by Glenda Larke
She’s turning on the charm! “Of course. Whatever you wish to know. Piper is here with my husband. If you’d like to see her…”
Mathilda made a gesture of negation with a hand. “Just the story.”
“It’s a very long one,” she said needlessly. “And I have two letters for you.” She extracted them from the basket she carried. “From Pontifect Fritillary and from King Ryce. And there’s a packet. That’s from Lord Juster Dornbeck.” She held it up. “I believe it contains fresh spices. He’s the king’s minister of trade and navy now, although he swears he will be back at sea in a year or two.”
Mathilda waved it away impatiently. “Yes, yes, but it is the story I want to hear. Sit down, and tell me everything.”
Almost three years had to be condensed into a coherent tale, and there were times when she had to backtrack, and parts she had to leave out. Servants came, bringing hot possets and sweetmeats, and much later to light the fire when the day grew colder. Each time, as soon as they were gone, Sorrel continued.
When speaking of the Chenderawasi, she was deliberately vague about magic plumes, and tried to give the impression – without actually lying – that the rulers were people rather than birds: people with the ability to imbue physical objects, such as the necklet and the plumes and Ardhi’s kris, with magic. When relating what happened on the island, she exaggerated the powers of those people to destroy unwanted ships and sailors and factors.
And all the while she wondered why Mathilda asked only once about her daughter, wanting to know if “the child” was pretty, but her interest appeared impersonal, indifferent. She did comment that Piper was a ridiculous name, and what had she, Sorrel, been thinking of?
When a nurse brought in Prince-regal Karel to see his mother, Mathilda played with the boy for a few minutes while Sorrel watched. She didn’t think he bore much of a resemblance to Piper, who was smaller framed and had dark curly locks, compared to Karel’s robust build and fair, straight hair.
After a few minutes, Mathilda told him she was busy and the nurse carried him out, protesting. “It is always this way,” Mathilda said with a sigh. “I don’t have enough time to spend with him, poor lamb.”
Sorrel had not yet related what happened at the Betany shrine when the Regala sat back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the padded arms and said, “Understand this. My hold on the Basalt Throne is tenuous. The Lowmian nobility don’t like a woman having so much power. They don’t like an Ardronese royal having so much power. I have to prove myself, again and again and again. I walk a narrow path, and on either side there are hunting dogs waiting to taste my blood.”
“I can understand that,” she said neutrally.
“It’s strange, but do you know who helps me most? Lady Friselda! She’s so scared of penury, of having to leave the comforts of court, so frightened that her granddaughter will not make a good marriage if her grandmother loses her standing here, that she will do almost anything to help me. I used to hate her so, and now she is my only reliable, albeit self-interested, ally.”
Mathilda’s lips twisted in a dry, humourless smile as she continued. “Deremer is on his way back to Lowmeer with the remains of his Dire Sweepers, did you know? He’s another ally, afraid I’ll use what I know to bring his family down. I won’t, of course; I shall use him, the way I use Friselda. One word from me about him and the other Sweeper families, and their support of Bengorth’s Law, and they are dead and buried. One word from them about the crime of the Vollendorns and Bengorth’s Law, and Prince-regal Karel and I are dead and buried. So we do our little gavotte, each step carefully planned to prop each other up and never to let the secrets escape into other ears.”
Her fingers continued their mesmerising tapping. “I keep everything inside me. I speak to no one about any of it. I have kept your secret. But no mistake, I am utterly ruthless when it comes to the welfare and future of my son. He will be Regal one day. He will be the greatest Regal this land has ever seen. Do nothing – any of you – to jeopardise that, or I’ll set my Sweeper dogs on your trail. And their fear of me is such that they will obey. Do you understand that?”
“Perfectly.” She kept her tone dry.
“There are some things I cannot risk,” Mathilda continued. “If I acknowledge to the world that I bore twins, people will wonder what else they don’t know. Perhaps they will begin to wonder if Karel really is Vilmar’s son. If Piper appears at court as some unknown girl, perhaps people will see her resemblance to me or to her brother. I cannot risk that. I do not want to ever see her. The court must never see her.”
“They don’t look at all alike.”
“I did think of asking King Ryce to raise her at his court, as his by-blow, or something similar, but I think that’s too risky too.”
Why couldn’t the woman think of Piper’s well-being for once, instead of her own? Sorrel’s thought was an angry one, and she had to push it away to keep her temper. “Your Grace, she has been raised by Saker, myself and my husband. We love her and the two of us will continue to raise her – as our own, if that is your desire.” Her heart was racing under her breastbone.
Dear Va, what will I do if she says no? She could take Piper, and then have her killed as soon as we turned our backs…
Sorrel felt sick, horrified both that the idea had occurred to her, and that she couldn’t quite convince herself that it was unjust and undeserved.
Mathilda’s regard was thoughtful. “This husband of yours – he’s a lascar. That’s a common sailor. But the Pontifect’s letter said he is a royal in his own country.”
“They use another word for their rulers, but yes. He was his grandfather’s heir to what we would call a duchy, I suppose.” If there was one thing she knew, it was that nobles and princes thought that bloodlines were important, so she had no qualms about inflating Ardhi’s importance. “He’s also a scholar and studied such matters as navigation and commerce at one of the world’s greatest universities. He will do anything for Piper, just as you’d do anything for Prince-regal Karel.”
“You can keep Piper, on the condition that she is never told who she is, nor ever allowed anywhere near the court, or her brother.”
Waves of relief, followed by guilt, then sheer irritation, left Sorrel weak-kneed. “She will be well-loved and cared for, I swear. But what of the morality of her never knowing her twin brother?”
“What of it?” Mathilda shrugged. “What the two of them don’t know won’t worry them. Naturally, I will see to it that you are paid a stipend to cover her care. I shall tell the treasury it is a pension for your past services, as compensation for the false accusation made against you for stealing the feathers from the Regal’s fan.”
“Thank you, my lady.” She inclined her head, her relief still unknotting the tension in her every joint even as her irritation grew. It was time to change the subject. “If I may, there is another matter that we need to discuss. More serious.”
Mathilda arched her eyebrow. “Whatever could be more serious?”
Sorrel blinked. Surely Fritillary had told her that both the twins had been identified as potential sorcerers?
Of course she had!
She resisted a desire to grind her teeth. “I would think the fact that either, or both, of the twins could come into their sorcerous powers was more serious.”
“They must have been besmirched while I was in the family way. Fox must have sent one of his sons to court to – to contaminate them before they were even born.”
Sorrel resisted an urge to roll her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how it happened.” There was nothing to be achieved by arguing that point.
“The Pontifect told me, and you just confirmed it, that the Chenderawasi circlets will prevent any problems developing!”
“We hope so, but we are not sure how effective it will be. There are no guarantees. Necklets can be removed anyway. Once removed, no sorcerer would want to wear it again, would they?”
“What are you trying to say? You’ve just
told me that you have a feather piece to use as well. Surely—”
“Your Grace, we have fought a long and damaging war to rid the hemisphere of the Foxes and their Grey Lancers. No one wants to see that again. The idea of a sorcerer on the Basalt Throne is unthinkable. If anyone found out that the prince-regal was—”
“By all the acorns on the oak, will you come to the point?”
“We think that the surest way to rid the prince-regal of his sorcerous stain is to use the feather piece we have, to use it now. But it might involve the destruction of a water shrine, and the death of its shrine keeper.”
As she explained exactly what had happened at the oak shrine in Betany, Mathilda paled. By the time she’d finished, the Regala was on her feet, staring angrily out of the window. “I can’t countenance the destruction of the Ustgrind shrine! Think of the scandal!”
“Think of the shrine keeper.”
“If a shrine keeper knew about… all this, they’d have to die anyway,” she snapped. “Besides, who do you think would get the blame for the disappearance of a water shrine and its spring? Your lascar would have to be there, wouldn’t he? And he’d be the logical catspaw. And of course, so would I, the Ardronese usurper of power, who allowed the heir to be in the presence of wicked foreign sorcery!”
“I think you need to speak to the shrine keeper of the Ustgrind shrine.”
“I can’t do that! How could I trust him? What if he questioned Karel’s parentage? What if he made a connection between Piper and Karel, because of what happened in Betany? He’d know about that, wouldn’t he? You just told me unseen guardians talk to one another.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure guardians tell their shrine keepers everything.”
“The shrine keeper of the main Ustgrind spring does not like me, and I will not go to him. Especially as I would apparently be suggesting that he commit suicide in the interests of my son, who just happens to be a sorcerer.”
Mathilda folded her arms and glared. Sorrel knew that look; there was no way the Regala would change her mind. She had to think of something else. She said carefully, “There will be a guardian and a shrine keeper somewhere who will make the sacrifice for the well-being of the Way of the Flow.”
Mathilda brightened. “Our palace in the hills – that has a small waterfall shrine! Only the local staff go there. The shrine keeper adores Karel. She would do anything for him!”
Sorrel crushed a desire to judge her for her callousness. “When will you be going there next?”
“We always go in the spring, when the flowers are out. Can it wait till then?”
“The sooner the better, but yes, if that’s the only way you will do this.”
“It is.”
“We will go with you when the time comes. But you must realise this: the prince-regal will have to be closely watched even afterwards, especially through the years just before he reaches maturity. That is when sorcery usually starts to manifest itself. We think he should continue to wear the circlet. Ardhi’s Chenderawasi kris will tell us if it fails. At least, that is our hope. But the kris has to be in proximity with the wearer.” Sorrel locked her gaze on Mathilda’s before adding, “As often as possible.”
Mathilda’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I have to allow – on a day-to-day basis – your foreign husband around the heir to the Basalt Throne?”
“Well, not every day, but often might be a good idea,” she said, almost spitting the words out, “don’t you think?”
“But he’s a lascar!”
“Indeed. A very handsome one. A brave one. And no fool. An asset to any court, in fact. It wouldn’t have to be every day. Perhaps several times a month.”
Mathilda glowered. “I’d forgotten how very rude you can be, Sorrel.”
Containing her fury only with an effort, she replied, “Your Grace, if anything does go wrong with the feather’s cleansing of Prince Karel, or the circlet’s protection of him, something which neither the kris nor Ardhi can fix, then you will have to seek help from the Chenderawasi Islands.”
“What are you trying to say? You are beginning to sound like an emissary of a nation of the Va-forsaken Hemisphere!”
“They will help – if our traders and sailors have been treating them with respect and fairness, and if Ardhi asks them to.”
Mathilda stared at her blankly.
Sorrel said nothing.
“You mean that I have to depend on Ardhi’s goodwill?”
“Yes. And also on Lowmeer having a cordial relationship with Chenderawasi. Which might be advisable anyway, considering they have incredible power which we witnessed in one of their ports. They sank one of Uthen Kesleer’s newest ships and slaughtered every single member of their crew, all because they killed a bird to obtain its plumes.”
Mention of Chenderawasi plumes brought a cautious look to Mathilda’s face.
Yes, you remember their power, don’t you?
“If it eases your mind, the other hemisphere is not Va-forsaken. Ask the Pontifect. Another point: at the moment, Ardrone has excellent relationships with Chenderawasi, while Lowmeer is anathema to them, thanks to men like Captain Lustgrader. I would suggest that you try to mend that relationship as soon as possible.”
“How can I do that? Merchants hold power in Lowmeer. If they blame me for trade disasters, the Vollendorn line ends!”
“There will be disasters if you don’t ask for, and follow, Ardhi’s advice. Your ships will be sunk in the Summer Seas and Ardronese privateers will regard them as a legitimate target. King Ryce has already agreed to measures that will aid their relationship with Chenderawasi, the sole source of nutmeg. They are making a commitment to trade only through Kotabanta, or other agreed ports.”
Mathilda stopped her drumming fingers and slumped back in her chair. Just when her long silence was beginning to be worrisome, she said quietly, “If Uthen Kesleer’s ships were the guilty parties, as you say, then Lowmeer has already proven our good intentions. Kesleer is dead, executed for treason against his liege lord, Regal Vilmar, over the plumes. His trading company and his ships are now managed by a consortium in which the Basalt Throne has the largest share.”
“Excellent. Then you personally have some say in how Lowmian merchants deal with the islands of the Summer Seas. As Regent for your son, the major shareholder, I imagine you can appoint board members for the trading company. You should suggest that my husband be one of them. I assure you, he has no interest in personal gain, but will strive for a fair and successful commerce in spices. His knowledge and his connections would be invaluable.”
Sorrel went to her basket, saying, “I have here something that Prime Saker and King Ryce drew up.” She produced several parchment sheets. “It’s a code of conduct for all Ardronese ships, their captains and crews, when dealing with those lands.”
“And you expect Lowmeer to follow a code drawn up by our arch rivals? Va above, Lowmeer and Ardrone have competed on the high seas from the day men learned to paddle a coracle! I can’t order my merchants to act like saintly nuns, while my brother laughs at us behind our backs.”
Sorrel shrugged her shoulders. “Of course, it is your choice. I suspect that without Ardhi’s advice you will have more sunk ships, less spices available to you, and at a higher price – and no help if Prince-regal Karel in a fit of pique one day removes his circlet.”
They stared at each other and neither would drop their gaze.
“You know I killed my husband,” Sorrel said, “so you may threaten me with justice back in Ardrone, if you like, Your Grace. But remember, I know who fathered the twins.”
“You are threatening me? How dare you!”
“There’s too much at stake to do otherwise.”
“What if people look at Piper and think she looks like Karel?”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. They don’t even look to be the same age.”
“Even if I wanted you all… underfoot, just how do you propose that I explain your presence a
t court?”
“You’ve already begun. I left court because I was unjustly accused of stealing the Regal’s feathers. With the execution of Uthen Kesleer, everyone knows he gifted sorcerous plumes to the Regal, so I am sure you can make him the villain of the piece. So, that’s a start. You can do whatever you like to explain my husband – it might help to say that he is a member of the Chenderawasi nobility who became a hero during the Ard River battle against the last of the Foxes. There are many who would vouch for that, including Sir Herelt Deremer.”
“Even so—”
“We have a daughter, let’s say nine months younger than your son, and you want the prince-regal to have a playmate of a similar age. The fact that Piper’s father is foreign royalty will offer sufficient status to us all.” She shrugged. “Whenever did you have a problem with manipulating the truth to suit your aims?”
There was a long silence. Then, “A pox on you, Sorrel Redwing! Sometimes I don’t know whether to imprison you, or thank you. I don’t know whether to bless the day I met you, or send you back to Melforn to be hanged as a murderess.”
It was a capitulation of sorts, and an acknowledgement that she would do her no harm.
Sorrel smiled, suddenly happy. “We’ve both come a long way since that day. Look at it this way, Your Grace. Who would ever have thought you would sit on the Basalt Throne? The kind of power you once dreamed of is now yours…”
“I’m never going to be rid of you, am I?” Mathilda asked with a sigh. “You are going to be a stone around my neck until one of us dies of old age.” She shook her head, a rueful half-smile twitching her lips. “Maybe I should be grateful. You are the one person who knows everything, so I don’t have to hide a thing when I talk to you.”
“Please don’t tell me any more secrets. I don’t want to know them.”
“We have something more than secrets in common,” Mathilda said, reaching out to hold her hand. For the first time Sorrel saw genuine terror in her eyes. “We both have, and love, a child who may turn on us one day. Each time we meet, we will look at each other and wonder if we will one day regret our love.”