For a brief, angry moment, Jeffrey wondered why Elspeth’s dearest friend hadn’t protected her from Hesketh. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, for Elspeth clutched his hand tighter—it was like having a baby bird cling to his fist—and said, “No, don’t blame her. Everyone was so sick, and people were dying, and Imogen had to take care of them all. Some of her tiermatha almost died. I thought Hesketh was my friend—I felt sorry for him—no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad Owen killed him,” she said fiercely. “I want it to be over.”
“I can’t fix this for you,” Jeffrey said, frustrated.
“I don’t know how to fix it for myself. But Imogen said, remember that I am still the same Elspeth. The rest will have to come in time.”
“Your Imogen seems very wise,” Jeffrey said with a smile.
“She is. She was so patient with me when there were things I didn’t know. They barely even have Devices, Jeffrey, and Hrovald treats women like things, and he teaches his soldiers to feel the same way. I was frightened, the whole time I was there, but I felt safer when Imogen was near me. I wish I was more like her.”
“Well, I for one am glad you are exactly like Elspeth,” Jeffrey said, tweaking her nose, and she laughed, then coughed a little.
“No, don’t worry, I’m not sick anymore, but the coughing afterward is normal. It’s annoying, but it doesn’t hurt,” Elspeth assured him when he gave her an alarmed look. “And I’m hungry. I try to eat all the time and I feel as if I’m not gaining any weight. Imogen looks at me as if I’m going to snap in half.”
Jeffrey felt his desire to know his sister’s new friend increase. Half the words out of Elspeth’s mouth had something to do with Imogen. The smell of hot meat and bread filled the air, and Jeffrey peered out of the gap in the partition. “I’m feeling rather hungry myself,” he said. “Let’s eat, and then I’ll have them make up a bed in the other room and you can sleep. I want to send you south as quickly as I can, so Mother can care for you.”
“Was she too terribly panicked?” Elspeth said as Jeffrey held the flap for her.
“You know what she’s like. She looks like she’s calm, but then you watch her reading and she stares at the same page for twenty minutes. She’s spent a lot of time alone, these past months, that or staying at the Library until after midnight, copying out old documents. It will relieve her so much to see you safe.”
Elspeth sat at the table and helped herself to a hot roll. “I’m sorry I gave everyone so much distress,” she said. “I should have waited for that storm to pass before setting out for home. And I really shouldn’t have asked the driver to cut across Ruskald to Daxtry, but I was so impatient to see Owen again…”
“It’s done, and there’s no point thinking about what might have been,” Jeffrey said. He looked up as Owen pushed the tent door open and entered, followed by Imogen. She seemed perfectly composed and not at all overawed at being in the king’s tent. But then, she’d been at Hrovald’s house when Elspeth was there—come to think on it, what had a rider of the Kirkellan been doing, living at Hrovald’s house?
“Thank you for coming,” he said, pulling out a chair and holding it for her. She looked at him quizzically, then sat down. “Help yourselves. We don’t bother with ceremony here; no point, when it’s a war camp rather than the palace.” Imogen and Owen both loaded their plates with sliced meat, sautéed onions, bread and hunks of cheese. Jeffrey poured out mugs of dark ale for everyone except Elspeth, who didn’t like the taste.
Owen and their guest ate as if they were starving, which might have been true when you considered that Owen had probably only brought enough rations for three, but had returned with an extra thirteen people in tow. The Kirkellan were perfectly capable of hunting for themselves, but rabbit roasted over a tiny fire wasn’t the same as the robust fare the camp kitchens turned out every day. Elspeth picked at her food until Imogen glowered at her, at which point she dug in more heartily. It seemed everyone had more of a hold on Elspeth’s obedience than her own brother.
They ate in silence for a while, then Elspeth said, “Is Victory all right?”
Imogen swallowed. “Yes, she was just scared. Sometimes she is silly when she is scared. I am sorry I yelled at that woman.”
“Don’t be,” Jeffrey said. “Her behavior was inexcusable. I still can’t believe you went in there with the horse thrashing around. That was incredibly brave.”
“You do not like horses,” Imogen said, fixing him with those hazel eyes again.
Jeffrey was taken aback. “Who told you that? I never said I didn’t like horses,” he said.
“Elspeth said it,” Imogen said, blushing.
“Well, you don’t,” Elspeth said, her mouth half full of food.
“I never said that. Just because I’m not a rider like—” like my father—“like other people. I think horses are beautiful.”
“I would like you to meet Victory,” Imogen said, “maybe in the morning.”
“I—thank you,” Jeffrey said. From what he knew, the Kirkellan treated their horses in many ways as if they were people. “Are you leaving for home in the morning?”
Imogen nodded. “My mother should hear the news of the banrach immediately.”
“Excuse me, I don’t understand that word.”
“It’s a horrible custom that says Imogen has to be married to Hrovald for five years,” Elspeth said. “As part of the peace between the Kirkellan and Ruskald.”
Jeffrey laid his fork and knife down. “Who did you say your mother was?”
“Mairen of the Kirkellan.”
Good heaven. The matrian of the Kirkellan. “You’re married to Hrovald?” He knew he sounded overly incredulous, but he simply couldn’t imagine Imogen sharing Hrovald’s bed. The very idea revolted him.
Imogen blushed. “I am not married anymore. It is not a marriage like a…there is no sex, it is not that I slept with him—”
“It’s a marriage in name, Jeffrey,” Elspeth explained. “It made Hrovald and Mairen related, like brother and sister, some kind of family members anyway. It meant they had the same claim on each other’s loyalty as any blood relatives would.” Imogen said something in Kirkellish, and Elspeth nodded. “There are rules about what can break it, and Hrovald broke the banrach when he was going to use me…use me to make a claim on the Crown of Tremontane. It would—”
She turned to Imogen and said something, and Imogen responded at length. “She says that since Tremontane and the Kirkellan are not at war, Hrovald would have been forcing them to take sides against us on his behalf. The Kirkellan only agreed not to go to war against Ruskald, not to be their auxiliaries in a war they started against someone else.”
That was essentially the situation as Jeffrey had understood it. But if Imogen’s understanding was correct, Mairen’s treaty with Hrovald was void, and that left the Kirkellan as open to Ruskalder attack as Tremontane was. An idea flickered into life. “It seems we have more to talk about than I thought,” he told Imogen. “Would the matrian be interested in a treaty with Tremontane? It sounds as if you burned your bridges thoroughly when you left. Hrovald’s the kind of man who would pursue war simply to avenge himself on you and Owen. Though I’m not sure who he’d be angrier at, the woman who humiliated him or the man who killed his heir.”
Imogen looked at Owen, who nodded. Jeffrey added, “We would be willing to support you against Hrovald. And I could use someone to put pressure on Hrovald’s western flank so he can’t prosecute full-out war against us. I think we have more in common with each other than either of us has with Ruskald, if you’ll pardon my presumption.”
Imogen looked at her plate for a moment, then back at him. “I cannot make a treaty myself,” she said, and Jeffrey nodded. “I can take your offer to the matrian and ask her. But I think, me, that it is a good idea. I do not know if we can make a treaty before Hrovald brings his army against you, though.”
“Oh, I have an idea for that,” Jeffrey said.
Jeffrey: Chapter Three
“It’s called a telecoder,” Jeffrey explained as Imogen walked around it, staring at it intently in the lamplight. “They’re usually about the size of your horse, but this is an experimental model for the military. Portable. Go ahead, you can touch it.”
Imogen reached out a finger and ran it along the shining brass of the arm, then pushed the thumbplate and jerked her hand back when the arm moved. “It is meant to do that?”
“Yes, that’s how it works.” Jeffrey set the dials for it to communicate with its counterpart, sitting on a table five feet away. “The arm has a needle underneath, and when you press where you just did, it touches this tape—” he held up the dangling length of narrow paper—“and makes a mark. And the machine it’s connected to makes the same mark, or it does when it’s turned on.” He turned a knob at the back of each machine. “Would you like to try?”
Imogen didn’t look convinced. “It is…complicated.” She said the last word as if she were trying it out on her tongue.
“The Devices are complicated, but the idea is simple. Look. If you have your hand on Victory’s reins, and you pull them on the left side, Victory’s head turns left, yes?” Imogen nodded, then understanding bloomed on her face. She reached out and tapped the thumbplate a few times, watching the other Device come to life and tap out the same rhythm simultaneously. She smiled and tapped it again. “It is like magic,” she said.
“Just Devisery, though I’m told that’s a little like magic.”
“We do not have many Devices. Hard to find…what is it that makes them go?”
“Source.”
“Yes, hard to find source in the Eidestal.” She removed her finger from the thumbplate. “This is good. You will give us one, yes?”
“That’s the idea.”
“But I do not understand how to talk if this makes dots and lines and longer lines.”
“We have a code—do you know what a code is? Our code turns the marks the telecoder makes into letters and words. I’ll send some people with you who know how to use it, and they can translate what the matrian says from Kirkellish into code, and here we’ll decode the message into Kirkellish and translate it to Tremontanese.”
Imogen looked skeptical. “It is a lot to ask, to trust a Device.”
Jeffrey ran his hands through his hair. “I know,” he said. “And to trust the technicians—the Device operators—and to trust me. Imogen, I wish we had more time. I would ride to the Eidestal myself and Mairen and I could work this out face to face. But there isn’t any time. I swear to you that this Device does what I say it does, and that I intend to deal honestly with the matrian. And since I can’t say that to her face, I have to say it to you. Do you believe me?”
The golden lamplight threw shadows across her face. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. She bent her head to look at the telecoder again. “I believe you, king of Tremontane,” she said. “And it is my…reputation I am putting in your hands. The matrian will blame me if you are the liar.”
“Everything I’ve told you is true,” Jeffrey said, taking her hands in his. She looked at their joined hands, but said nothing. “And I think you can convince the matrian of that.”
She nodded and once again met his eyes. “It is a good plan,” she said. “You will give me your…proposal, yes? And my tiermatha will ride at first light.”
“Thank you, Imogen,” he said, and let go of her hands, which fell to her side. “Do you have a place to sleep? Is your…your tiermatha comfortable? And your horses?”
She smiled, and in the half-shadows of the lamp it looked crooked with humor. “We have a rest place,” she said. “And I still have nothing we need that you can give me for a life. Two lives.”
“I suppose there’s no way to repay that debt, really.”
“No. And I did not do it for you. I did it for them. And for me.” She nodded at him and left the Devisers’ tent. He stared at the tent flap long after she’d gone. Would her word count for enough, with the matrian? With her mother? He remembered that steady gaze, the grip of her hands, and thought that it just might.
Two days later he hovered around the remaining telecoder, watching its unmoving arm the way a terrier watches a rat hole. Imogen should be there by now. She could be giving his proposal to the matrian right now. At any moment the telecoder could start chattering with…well, he had to hope it was good news, didn’t he?
Their advance scouts had reported that Hrovald’s army was on the move, that it would be here in the next two or three days. Such a narrow margin, two versus three, a small difference upon which success or failure rested. He paced more, not caring that his presence unsettled the technicians. They didn’t need to be composed until the message came through. Until then, their king was going to pace.
“Your Majesty,” Diana Ashmore said, entering the Devisers’ tent, “you’re not going to make the message come through any faster by waiting here for it.”
“You know if I walk away, that will be the moment it arrives.”
“And someone will bring word when that happens. Besides, it will need to be decoded and translated before you can read it.”
Jeffrey said nothing, but stopped pacing in favor of standing next to the Device and staring at it, willing it to move.
“Your Majesty, I did have something to discuss with you,” Diana said. “In private.”
Jeffrey looked up from the telecoder. “Are you trying to get me out of here with a ruse?”
“No, your Majesty, but I’m sure the technicians will welcome your absence.”
Jeffrey looked at the nearest technician, who didn’t meet his eyes. “Fine,” he said, and brushed past Diana out of the tent. “What is it?”
“In private, your Majesty.”
Jeffrey sighed and walked with her to his own tent. “Is this private enough for you, Baroness?”
“You don’t need to be testy, Jeffrey.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Diana. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Diana went to the table and pulled out the map of the area. “We’ve already occupied this much of the disputed territory,” she said, gesturing. “Tomorrow my forces will rejoin the body of the army, but they haven’t had any trouble holding this area.”
“Isn’t that because there isn’t anyone there?”
“What I’m saying is that they can cover all the territory without losing contact with one another. I believe that if—when—we defeat Hrovald’s army, they’ll be able to maintain that level of alertness indefinitely.”
“That’s good to know. But it sounds like you have something else in mind.”
“I do.” Diana looked up from the table. “I want you to extend the boundaries of Daxtry and make it a County. I think I’ve proved I can maintain my own Barony as well as the demands of keeping up our military presence along the border. It makes sense to maintain a continuity of rule when there’s going to be so much turmoil in the coming months, what with consolidating our hold on the entire territory.”
Jeffrey looked at the map. “That’s a lot of territory, Diana,” he said. “I’m not saying you can’t do it, but what you’re suggesting would make Daxtry the largest county in the kingdom. Do you think the other Counts and Barons will sit quietly and let that happen?”
“I think, if you are behind me, the others will fall in line. They respect you.”
They do? If they did, he didn’t see it. What he saw was a roomful of nobles, all of whom disagreed with him on some issue or another, none of whom accepted anything he had to say without turning it into an argument.
He shook his head. “I don’t think it would be that easy. And honestly, Diana, I’m not convinced it’s a good idea myself. But it’s worth considering. You’ve done excellent work here on the frontier and I’m not sure you always get the recognition you deserve. I’m not going to parcel out land we haven’t conquered yet, but I promise I’ll give your proposal serious consideration.”
Diana looked su
rprised. “I—it’s not what I hoped to hear, but thank you, your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Diana. Was there anything else?”
“Actually, yes, if—”
A page threw the tent door open. “Your Majesty, the message is coming through!”
Jeffrey ran from the King’s tent to the Devisers’ tent, brushing past a dozen people and almost running into four or five more. He arrived, breathless, to see one technician reading the message off the tape while another wrote down the decoded text. He clenched his fists and willed himself not to pace or hover or do anything else that might disrupt the technicians’ work. Finally the second technician handed off the paper to a third person, who sat at a desk, her lips moving slightly, as she translated the document from Kirkellish to Tremontanese. Jeffrey couldn’t stand it any longer. He went and stood behind the woman and read over her shoulder as she wrote.
GREETINGS TO KING JEFFREY OF TREMONTANE FROM MAIREN OF THE KIRKELLAN. MUTUAL AID TREATY IS DESIRABLE HOWEVER NEGOTIATIONS WILL NOT COMMENCE UNTIL IMMEDIATE THREAT
The translator stopped to change pens. Jeffrey’s heart sank. Mairen wanted a treaty, but wasn’t willing to negotiate until after Hrovald’s attack? She wanted to see how things would play out. So much for Imogen’s ability to convince her mother of the urgency of the situation and the mutual benefit a treaty would bring to both their countries.
Jeffrey squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed a handful of curses. He heard the translator’s pen resume its scratching trail across the paper. He almost couldn’t bear to look. No, it was his duty to look. Taking on unpleasant responsibilities was a King’s burden, his father had said. His father would have been more convincing. He opened his eyes and followed the translator’s pen.
IMMEDIATE THREAT IS PAST. AS TOKEN OF GOOD FAITH KIRKELLAN WILL SEND ONE THOUSAND HORSES TO ARRIVE IN TWO DAYS. OTHER TERMS OF TREATY IN ABEYANCE. IMOGEN SPEAKS HIGHLY OF YOU AM LOOKING FORWARD TO MEETING IN PERSON SIGNED MAIREN OF THE KIRKELLAN ACKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT.
Tales of the Crown Page 16