Winter of Ice and Iron

by Rachel Neumeier

  He said with careful restraint, “Welcome, Your Highness. Forgive me for not rising.”

  There was a concerned line between her brows, but she met his eyes and smiled. “Your Grace, I am relieved to see you so much improved.”

  “I believe I have you to thank for that. My memory . . .” He thought of the dream, black trees and winter dragon, the wolf and the swift-winged bird, and frowned. “My memory seems uncertain. But I thank you.”

  “I’m grateful your people let me help you,” the girl said gravely, and came forward to take the chair Reiöft held for her.

  “I trust your new suite pleases you. Eöté may continue to serve you, if you wish.”

  A slight nod, but the girl was frowning. “That is kind of you, Your Grace, but there is no need. You may simply give me leave through Roh Pass. I assure you that I am willing to risk whatever danger may threaten Harivir and Raëh and my family.”

  Reiöft served the soup, a clear consommé with slender mushrooms and a few thin bright-green leaves floating in the broth, very elegant. The Raëhema girl did not touch her spoon, waiting instead for the duke’s answer.

  Innisth inclined his head. But then, because he felt obscurely that he owed the girl at least something of the truth, he added, “I fear that I intend to wait for the situation between Harivir and Emmer to become clear. And the situation between both of those countries and Pohorir. I am unable therefore to give you leave at once. I will try to be generous in other matters, as I gather you were generous enough to assist me when I was . . . incapacitated.”

  A faint line appeared between the girl’s brows, but she didn’t argue. At least, not yet. He was confident she would seize some other moment. But for now she merely answered, “I . . . It seemed to me you were sliding away from the world, away from . . . Eänetaìsarè, is that its name? I feared you might . . .” She hesitated, not saying, I feared you might be dying.

  And she had stepped forward with inborn kindness and generosity to help him, though he was her captor and her tie so thin. She had even risked Eänetaìsarè overwhelming her own tie in order to help him. It was the generosity born into the heirs of the Raëhema line. Innisth should have found this weakness contemptible. Instead, he found it . . . charming.

  He said merely, “Yes. I am in your debt. Especially as I have no proper and acknowledged heir and cannot say to whom the tie might have gone. Some distant cousin, perhaps, and who can say whether such a one could have mastered Eänetaìsarè? It is not an easy or generous Power.”

  Kehera Raëhema had picked up her spoon. Now she put it down again, her gaze troubled. “Eänetaìsarè is nearly a Great Power, is it not? It seems so to me.”

  The Wolf Duke inclined his head. “Indeed. So a weaker duke with an uncertain tie might suit Methmeir Irekaì well enough. The King of Pohorir does not desire rivals, and such a succession would weaken Eäneté for a generation. Perhaps two.” He added kindly, “But all is well. Laören will take Geif of Tisain to Irekay, and the king will be much occupied by that and less concerned with Eäneté. At least for a time.” He found he did not wish to explain to the girl the use to which he was considering putting this interval of relative safety. Not tonight. Later would do. He turned firmly back to his supper.

  Then, wishing to please the Raëhema heir in at least some small matter, Innisth glanced up again and added, “I believe Gereth has located the . . . people with whom you traveled south. As it is always best to keep one’s word, I have asked him to bring before me the men you intended to hire. I shall interview them after supper. You may attend. If they satisfy me, and if you wish, you may hire them as you promised. You should have your own bodyguards in this household, as you should have your own servants.”

  A faint line had appeared again between those wide-set eyes, but she only said, “You are generous, Your Grace.”

  He wished to be. Yet the only thing she truly wanted from him was freedom through Roh Pass, and that he already knew he would refuse her. He said merely, “Try the soup. Or if it does not please you, we shall have the next course.” He signaled for Caèr to bring the leeks and roasted duck and the other dishes. He wanted the girl to speak again simply to listen to her voice. She had a pleasant voice with an accent that fell kindly on the ear. He thought of asking about her family or her home or her journey—but he was keeping her from her family, and her home was in danger, and her journey had been filled with privation and fear. He hardly wished to discuss the future. Every topic seemed unkind.

  She might have thought conversation chancy too, or she might have been lost in her own thoughts, or shy of him, or too bitterly angry to speak to him, for she said nothing, save to Caèr Reiöft now and again. For him, she had a smile and a quiet word. Innisth found himself actually jealous of Caèr.

  Ridiculous. He was only tired. The evening stretched out before him, seeming endless. But he had promised the Raëhema girl he would interview those men this evening. It was important to keep one’s word. He caught Caèr’s eye and flicked his eyes toward the door in command.

  The older of the men, Tageiny, had a tough, weathered face, not at all handsome, but with a great deal of character. He looked to Innisth like a brawler; his nose had plainly been broken at some time in the past, and two fingers of his left hand were knotted with old injuries. His wrists were marked with recent manacle scars. But his manner was professional. He stood straight and his eyes met the duke’s with commendable directness. The younger man, thin and wary as a kicked cur, was unremarkable. Luad. Yes. Innisth would have taken him for a common street thug and never given him a second look. But the young man kept one eye on Tageiny and tried clumsily to copy his manner. That was interesting.

  Gereth and Captain Etar had joined the duke for this interview. Gereth’s air of quiet reserve meant he wanted the duke to be generous but was not sure he would be. Etar’s closed expression meant he did not approve of these men and wanted them out of the house. Caèr Reiöft, who had retired to a position to one side, observed curiously but without concern; he would be perfectly content with any decision the duke made.

  The Raëhema heir sat with her back straight and her hands folded on the table before her. She gave the two men a small nod but said nothing.

  The duke said to Tageiny, “Your name? Your background? How did you come to be a slave in that man’s keeping?”

  The man bowed his head. “Heris Tageiny, Your Grace.” His voice was deep and quiet, his tone calm. He said, “I’m from here and there. I’ve been a soldier and a merchant’s guard and a bodyguard. A laborer now and then, when I couldn’t get better work. I’ve worked in Vièm, Simin, Irekay for a little while. Here, for a few years. I worked for a man named Inmar Corsiön, a jeweler. Your Grace may have known of him; he did good work. He died—old age. His heir and I didn’t get along, so I moved on. Went up to Enchar. In Enchar I hired on as bodyguard to a man named Conanè Sochar. He’s a big dog there. You probably haven’t heard of him.”

  The duke made a little go on movement of one finger.

  Tageiny nodded. “Well, Your Grace, I got tired of the job. It didn’t seem like a good idea for me to tell Sochar that. I figured never mind my back pay, I’d just slide out of Enchar. I thought maybe I’d go north, get through Anha Pass just before the season shut down the pass and I’d be right out of Pohorir and clear for sure. I thought I was subtle enough getting ready for the trip.” He shrugged, a minimal lift of one shoulder. “Guess not.”

  “My fault,” muttered the younger man. “I let it slip.”

  “Not your fault,” Tageiny contradicted him. “Anyway, you’ll know better another time, boy.” He said to the duke, “Luad here, he was one of mine.”

  “So you also worked for this Sochar,” the duke said to the young man.

  “Shit, no,” Luad said in obvious surprise. “Conanè Sochar wouldn’t of noticed me, m’lord. I worked for Tag, is what.”

  The duke leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow.

  “I hired him, I gave him
jobs to do, I paid him. He wasn’t part of the regular staff,” Tageiny said. He didn’t give the impression of speaking hastily, but he got all that out before the duke lowered his eyebrow. Then he said, still with no appearance of haste, “Boy, you don’t say ‘shit’ to His Grace or in front of a lady. Haven’t I taught you better? And a duke is a good sight higher than just a lord of some petty township. Say ‘Your Grace’ to him and ‘my lady’ to her, and be very damn polite, you hear me?”

  The young man ducked his head. “Sorry, Tag. Sorry, m’lord—Your Grace.”

  Innisth almost smiled, but caught himself. Ignoring the young man, he said to Tageiny, “When you say you were Sochar’s bodyguard, you mean you were . . . muscle. An enforcer. In short, a thug. You intimidated, beat, or killed men who offended him. Correct me if I am mistaken.”

  On the other side of the table, Kehera Raëhema tilted her head. She didn’t look shocked. She didn’t even look surprised. Innisth, watching her covertly, was mildly surprised at the girl’s lack of reaction. But perhaps a princess was not as protected from such things as an ordinary well-bred girl. Or perhaps her recent experiences had broadened her understanding of lesser crimes and brutalities. The duke would understand that.

  There was a slight pause. Then the big man said slowly, “You’re not mistaken, Your Grace.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” protested Luad.

  “It was exactly like that.” Tageiny, Innisth was interested to see, glanced sidelong at the Raëhema girl, though his face was professionally blank. He said, “There was real bodyguarding in the mix, too. But, yeah, mostly it was breaking fingers. Or legs. Didn’t usually come to murder. But it got so I didn’t much like Conanè Sochar. Then it got so I didn’t much like myself. So I thought I’d quit.”

  “Why did you agree to work for this Sochar in the first place?” Kehera Raëhema asked, her voice quiet.

  Tageiny faced her at once, seeming to give her his whole attention. The man was really very good. Innisth was certain he had not for an instant lost track of anyone in the room. A dangerous man. No wonder Etar didn’t like him.

  But Tageiny only said smoothly, speaking neither too quickly nor too slowly, “My lady, the job paid well—and it was supposed to be bodyguarding. It was bodyguarding, mostly, at first. Then the job description got broader. And broader. But when you take a job like that from a man like Conanè Sochar, it’s not easy to quit. You’ve got blood on your own hands, see, and his hands are clean, and he’s got friends because he does favors for powerful men, and, well, yeah, it’s not a good situation to get yourself into. I must’ve been stupid, because if I’d been smarter, I wouldn’t have gotten myself into it.”

  “He got Sochar, though,” Luad burst out. “When we knew they had us. He cut around and got back in the house and made like no problem and walked right past that fucking bastard Timon and—” He made a sharp, illustrative gesture with one hand and grinned.

  Tageiny had closed his eyes. Now he opened them again and said in a pained tone, “Luad, I wasn’t exactly going to mention that.”

  “But, Tag—”

  “Because explaining how you knifed your previous employer doesn’t generally count as a job recommendation,” Tageiny said gently.

  “But, Tag—”

  “It does show both uncommon audacity and commendable resolution,” observed the duke. He was thoroughly amused, which he had not expected. He approved of this Tageiny. And he liked the younger man’s loyalty. Despite his . . . rough edges. He glanced at the Raëhema girl. He expected her to be horrified, alarmed, certainly disturbed. She was leaning back in her chair, but she certainly did not seem alarmed. A finger was crooked over her mouth, but her eyes were alight.

  She said, her tone a little stifled, “Your Grace . . . I am inclined to take that tale as a job recommendation.”

  “Your Grace, no—” Etar began.

  The duke cut off his senior captain’s protest with the lift of a hand. He did not need Kehera Raëhema to explain her decision to him. She wanted Tageiny in her service because she was a prisoner in the house of an enemy, and she, too, judged the man possessed of uncommon audacity and commendable resolution.

  He said calmly to Tageiny, “It is the lady’s choice to offer employment as she sees fit. You may decline, and I will find you other employment. If you accept her offer, you will be her man, not mine. Nevertheless, I swear on my name and on the name of the Immanent Power of Eäneté, if you fail her, I will kill you. If you betray her, I will destroy you. Do you understand?”

  The girl had stiffened in offense. “That’s hardly necessary!”

  “I think it is,” the duke said mildly. “You do not know these men, or not well. They do not know you. Let them know me, then.” He could not stand, but he leaned forward, set his hands flat on the table, and called up Eänetaìsarè. The Eänetén Power rose through him, roaring heat and passion overlain with the endless strength of the mountains, given voice in the long singing cry of the wolf. He blinked, and blinked again, his vision filled with stone and fire, until gradually he found himself again, on his feet, his hands still braced on the table, but his awareness once more limited to the perspective of a man. He did not remember standing, but Caèr Reiöft was at his side, ready to brace him if he suddenly found himself at the limits of his strength. His leg hurt, not merely a dull ache, but as though the original blow had just slashed down. He set his teeth against a gasp and straightened, though he had to grasp Caèr’s arm for balance and support.

  “I knew that already,” Tageiny said in a level voice. “But, yeah, I know it better now.” He had bowed his head and did not look up, not risking meeting the duke’s gaze while the Eänetén Power filled him. But he slid a glance sideways at Kehera Elin. The duke could not read that glance, but the man said, “We’ll take the lady’s offer, if she’s willing, me and Luad both.”

  The girl nodded and rose to her feet. Her own tie seemed a little brighter, a little more vivid—responding to Eänetaìsarè, perhaps. She did not appear to notice. She said, “You may consider that the offer stands, exactly as I first made it.”

  “I shall see to the notation,” murmured Gereth, and made his bow to the duke, then offered the lady his arm and his escort. Tageiny and Luad followed, and then Captain Etar, probably meaning to get Gereth off by himself when he got the chance, so he could vent his feelings properly.

  Innisth waited until the room was clear. Then he said to Caèr Reiöft, between his teeth, “I cannot walk. I don’t think I can sit. Get me to my bed.”

  “It would heal faster if you wouldn’t do things like that,” Caèr observed, not quite a rebuke. “But lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

  “I know you won’t,” said Innisth, and allowed the other man to take his weight.

  13

  Kehera wished she understood what the Wolf Duke meant by encouraging her to establish a household of her own within his. That he wished her to be content—so much was plain. He thought she could help him somehow against the King of Pohorir, and if that was true . . . if that was true, wasn’t she obligated to try? Someone had to stop Methmeir Irekaì. Maybe a Pohorin duke had the best chance. So maybe the best thing Kehera could do was accept the gilded cage he offered her and pretend she did not see the bars.

  Eöté—Eöté was a question. Kehera glanced at the door to her bedchamber. She could hear the girl moving about, no doubt with bed warmers and things. She was actually singing to herself, very quietly, a child’s song:

  “One for the silver sunrise,

  two for the golden noon,

  three for the iron nightfall,

  lit by the shining moon.

  One for the frozen winter,

  two for the budding spring,

  three for the fragrant summer

  that the turning year will bring. . . .”

  Kehera was astonished the girl could be happy enough to sing. But then, she’d guessed Eöté might be friends with Captain Deconniy, who had played a part, if Kehera
understood it all correctly, in the duke’s ruse to get rid of Lord Laören. Deconniy had been arrested, and released only today. So perhaps she understood after all.

  As much as she understood anything just now. She was so tired she could barely think. She knew it was the relief of Lord Laören’s departure. She should not feel safe here; she wasn’t safe. She knew she couldn’t trust Eöté, who belonged to the Wolf Duke as certainly as Captain Deconniy or Gereth Murrel. But sometimes it was best to know who in your household owed service somewhere else. Or more than service. Kehera was almost certain the Wolf Duke’s relationship with Eöté was not entirely . . . appropriate. Yet something in that suspicion seemed not quite right.

  That moment when the duke had called up his Power . . . he had frightened her. Eänetaìsarè was so strong, and for all his pretense, the duke was obviously not recovered from his injury. But she knew he had not come close to losing control of the Immanent. She knew it because Raëhemaiëth had not been disturbed. Her tie, thin as it was now . . . just being near the Wolf Duke seemed to strengthen it. Helping him when he’d been injured seemed to have strengthened it further. That didn’t make sense, because Raëhemaiëth was a Harivin Power and the Eänetén Power was Pohorin. The two could not be allies. Except it seemed they were.

  She remembered how awful she’d felt when she’d first set off north for Suriytè, how much better she’d felt when she’d finally gotten away from Nomoris and decided she had to come here, to Eäneté. Both times, the feeling had been so strong. Understandable, of course, but . . . oddly resonant, the way feelings were sometimes, when they echoed between herself and Raëhemaiëth.

  She’d given up the heir’s tie to Tiro. Raëhemaiëth had given up its deep tie to her. Or she’d thought so. Now . . . now she wondered. She didn’t understand any of this. She wished Tiro were here with her—well, of course she didn’t, except that her brother could undoubtedly have told her if ever before in history an Immanent Power had hidden itself so deep within a person that neither she nor anyone else could quite perceive the depth of its tie. Or whether one Immanent Power had ever decided on its own to ally with a foreign Power to which it had never been bound and somehow nudged a person who held its tie into the territory of the other Immanent Power. And why. And whether the Gods had been involved somehow, or servants of the Gods. And what the outcomes of those incidents had been.