One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  * * * *

  She scooped up several of the pillows Chris had left behind, settled two under her head and a thin, matlike rectangle under her hips, curled up on one side and let her eyes close. Sleep wouldn't come, though: too many things happening, too quickly; her brain was chattering madly. She could hear Evany inside the house, his peevish voice raised in protest over something; Roisan's shrill, petulant voice as she argued with him. Too much trouble to try and sort that out. Behind her, Aletto and Dahven were discussing Evany; Robyn was either asleep or nearly so, because Jennifer couldn't recall having heard her voice in some time.

  She finally rolled over, opened her eyes, edged herself and the mat a few paces into the open. Dahven glanced back, smiled and caught her hand in his. Jennifer settled her pillows next to his leg, squeezed his fingers and let her eyes close once more.

  Aletto sighed very faintly. “I don't know. A part of me wants to murder the man—but how can you hate a man in that kind of position? How can you fault him for choosing between his children and a—the son of a man who was his Duke years ago, someone he hasn't seen in years?"

  "He should have found a way to warn you,” Dahven said flatly. “Oh, not overtly, not with Jadek possibly aware of whatever he said or did. Still, there are ways: He could have refused you lodging, he could have caused some difficulty to bring him to the attention of city guard—you'd have avoided him then, wouldn't you?"

  "Gods,” Aletto said bitterly. “I think about it, though; I put myself in his place—"

  "Very kind of you,” Dahven broke in. “And under other circumstances, I could accept that sort of thing. I'm prone to it myself, on occasion. But Aletto, there is a time and place for empathy, and this is simply not it!"

  "I don't—"

  "Don't understand? I'm not certain I can put it into words,” Dahven said. “I'll try. You're responsible, not just for yourself, but for everyone who takes the risk of going against your uncle, anyone who supports you. If you come to harm, if you die—then it's not simply one man who dies, it's your sister, Gyrdan, Chris—Jennifer and myself—everyone here might pay because of you. Every last one of us will be at risk because there won't be any stopping Jadek: He already knows Shesseran won't interfere with him; even Afronsan is staying out of Zelharri business, though he's keeping a close eye on matters and I think Jadek's misfigured him. It's not only us, either; it's everyone in Zelharri who dislikes your uncle or who's ever said anything against him, anyone who suffers under his rule for whatever reason—Aletto, at the risk of sounding like one of the more poorly written old tales, you aren't simply a man any longer. You're a symbol, a rallying point."

  Silence. Aletto finally sighed, shifted on the gravel and sighed again. “I wish you hadn't put it that way."

  "You don't deny it, surely."

  "I suppose not. It makes me feel extremely foolish."

  "If it makes you feel foolish,” Dahven replied somberly, “then how do you think I feel? Why do you think I worked that particular problem out in the first place? Something to do with my brothers—?"

  "Oh, Dahven.” Aletto sounded stricken. “I'm sorry."

  "No. That's not useful.” Jennifer felt Dahven's fingers tighten on hers; she was too tired to respond. After a moment, he went on. “At one time, I thought I'd simply go back to Sikkre, certain there was some mistake. She wouldn't let me. And then—then, I wanted to quit. After all, who could fight against an accomplished fact? My father dead, my brothers in power, everyone out for my head. Besides, I unfortunately know my brothers, I could understand them, how they must have thought and planned, until they finally took control of the Duchy. If I let myself—I almost did let myself accept it from their point of view, and I was ready to abandon everything, just—give it up, crawl into a hole. If they wanted it that badly, after all...

  "I don't even remember what she said, what made me realize it wasn't just what I wanted, how I felt. It's everyone in Sikkre's market, the caravaners, people like Kosilla, her father with his inn—the people who go there. I'm Father's son, his heir, he raised me with an awareness of my duties. Oh, he tried with my brothers, of course; I'm not certain they ever understood anything about the duty end of matters, about the bargain between the Tower and those outside of it.” Silence. “Well, it took me long enough. But I finally realized I have to complete that bargain. And quite frankly, I dearly want to see my brothers pay for whatever they did to Father. I'm—look, Aletto, you know I'm not good at this kind of talk, I feel like, what is it Chris says?—a jerk, going on like this. Insufferable."

  "It's—no, don't,” Aletto said slowly. “It's all right. I don't feel that—that urge for vengeance. Not yet, at least. But that's a personal thing; it isn't that I think you're wrong."

  "I'm just telling you, is all. Those who turn against you: Casimaffi in Bez, Evany now. Understand it if you like, but don't let pity or misplaced empathy decide how you deal with them—or with Jadek, later."

  "Richard the Third and the Stanleys,” Jennifer murmured drowsily. But when Dahven leaned close and asked what she'd said, she merely shook her head and somehow, between that moment and the next, slid into sleep.

  * * * *

  They were dressed, packed and ready to go before the sun rose, the next morning. Evany stayed in his rooms, sending his man to offer Aletto food and other assistance—all of which Aletto refused. “Tell Lord Evany that while I am grateful for his offer, I cannot in good faith accept it, knowing my uncle might have made yet another test of his love for his family. He and I may meet and discuss this matter at a time in the future, when I can view it without anger and he without distress. Until then, I give him thanks for the shelter and food—and I very strongly suggest that he speak at once with the Emperor's heir, as a means of protecting himself from any further attentions by my uncle."

  Meriyas stood in the garden just outside of the weaving room as they filed past; Chris, who was supporting Lialla and guiding her footsteps so she didn't trip, ignored the girl. Jennifer slowed, considered saying something, but Meriyas had turned away to stare at Chris's squared, stiff shoulders. Jennifer shook her head, let it go. The girl would either sort it out on her own, or she wouldn't. Not my problem, either way, for a change.

  They left Podhru in small groups—split up at Gyrdan's insistence, one or two of them riding from the city gates with two or more of Aletto's new guard, to meet up in a grove of young trees an hour beyond the north city boundary. Enardi came riding up last, with two of the younger guardsmen and Edrith. “Don't look so worried,” he told Chris rather jokingly, though his own eyes were wide and somber. “I'm not going to try and go with you. I just wanted to say good-bye, I'll miss you guys. You know?"

  Chris drew his horse near Enardi's and wrapped a long arm around the Bezanti's shoulders. “Hey. You're all right. But we aren't going that far, and I'll be back, you know? If nothing else, I figure I've got the inside track with Meriyas, if I can keep her off balance—"

  "Chris!” Jennifer protested laughingly. He cast her an apologetic grin.

  "Well—hey. She's really cute, you know? But a little stuck-up; somebody needs to cut her down a bit. Anyway, guy—Ernie—you hang in there, okay?"

  "You know it,” Enardi said. “I'll keep Meriyas company for you, if you like—"

  "Hah!"

  "Sir—Aletto,” Enardi went on as Aletto came riding up. “I'll keep in touch with you, through Kamahl, I suppose. I'll do my best not to let you down."

  "You won't,” Aletto said. “I won't worry about you at all, you know your way around a city better than I do."

  Enardi turned away and nudged his horse, sending it back onto the road at a fast trot; he vanished from sight moments later.

  Aletto sighed. “Well."

  "Yeah,” Chris said gloomily. “Here we go again, right?"

  "Not quite as bad, this time,” Dahven said. “There are a few more of us, for one thing."

  There were: The little glade was crowded with perhaps three dozen armed men—ev
erything from Gyrdan to several boys Chris's age, sons of men who had served with Gyrdan in Duke's Fort. There was a wagon, canopied like a caravaner's wagon and fitted with a bed, a wash basin, a long seat, storage for clothing and blankets. A second wagon carried supplies to feed the armsmen, a cook and his assistant driving it. This was followed by a small cart surrounded by half a dozen mounted men—these mostly of middle years or beyond. Afronsan's observers, these last. The cart was open except for a low-roofed wooden hut, a portable office that took up perhaps a fourth of it, a curtain blocking the open side that faced the rear: It held a postage-stamp-sized desk, paper, ink, pens—books. Jennifer suspected it also contained something that would allow Afronsan to directly observe whatever went on anywhere around the cart—possibly something the elderly clerks who used the miniscule hut could carry around with them, into Duke's Fort.

  She couldn't actually sense anything; then, she'd never thus far been able to sense any form of charm-magic unless it was being activated around her—and not always then. She wasn't certain she liked the idea of being spied on; then again, Jadek wouldn't like it, either. And he had a lot more to lose.

  Lialla was lying down in the lead wagon, Robyn riding on the seat with Gyrdan's driver so she could keep an eye on the sin-Duchess. Lialla had wakened calmer, but Jennifer privately thought this was because she was convinced she was going to die. Robyn said little or nothing, but Jennifer thought her sister probably thought that, too.

  And what do I think? She drove a hand through freshly picked-out hair, shook her head and urged her horse forward as the caravan set out. God knows what I think; I'm operating on conviction borne of blind and bloody-minded optimism right now.

  * * * *

  The day wore on slowly—rather boringly, after the event-filled past days. They stopped for water at a grove just off the road, where a well was kept for travelers; again to rest the horses and let them drink at a crossing where two small streams came together. Not long before dark, they halted for the night. Jennifer could see nothing ahead now but trees—fir and oak, mostly, surrounding an up-sloping road, and if she tilted her head back, the least sense of a ledge high above and well off in the distance. The air wasn't nearly as muggy as it had been, and once the sun went down and a breeze sprang up from the northeast, she found herself grateful for the leather jacket and for spare silk-cloths.

  Chris spent most of his day riding just behind the wagon, keeping an eye on Lialla; late in the afternoon, when she woke, he was able to persuade her to get into the saddle and ride next to him for a while. The sleep seemed to have done her some good; she had enough strength to mount and dismount without help. Chris stayed close in case she needed assistance, and to try and kid her into a better state of mind. Judging by the look on his face when she climbed back into the wagon, he hadn't been terribly successful. Jennifer pulled the silkcloth snugly around her shoulders, over the leather jacket and waylaid him as he came away from the wagon, shaking his head.

  "How is she?"

  He shrugged gloomily. “Hey. Thinks she's gonna die, you know? Aside from that—” He considered this, laughed without humor. “Yeah, right, other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how'd you like the play? No, she's being pretty tough about it, but the bottom line is still, she just knows she's gonna die."

  "I'll talk to her,” Jennifer said.

  "Yeah, well. Good luck.” Chris found Edrith, and the two of them went off into the woods. Some of the men had already built two fires—a warming fire and a cooking fire in a deep pit. Several others were working over this second fire, preparing food.

  Robyn was walking stiffly, hands digging into her sides above the waistband of her jeans. Jennifer shivered. “God, woman, aren't you freezing?"

  "Not yet. I fell asleep sitting up on the wagon seat, had two of those silkcloth thingies wrapped around me, I think I must've sweated off ten pounds.” She blotted her forehead with the back of one hand. “Don't do that, by the way; I'm so stiff I think I'll die."

  "I'll keep that in mind. Where'd Lialla go?"

  "Still in the wagon; she was after those legging thingies, I think.” Robyn tested the air. “Something smells good—besides the meat, I mean. Nice, having someone else along to cook."

  "Aletto warned them about you and meat,” Jennifer said. She tucked her hands under her armpits and walked on toward the wagon. “I'm turning blue just looking at you out here. Aletto should be down there by the rocks; Chris and Eddie went in search of the John. Tell them not to let that fire die out before I get a chance to thaw, okay?"

  Robyn looked across her sister's shoulder. “I don't think you have anything to worry about; they planning on burning down the whole forest?"

  "It's in the rocks. See you there.” Jennifer gathered up loose silkcloth and sprinted toward the wagon, now a darker shape against dark trees. Once she climbed inside the canvas cover, the wind fell to nothing, though she could feel it rocking the wagon now and again.

  "Jen?” Lialla's voice was muffled by cloth. “Wait a moment, can you?"

  "Sure.” Jennifer waited. The rustle of fabric, the sound of fumbling and something hard hitting wood; a moment after, Lialla's hands and then her face were visible in the blue-light she'd unearthed from somewhere under the bed.

  Blue light didn't do much for anyone—rather, in its own way, Jennifer thought, like fluorescent tube lights in public restrooms back home, or mercury vapor outdoor lights. Blue light left her feeling wan and faded; it pointed up every single fine line in Robyn's face, deepened the shadows under her eyes. At the moment, Lialla looked like a haggard old woman; blue light etching the long furrows from the corners of her nose to the corners of her mouth, others that ran down into her jawline; blackening the hollows under her cheekbones and beneath her eyes. “Just came to see how you're feeling,” she said finally. Lialla set the light in a bowl on the low shelf opposite the bed, dropped down next to it. She laughed shortly, shook her head. “That bad?” Jennifer pursued.

  "Oh—no worse,” Lialla said. Yet, she might as well have added.

  "Your eyes?"

  "I can't decide. I think I could see better earlier, when I was riding. Now—well, I can still see, that's something, isn't it?"

  "I think so,” Jennifer said mildly. “I can tell you don't."

  "I—well.” Lialla forced anger out of her voice with a visible effort, shook herself. “Well. No. I don't. Jen, I know you're trying, I'm sorry I can't help you."

  "Don't worry about it,” Jennifer said. “You do what you can, that's all. Are you coming out to eat, or shall I have someone bring you something when it's cooked?"

  "Send something,” Lialla said.

  "You'll eat?"

  The sin-Duchess laughed briefly. “You and Chris. Yes. All right. I'll eat."

  "The rest of it,” Jennifer said as she paused with one foot on the step-down at the back of the wagon. “The sense of Light. Has that changed? Shifted? Moved around? Grown?"

  "Same,” Lialla said tersely. As Jennifer stepped onto the ground and turned away, Lialla leaned out and caught hold of her arm. “Jen—I'm sorry. Truly sorry."

  "I understand conditioning,” Jennifer said. “It's hard to break. I think if the alternative is letting your uncle win, though—"

  "That isn't fair!"

  "No. Life isn't. Nothing in this world has been, so far.” Jennifer pivoted around, freed a hand and gripped Lialla's where it still rested on her arm. “That doesn't mean you simply give up. If you do, Aletto loses—in other words, he might well die, Lialla. Along with me, Chris, Robyn. Those men out there. Edrith—Eddie—who gave up a reasonably safe life in Sikkre to come help us."

  "Don't—"

  "I won't. I'll leave you alone. Think about something, though, after I'm gone. Think about your mother. If you give up, if Aletto loses everything, think what you'll do to her, beyond anything Jadek's already done to her."

  "Mother—oh, gods.” Lialla's voice broke; she tore her hand from under Jennifer's and vanished back inside the wa
gon. Jennifer shook her head and briefly closed her eyes, then drew the silkcloth close, got her hand back inside it and hurried back over to the fire.

  "God, I should be a Jewish mother, I'm going to be so good at guilt,” she muttered into her collar. Well, she'd planted the idea; whether Lialla was capable of acting on any of what she'd said might be another matter. She'd simply have to see.

  Afronsan's men stayed to themselves, talking in a hushed group between the main fire and slabbed rock while they ate, retiring almost immediately after. Gyrdan himself ate with Aletto, but most of the men he'd brought were clearly uncertain how much leeway they were allowed, so far as talking to Aletto or mingling with the rest of them. Chris and Edrith ate together, then vanished into the woods for a long enough time that Robyn was beginning to grow visibly anxious about them. She stayed with Aletto while he and Dahven and Gyrdan talked, but only remained seated long enough to manage a bowl of soup—peppers, chicken and a heavily spiced, thick broth. Jennifer sniffed it cautiously, decided she might be safer with the plain meat that had been roasted in long strips on sticks. The bread was good, but not as good as Robyn's. Robyn ate some of it, dipping it in the soup, finally handed the bowl to Aletto to finish and curled up with her head on his leg, a silkcloth drawn up to her chin. Jennifer thought she was asleep almost at once.

  She herself was tired, but too restless to even think of sleeping. The warming fire looked like a beacon, the smells of cooking meat and bread, soup and onions that had been set to roast in the coals—it was a wonder they hadn't already drawn someone's attention, or something's. The desert hadn't looked like bear country, but this, Jennifer thought, certainly did. She pushed to her feet, walked up and down the road to get her blood circulating a little.

  A scuffling noise brought her around sharply, but it was Chris and Edrith, coming back from the woods. All she could see of them, with the fire behind them, was two dark outlines. “What're you two doing?” she demanded.