“Do we have the unanimous agreement of the Council?” she asked, in tones that implied that she was going to do this, even if they didn’t agree.
But she knew her men of Eltaria too well. The younger men might have been willing to fight, but these old, staid, lazy men, full of themselves and their fortunes, who had been defended from the outside for far too long, looked into the face of disaster and knew they would not survive it. The nods that answered her question were shaded with emotions ranging from craven eagerness, to weary assent, but every man there was happy to let her try this scheme.
And after all, if it failed, she would be the one they could point to as the cause of failure.
She made a mental note to infuse some danger into Eltaria from now on, at least for the ruling class. These folk had been safe and soft for too long, and she had been so busy protecting the royals and the peasantry that she had forgotten the wealthy and noble. But that would be for the future. They had to survive the present, first.
“Very good,” she said. “We wish you all now to return to your places. Assume the garments of mourning. Pray for the souls of the King and Queen. Prepare to receive our beloved King Thurman’s body here for the state burial of a hero, for a hero he truly was, protecting all of you from this grave danger for all of his life, so that it remained invisible to you. You may go.”
They went, with no show of reluctance; they simply filed out. Some, she was sure, who were unconvinced of her ability to save the country, were already planning how to make their wealth as portable as possible in order to flee within hours or days. Let them go; they would not be anyone that this land needed. Some would be trying to figure out how to buy their way into the good graces of whatever conqueror came. Those were fools; a conqueror would merely take, then crush, for what need did he have to share? That, too, was fine; there were mirrors in every house, and Jimson would soon determine who they were.
First things first. Lily summoned the messengers, twenty of them. Each one was given explicit instructions and sent out on the King’s—now her—swiftest horses. Five would go to the near neighbors, fifteen to allies. That left eighty more copies…which would go out by yet faster means.
Birds. Thurman’s grandfather had established a network of communication with trading ambassadors well out beyond the neighboring lands, with emergency messages being sent by pigeon. If anything was an emergency, this was. She had reduced these copies to the size that pigeons could carry, called in the Bird Master, and sent them to be spread as far and wide as possible. Not just Princes would come. Obviously. But the worst adventurers could be sorted out and sent away.
She was relieved that Siegfried and Leopold had not lingered; she didn’t want to deal with them just yet.
Instead, she took Rosa with her back to her chambers, and again dismissed all of her attendants, but left a heavy guard on the door. Not that she couldn’t defend herself but…better safe than sorry.
She felt weary, impossibly weary. And her work had only begun. This was, in every sense, the worst crisis she had faced in her entire three hundred years as Eltaria’s Godmother, with no discernible ending in sight.
Damn, you Tradition, she thought, a little bitterly. Why don’t you move so that a Godmother can always win?
Rosa looked as frozen as Queen Sable’s demeanor; after a glance at her pale face, Lily decided that some things could not wait. “Sit down, love,” she said, guiding her to what had been Celeste’s favorite chair and pushing her down into it. “We still have a long day ahead of us.” She had to shake her head. “Heaven only knows what they are going to think of the way you and I are locked in together, but it can’t be helped.”
Rosa looked up, and her face took on some expression again. “Probably that you are lecturing me. Should I start acting cowed and puppetlike?”
She considered this. “That’s not a bad thought, at least for now. Not too unlike yourself, however, or they’ll think I’ve stolen your soul or some other nonsense. Now, I want you to sit there and think of what I might need to help me out with your courtiers, while I tend to some other matters.”
She opened the mirror to her own Palace and stepped through. Normally she would never have expended this much magic, but between Rosa and Siegfried, there was enough to be profligate, so she might as well use it. Perhaps if she could drain enough of it off, this kingdom would manage to avoid attracting a powerful Evil Magician along with everything else.
Her Brownies heard the news in silence. “I don’t trust the kitchens for now, not until I can afford to have Jimson spy on the help. So I want food and drink for us, and—” she looked for, and found, the four Brownies who tended her wardrobe “—I want you Gayna, Tris, Latti and Mira, to bring your tools. I’m going to need some special things and quickly.” The Brownies sped to relay her orders. In an amazingly short time, they returned, with what might, to other eyes, have been a strange series of burdens. Trays of food and hot tea, but also the tools of a seamstress.
She brought them through the mirror, and before Rosa had any idea of what was happening, turned them loose on her. While they fed and measured her, held up bits of fabric to her face and buzzed around like a flock of fat brown quail chasing bugs, she turned to Jimson’s mirror.
Jimson, of course, already knew what had happened, and his wordless look of sympathy warmed her deeply. “Tell me what you want, and it will be done, Lily,” he said simply, without the honorific. “If I have to, I can collect enough embarrassing information on every important person for twenty Kingdoms around to coerce them into—”
She held up her hand. “I’ve another idea altogether,” she replied. “I plan to make this a real contest, but I am going to need a lot of help. I’d like you to speak to as many of the other Godmothers and magicians as you can reach and ask them to speed the Princes who want to come here on their way, by whatever means they can. I honestly don’t care what they do, if they want to hand-deliver a boy, then do so. The sooner they get here, the better, and honestly the more fuss there is, the better. I want our enemies to be caught utterly off guard by how swiftly we moved.”
“Done,” Jimson replied immediately. “What else?”
“As repugnant as this is, set a watch on the nobles and the staff in the Palace, the kitchen in particular. We can afford deserters, but not traitors.”
“Easily done,” said Jimson, and chuckled. “You know, Godmother, we have apprentices, too. This is just the sort of thing to put them to. We don’t often get carte blanche from a Godmother to do a wholesale watch. It will be good practice for them.”
“I need you to think as you never have before, and see if the other Godmothers can and will help with this, as well. We are going to need some real trials here. Hard ones, but not fatal ones. Trials that require a lot more than brawn. Honestly—” She paused and rubbed her aching head. “Honestly, this is going to have to be a set of trials that sets Tradition, not just follows it.”
Jimson’s head bobbed. “You don’t intend to marry any of these princes yourself, do you?” he asked hesitantly.
“Good God, no!” she exclaimed. “Oh no…I only added myself to the letter so that we’d get those who would otherwise hesitate by reason of age. The only reason I am continuing on here as Queen Sable is to protect Rosa. And truth be told, if it weren’t for those wolf packs on the borders, she wouldn’t need any protecting.” She sighed. “I hope, I really do, that what comes out of this is a Traditional love match.”
“I’ll settle for a strong, clever, kind man I can like, who will care for my people as I do, Godmother,” said Rosa herself, coming up behind Lily, wrapped in one of Lily’s own black velvet dressing gowns, and carrying a little tray with tea and scones on it. “Now, it’s time someone tended to you, or you’ll spin yourself out into nothing. Right, Jimson?”
“Well said, Princess,” the Mirror Servant replied, bestowing a look of approval on her so hearty that she blushed, and Lily smiled.
“Beset on all sides,” she mock
-complained, then sat down and took the tea from the Princess. “None of this would be necessary if your neighbors had Godmothers, you know,” she observed ruefully.
Rosa looked thoughtful. “That might be another reason for me to take over some of the Godmothering here,” she said, slowly. “If I can manage some of the day-to-day matters in this Kingdom, perhaps you could…well…interfere a bit with the neighbors.”
Lily raised an eyebrow, but it was a good thought. “You know more than you’ve told me,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
Rosa shrugged. “Mama wanted me educated in everything. She always said it was nothing more than a lot of village politics, just on a bigger scale.”
“She wasn’t far wrong,” Lily replied wryly. “Well then. That’s for the future. Let’s survive this first.”
By the time they were finished, it was dark and they had gone through several pots of tea and two meals. And Lily had a fairly good idea of which allies were trustworthy, which were trustworthy only if they were bought, and which would stay bought, once bought. Within the Kingdom itself, she knew which of the Councillors were loyal only to their purses, which were weak-willed, which were strong-willed, and those few that Celeste had known were motivated by something other than selfishness and could be trusted, no matter what befell. This had not much mattered in Thurman’s time, but Rosa and Lily between them decided that it was time for a bit of a shake-up on the Royal Council. At the moment, while she didn’t much mind that these men were soft, Eltaria couldn’t afford anyone who put his own interests first.
“Not dismissal, though,” she warned Rosa. “That makes for enemies. No, we’ll find them appointments. Make them the heads of things that don’t matter, but a position that comes with a meaningless title. We can make them Lords of some brand-new Order, give them spurious duties and send them home.”
But Rosa shook her head. “No, sending them back to their estates, that would be a bad idea. That will look like disgrace, or exactly like it is, that they are being shuffled off.”
“Hmm,” Lily said. “Then this, perhaps. Let them stay here if they want, and preen and posture. In fact, we could probably use them…if we set them up as a War Cabinet and feed them with misinformation, then see if that misinformation turns up elsewhere, we’ll find out which of them is actually corrupt instead of just venial. Thank you for that observation.”
“Mother taught me to pay attention.” Rosa managed a wan smile.
“So she did.”
Lily had always known, when she had begun helping and aiding Celeste—among several other little girls—as a possible consort for Thurman, that the girl was special. Even as a youngster she had been a peacemaker and a problem solver among her peers. When she grew into lovely maidenhood, she had continued that among even the elders of her village. But she had never quite realized how deeply Celeste’s craft went.
“Your mother was quite the manipulator, wasn’t she,” Lily observed without rancor.
Rosa considered that judiciously. “Well, she used to say that she was very well aware that she had that power, so it was up to her to use it for good, to counter the ones who used it for bad.” She shrugged. “I suppose I am, too, since she taught me how to use it wisely.”
“I most fervently hope so,” Lily replied with feeling. “You are going to need to, in order to handle the plague of princes about to descend on us.”
She was interrupted by Jimson. “Lily, your fellow Godmothers have been informed, and offer as much help as you think you need. Even in setting up and executing the trials. Many of them are arranging for the Princes and other would-be suitors to get here by means of ‘All Paths Are One,’ and a few of the young men will be delivered by the Godmothers or magicians themselves. Oh, and the Brownies are finished with their task and would like you to let them through.”
“Task?” Rosa said, but Lily had already gone to the mirror to usher through the parade of Brownies nearly invisible beneath piles and piles of clothing.
“I have gowns—” Rosa said hesitantly, looking at the heaps of fabric that the Brownies were setting down on every available surface. “More gowns than I generally wear, in fact.”
“Not like these,” Lily replied grimly. She picked up a lovely mourning gown and handed it to the Princess, who frowned at the weight and the thickness of the bodice. “This isn’t just stays…”
“Armored bodice,” said Lily with a sigh. “Good against knives in the dark, and possibly even axes. You’ll have to set a new fashion for high collars, I am afraid. An armored bodice isn’t much good if it doesn’t cover the chest. Your riding habits are further armored against arrows. But on the positive side, you won’t need corsets when you wear these.”
The Princess nodded, but she had gone a little white.
“There are also knives where the bodice busk would be, and slits in the skirts for you to reach through to get more weapons. Not the sort of thing your seamstresses would know how to make, nor would they do so as quickly as my Brownies.” Lily picked up another gown, then put it down with a sigh. “And this should have been such a lovely time for you…suitors vying for your hand, you the fairest flower in the Court…Thurman and Celeste watching you dance at balls so full of pride and happiness they—” She found tears in her eyes. “If only—”
“It’s not your fault!” Rosa said fiercely. “No Kingdom ever had a better Godmother than you! It’s the blasted Tradition, that’s what it is!”
Lily took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said, simply. “I hope you are right. But even if you are not, the fact remains that we must deal with what is on our plate as best we can.” Then she smiled a little, taking in the Brownies, Rosa and Jimson, who had appeared to gaze anxiously out of his frame. “And no one could ask for better friends.”
9
SIEGFRIED HAD BEEN A LITTLE OVERWHELMED at the luxury of the rooms he had been given. Actually, he had been a little overwhelmed from the moment he’d seen the Godmother turn the cart into a coach.
Yes, he had seen magic. After all, his mother and father were half god. He’d reforged his father’s sword in a Dwarven forge. He’d fought and killed two dragons. He’d tasted Dragon’s Blood, and getting the gift of tongues was certainly magic.
But…not magic like this. Not magic that casually turned one thing into something else. The bird had been kind enough to explain Godmothers to him. He wasn’t sure his people had a Godmother. For that matter, he wasn’t sure that his land counted as a Kingdom; there were no Kings, only Clan Chiefs. And the gods seemed to interfere much, much, much more there than they did in places that had Godmothers.
He was beginning to have suspicions about his gods. He was beginning to think they were just another kind of Fae Folk. Very, very powerful Fae Folk, but ones who were quite shortsighted and not particularly bright, with a penchant for meddling like a lot of old grannies. Why else would they act pretty much like thickheaded warriors without the common sense of a goose?
But at any rate, this new sort of magic had fair made his eyes bulge. And then, they got to the Princess’s Palace.
Now…he’d spent most of his time, a good eight years of it, wandering in the wilderness of just about every Kingdom he’d been through. Leaving home that young was unusual, even for a Hero, but he hadn’t had a lot of other options—and at least, wandering in the wilderness was relatively safe. On the whole, cities made him feel like a bumpkin, and on the rare occasion he’d done some hero business for a noble or a King, it was generally when he’d followed rumor to a war, or had encountered one of those nobles or Kings wandering on their own in the wilderness. Mostly, when he’d been entertained, it had been in remote stone castles that were not a great deal different in the sort of things you found inside them than the Clan houses he was used to.
So when he saw the sort of affair they were riding up to, he’d been taken a bit aback. He had to keep reminding himself that if you measured worth in terms of deeds, he was just as good as anyone who lived in a place like this.<
br />
And that had held him right until the servant brought him to his rooms and left him there. Rooms! In the plural!
He had spent most of his life before he had left his land sleeping out-of-doors, or in a cave, or at best in the sort of one-room Clan house shared by most of his people when they were gathered under the protection of a Clan Chief or a petty lord. Oh, they were big places, really big. Big enough to house a hundred or more. But it was all one big room, with a hearth fire in the center and a smoke hole above it. Impressive, if you were used to tiny cottages, yes, and large, definitely, but they were nothing like the buildings in these lands, and the idea of a bit of space carved out with walls for just one person was laughable.
After he had left his homeland, well, it had been the occasional room in an inn, where people mostly slept several to a bed, the occasional bunk in the barracks of some notable for whom he had done heroic service, or the occasional cottage, pretty much identical with the ones back home, where he slept on the floor next to the fire in the middle, because as the warmest place, it was the one first offered to guests.
Otherwise he slept out-of-doors, or in a cave.
He had never had an entire room to himself—unless you counted a cave as a room—much less several.
This was the first time he had spent any length of time with the high-ups of any kingdom in a setting other than a battlefield. The bird had coached him on how to behave, or he would likely have covered himself with embarrassment. The bird on his shoulder didn’t seem to give them any pause at all, which was a great help. Then again, half of the dandies, half the old ladies, and half the young ones were toting around a fluffy little thing that they said was a dog, or were followed by whole clouds of the yappy creatures. He had to be very careful where he put his feet. It was a good thing that they seemed better trained than the dogs at home, or he would have had to be very careful about where he put his feet for an entirely different reason.
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