book1

by Fire

  “There is more,” Orkid said, his voice straining.

  “Go on,” Areava said shortly.

  “Some of the rumors insist that Lynan has been made commander-in-chief of the Haxus army to march south into Grenda Lear.”

  Again, Areava did not reply.

  “If true, there can be no greater proof of his guilt,” Orkid continued. “And there is nothing Lynan could do that would more alienate the people of Grenda Lear.”

  “He would lead an army against his own people?” Areava asked, but Orkid knew the question was not directed toward him. “He would take arms against his own country?” Her skin now darkened with anger. She stood up suddenly, her hands bunched into fists. Her ice-blue eyes seemed to glimmer.

  “How long ago was your agent in Kolbee?”

  “About three weeks, your Majesty.”

  “Three weeks!”

  “He returned as soon as he could, but he had to be careful getting back to the ship in the Oino delta.”

  “And how long would it take the Kolbee garrison to reach the border with Hume?”

  “About the same amount of time, as long as it was not stopping to recruit new members or pick up extra units on the way.”

  Areava started striding up and down the chambers, her fists still bunched and kept behind her back. “It is too late for them to attack. It will be winter in a month.”

  “I agree, your Majesty, but King Salokan—or Prince Lynan—is well in place to launch an attack as soon as the spring thaw starts.”

  “Then we must mobilize now and send regiments north.”

  “The first snows will have come by the time they are ready to leave the south.”

  “I don’t care. They have to march north. Our defenses must be ready by the time winter is over.”

  “You’ll need to increase taxes, your Majesty. Our treasury is healthy, but will not withstand the expenses of war for very long.”

  “Call my council immediately. They will support me.”

  “As will all Grenda Lear,” Orkid said.

  She looked at him grimly. “I hope you are right, Chancellor, for all our sakes.”

  Somehow, despite his fogged mind, Olio had found the old library tower. He made his way to the top, carefully ascending each step with exaggerated caution. He stood in the middle of the chamber and turned in a circle, looking at all the old books unread by anyone for hundreds of years because no one could understand the writing.

  All this knowledge waiting for someone to unlock the secret, he thought. What magic do they hold?

  The question wearied him, and he slumped to the floor, careful not to smash the flagon of expensive red wine he was holding. He took a good swallow from it and grinned to himself.

  I bet Edaytor and the theurgia would hate the idea that there’s power here they know nothing about and cannot use. What a joke.

  Morning light crept in from the tower’s single window. He looked up and saw that the shutters were slightly ajar.

  Lynan liked it here, he remembered. He was probably the last person to look out that window.

  Olio stood up unsteadily and opened the shutters wide. He could see only part of the city, but in the distance he recognized the coastline of Lurisia and the distant mountain-tops in Aman. And westward were the Oceans of Grass. Somewhere out there was his brother. God, Lynan, are you still alive?

  He collapsed to the floor again, overcome by sudden grief.

  I wish you were here, Lynan. I wish you were home.

  The tears came unexpectedly, and he scolded himself for blubbering. He tried to hold back, but he could not stop crying.

  After a while, exhausted, he lay down on the cold stone floor, hugging the flagon close to his chest. Sleep came quickly, and he dreamed that his younger brother was sitting with him in the chamber, watching over him.

  The council received Orkid’s news with silence. No one knew what to say. Areava let them think a while on what it meant for the kingdom, and then asked Marshal Lief about the state of readiness of Grenda Lear’s armies.

  “On your command last summer I mobilized a few regiments, mainly cavalry, to bolster our border units in Hume. They are there now.”

  “Will they be enough to thwart a full invasion from Haxus?”

  “No, your Majesty. Nowhere near enough. They can deal with any minor border incursions, but if they encounter anything stronger than a couple of enemy divisions, they’ll be scattered. I never really believed Haxus would actually go to war without some border raids to test our strength.”

  “Nor did I,” Areava said bitterly. “Chancellor Orkid, what are our estimates of Haxus’ strength?”

  “Twenty thousand infantry, at least five thousand cavalry. That’s their regulars. We don’t know how many militia they can call up.”

  Marshal Lief said, “Your Majesty, in the last war they had a similar-sized army, but not the logistical support to send them too deep into our territory.”

  “That was fifteen years ago,” Orkid said dismissively. “We don’t know how good their logistics are now. Besides, if they move quickly enough and capture Daavis, they would have the supply base they need to move on to Chandra, and from there onto Kendra itself.”

  “How long would it take to mobilize our entire army, Marshal?”‘ Areava asked.

  “Three months at least. We don’t have the equipment and weapons in our armories to field an army much larger than twenty thousand ourselves, although over time, as our weapon smiths, cloth makers and granaries went to a war footing, we could double or even triple that. But contingents would have to come from Lurisia and Storia and Aman, and that will take time as well. And if the bulk of our troops are in Hume to stop an invasion, we’ll need the fleet’s help to keep the army fed and clothed; we’ll also need the navy to move much of our southern forces north.”

  “Which raises another problem,” Admiral Setchmar added. “Most of our fleet is laid up. It’s too expensive to maintain all our transports and warships during peacetime. It will take us at least two months to get them ready and crew them all. Even if they were ready sooner, it would be foolish to risk sailing a fleet against winter’s storms; we could lose everything.”

  “How many troops can you have on the border with Haxus by the end of winter?”

  “Twenty thousand,” the marshal said despondently. “Maybe. Including the regiments that are already there.”

  “You’re not including the heavy cavalry, Marshal?” Galen Amptra asked in an arrogant voice.

  Lief blushed. “I would not presume ...”

  Galen waved him silent and turned to Areava. “Your Majesty, the cavalry from the Twenty Houses can be riding north in a week. That’s three thousand of the best soldiers on the continent.”

  Yes, and risk the Twenty Houses taking control of my army in the north, Areava thought. She hesitated.

  “Your Majesty, that is the perfect solution,” Shant Tenor said. The news of Haxus’ mobilization had almost made him spasm with fear, but then the thought of his city’s industries gearing up for war and the profits that would bring Kendra had calmed him remarkably quickly. And the thought of selling the food and extra supplies the heavy cavalry from the Twenty Houses would need almost had him salivating.

  “We are going about this the wrong way,” said a new voice, calm and measured. All eyes turned to Father Powl. In the four meetings since he had been one of the council members, he had hardly spoken at all. Even Primate Northam looked in surprise at the priest. He was a small, thin man who often wore a smile but whose hard gray eyes never seemed amused at all.

  Areava considered him. “Father?”

  “I think sending our army north piecemeal is inviting disaster.”

  “But the kingdom is under threat!” Shant Tenor exclaimed. “We can’t wait until our enemies reach the walls of Kendra itself!”

  “Which is what will happen if King Salokan is allowed to destroy one regiment here and two regiments there. Even the renowned cavalry of the Twenty Hous
es could do little by themselves against an army more than ten times its size.”

  “He speaks the truth,” Marshal Lief said despondently. “We have been caught by surprise, and our forces are too scattered or not up to full strength.”

  “Not completely by surprise,” Father Powl said, “thanks to the offices of Chancellor Orkid Gravespear.” Priest and chancellor exchanged courtesy glances. “And there is a way through this problem.”

  Shant Tenor could see all the city’s short-term profits evaporating before his eyes. “With all due respect to Father Powl, I think military planning is best left to the marshal.”

  “Go on, Father,” Areava said, throwing the mayor a warning look.

  “I suggest we reduce the border garrison to a line of lookouts. The remainder should be sent to garrison Daavis. In the meantime, a proper army is gathered here and sent north as soon as spring comes.”

  “But we would be surrendering almost all of Hume!” Galen said.

  “Only for a few weeks at most,” Marshal Lief said. “The priest is right. If the forces already in Hume garrisoned Daavis, the city should be able to defend itself against the army of Haxus long enough for our army to relieve it.”

  “There is another factor to consider,” Powl said. “Prado and his force of mercenaries. He will be in Hume before winter bites too hard. He could reinforce Daavis, or support those forces we leave on the border.”

  “Or change sides as soon as Salokan crosses the border,” Dejanus growled, still stinging over losing the command of that expedition.

  “He will not,” Orkid said firmly. “He hates Rendle, and Rendle is with Haxus.”

  “I would not see Prado deterred from his mission,” Areava objected.

  “If Prince Lynan is indeed with Salokan, Prado’s mission and our need dovetail, your Majesty,” Powl said.

  “Thank you, Father,” Areava said. “Your words have made the situation at once less dire and its solution much clearer.”

  Powl nodded graciously. “There is one more issue.”

  “Yes?”

  “Who will lead the army north?”

  “I will, of course,” Areava said quickly.

  “Forgive me, your Majesty, but that is inadvisable,” Orkid said. “No one can deny your skill with weapons— after all, your mother gave you command of the kingdom’s armed forces—but your place is here, in the palace. What if some other emergency should arise in your absence? And your absence would be a long one. The same applies to the marshal. He needs to be in Kendra to organize the army’s mobilization, and then its continued supply.”

  “Then who do you suggest?” she asked the chancellor.

  “Why not someone from the Twenty Houses?” Galen asked.

  “Or Prince Olio,” Father Powl suggested. “It would be fitting for Grenda Lear’s army to be led by a prince of the realm, especially if the enemy army is being led by another.”

  There were nods around the table, and then everyone noticed that Olio was not present. He was usually so quiet that his absence had not really been noticed until now. The queen looked puzzled.

  “Harnan? Was Prince Olio notified of the meeting?”

  “My clerks could not find him,” her private secretary said. “I could send them out again.”

  Areava shook her head. “No. There is much for me to consider. I will consult with my brother in private over this matter.” She stood up and everyone else immediately stood as well. “You have served me well today.”

  * * *

  When Olio finally awoke, the muscles in his back were knotted into painful bundles. The side of his face that had been resting on the tower’s stone floor was numb with cold. He groaned and lifted himself into a sitting position. His head beat with a sound like a hammer striking an anvil. His hand was in something wet. He looked down and saw a great red puddle of wine. He stood up uneasily. He moved toward the steps and his foot knocked aside an empty flagon. It rang on the stone floor, and he had to close his eyes in pain.

  “God’s death,” he muttered, holding his hands to his head.

  After the pain eased, he made his way slowly down the tower stairway and then along the corridors to his chambers. When he opened the door, he was met by a room filled with light. He squeezed his eyes shut and tottered into the bedchamber, closing the door behind him.

  “Leave it open. I won’t stay long.”

  “Sister?” He squinted, and could just make out Areava’s tall form sitting in a chair near his bed.

  “You missed a council meeting.”

  “I’m sorry. I was otherwise ... disposed.” He made it to his bed and sat on the end. “Was it important?”

  “Haxus has mobilized its army. We cannot meet it with our full strength. Hume may fall by the middle of spring. Otherwise, no, nothing important.”

  Olio shook his head to clear it. It did not work. “I didn’t quite get all of that.”

  “You smell of wine. Are you drunk?”

  “N-n-no, n-n-not drunk. M-m-my head hurts.”

  “I needed you. You weren’t there.”

  “I said I was sorry, Areava. Tell m-m-me again. What happened in the council?”

  “In four months, maybe less, we will be at war with Haxus.”

  Olio’s eyes sprung open. “War?” Areava nodded. “With Haxus?” Areava nodded again. “B-b-but the m-m-marshal and admiral were there, surely? And Orkid?”

  “Your name came up.”

  Olio sighed. His eyes were adjusting to the brightness.

  “What is happening to you?” Areava asked.

  He shrugged. “N-n-nothing is happening to m-m-me. I had a b-b-bad night, that’s all.” Distractedly, he ran his fingers through his brown hair.

  “I see you wandering in and out of the palace at all hours. We don’t talk anymore. My servants have heard your servants complaining that your clothes always reek with wine.” She shook her head in frustration and asked again, “What is happening to you?”

  “N—n-nothing is happening to me!” Olio spat.

  Areava gasped in surprise.

  Olio moaned and put his hand out to hold hers, but she jerked away from him. “I’m sorry, sister, I didn’t m-m-mean ...” She made no move to take his hand, and he eventually dropped it.

  “Clean up,” she said imperiously, standing up. “Get changed. Get shaved. Get rid of that terrible smell. I want to see you in my chambers in an hour. Be there or I’ll send one of the guards to bring you.”

  Olio forced a laugh. “Areava, you can’t be serious.”

  “Be there,” she repeated, her voice hard, and left.

  Orkid knocked on the door of the primate’s office and entered without waiting to be called in. Father Powl was sitting behind a huge desk reading through a sheaf of papers; when he saw Orkid, he stood up hurriedly.

  “Chancellor! It’s rare to have you visit this wing of the palace. You’ve missed the primate, I’m afraid. He’s gone into the city.”

  “Good. It was you I came to see.”

  Father Powl looked surprised. He waved his guest into a chair and sat down himself. “How can I help you?”

  “I wanted to commend you on your contribution to the council meeting this morning.”

  “I was glad to be of service to her Majesty.”

  “You are still her confessor, I understand?”

  “Less of late, I’m afraid. Father Rown now relieves me of most of that duty. I’m kept busy with the pressure of office as Primate Northam’s secretary.”

  “Your advice at the council came as something of a surprise to most of us. After all, one hardly expects a cleric to demonstrate such a clear understanding of military strategy.”

  Father Powl spread his hands. “I have been a student of knowledge since entering the priesthood. Our library here deals not just with religious subjects; there are histories and biographies, accounts of journeys and myths, records of previous military campaigns. The appropriate course of action seemed obvious to me, and it would have been re
miss to remain silent. I am quite sure the marshal would have offered the same advice eventually.”

  Orkid smiled easily. “Lief is an old soldier who came into command during the great years of peace following the Slaver War. Before that, he was a fine field commander. Grand strategy was never his strong point.”

  “He may learn,” Father Powl countered.

  “He will have to,” Orkid said dryly. “However, his burden will be eased by good advice. Advice from the queen. Advice from me. And, I suspect, advice from you.”

  Father Powl looked shocked. “Chancellor, I would never bypass the council.”

  “I was not suggesting you would. But there are times when the council may not be the appropriate forum.”

  “Forgive me for being abrupt, Chancellor, but I’m at a loss to see where you are going with this.”

  “I would appreciate being the beneficiary of your learning.”

  “You are suggesting I go to you with any contribution instead of the council?”

  “Indeed not. The queen relies on her councilors to speak directly. But if, for example, you had some insight that might bear on urgent events, there is no need for you to wait for the council to be convened. If you were to come to me, I could convey your advice directly to the queen herself.”

  Father Powl rested back in his seat and made a steeple out of his fingers. “I would have to clear this with the primate.”

  Orkid shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Let this stay a matter between you, myself, and Queen Areava. Better that way. Fewer channels to slow things down.”

  “Let me state your position clearly, so there is no misunderstanding between us. I am to have direct access to you?”

  “Yes.”

  Father Powl smiled over the steeple. “I feel honored.”

  “Do you agree?”

  The priest nodded. “I agree. I think this is a relationship that will benefit both our offices.”

  And those that occupy them, Orkid thought.

  Areava tried to sit as regally as possible, but it was not possible in front of her brother. Olio stood before her, scrubbed and ashamed. He almost looked like an innocent young man again. She wanted to wet her hand and dampen down his unruly mop of hair.