Conquests and Crowns

by S E Meliers

  Song pinned a curl into place.

  He regarded her with sudden cognizance. A baby did alter perspectives considerably, he thought shrewdly; all sorts of perspectives.

  Chapter Nine

  Patience

  ‘It will be…’ Rue floundered for words. ‘I am sure,’ she stressed, ‘that the children will be safe in your absence.’

  Patience nodded, jaw tensed and eyes wet. She had just kissed Charm and Joy farewell and left them with their attendants and Chain, closing the door to the chamber in which they took their lessons, however, had felt so… final. ‘I know, I know,’ she sighed and looked around the chamber that had been hers since shortly after the fall of Amori and her new role as paramour to the prince. It was almost bare now, her possessions moved to chambers closer to that of the Prince’s and the secret escape from Amori. ‘But why – why do I feel I am saying goodbye?’

  ‘Because you are – goodbye for a month or two, which is a very long time for a mother to be apart from her children,’ Rue was sympathetic.

  ‘That is not what I meant,’ Patience went to the fireplace and pulled up the hearth stone. There was a small hollow beneath – small enough for a jewellery box full of poison to be stored. She removed the box and replaced the stone. ‘Here it is,’ she flipped open the lid.

  ‘Hopefully this fits,’ Rue passed over a piece of cloth stretched over a frame of wood like an odd children’s kite or odder embroidery frame. Patience took it and with some adjusting fit it into the box – a false floor. ‘Well,’ Rue was pleased. ‘It will not withstand close examination, but it does disguise the contents at a casual glance.’

  ‘Yes,’ Patience was pleased. She took a purse from her waist and dropped its contents – a few items of jewellery – into the box. The lid closed neatly over the top. She re-opened and tried to see the box as a casual observer would. ‘Yes, I think that works.’ She popped the box into the very bottom of one of the last trunks in the room and covered it over with her needlework.

  ‘Just in case,’ Rue met her gaze.

  ‘Just in case,’ she agreed. They both felt better knowing that Patience had a secret weapon at her disposal – but more than that, she had a way of disposing of Gallant just in case the necromancer did not succeed. ‘Rue,’ she gripped her sister’s arm. ‘Rue-’

  Rue drew her in for a hug that was tighter than normal although it risked crushing the carefully pressed silk flowers on Rue’s bodice. ‘I will take care of my niece and nephew, sister, this I swear to you. Whilst I still have breath in my body, no harm will come to them.’

  Patience breathed in the jonquil essence that Rue used in her hair and held her breath trying to imprint the scent into her olfactory memory. ‘Thank you. But, also yourself, Rue. Take care of yourself, too.’

  ‘I will,’ Rue released her and pulled a handkerchief, delicately embroidered, from her bodice, patting at her cheeks daintily. She grinned suddenly. ‘I must thank you, my sister,’ she added with cheek. ‘For the handsome hunk you have given me to play with during your absence.’

  ‘Rue,’ Patience shook her head with admiration and scolding. ‘Leave the Hallow alone. You know he is not appropriate.’

  Rue shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘Appropriate, bah,’ she sniffed. ‘In the turmoil of the current times, who cares for such things anymore?’

  ‘Rue…’ Patience warned.

  ‘He makes my heart pound,’ Rue replied defensively and with a hint of wistfulness. ‘I have never been so… aware of a man before. It is… frightening and exhilarating, and delicious.’ She hugged herself. ‘I feel like a… a young girl, with that first heady infatuation,’ she smiled, then sobered. ‘Surely, Patience, you would not deny me this?’

  ‘Rue,’ Patience sighed. ‘No good will come of this.’

  Rue sighed, eyes distant. ‘Well, then, I shall be like the heroine of a tragic love story, and perish for my errant passion,’ she declared.

  ‘Not,’ Patience reprimanded, ‘whilst the two of you are in charge of the safety of my children, Rue, please.’

  Rue met her reproving gaze, chagrined. ‘Not whilst we are in charge of your children,’ she vowed; then grinned mischievously: ‘But maybe after. You cannot, after all, my lovely sister, be the only one in the throes of romantic passion.’

  Patience snorted. ‘Throes of romantic passion?’ she queried. ‘When has my life had romantic passion, I ask you?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Rue murmured with a small smile. ‘I think you see your life too pessimistically, my darling. Imagine your life told as a ballad, and perhaps it will give you a new perspective.’

  ‘Do not say that,’ Patience shook her head in denial. ‘Do not wish that upon me. In the ballads, the romantic heroine always dies, and I want to live.’

  Patience remembered, with unease, the conversation, as she was handed into the carriage for her journey to Truen. Her stomach was heavy and uneasy with greasy fear and worry. She did not know why she felt so – but the feeling persisted. Her mouth was dry with it. She did not normally believe in destiny, she thought, but somehow she felt that she was heading into danger, and nothing she did would change the course of her peril. She was only glad that she was leaving Joy behind with Charm – she had contemplated bringing the toddler with her, but decided it would not be wise. She rested her hand on her belly and wished she could, somehow, leave this babe in safety too. ‘Let me live,’ she whispered as the carriage started forward.

  The journey to Truen was as long or as short as the wanderers could tolerate. A man on horseback, with a spare to change mid-journey, could make the trip in less than a day. A pregnant lady travelling by carriage would be expected to need regular stops in order to do the necessary, eat, drink and stretch. The more stops required, the longer the journey. They would need to spend at least one night, either in a village between the two cities, or camped in the open, more likely two. Patience was uneasy about this prospect – the exposure of a long journey through war-torn land - and uncomfortable with her uneasiness – it was her own people that she feared, after all; Rhyndelians. Would they see her as an enemy or a victim she wondered, and would that stay their hands? She did not know, and in not knowing, feared for herself and her unborn child.

  Their party was a small one. There had been debate about the benefits and hazards of a larger guard, but it had been decided that a small party could travel faster and with less notice. A larger party would surely announce very clearly: here travels the Lady Patience. In the party, the Hallow Rogue, her two EAerymen, three soldiers, a maid to tend to Patience’s needs, two servant men, the necromancer, his mistress and her maid, and Patience. The two maids rode within the carriage with Patience and the necromancer’s woman, with the two servant men driving the carriage, and the rest of the company on horseback in guard around the carriage.

  ‘How do you feel, my Lady?’ Patience’s maid, Posy, asked anxiously, watching Patience’s face for discomfort. The other maid glanced at her, and then away. There was something wrong with both the necromancer’s women, Patience thought, something that made her skin crawl. Posy shared the sentiment, she noted, and sat as far away from them as the small carriage could allow, although the two maids shared the back facing seat. Song was like a life sized doll; she had taken her seat, taken up a small exquisitely covered book, and had sat immobile ever since, her eyes fixed on a single page. What she was seeing was beyond Patience’s comprehension: to her glance, the pages were blank.

  ‘I am well,’ Patience assured Posy. ‘Just a little…’ she opened the carriage shutters willing to risk dust and recognition in order to have fresh air. ‘Better,’ she decided. The open window also afforded her a view of the countryside. The gentle rolling hills and fields obscured the sea. They rode inland, away from the ocean. She would miss it.

  Rogue rode up to the window. ‘Is all well?’ she called over the clatter of the carriage and the pounding of horses’ hooves.

  ‘Yes,’ Patience waved her off. She sighed as the Hallow mov
ed from sight and closed the shutters again as her shoulder blades pricked with foreboding. ‘I cannot shake the feeling that all is not well,’ she admitted to Posy.

  The young maid pursed her lips as she considered her words, and then sighed. ‘Trust yourself, my Lady,’ she advised earnestly. ‘Mothers have a special sense, sometimes, about the wellbeing of their children, especially when still enwombed. If you feel there is something to fear, then tell the Hallow to be extra careful. It will do no harm, and may do good.’

  Patience smiled, the weight of her worries lightened by the maid’s faith in her mother’s sense: ‘Thank you, Posy. When we stop for a break, I will.’

  Posy smiled back, pleased to have helped.

  I will not allow myself to be the heroine of a tragic ballad, Patience promised herself; I want to live. Song stirred, lifting her gaze from her blank book to meet Patience’s eyes solemnly but with intensity. Patience had a sudden feeling that somehow, this strange little woman had heard her vehement vow. The moment passed and Song dropped her gaze back to her book, leaving Patience bewildered and uneasy, wondering about the privacy of her mind.

  Cedar

  Cedar’s admiration for his brother’s skills was considerable.

  Charity had worked with a cartographer to produce a fairly good facsimile of Amori between them. On this rather impressively detailed map of subterranean depths and reaching pinnacles, Cedar had spent considerable time marking the improvements as reported by his boy spies. Cinder had not been idle during his occupation of Amori – he had examined the city and castle of Amori minutely and had implemented improvements to its defences with ingenuity. Any weak point which might have been exploited, Cinder had reinforced with some barbarous defence designed to maim and mangle invaders. Amori was now what it had originally been intended – a fortress standing between Rhyndel and Shoethal.

  ‘Well, this is problematic,’ he scratched his chin.

  They had left the Amori dunes for the forests of Truen. It was easier to hide a larger number of men amongst the trees and undergrowth that clad the hills there. Their company was thirty men strong, and several companies occupied these forests, prepared for the attack on Amori. The problem was that any attack on Amori was destined to fail unless they found a way to weaken its defences and reduce the number of soldiers repelling their sliver of the already small Guarn army.

  ‘Not insurmountable, surely?’ Charity pondered the map.

  ‘Not if we had thrice the amount of men and war machines, no,’ Cedar replied dryly. ‘But with our current numbers and resources? We will need an ingenious scheme.’

  ‘What about your boys?’ Lovel suggested. ‘What can they do to improve your chances?’

  Cedar considered. ‘We will need a lot of black powder and fuse,’ he said suddenly with eagerness. ‘Yes, just maybe. And some of your boomers and smoke things, Lovel, as a diversion. If we have the boys plant explosives here, here, and here. We can set off your diversions here, Lovel, drawing the body of their forces away whilst we literally explode through their curtain walls. We can then charge the castle here. We may even be able to sneak an advance force – a small number of men – in with the boys before the attack, so they can seek to clear our way into the castle.’

  ‘That could work,’ Charity was reserved. ‘But the damage to Amori would be considerable. Those walls would be destroyed completely. How would we hold Amori if he turned his mobile force around against us? And he would. You have seen his approach to Lyendar – if he cannot hold it he will destroy it.’

  Cedar chewed his bottom lip. The Lord Charity did have a good point. Amori would be indefensible against Cinder’s return attack, and even if Cinder retook Amori he would then have to destroy it as he would then be unable to hold it. Cedar’s plan would lead to the destruction of the city unless he could repair the damage he caused quickly enough to repel Cinder’s response.

  ‘Fvccant me,’ Charity swore. Cedar scowled. The Lord’s vocabulary reflected his recent drinking companions. It was near impossible to keep Charity from drinking with the soldiers, and soldiers always had wine or spirits secreted somewhere – and he could not keep their company dry without revolt. ‘Cedar, it is your white haired witch.’

  ‘What?’ Cedar’s head jerked up. Yes, it was Calico, he realised with a rush of emotion so strong his knees trembled with it. Beautiful, pale eyed, white haired, and slender as a reed, she drifted through the camp indifferent to the confusion of the soldiers who had thought themselves secreted and safe with sentries posted to warn against discovery. No one, however, dared raise a hand against her; her otherness was too vivid a warning for them. ‘Calico,’ he breathed, and straightened smiling. She held out her hands to him and embraced him warmly. Cinnamon and lavender, he thought with a sigh. ‘I am so pleased to see you,’ he murmured.

  ‘My dear one,’ she kissed his cheek. ‘My leader of men, and soldier of fortune – your path has not been an easy one.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It has not.’ So many questions, he thought, and he could not frame a single one.

  ‘I am not here for long,’ she answered the most pertinent of them all. ‘There is much underway at this time, I cannot linger, I must be everywhere and nowhere at once.’

  ‘What do I need to do?’ he asked hoarsely.

  ‘Exactly as you have been doing,’ she smiled gently. ‘You are doing perfectly.’

  He closed his eyes, relieved. ‘That is good.’

  Her palm was soft against his cheek. ‘But I must waylay your company. There is an event that must take place. You must intercept a party travelling between Amori and Truen.’

  He opened his eyes. ‘And?’

  ‘Events will unfold as they should, provided you and Charity are there,’ she replied with her usual evasion. Her eyes were distant, already focussing on other events. ‘Take no more than ten others. That is how I see it. You, Charity, and ten men.’

  ‘Who is in this company?’ he asked, trying to draw her back to the present, to him.

  ‘The Lady Patience,’ she said, her voice ringing out into a lull of sound so that every man within the camp heard and froze. ‘Patience and the unborn Shoethalian heir.’

  Charity’s indrawn breath was sharp. Cedar’s eyes flicked to him. His lips were white, and there was something about the set of his jaw and the shadows in his eyes that were… dangerous. ‘Where?’ he demanded harshly, pulling a map of the area to the top of all the other maps laid out on the unstable table. ‘Where will I find my wife?’

  ‘Is this wise?’ Cedar hissed to Calico, unnerved by the Lord’s passion.

  Her eyes were dreamy. ‘Necessity,’ she replied quietly, ‘and wise do not always walk hand in hand.’ She leaned over the map and pointed. ‘Here, towards noon, where the forest is tall and strong.’ Her fingernail pressed a half moon into the surface of the parchment, forever scoring the spot.

  ‘How many?’ Charity had taken over the discussion.

  ‘Hmmmm,’ she put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. ‘Not many. Two maids, two male servants, seven warriors.’

  ‘We will take this entire company,’ Charity growled. ‘Overwhelm them.’

  ‘And you will fail,’ she said firmly. ‘Take ten, plus yourselves. Do as I say, or the consequences will be dire. Leave as swiftly as you can, else the moment will pass and the future will not be as I see it.’

  ‘Madness,’ Charity disagreed.

  ‘Have I led you wrong thus far?’ she challenged.

  ‘No,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘Your man Cedar has been helpful, his connection to Cinder will be essential, and Lovel saved our lives.’

  ‘Hmm,’ her expression was unfathomable. ‘Do as I say.’

  ‘It must be nice to be you,’ he retorted angrily. ‘And never to have to explain your actions.’

  She smiled. ‘It is an occasional perk.’

  He snorted. ‘I will pick the men,’ he barked at Cedar. ‘Be ready to leave within the hour.’

  As the Lord stor
med off snapping orders, Cedar examined the Prophet. ‘This will not end well,’ he commented.

  ‘Necessity is not always pleasant,’ she replied.

  ‘Blood does not need to stain your hands in order to have been shed by you,’ he warned her.

  ‘I am so red with blood already,’ she replied with sorrow, ‘that more will hardly make a difference.’

  ‘Is there anything you can tell me… warn me?’ he asked desperately.

  She shook her head with a small sad smile. ‘I am sorry, my friend. So very sorry.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘And I must go.’

  ‘Do not,’ he said catching her wrist as she turned to leave, stalling her motion. ‘Do not go.’

  She back turned suddenly, stepping into him, and kissed him with a fire and passion that took his breath away and sucked the blood from his head to his loins in a dazzling rush that had his heart pounding to catch up. Her body moulded to him, each subtle curve and texture of her beneath his clumsy hands. Her lips tasted of apple, clean and fresh, and pure, and were like the petals of a flower beneath his.

  And then she was gone.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Charity startled him from his reverie.

  ‘Shit,’ Cedar blinked; Calico was gone. ‘Already?’ She must have spelled him in order to make her escape he thought wryly.

  ‘It has been a Goddess fvccanting hour,’ Charity’s nose flared, his eyes showed white all around the iris, and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. Cedar recoiled from the savagery. Calico had released a monster, he realised, a man set for revenge.

  ‘I think Patience will not survive this meeting,’ Cedar whispered to himself; he felt sorry for the Lady. He mounted his horse and rode over to where Charity had the small force ready. A quick head count assured him that the Lord was following Calico’s instructions. ‘You will not do anything stupid, will you?’ Cedar warned Charity.