by Lori Martin
“I don’t know. He got what he wanted.”
“I think you should leave before he crosses over this edge he’s on. And there’s the baby to think about. You have to go while you still can. As it is you’ll have trouble sitting a horse.”
“There’s nowhere to go. And no one to go with.”
Lilli rose and went to her. “I’m a poor substitute, I know, but I’m going with you.”
“I’m staying.”
“You can’t. They won’t let you. And even if they did, Sillus might – I honestly think he might try to kill you.”
Dalleena averted her face. “That might be better.”
“Don’t talk that way!”
“I don’t want to live any longer.” She said it with shame, but she said it. “I want to follow him. What’s left? What do I have to go on for?”
“Just look down and you’ll see the answer.”
She shook her head. “This child? This child who has no father, this child who has no home, no land, no corner of the earth to call its own? No. Let it die with me.”
“If Nialia –”
“Don’t talk to me about Nialia!” she burst out. She was trembling with anger. “I followed her, oh yes, I followed her. And she’s abandoned me for it. She let Rendell die. The hearts of the gods must be made of stone.”
“You accepted her will and whatever burdens came with it.”
“No,” she whispered, in sudden quiet after her sudden rage. “It’s a punishment, I think. A punishment. Because I would still have done it.”
Lilli could not follow this thought. She paused, at a loss. Before she could find something else to say, Dalleena continued, “I’m not strong enough. I can’t face it without him.”
“Now I know that’s not true. Look at all you’re been through already. You’re strong enough, Dalleena. You’re carrying Rendell’s child, and you’re strong enough to give it life, and fight for it.”
Still whispering, she said, “Think of the strength he must have needed.”
“Yes. He was an Armasii, after all.”
The smallest things touched off her memories. They came up too swiftly, too vividly; before she had time to protect herself she was reliving them. The leaves were still green and clinging to the branches overhead, stirred by a summer breeze. Her head was in his lap. When a fear rose in her she turned it aside to something else, and so they were speaking of courage. The hardest thing might be if you were ill, or going to war, anytime you knew death was coming to you. She had actually said that to him. Being a strong person – being an Armasii, even – that might help. No, he said. No, I don’t think our strength would help someone face death. That’s not what it’s founded on. What then? “The strength of Armas,” he had said, thinking it out, “that strength would be to live. And to live well.”
Lilli saw the jaw set with its old determination. A good sign. Dalleena was not yet ready to say it aloud, but the thought came: I’ll have to make some plans.
CHAPTER 19
“King! My king, come quickly!” The urgent hammering on the door grew louder. “My king!”.
“Yes, what is it?” Raynii shouted from his bed. A sleepy page ran in from the left-hand chamber, while from the right came the queen, through their connecting apartments. She was still struggling into her overdress, her sleeping gown showing beneath. “Raynii, what’s the matter?”
“I’ve no idea.” The knocking was insistent. “Well, let the fool in!” The page ran for the door.
The man almost fell into the room, tripping over the page, the guard bearing down behind him. “My king, there’s a herder here from the Second Hill. It’s an emergency.”
Raynii rose and motioned to the boy, who began to disrobe him. “I’ll be there in a moment. Get me a torch carrier.”
“There’s no need, Sire. It’s dawn.”
Ayenna pulled back the draperies, letting in a pale autumn glow. The page helped the king into his clothing.
“What does the man have to say?”
“He was out at moonrise checking his herd, on the top of the Second Hill. He saw lights off in the distance.”
“What kind of lights?” the queen asked.
“He says they looked like camp lights, coming from the direction of Mendale.”
The king and queen exchanged looks.
“He woke up his brother and they decided to take a closer look. They rode down into the passageway toward the border. As soon as they realized what they were seeing he rode straight here.”
“What was it?”
“Soldiers, Sire. Mendale soldiers.”
The page, bringing up a basin of water, dropped it. The water ran over the king’s feet.
“Camped? On our side of the border?”
“Yes, my king. He couldn’t tell how many. The brother stayed behind and will report in a few hours, after he’s seen them in daylight.”
The king said, “Go and send to the councilors, especially Seani, and I supposed we’d better have my brother. There will be a meeting at high-sun. And send for Ambassador Boessus – he’s gone home to the Third. I’ll be down to talk to the man in a moment.”
“Yes, my king.”
“Oh – make sure he’s given some wine. He must need it.”
“Yes, Sire.” He departed. The page was cleaning up the spill. The king looked at his wife.
“It’s war,” Ayenna said. Her face was colorless.
“It looks that way. And we’re not ready for it, Ayenna. We’re not ready.”
The council meeting was a series of decisions made by and orders given by the king. There was no time for debate or argument; in such times royalty came even more to the forefront. Astonishment was written on face after face. The thought came that they had relaxed too much, trusting in their peace. And there had been no quarrel, no warning, no break in the harmonious relationship. Hadn’t they just sent an ambassador to the Trio?
Boessus, called in to speak, was bewildered. The old man’s private grief gave way to a public one. There had been no word, no sign, nothing – he had been received with all courtesy and respect. He had lived among them and seen nothing, nothing, nothing but –
But what? The councilors leaned forward. Well, the Tribunes didn’t always agree with one another. One of them had suggested more trading – does that sound like war? – and the Second said no. She was angry about it. No, it was a banquet, they – for once no one looked hungry –
Hungry?
“They were all too thin,” Boessus said. The councilors stared at one another. No one knew what it meant. The onetime ambassador coughed violently, his hands at his chest, beginning finally to see it. He did not know it, but when he spoke again he said what another man who fought against war had said, in the country of their enemies. “I failed.”
The Lindahnes moved at last to defend themselves. They were not completely helpless; periodic training had never been stopped, but old squads needed to be reformed, new appointments made. Panic spread quickly as the villagers woke up to find their children turned into soldiers. The next news from the Second ran on frightened tongues to the First, but in the palace it was received in silence. According to the messages, it looked as if every able-bodied man and woman in Mendale was marching against them. In a matter of hours the first battles would begin. In a matter of days the First and Second would be besieged, and the breath of Mendale would be on the palace.
“We’ll have to close off the passage,” the king said to his wife. “If they can’t get through they’ll have to attack the First and Second from the foothills. If only we had more time!”
They had permitted themselves only one conversation on it, in the length of time it took to drink one goblet. The crowning achievement of peace, the foundation on which they had built their long and popular reign, was shattered. And they had been too secure, too confident. Because they had always won, they had assumed it would always be so. Forever past, forever to come – for the second time Raynii saw its arrogance. “Why?�
�� they said to each other, and, “Is it hunger?”
When evening came the Mendales had come over the foothills and the villagers from the Second were fighting to block their entrance. The aid they should have received from the First was driven back by fire: the Mendales were burning the farms on the westward side of the slope. Disorganized and in badly formed squads, the villagers lost the advantage of their height, drawn downward by an assumed retreat, which turned again into an attack when the footing was more equal. The passageway was left almost free. The old and sick fled, hobbling or riding, driving their cattle before them. The young lay dead in the passage.
“Bad planning,” Councilor Seani said, as calmly as if they were discussing the building of a house.
“No planning,” Raynii corrected grimly. He was angry, and not sure whom to turn it on.
“Sire, you’ll have to leave the palace. For your own safety.”
“No. We’ll stay and defend it, if they come over the First or through the passage.’
“But –”
“I said no! No Lindahne king has ever been driven from Marlos-An. It was given to us by Thaedra son of Simsas son of Nialia, and I will not be the first to leave it.”
Seani riffled up her hair and looked at the queen.
Raynii said, “I will lead the King’s Guard out to meet them tomorrow morn. My brother Sillus will be in charge of the First Squad and will ride with me. The queen will stay here with the Second Squad, and I’m putting you in charge of the Third Squad – to lead the defense of the palace, if it becomes necessary.”
“I’m riding with you,” Ayenna protested. “We should pitch everything against them now.”
“The passage is too narrow – we’d only be hampering ourselves. And if they have enough to come over the First as well, someone has to be here to stop them. Go on, Seani, and see if we can get something done properly.”
The councilor departed. Ayenna whirled on him.
“Raynii, you can’t put Sillus in command of the First Squad!”
“Why not? He’s well trained.”
“Why not! After all he’s done, to us, to Dalleena – you accused him of greed and ambition yourself, in front of the whole council!”
“Yes. But look at what’s happening here, how careful we have to be. We could lose our hold on the Chair. We’ve lost our daughter and relas to disgrace, and Sillus is now the heir – even more dangerous. And now, the gods alone know why or how, we’ve lost the peace we’ve built on all these years. It’s as if everything we’ve worked for has gone to dust. I have to work with Sillus, my dear. I need his power with me for once, not against me. A royal rules, but a leader can only lead when his people are following.”
“But do you have to give him the largest and best organized squad?”
“It’s the one we need now, before the Mendales take any more land. And after all, the king should lead the King’s Guard, not the First.”
The queen shook her head. “No. I absolutely forbid it.”
Raynii actually laughed. “My dear, you can’t forbid it. You’re no longer in Chair, you know.”
“The King’s Hold,” she said, and it sounded like a curse. “Raynii, this must be the fulfilling of the signs.”
“I hadn’t thought – yes, I guess it must be. And not Dalleena’s child, after all.”
“Or both?”
“Or both.”
At dusk that evening Dalleena joined them when they sat down to sup. It was the first time they had shared a meal since the discovery of her pregnancy. As they ate, Raynii outlined the plans for battle, more detailed now and as well considered as possible. “We’ve always triumphed over the heretics before,” he finished. “Let it be so again.”
“Father,” Dalleena said, “I’ll be leaving. It seems strange to talk of it now –”
“No, you have to. Everything’s speeded up so impossibly, but the sentence stands. You’ll have to go.”
“And where,” Ayenna demanded, “is she supposed to go?”
“Rendell and I had thought to go to Mendale. If they don’t honor the gods they can’t worry about breaking the gods’ laws.”
“Well, obviously you can’t do that now. It would have been difficult even in peacetime.”
“I can’t sail the Sea into the endless void. And I can’t take the land to Mendale. I’ll go between the Second and Third Hills into the woodlands.”
“No,” Ayenna said. “They’re too thick, and they’re dangerous; we’ve never even tried to tame them. And even if you got through them you’d face the Valtah.”
“I’ll cross it, to whatever lies beyond.”
The king shook his head. “The Valtah is unconquerable.”
“Would you rather I walked into the Mendales’ arms?”
“This is insanity!” Her mother gave up all pretense at eating. “The council will have to withdraw the order of exile. Death was commuted, and under these conditions it’s nothing but an execution. Raynii, you can’t sanction it.”
“Mother, he can’t take away his signature, and neither can you. Don’t you think they’re already putting the blame for this on me, and on my child? The council couldn’t possibly let me stay. There’s nothing to be done about it.” She was calm. “Lilli will accompany me. I keep trying to talk her out of it, but she won’t take no for an answer. And apparently her own family has turned against her, because of me.”
“Her ties to you have always been stronger than her blood ties,” the queen said, but she was distracted. Her every wish seemed to be thwarted. “But she’s had no children. To go out in the dark woods and give birth, with an unskilled midwife –”
“There’s nothing else to be done.”
Her mother fixed her eyes on the table. “If – someone else – went with you –”
“Mother, you can’t. You know you can’t.”
“Ayenna,” the king said. “If you were to leave, you would be considered officially dead. And if you die I will either have to step down and put Sillus in the Chair, or marry again. And I don’t have time right now,” he continued dryly, “to run about looking for a wife. We’re at war. We’ve never been needed so much, and by Proseras you can’t walk away from it.”
Dalleena watched as they stared at each other. She had often seen them quarrel, angry or jealous, the one out of Chair frustrated by the lack of power, or the other tired and weighed down by responsibility. It was a terrible strain on a marriage. Yet they had worked together remarkably well over the time, and their first love had faded into a deep and quiet respect. In their day-by-day lives they were not aware of their need of each other, any more than a man is aware of his own breathing until it stops, and he knows his vulnerability.
The tension between them relaxed. Ayenna placed a hand over her husband’s. “All right.”
“We’ll leave it with the gods,” the king said.
Dalleena recognized this as assent to her plans. She felt bound to say, “There’s just one thing, Father.”
“Yes?”
“I won’t try the Valtah until after the child comes. I’ll have it in the woodlands. And that’s still –” She cleared her throat. “That’s still Lindahne territory. The council’s rule or not, my child will be born on Lindahne earth.”
There was a pause. The king said, “What was that, Dalla? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said my child will be –”
“I can’t hear you.”
She was silent.
“Did you say something?”
“It wasn’t important, Father. Will you pass me the wine?”
A Nialian shiver ran down her shoulders and spine. She felt inside herself that this was the last, the final time they would be together as a family. She closed her heart on it, and said nothing.
We even fight alike, Raynii thought. It was all he could think, throughout the battle: how alike the Mendales and Lindahnes really were. It should have worked, their peace. It should have worked.
The air was filled wit
h arrows, from the slopes on both sides, from the archers of both sides. They said the Mendales were running to form, and the tips of their arrows were poisoned. Horse charged against horse on the ground of the passage. All around men were slashing, shouting, bleeding; swords flashed. The king tasted war.
He had been young, just a little more than a child still, when his parents had gone to war. But he had always listened, always listened, to the voices around him. And in those years they spoke of pain. War meant destruction and dying, the loss of the young, the abandonment of the old. The bravest went first, the talented and the intelligent, who weighed risks and took them, the ones their country could spare the least. And the long-ago boy had thought: It should be stopped.
Stopped. And here a lifetime later, he led his people to it, and could think only how alike the warriors were.
At least he felt no fear. His sword training had begun years before, and in his duties he had neglected practice, but he found that it was an art his muscles remembered. He killed the first man who tried to take him cleanly and quickly. The second was messier. The throat of his horse was cut; the animal shook but stayed steady until it was finished. Raynii pulled it back, to let it breathe, and to wait for the messenger. He should have been back by now. Where was Sillus?
The men with him fell back too, arguing. There were indications the Mendales were being driven back, “and we ought to push them.”
“Only if Councilor Sillus has broken the line,” the king said. “If he hasn’t we’ll push ahead and then find the Mendales closing in behind us. We’d be trapped. Where is the messenger?”
“The heretics are feeling our arrows, that’s certain. The women have good positions up there. I wouldn’t want to be a heretic archer, shooting up into the sun,” one of the men said.
“They’ll be calling on their sun spirits to help them,” another answered, and spat.