by Lori Martin
The door opened, bringing in the noise of shouted orders, confused questions, the banging of trunks, and a breathless servant. “Excuse me, Tribune, it’s Tribune Rhonna, sir. She said to tell you it’s your own fault, they were your responsibility. I beg your pardon, sir, but that was her message.”
“My good man, what can you mean? What’s my fault?”
“Oh, Tribune! You haven’t heard? It’s your prisoners, sir, the lins. The under-corridors were being cleared out, and of course they must have been moving the prisoners, too, and the outside gates were all standing open for the packhorses, sir, and nobody thought – I can’t imagine what the guards were doing, sir –”
“You are not trying to tell me,” Haol said in swelling tones, “that Nichos and his family have escaped?”
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid so. Nobody knows how long ago, but there’s no trace of them. Should we send horses after them, sir?”
“By the screaming wind, has no one done it yet? Yes, now! Go!”
“But Tribune, which way do you think they’ll head?”
Haol clutched at his ears as if to part them from his skull. His voice sank suddenly to a hissing whisper. “Where is the lin army, my friend? Which direction?”
“Northwest, of course, sir. Oh. You mean they’ll be going that way?”
“Yes, you halfwit!” he roared. “Move! Go! Get them!”
The servant ran, but for Haul it was already too late. His escaped prisoners were nearly to the Lindahne lines before their disappearance had even been remarked.
Mejalna’s mistake – so strangely the same, if she had known, as the Mendales’ mistake in the valley – was to believe too quickly in victory. Somewhere in the deepest layer of her mind, lying as the silent sandy bed below the current of conscious thought, she believed that the goddess had already decreed their triumph. It had been a common assumption too in King Raynii’s long-ago army, but this she did not know. She believed in Paither both as a leader and as the living promise given by Nialia’s grace; in due course, then, he and his followers must prevail. Such words never actually passed her lips, nor did she pursue a battle course based on false confidence: everyone knew the gifts of the gods must be earned, so she must do her part. But when the Northwest gate of the city came down, she reached for the prized fruit before it had ripened.
The Oldmarket, deserted by its buyers and sellers, came under their control. The Lindahne quarter turned out to give them a rousing welcome. The Assemblage House itself was hers. True, the Mendales were dug into the south sections of the capital, but Paither would be pleased with their progress.
She was gratified, too, to have Mistress Pillyn and her family safe and unharmed. It would be a great weight off Paither’s shoulders. (Though what was she to do with Nichos Mendale? He couldn’t be kept as a prisoner, yet he wasn’t one of them.)
As she was no longer able to sit a horse, she came into the city by litter. Often the baby kicked and thrashed within her, as restless as she. Renasi, who was in charge of operations in the city, scolded her for making the move. She answered him sharply; it had irritated her to be forced to direct the battle from behind.
When she arrived he was preparing to send a small force to investigate the Assemblage House and report on its suitability as a possible new headquarters from which to take the rest of the city. “I’ll go,” Mejalna said immediately.
“You!”
“I’ll need someone who knows the building,” she went on thoughtfully, pretending not to notice his outraged glare. Good Extos, the Defier who had worked there as a breadbaker, had fled his post to join them, and been killed in the fighting. None of the other Defiers had ever been in the House. “I’ll ask Mistress Pillyn.”
“Proseras and Wintern, there’s no need for you to run scouting expeditions. It’s not even dignified, you’re supposed to be in command.”
“When I want your counsel I’ll ask for it. According to you, I should sit out the entire war.”
“Mejalna –”
“Don’t let’s quarrel, Ren. I told you, I want to have this baby in MenDas. Besides, I’ll be back in the morning.”
Pillyn and Baili both agreed to accompany her, not without some initial distaste at returning to the prison they had so recently fled. To Mejalna’s discomfort, Nichos came with them.
The House had been ransacked of its valuables but was in reasonable order. After months of living in the open, she welcomed the security of stone walls. She and the officers could easily be made comfortable here; the Assembly Chamber would make an excellent and impressive place for war councils. With satisfaction she thought of writing to Paither on House parchment, using the Assembly’s seal.
Baili, whom she had taken a liking to, helped her skim through the documents the secretary and chroniclers had left behind. The Mendales had been cautious; there was nothing of much importance remaining.
They bedded down in modest quarters, avoiding, by common unspoken consent, the apartments of the Tribunes. Nichos for one had no wish to see his successor’s comforts.
Mejalna slept easily, but the next day’s light brought unexpected bad news.Their hold on the city had proved too tenuous. Commander Dirrl, in high temper, had swung her soldiers around to fall on Renasi’s left flank. He had been forced to fall back on the Oldmarket. The noise of this fighting came hard on the heels of the frantic red-faced messenger; by the time he arrived with his warning they were already cut off.
Mejalna cursed herself. Renasi would be all right, even if he was driven once more beyond the city – but what had she been thinking of, to come here before they were well secure?
For six endless days they fought for possession of the capital. On the seventh the Mendales retook the shattered city gates. Commander Dirrl, supposing herself to be the city’s liberator, received a stunning shock when she rode up to the front of the Assemblage House. Mejalna’s people, having dismantled half a wing for building materials, had worked furiously to brick up the great iron gates of the House at every point. The roof was thick with soldiers, the walls with archers. Buckets of water, kept to boiling by fires all along the line, stood ready to be poured down if scaling ladders were advanced against the walls.
Tribune Haol rode out to confer with the Commander. She was of the opinion that they could take the House, though the lins within looked ready to be fierce. They could use rams, shoot in burning arrows – the outcome would be inevitable, but it would cost some bloodletting, and the building could suffer heavy damage.
“How long can you hold their army off outside the city?” Haol asked.
Her eyes glittered. “I told you, Tribune. I won’t let the lins take our capital.”
“I believe you. But then in that case, there’s no need to go against the Assemblage House. It’s a small group in there, no threat. They’ll give up themselves.”
“Sir?”
Haol smiled, well-pleased. He found a pure white horse and rode up to the House within hailing distance, alone save for one dark woman riding in his shadow. A score of Lindahne arrows were leveled at him. He was a clear target. “I send only my compliments,” he called, and waved to the woman behind him. She aimed her bow, slowly, so that they could see its harmless course. Her arrow shot high, and fell into the welcome-yard.
Mejalna was hunched over a map of the city, calculating Renasi’s chances of fighting through to them. It was maddening to be shut up here like this. “Mistress,” the runner said, and thrust the arrow at her, stammering an explanation.
“Thank you.” A scroll was wrapped around the shaft. She peeled it off, her mind running on her worries. It took her a few minutes to comprehend what she was reading. The Tribune had written just two lines. “Greetings, commander of Lindahnes and demons,” it said. “Have you checked the storehouses?”
She gasped. What imbecility was this? Storehouses?
Her supply line to Renasi was cut off, but the Assemblage in peace time housed the Trio, all their households, permanent servants, the chan
ging army staff: upwards of two thousand people. And she had only three hundred with her, if that many, surely...
She dropped the letter to the floor and flew out into the passage. People drifted, lost, up and down the winding corridors. No one knew the building. She found Master Baili and dragged him along; when he understood her question he went white. He led her downstairs past the wine and water cellars, until she could see the way herself. “The House takes in fresh every day from the markets,” he protested. She was bulky now, awkward, but he had to pant along to keep up. “But of course there’s always stock, cured meats, stores for the banquets –”
Mejalna ran. She wrenched at the doors and plunged through into colder storage cellars. They yawned at her, huge and echoing caverns: empty. Tribune Haol had had all but the last completely cleared (he hadn’t quite had time to finish).
“It means a siege,” she said in disbelief. Baili put out a hand to steady her. She was icy to the touch. Her eyes searched his face. She felt she knew him; Paither had spoken of him. But to Baili she was a stranger. Her face was suddenly drawn with fear. “My child,” she whispered. “My child. My soldiers. Oh, by the gods! What a halfwit I was to come here. If they can hold Renasi off, they’ll starve us out.”
Only half of this seemed to be addressed to him. Baili cleared his throat and asked how many mouths, exactly, they had to support. When she told him he gazed silently into the dark airless cellar.
“Tell no one,” she said.
Paither was a deep sleeper. In his dreams he heard his name called again. A determined hand shoved at his shoulder.
He woke to the glowing orange of a lamp held over him. Ennilyn said, “We’d better go. We have to invade.”
He sat up, blinking. The page was hovering uncertainly in the shadows. “It’s all right, Jessa. You may go.”
Ennilyn sat on his rumpled sheets and repeated urgently, “We have to invade Mendale.” Her firedust hair melted blackly with the darkness. Sparkles glimmered out at him like tiny scattered stars. Lovely though it seemed, he felt a revulsion away from her, almost of fear.
“Ennilyn. What is it? Look at you, with your cloak over your sleeping-gown. Did you have a bad dream?”
“No, I had a seeing. From the goddess.”
Her hand was trembling. He took the lamp from her and placed it on a sidetable. “You saw me? In Mendale?”
“No, I saw a woman. She was in pain. She was hungry, and locked in some building. My own memories may have confused it, because it looked like the Assemblage House. But she was a Lindahne. She called to you.”
After a time he asked, “What did she look like?”
“She had long red-gold hair. She was beautiful.”
Slow fingers of cold crept up his sides and gripped at his chest. His breathing grew hard. Ennilyn said, “Is that Mejalna?”
“Yes. What else?”
“Nothing. Just a – a knowledge. Paither, I simply know that our forces in Mendale are losing. We have to move in and help them.”
“Was there a baby?”
“What?”
“In the seeing. Did you see the child?”
“No. I’m sorry. Please listen. We have to –”
“I can’t.” His voice was nearly strangled in his throat. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes, of course. Truly.”
“But you refuse to help them?”
“I can’t help them, not now. We still have the Second and Third Hills to subdue. That’s Lindahne earth, Ennilyn, and Lindahne has to come first. When our country, our entire country is our own again, then we’ll be able to push past the borders. That’s been the plan from the beginning.”
“Paither –”
“Stop and think and you’ll know I’m right. How can I march off? With what forces? How can I secure Lindahne behind me and still have enough soldiers and archers to conquer Mendale all the way to MenDas? We’ve driven so many of their Bands into the foothills, but they’re still there, and so is the encampment on the Second. They’ll be ready to come down on us if we enter the passage – or more likely, swing behind us and fall on our people here as we leave. And there’s so much to organize, we’re nearly in chaos. I can’t go now. I can’t leave these people unprotected.”
“Paither, the woman I saw was afraid. She called your name.”
Suddenly enraged, he grabbed at her “I cannot leave my people! I cannot desert Lindahne! Are you blind? Are you mad? Can’t you understand what I’m saying?” She flung off his hands. Menacing shadows seemed to rise up about them. “As soon as we’ve taken the Second and cleared out the foothills,” he insisted, trying to convince her, trying to convince himself. “That will be soon, they can’t hold out. A few weeks, a moon, it can’t be too long. Then we’ll go right away. You don’t know when what you saw will actually happen, you can’t be sure.”
She gathered up her cloak, reached for the lamp, and stood well away from him. “This was a warning from Mother Nialia. And you’re turning your back on it.”
“Ennilyn –”
“You’re turning your back on it!” she shouted.
He said, “You don’t know how I love her.”
“The gods help her, then. It’s clear you won’t.”
He ran a furious hand through his hair, already ruffled from sleep. He looked like an abandoned child, but for the pale stubble of beard on his chin. She felt no pity. In the voice of a priestess she pronounced, “It is impious, to turn away a divine gift.”
“What will happen?” he asked miserably.
“I don’t know. I don’t know! Good even’, relas. I wish you peaceful dreams.”
“Ennilyn, don’t leave. Ennilyn!”
The startled page, waiting outside the door in case the relas wanted him, jumped back as it was yanked open. She blew past him in a blur. Before he had time to put his head in the open doorway, something heavy sailed out and landed with a crash: a great silver candlestick, flung with deliberance in her wake. “Sanlin take you!” the relas shouted. “Sanlin take you!”
Mejalna ordered the rations cut again. The only news they received came from Mendale soldiers who shouted outside the walls, gloating, that the demon army had no teeth. “Which means, presumably, that Renasi’s been driven back.” she said.
“No quick rescue for us,” Baili answered lightly.
From the other side of the table Nichos said, “Perhaps you should surrender, mistress.” Mejalna’s look said, I knew you would suggest that, Mendale. Pillyn exclaimed, “But we’d be right back where we started.”
“We already are.” Baili flung out his hands to encompass the Assemblage. “What do you think of prisoners, Mistress Mejalna, who escape and then run right back to their cells?”
“You’re here because I asked you to come. Your advice is welcome.”
Baili looked at Nichos, who stared determinedly out into space. “I understand your reluctance. But if it’s a matter of starvation...” His voice trailed off.
“You’re the relas’s family. I have a duty to protect you. I can’t hand you over to Tribune Haol.”
“I’ve certainly had all of Haol I can stand,” Pillyn said. “We can hold out, can’t we? One meal a day, it’s enough for life.”
Nichos lit up his pipe. The smell of it, on top of her empty stomach, made Mejalna queasy. They heard sharp voices in the passageway; everyone was on edge and irritable. Yesterday she had found two archers fallen into weary sleep at their posts.
Though she spoke optimistically, Pillyn looked with worry at her little daughter Calli, who had given up asking for more food and was sitting listlessly among some playthings. The child had been uprooted for a year, bounced from one unnatural setting to another. Would they ever have a settled life again? And Nichos... he was farther away than ever. With shock she wondered, If he could, would he fight for Mendale again? They wouldn’t want him now. Because of me. He always wanted Paither to come into his own, though he knew it w
ould cost him a son. I can’t ask him. I can’t ask him.
Mejalna stifled a startled movement. Pillyn said sympathetically, “Was that a kick? This isn’t good for your baby.”
She gave a short, bitter laugh. “I wanted to have it in MenDas. It seems I’ll get my wish.”
“That’s another reason,” Pillyn said suddenly to Nichos, “why she can’t surrender. Haol might use her and the baby as hostages against Renasi.”
“Renasi,” Mejalna repeated.
“He’s in command of the army here now, isn’t he?”
“Name of Nialia. You think Renasi is the father?”
Pillyn flushed. The two men looked surprised; Mejalna realized they must have all thought the same. She almost laughed. Instead weak tears of frustration threatened to spill from her. Pillyn was apologizing for her intrusion. Mejalna cut her off. “I am carrying Paither’s child,” she said. “It was conceived in Feimenna.” Before they could react she added, “And that is why, Master Nichos, I cannot surrender to your Tribune Haol. I cannot put a royal child in his power.”
They were all staring. Pillyn started to splutter something and then fell silent. Mejalna left them, to give them time to think about it. Pillyn’s eyes bore into her back as she retreated.
Later she went again to the cellars. Ghellas, a man she trusted, was keeping track of their usage. “How long?”
“At this rate of consumption, less than two moons.”
“That’s not good enough,” Mejalna said. “Cut the rations again. Make it two portions, though, one morning and one evening. At least we’ve plenty of water.”
“I found some wine in the back barrels, too.”
“Good for you. Issue it.”
Wine on their empty bellies made heads spin; some were hit with cramps; but no one refused it, at least it was something. The corridors off the old kitchens were maddening: they still held the cooking smells of countless banquets, which intensified when the evening fires were lit. A few house dogs, left behind by hurried Assembly servants, vanished. Soldiers brawled over stolen rations.