That was the world as it was, the world no one wrote ballads about. A world where whatever talent Shona had for governing Greenwall wouldn’t save her from one day becoming a much older man’s second or third attempt to produce a son. Listening to Dasson’s rambling lecture as they danced felt very much like a window into that future.
Still, there was a game to play here, and one she was good at, much as she hated it. When Dasson finished quoting line and verse from the Word, she nodded as if she’d been listening. “I’ve always admired your knowledge of the Word, Your Grace. Perhaps if there were more men like you, it wouldn’t be so rare to see His Eminence in the Plateaus.”
Dasson looked at her as if she had suddenly grown wings. “Oh, I… I didn’t know you cared about the plight of the Convocation, Lady Shona. Few young people do anymore. You wouldn’t catch Finegrove or Anden Perce praying if their own mothers were dying of the black fever.”
In truth, Shona was no more devout than the young dukes Dasson scorned—she rarely found time to attend a sermon. But she wasn’t about to say so. Let him think we’re kindred spirits. “It is rather appalling that so few honor the chastors as they deserve.”
Dasson snorted angrily. “Indeed. Mulley to perform the coronation? Blasphemy, or close to it—the man is Gerod’s pet. And when His Eminence comes despite the insult, he is seated farther down the table than even the outer duchy dukes. To bear such an affront in silence proves him a true man of the Word.”
“He deserves better,” Shona said, though she didn’t share Dasson’s disdain for the outer duchies. They had been founded by Windwalkers, same as the inner, and most were as prosperous or moreso. They were viewed as lesser only because distance and wind-currents forced them to rely on the inner duchies as stopovers for trade and travel. But Dasson valued the distinction, and she didn’t want to offend. “In his place, I don’t think I could have borne such disrespect. I am amazed that he came at all.”
“Well, that is why he is high chastor and you or I are not. He is above such pettiness. But I admit, I was not expecting him to attend. It was his visit to Goldstone that changed his mind—or rather, what he saw there. But I shouldn’t spoil the surprise!”
So Benedern went to Goldstone first. What happened there? “A surprise? How wonderfully mysterious. You must tell me more.”
“It isn’t my place. I’m sure His Eminence will want to reveal it himself.” A satisfied smile played on Dasson’s lips.
Shona knew that look. This shouldn’t be very hard. “After you’ve made me so curious?” she said with a laugh. “But I understand, of course. The high chastor must trust you a great deal, Duke Dasson. Such an honor to be so high in his council—I would be thrilled beyond words.”
Again, his chest inflated with the praise. “I do try to make myself valuable to the Convocation.” He considered for a moment, and then drew her in closer with a glint in his eye that suggested he thought he was being daring. “I can’t see the harm in telling you,” he whispered. “It was only proper for me to greet Duke Castar when he arrived in Skysreach, of course. I hadn’t intended to intrude, but the high chastor saw fit to include me in their plans. They’ve found a new species of bird in Goldstone. The high chastor intends to dedicate the discovery to Prince Rudol after the coronation. A gesture of conciliation.”
The song was reaching its climax now: Elica’s lonely battle against the Deeplings at the gates of the crystal city.
‘Neath shining towers long she held,
Her sword alone against the dark.
A hundred beasts and more she felled,
Until one black blade found its mark.
Unless she wanted to waste time with another dance—which she very much did not—she was running out of time.
“How… how exciting!” she said, leaning into Dasson’s grasp and trying to feign interest. Birds were a subject of great interest among the devout—souls so pure they could break their bonds to the earth entirely. “I can’t wait to see its… plumage.”
“Nor can I!” As if to punctuate his excitement, Dasson spun her about in a clumsy turn; she barely kept her feet. “But before you ask, I can’t describe it to you—I only saw the cage for a moment when the lad came out of the basket, and it was covered.”
“The lad? There was someone else travelling with them?”
“Ah, yes. The novice who found the creature, a boy from Goldstone. Very shy. Kept his head down, never spoke to me. And a senior birdkeeper’s apprentice was with them too. A blind man if you can believe it. Truly, the Sky God finds a purpose for us all. There is much I would have liked to ask them, but of course they had to move the bird to the eyrie before it was seen. I’ll have my answers tomorrow, I suppose.”
Would Benedern really have come to Goldstone for that? He could have sent someone, or just had the apprentice come to him. It was unusual, but not impossible. Dedicating the bird to Rudol might be some attempt by the high chastor to earn favor with the next king, as Eian had suggested—it might explain his personal interest. But why did Castar have to join them? He wouldn’t care a whit about a bird.
At the very least, she was certain she’d gotten everything she could out of Dasson—and not a moment too soon. The ballad was coming to an end, as Luthas performed his great miracle: calling his love’s spirit back to her body.
His love was her unbroken thread,
Though far and long her soul had roamed.
Her hand clasped his, and soft she said,
“Your light will always guide me home.”
As the final notes faded, Shona disengaged herself from Dasson’s grasp. “We have something to look forward to, then. Thank you for the dance, Duke Dasson.”
“Oh, you are most welcome, Lady Shona. I so rarely meet young women as… right-minded as yourself. Perhaps… if you would like to, that is… if you need a partner again—”
“I will be sure to seek you out. But not right now, I’m afraid; there are people here I promised my father I would greet, and I haven’t yet had the chance.” She almost felt guilty—she hadn’t expected the duke to look so disappointed. “Excuse me, Your Grace.”
When she returned to her seat, Eian was speaking with young Yurrell Finegrove, sitting to his left. He nodded politely along with Finegrove’s posturing, but his eyes were weary.
“I would have been a knight, you know,” Finegrove was saying, “but when father died I had to do my duty in Sunhome. I think I would have done well in the Swamp; my swordsmanship was always—”
Shona tapped Finegrove on the shoulder. “Pardon me, Duke Finegrove. I must steal the lord general, if you don’t mind.”
Eian stood from his chair without waiting for Finegrove’s approval. “I’m sure we’ll speak again, Your Grace.”
Shona led him a few paces away. “What has Castar been doing?”
“Little,” said Eian. “Exchanging pleasantries. He’s spoken with Perce and Harthey, and Finegrove just before you came back.”
“All outer duchy dukes. That could mean something. Do you know what they were talking about?”
“He and Finegrove spoke nearby. I didn’t hear all of it, but it didn’t sound unusual—just some talk of trade. When I asked Finegrove about it, he turned the conversation toward his legendary prowess with a blade.”
“You’ll have to watch yourself at next year’s tourney.” Shona let herself smile slightly. Eian was getting older, but Yurrell Finegrove was about as likely to dine with the Deepwalker as he was to best the lord general with a sword.
“It seems so. Thank you for the rescue, in any case. Did you find what you were looking for with Dasson?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Eian’s eyes fastened on something over her shoulder, and he moved his head slightly to indicate the same direction. “What about that?”
Shona glanced back to see Castar leading Ulman Benedern down from the dais. “Somehow I doubt he is asking His Eminence to dance,” she said. The two men stopped behind the tables on
the north side of the room. To anyone else, it wouldn’t have looked unusual; the strict seating arrangements at the high table made side conversations common at such events. And maybe that’s all it is. But I would be happier if I could hear them.
She didn’t let her eyes linger; Castar would notice her watching. Instead, she looked for a spot she might be able to listen from. But there was nothing. She couldn’t simply sit close enough to hear without Castar noticing. What, then? There must be some way to get near them. They were too far from the dancing, or she’d have taken Dasson up on his offer. A group of children huddled beneath a table on that side of the room, no doubt pretending it was a castle or the like, but that was no good to her either. I was tall for that game even when I was their age.
The little girl who had bumped into her earlier was trying to crawl under the table to join the others, but the older children pushed her away. Just watching it made Shona’s jaw clench, and for a moment she was tempted to help the girl and forget about Castar. No one would dare treat her that way now, but despite her station, she’d often been left out in the same way when she was that age. The cruelties of children tended to be ignored by adults. What would Josen have done? Once he’d decided to come to her rescue—he had liked to play the hero, for better or for worse—he’d always found ways to include her that didn’t sound like pity. To make her feel useful.
Useful. She smiled to herself. Well, I do have a use for the girl, don’t I?
Leaving a confused Eian behind her, she descended from the dais and headed toward the children, picking her way around the edge of the crowded dance floor. The little girl sat alone on the floor near where the others were playing; Shona didn’t approach her directly. Instead she knocked on the table, and then peeked beneath.
“Who goes there?” one of the bigger boys demanded, and two of his friends brandished dinner knives at her. Behind them, she heard others giggling.
“Someone seeking aid,” said Shona. “I need a brave knight.” She sat down on the bench, ignoring the looks of the men and women seated nearby. It didn’t matter if she drew attention; she was far enough from Castar that he wouldn’t care.
Several boys squirmed out from beneath the table, and the largest of them, who seemed to be their leader, hopped up onto the bench beside her. “I’m the bravest knight in the Nine Peaks!”
She looked him up and down, and shook her head. “I’m sure that’s true, but you’re too big. I need someone quick and quiet, someone who won’t be seen. Lena the Nightfalcon sneaking among the swampling war-clans, not Bannon Thunderblade charging into battle.” Now she looked at the little girl on the floor. “What about you? Will you help me?”
The girl looked up at her with wide eyes. “Me?” She bobbed her head up and down. “I can be a knight!”
Shona smiled at her. “What’s your name?”
“Yora.”
“Yora, do you see those two men?” She glanced at Castar and Benedern, and the girl nodded again. “I need you to listen to them for me, as quiet and sneaky as Cer Lena. The fate of the kingdom depends on it. Can you do that?”
“I think so.”
“Then you are just the knight I need. Quickly now, before they go back to their seats.”
Yora scampered off beneath the tables, crawling close to where Castar and Benedern stood. As Shona had hoped, they didn’t spare the girl a glance; a child playing was beneath their attention, if they saw her at all.
The other children were watching her, though, and enough of them staring in that direction might be noticed. Better distract them. “Tell me, did your parents say anything about… what happened? Why you’re here in the Plateaus?” She was curious to know what the lowborn thought about Josen’s death, and children lacked the inhibitions of adults; they might tell her what their parents likely wouldn’t.
“Prince Josen died,” a brown-haired girl said. It hurt to hear it put so plainly, but Shona swallowed against the lump in her throat. This wasn’t the time or place for tears. “They’re going to put his crown on the big prince.” The girl pointed at Rudol.
“My papa says that it’s like a play, and everyone is faking,” said a plump boy with short hair. “He says Prince Josen’s brother got just what he wanted.”
A lad with curly hair like Josen’s said, “My mam cried when she heard he was dead. She tole me it’s ‘cause the ‘ryllias are cursed for killing Eagles, but that’s the king’s fault, not Prince Josen’s.”
“Well my da says he was a traitor and a swampling lover,” said the leader, shoving his curly-haired friend. “Better if men like Duke Castar were in charge, he says.” Several of the other children murmured and nodded at that; they’d been told the same. Hardly a surprise. But at least there are some who still believe in Josen.
Out of the corner of her eye, Shona saw Castar returning to the dais with Benedern a step behind. A moment later, Yora popped out from under the table and sat beside her.
“They didn’t talk about anything,” the girl said, and her shoulders slumped with disappointment. “Just about the… the cermerney tomorrow, and about some guests or something.”
“Nothing else?” Shona asked.
“The duke said his… ar—arnegments were going good and the chasser said he hoped their guests wouldn’t have to wait too long, and the duke just laughed and said ‘long live the king’. That’s all I heard before they walked away.”
“That’s exactly what I needed, Yora. My Nightfalcon.” Shona squeezed her shoulder. “They were speaking in a special cipher to hide their terrible plot, but now that I know, I can stop them. You might have saved the Nine Peaks.” She leaned down close to the children again. “But you must all keep it a secret, so they don’t know they’ve been caught. Will you promise me that?” She didn’t really think they’d keep quiet, but it didn’t matter—anything they said would sound like youthful fancy.
The children nodded their heads solemnly—all save the largest boy, their leader, who peered at Shona suspiciously, uncertain if he could trust an adult. “Did she really help save the Peaks?”
“Of course she did.” Shona looked him straight in the eye and put a hand over her heart, as she had done to seal promises when she was a child. “I swear it.”
The boy nodded. “I suppose she can come in, then.” He stepped aside, and let Yora join them under the table. It probably wouldn’t make much difference in the long run, but the others seemed to accept the girl easily enough, at least while Shona was still near.
While the children played their games at her feet, she considered what she had learned—far too little. What are they planning? What guests were they talking about? Dasson’s story about the bird still bothered her—it had to have something to do with Castar’s plans. A novice and a birdkeeper’s apprentice don’t just share a basket with the high chastor and the duke of Goldstone. Are they the guests? Spies? Assassins?
She rubbed at her forehead. No, if that was it they’d be no use stuck in Skysreach. But Castar did say he’d been making arrangements. Does he intend to do something at the coronation? He’d been talking with the outer duchy dukes all night—they had the most to gain by supporting Castar, if he made some grab at power. What could he do, though? If something happens to Gerod, it just puts Rudol on the throne. Rudol favors him, but that is too little gain for too much risk when just waiting for natural causes would be surer and safer. And even if he doesn’t want to wait, Castar is smart enough to know that acting now would draw attention, so soon after Josen… She didn’t let herself finish the thought. No, it must be something else. Something to do with the two he delivered to Skysreach. God Above, there are too many possibilities. A part of her wanted to just stop thinking about it, to assume everything would be fine and go home to her garden. She missed her garden.
But she couldn’t escape the feeling that something was very wrong. He said “long live the king”, and laughed. That by itself was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck, but it wasn’t near substantial en
ough to take to the king. What would I tell him? Your Majesty, there’s a bird you should know about? No, Gerod wouldn’t listen to her, which left only one option—another of Josen’s old favorites.
She could lie.
Rudol wasn’t in his chair, but he wasn’t hard to find—he towered six inches over most anyone else in the hall, and it was impossible to miss the grey Storm Knight tabard draped over a tunic of Aryllian blue and gold. A quick glance around spotted him standing with Carissa not far from the dais, speaking with Count Orsen Tallfield and his young wife. Or rather, uncomfortably shifting his weight and nodding while Carissa spoke. Rudol had always been more comfortable with swords than with social etiquette.
Carissa was speaking as Shona approached. “We would be delighted to attend, Anitte. Wouldn’t we, dear?” Tallfield must be arranging another ball. The Tallfields managed much of the Plateaus’ farming terraces for the crown. It had made them wealthy, but their titles were granted rather than inherited, and Orsen’s wife felt the need to host frequent events at their estate in the farming flats, as if society might forget they were there if a cycle passed without a reminder.
“Hrm? Oh. Yes.” Rudol couldn’t have sounded less interested. When the count and his wife looked in his direction, his eyes darted away; by chance, they landed on Shona. He frowned when he saw her. They had been avoiding each other by implicit agreement all night. “Shona,” he said. No more than that, not even a nod.
“I hope you’ll all forgive me for the interruption.” Shona smiled her best smile as the others turned to face her. “I must speak with Prince Rudol.”
Carissa’s eyebrow twitched, but she otherwise kept the annoyance from her face, if not from her voice. “Surely it can wait until we’re done here, Shona. You wouldn’t want us to be rude.”
“It’s important, I’m afraid. Rudol?”
Rudol looked from Shona to his wife and back again, then grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine.” He gestured for Shona to lead, and when Carissa moved to follow, he stopped her with a raised hand. “This won’t take long.” If he noticed the indignation on his wife’s face, he didn’t show it.
The Swampling King (The Windwalker Legacy Book 1) Page 30