There was an edge to Salyna’s words.
“I didn’t. I guessed. From Commander Areyst’s reports, I gathered that Commander Choalt doesn’t put up with nonsense.” And Jeraxylt said so seasons ago.
Salyna stood. “I need to go. Thank you for talking to Rachylana. I probably won’t see you until Novdi or Decdi.”
Less than a quarter glass after Salyna had left, Gharyk and Loryalt appeared together, both bowing and taking seats before the desk.
Mykella handed the missive from the Council of Southgate to Gharyk. “I’ve just received this. I’d like each of you to read it. Then I’d like your thoughts.”
Gharyk read through the two pages and handed them to Loryalt. The Justice Minister’s brow furrowed as he waited for the Forester to finish.
Loryalt finally handed the sheets back to Mykella, then looked to Gharyk. “You’re better with the fancy words.”
Gharyk cleared his throat. “They’re aware that they’ve received favorable treatment in terms of tariffs and road charges, and they don’t want things to change.”
“Road charges?”
“They charge a silver a wagon at their way stations in Zalt, or the two outside of Southgate, and any outland trader or factor who doesn’t have a countersigned waybill faces a gold in fines and the loss of a fifth part of his wares or merchandise.”
Mykella frowned. “A silver isn’t much at all, and there aren’t that many Seltyrs who make the trips. Why would they bother?” She paused. “Do they require a copy of the waybill?”
“I believe so.”
“From their own traders coming to Lanachrona as well?”
Gharyk nodded.
“Is there a fine or penalty for misstatements on the waybill?”
“It used to be a gold or a twentieth part of the goods, whichever was greater.”
“So if the Council studied and added up all the items on the waybills, they would know what goods came from Lanachrona and what we needed from Southgate. Also … they could, if they wished, dispute waybills and punish Seltyrs or factors individually.”
“I suppose so,” said Gharyk.
“We had some trouble with hardwoods five years back,” interjected Loryalt. “Landowner on our side of the Coastal Range ran wagons down there. They claimed he understated the number of logs when he got to Southgate. They took a wagon’s worth and burned the logs.”
“Why did they burn them? Do you know?” asked Gharyk.
Loryalt shook his head.
Mykella handed the sheets to Gharyk. “I’d like you to compose a reply that thanks the Council of Southgate for their concerns and assures them that we will keep their words in mind, and that we will do our best to follow the examples set by Southgate, although some changes might be necessary, given our differences in geography and size. Please do not write it so concisely as I have said and make it far more flowery and elaborate.”
A faint smile crossed the lips of the Justice Minister. “I will endeavor to draft a document that meets your requirements, Lady-Protector.”
Mykella stood. “Thank you both.”
After they left, she pondered the matter of the burning of the logs. Why would they burn good hardwoods when they
could sell them for golds, or even silvers … or ship them to Dramur?
Once again, each tenday brought a new conundrum of some sort—if not more.
Areyst was scheduled to arrive at the second glass of the afternoon, but a good half glass before that, Mykella was standing at the window; looking eastward in the direction of the Southern Guards, not that she could see the complex from her study windows.
She walked back to her desk and reread the last petition, one unlike all the others.
Most graceous Lady Protectir—
Please look to the towpath drovers. We get but a copper for ten vints, and it takes two tendays from Hieron for two of us. Drovers on the coast get a copper for five vints. Please help.
Under the shaky script was an “X.”
Mykella couldn’t tell from the missive whether each drover got a copper for ten vingts or whether the pair split the fee. Either way, it seemed a poor wage, but she was well aware that she didn’t know enough to judge just how poor.
She set the letter down and walked back to the window. Still no sign of Areyst.
When she finally saw him ride into the front courtyard of the palace, she forced herself to walk to her desk and sit down. Even so, it felt like almost a glass before the study door opened, and he walked in and bowed.
“Lady-Protector.”
“Commander.” Mykella gestured to the chairs.
Areyst took the center seat and sat erect, not on the front edge, as did Maeltor, but not all the way back, as did the indulgent Seltyrs. His green eyes seemed more intense as they rested on her, and the hint of a smile lurked in his eyes and the corners of his mouth.
Mykella sensed his amusement but not the reason why. Finally, she spoke. “I read your report and recommendations for dealing with the coastal forces.”
Areyst nodded politely but did not speak.
“You didn’t say anything,” she finally said
“You did not ask me anything, Lady.” The hint of amusement remained behind his eyes.
Mykella wanted to tell him that he was being impossible, but that would have made her seem too … predictably feminine. “You’re right. I didn’t. I was offering you the chance to say anything you might wish, though.”
“Do you have any questions about the strategy? Was there anything you found unclear?”
“I did not find anything unclear.” And she hadn’t. Areyst wrote clearly. “I do have some questions. Why do you think that the coastal forces will advance quickly?”
“There is nothing worth taking with a large force until they near Viencet, and even if they ransack the three towns near the border, they will obtain few supplies. They may choose to hold back the main body and take the first towns with a company or two, then press on with all forces. In that case, Commander Choalt’s special company will deal their advance forces heavy losses, and they will bring all their forces to bear. That is why we will move into position well west of Viencet.”
“Your maps show that there is a wide flat valley from the east end of the foothills of the Coastal Range and that it stretches some twenty vingts to the low hills separating the first valley from the one that holds Viencet. You plan to attack partway into the hills just west of Viencet, not at either end?”
“They will expect an attack to be more likely at either end. Also, if necessary, there is a back road that returns to Viencet. It is shorter than the highway, but steeper. We can reach the attack point without being seen by scouts, whereas the main highway is open to view for vingts. We could regroup by the back road as well, if necessary.”
“How far is the attack hill from the highway, and how far is the highway from the center of the hills south of the Vedra and north of the highway?”
Areyst frowned, and his eyes narrowed. “The hill where we would wait and begin the attack is less than a half vingt from the highway. The southern rises of the hills to the north end perhaps two vingts from the highway, no more than three.”
“Could you attack from the northern hills?”
“One could attack from anywhere, but we would lose all surprise. The hill I have chosen looks as though it is unsuitable for an attack.”
“What if they discover your force?”
“They would likely stop and take position on one of the hills to the west. Then they would decide how to attack us directly because they could not advance toward Viencet or Tempre without moving into a position that would favor us. If they take a hill position, then Commander Choalt’s special company has some tactics and devices that are suitable for harassment without great losses on our part.”
“You plan to harry and harass to reduce their forces as much as possible before you fight a pitched battle.”
“Yes, Lady.”
“What of supplies…?”
Mykella discovered she did have more than a few questions, and it was almost a glass later when she finally said, “I have no more questions right now.”
Areyst smiled. “You asked more questions than most of my majers.”
“They know more than I do.”
“Many of your questions were better. I will have to consider changes because of points you raised.”
“You flatter me, Commander.” Mykella managed to keep her tone light.
“I know that you know when I do not tell the truth. I dare not flatter you falsely.”
“Tell me, Commander. Are you good at knowing when your officers or men are not telling the truth or the whole truth?”
Areyst shrugged, an almost-ironic gesture. “So it is said, and I would like to think so, but thinking so might well let a man deceive himself.”
Or a woman. Mykella laughed, softly. “That’s a very good observation. I’ll have to keep it in mind. You’re leaving on Novdi, you said?”
“Yes, Lady, if that is agreeable to you.”
“It is agreeable, but only if … you make a last visit here before you depart.” There was the briefest pause before she added, “I would like to know your thoughts and any changes you may have considered before you return to Viencet.”
“Would a glass before noon on Novdi be suitable, Lady?”
“It would.”
“Then I look forward to seeing you then.”
Mykella stood, reluctantly, she realized, and while Areyst rose quickly, she sensed his reluctance as well. “Good day, Commander. Take care.” The last words were fractionally softer.
“As I can, Lady. Thank you.” He bowed, then straightened.
Their eyes met … and neither spoke.
Mykella tried not to swallow.
Areyst inclined his head slightly, again, then turned and left the study.
Mykella looked at the door as it closed. You might as well have blurted out that you’re interested in him.
But she couldn’t help but smile as she walked to the window so that she could watch him ride from the palace.
43
Septi morning turned out to be comparatively quiet. That gave Mykella time to make changes to Gharyk’s reply to the Council of Southgate and have Chalmyr redraft it in his elegant hand. She signed and sealed the response, and had it dispatched to the Southgate courier who had been quartered in the Southern Guard barrack for two days, awaiting a reply.
After that, she read through the handful of petitions, the number of which seemed to be dropping off, and drafted short instructions on how to answer each to Chalmyr. Then she did her daily survey of the master ledger and made a quick visit to the main level of the palace to check on the clerks of the Ministry of Highways and Rivers, wishing that Zylander had been able to become minister sooner.
Later that morning, she studied Areyst’s plans and maps—trying to calculate how close she might be able to get to the battle area through the dark ways. She’d looked at the maps so many times, but just before she was about to close the folder, she paused and turned to the map that showed all of Corus under the Alectors. There was something about it that bothered her, more than a little. Outside of the vanished cities of
Elcien and Faitel—destroyed in the Cataclysm with weapons that Ifrits might bring back, she worried—none of the cities were all that close together. Even the distances between smaller towns were not insignificant. Some of the distances were vast indeed, such as the nearly one thousand vingts from Dereka to Dekhron. Without the rivers and the eternastone highways, she doubted that there would have ever been any travel, trade, or communication between Lanachrona and Deforya. Even with Chalcaer and Cheleyza wanting to conquer Lanachrona, they’d have to ride their forces five hundred vingts to reach Salcer and another three-hundred-odd vingts to the borders.
Had the Alectors located all the cities so far apart to make wars or conflicts between lands difficult? All the lands had been one under the Alectors. It had to have been for another reason.
Was that distance why Father and Joramyl let the Southern Guards dwindle in size, believing no one would ride an invading force that far?
She shook her head. Speculating on why matters had come to be would have to wait.
Septi afternoon, after eating as much as she could, she repaired to her quarters, where she donned her nightsilk riding jacket and gloves. Then she reached for the greenish darkness far beneath the palace and slipped downward through the stone to the depths.
In moments that seemed endless, she was sightless and in chill, trying to sense where she was as she moved westward beneath the ground. When she thought she was near a point north of Viencet, she eased her way upward into the sunlight. She emerged in a rocky clearing, surrounded by large-trunked pines, startling a hare that bounded away and barely evaded a fox that had been stalking it. The air was clean, and cool, with a hint of dampness that suggested recent rain.
From the clearing, on the north side of a hill, Mykella could see nothing but tree trunks and, through them in places, tree-covered hills and rocky outcroppings. So she strengthened her grasp on the darkness and slowly lifted herself upward until she was above the treetops. She looked northward, and finally caught a glint of water, then a bit more of a line of silver that had to be the Vedra. To the northeast was a narrow valley and a clumping of houses that she thought she recognized although she didn’t immediately recall the name of the hamlet.
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