Текст книги "Warprize"

Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

I knew little of politics, little of diplomacy, and the thousand other things one needed to be queen. Maybe Keir’s people had a better way, one that depended on proven abilities rather than birth. One thing was certain, at least to me. I’d be an inept ruler. And if I did take the throne, it was highly unlikely that I’d be able to tend a sick person ever again. As warprize, I’d be able to, even encouraged to heal, maybe teach.

I jerked to a stop and stopped breathing. For here in the dimness of the garden, where shadows hid me from prying eyes, I faced the truth.

I wanted Keir.

I wanted Keir more than I wanted to make the sick well, or pass on my skills to others. I wanted Keir more than I wanted to sit on the Throne of Xy and ward my people. I wanted his strength, his touch, his sly sense of humor, his honor and his passion.

I stroked the flower against my warm cheek, feeling the velvet of the petals. Days? Had it only been days? Does the heart count days, or even hours?

I moved over to one of the stone benches, and slumped down. I sounded like one of those horrid old ballads, sung by minstrels to lovesick court maidens with empty heads. Part of me was ashamed to face the truth. A true Daughter of Xy would put aside her desires and serve her people.

With Keir beside me, that service was one that would fill my days with joy and purpose.

Without him, it felt like a cold and joyless burden.

If I’d thought my options limited with Xymund alive, they seemed even more confining now that he was dead. Being the warprize might be a risk, but it held out opportunities I’d never dreamed of.

Keir had made his decision, for reasons I didn’t fully understand. Clearly, Anna and Othur would not help me. They seemed to think that they could put everything back the way it was, reassemble the broken teapot and put it back up on the shelf, as if nothing had happened. Except, I didn’t want to go back on the shelf and I couldn’t believe that my father would have wanted me to be miserable.

There had to be a way.

Anna had housed Simus in the quarters usually used by visiting ambassadors. They were large and spacious, with plenty of room for he and his guard. The rest of his men were housed in one of the barracks. As I was admitted to the outer sitting room, I scanned the faces of the guards, but saw no one familiar.

“Little healer!” Simus’s voice boomed out, and I turned to behold him standing there, hands on hips. My smile and laugh burst out spontaneously. He was a vision, dressed in a flowing shirt of white, black trous, a belt of red and a bright blue vest. I’d never seen him in other than armor. His left ear was pierced with five gold hoops of varying sizes, and they glittered every time he moved his head. He grinned at my re-action, and spread his arms wide. “I thought to make your people green with envy at my splendor. Have I succeeded?”

“Beyond your wildest expectations.” I chuckled. “Their eyes will pop out of their heads like marbles.”

Simus drew himself up proudly, then made a sweeping bow. “Welcome to my chambers, Your Majesty.” His Xyian was carefully pronounced. “How may I assist you?”

“Simus, I want to ask your advice about something.”

He looked at me carefully, growing serious, and reverted to the language of his people. “I can’t promise to assist you, Your Majesty. The Warlord has made his wishes known, and I am bound to obey him.”

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my dress, trying to remain calm and controlled. “Simus, I don’t understand. Why is he doing this?”

Simus shrugged. “What’s to understand? Does one understand the wind or predict the flame?” Simus gestured me to a chair. “There are things you do not know, little healer. Being warprize carries its own dangers. The warrior-priests and the elders will fight Keir tooth and nail over this, and you’d be in the center.”

“Do they hate Keir that much?”

Simus’s face grew serious. “Ah, that hate lies on both sides, and who is to say whose is the greater? But it matters not. Keir is the Warlord, and his will binds me. You will remain in your kingdom, and be crowned its queen. Once that is accomplished, I will return to the plains, and all will be well.”

“Simus—”

He shook his head, setting his earrings glittering in the light. “No. I will not discuss this with you.” He gestured toward two chairs by the unlit fireplace. “Come. We will have some of Anna’s good cooking and swill this drink called ‘ale’ and you will tell me of your ceremonies. Tell me what a ‘coronation’ is and what tasks you are required to perform.” He raised a finger in warning. “But I will hear no talk of anything else. Understood?” His eyes were kind but firm.

“Understood.”

Eln opened the backdoor of his clinic, and regarded Heath and me and my four bodyguards with a neutral expression. After a slight pause, he stepped aside. Heath and I slipped past him, into the stillroom, followed by two of the guards. It was a bright, cheery place, with a crackling fire in the hearth, and various potions bubbling in caldrons. I felt myself relax as I breathed in the familiar scents of medicines and tonics. I’d learned my craft here, and it felt like home.

“What’s that stink?” Heath asked, screwing up his face.

“A medicine.” Eln moved over to the table to stir a pot. He glanced at me with a questioning look. “What brings Your Majesty to my humble clinic?”

“My majesty needs to talk to you. To talk to someone I can trust.” I sat on a stool. Heath wandered the room, looking at the various bottles and jars. The two guards remained by the door.

“Trust?” Eln focused on me, at the same time he reached out and slapped Heath’s hands away from a jar.

“Trust that you have no preconceived notions of what is best for the kingdom and for me.”

Eln gave me a sharp look before turning to Heath. “Scamp, make yourself useful. There’s a load of new wood at the back. Go cut it for me. And take those two lummoxes with you.”

Heath looked startled. “We’re protecting Lara.”

Eln snorted. “She’s worked in this clinic for many years with no fears. Your muscles are wasted in here when they could be useful. Go. Or I’ll set you to chopping herbs and stirring cauldrons.”

Heath flashed a grin. “At least we won’t be breathing in the stink.” He laughed as Eln scowled. The guards chuckled too, as they headed out the door.

“So?” Eln looked me over from head to toe. His face was still neutral.

“Eln, I know what I want. Everyone at the castle is certain that I’m best for the kingdom, and I don’t think that’s true.”

“And?”

I gritted my teeth. Eln was in teacher mode, which was very irritating. “Simus won’t talk to me. Othur and Warren have already decided what is best for the kingdom. And I’m not sure of what to do next.”

Eln stirred his pot for a moment. “If the kingdom were ill, what would you do?”

“What?”

He shot me a look. “If the kingdom were to somehow stumble into the clinic, weak and ill, what would you do first?”

“I’d ask questions, try to discover what was wrong.”

“Such as?”

Impatient, I glared at him. “What is wrong? How are you feeling? Have you urinated today? Have you vomited? How are your bowels?”

Eln kept silent and kept stirring.

“One of the rules you teach us is that before we can start to cure a patient, we must first understand the disease.” He nodded, taking a pinch of marjoram and sprinkling it into the pot. I sat for a moment, trying to apply my healing skills to my problem. “I need to know what problems my coronation solves, and see if there’s an alternative.”

He shrugged. “You need to start thinking.”

I rubbed my cheek. “So you said.”

“Well, you came up with a punishment for me, I fear.” He smiled ruefully. “Seems my newest patient wants me to read The Epic of Xyson to her on a daily basis. A fate worse than death.”

I sat up, surprised. “Is Atira here?”

“Just so. The Warlord sent her to me, with a pouch of gold. Asked that I see to her, since her healer is no longer available.” He held up a hand at my indignant expression. “His words, not mine.”

“Where?”

“I put her in the corner room. If you’re going back there, take this to her.” Eln handed me two mugs of tea. “She asked for kavage, but will have to make do with this for now.”

I took the mugs and headed for the corner room. It was one of the larger ones, with a big fireplace of its own. Behind me, I heard Eln call out the door for one of the guards to fetch water, and for the others to keep chopping. I had to smile as I ducked into the corner room.

Atira lay there, her leg suspended from one of Eln’s rigs, his weights pulling it straight. She blinked at me for a moment, then a smile covered her entire face. “Warprize!” She struggled to sit up. “No, no, that’s not right.” She narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Greetings, Your Majesty.” She spoke the words in Xyian. “Did I say it right?”

I set the mugs down and helped her sit up. “You did.” Once she was settled, I handed her one of the mugs.

She sipped it, and wrinkled her nose. “If I’d had time, I’d have asked for kavage before they hauled me here. But the Warlord hustled me right out of camp.”

“Maybe Simus will share his supply.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nay, he’ll hoard what he has and use the grounds twice, even if I had a headache that might kill me. Not that I blame him.” She looked at me over the rim of the mug. “I only got hints of what happened at the castle. The Warlord said that I was to be cared for here until the leg is healed, then join him on the Plains.” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

I took the hint and summarized what had happened. She listened intently, shaking her head when I reached the end.

Heath stomped in, a load of wood in his arms. “Eln never changes, Lara. Always the task master.” He moved to the wood box and dumped his load. As he stood, he flashed a grin at Atira. “How’s the leg?”

She frowned, and answered carefully in Xyian. “It is well. Thank you.”

Heath laughed. “I don’t envy you, stuck here with Eln for the next few weeks.”

Atira smiled. “I have this.” She held up The Epic of Xyson and the reader that I had purchased.

Heath rolled his eyes. “That hoary old thing? There are better books to read.”

Atira’s eyes got big. “There is more than one?” She looked at me for confirmation.

Heath laughed. “I’ll bring you something from the castle that’s better than that one.” Eln’s voice raised from the still-room and Heath grimaced. “Back to work.” He gave me an imploring look as he walked to the door. “Please, don’t be long.”

I laughed at him, then turned back to Atira, switching back to her language. “Will it harm Keir, not to produce a Warprize?”

“Aye.” Atira nodded. “The Warlord sent messages when you were claimed. If he can’t produce you, the people will say that the Warprize rejected him.” She thought for a moment, stroking the cover of the Epic. “The Warlord built this army carefully, explaining that we would not receive the usual share of the spoils. Instead, he made agreements to pay his warriors with money or land. If he can’t reward the army, he will be shamed. Or worse.”

“I don’t understand him.” I set my mug down and ran my fingers through my hair. “Why is he doing this?” She shrugged. “Atira, Simus said that the warrior-priests and the elders hate Keir as much as he hates them. Why?”

“I don’t know all the details. Keir has always been vocal that warrior-priests withhold their magic from those who need them most.”

“Magic? They use magic?” My voice squeaked. “There’s no such thing, Atira.”

“Yet that is what they claim.” Atira frowned. “I’m not privy to the ways of warlords, or their councils. I didn’t even know that a warlord could renounce a warprize.” She shrugged. “But then, I am no singer, to know all the laws and customs.”

I blinked. “Joden would know, wouldn’t he?”

“Of course.”

Keir had taken Joden back to camp, and forbidden me to follow. I chewed my lip, thinking about that for a moment.

“Now.” Atira looked at me intently. “You can answer a question for me. I’ve been thinking about the Epic, and Us-tening closely. It speaks of a son ‘inheriting’ from his father. Does this mean that the son can ‘inherit’ a thing? Like a horse?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Can a son ‘inherit’ power? Status?”

“Or even a throne. Xymund got the throne when my father died.”

Atira frowned, thinking. “So a man with no real skill could hold a place of power, without earning it? That is very strange.” She sipped her tea, then looked at me. “And with Xymund’s death, you take the throne. ” She paused. “Who takes the throne if you die with no children?”

My eyes widened. Who indeed?

I burst out of the clinic, to find Heath and the guards at work on the firewood. “Heath!”

“Lara?” Heath turned, surprised, as the guards reached for their weapons. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to get some maps of the lands that surround us and talk to Remn. And Estoval, and Kalisa, if I can find her.” I grabbed my horse’s reins and mounted. The guards ran for their mounts.

“The cheesemaker?” Heath stood there, looking like a half-wit, the axe in his hand.

“Yes, the cheesemaker.” I urged my horse out the back gate. Heath dropped the axe and ran to his horse. “And Warren. I need to talk to them all, right now.”

Heath heaved himself into the saddle. “What’s the rush, Lara?”

“The Warlord’s army leaves in two days!”

My hands were sweating, my stomach lay in knots, my head ached, and the crown of the Kingdom of Xy was going to fall off my head at any moment. I’d sent messages as soon as I had returned to the castle, and called a Council meeting for sunset. Since that time, I’d locked myself in my room with maps of the region and considered my options.

The council room was packed, with Simus, Othur, Warren and the council members. All of them staring at me as I sat behind my father’s desk. I sat up straight, and kept my hands in my lap. It would make it easier to conceal their shaking. I cleared my throat, and the room settled. “I have called this meeting to discuss the welfare of the Kingdom of Xy.” I took a breath to quiet my stomach. “Simus of the Hawk is here as a representative of the Warlord Keir. The Warlord has confirmed that he will relinquish his claims to the Kingdom of Xy once I have been crowned.” Simus inclined his head as an acknowledgment. His attendance was important, but even more important was that he didn’t understand what I was doing until it was too late.

I smiled at the council members. “Thank you for attending this meeting on such short notice. I wish to apologize for not being prepared to name my council at this time, for I am minded to reduce the size of the council. I regret the delay, but ask your forgiveness during this chaotic period. I would request that you all continue to serve in a temporary capacity, until I have considered and chosen my permanent advisors.”

That set the cat among the fowl. I could tell that some hadn’t considered my right to name a new or smaller council. Good. I wanted them unsettled and thinking about what my coronation would mean to them.

“First, I feel that I must correct a lie that Xymund told to us and to the people. Let me explain the meaning of the word ‘warprize’.” I took my time, emphasizing the honor that the title bestowed, and its meaning to those of the Plains. Simus confirmed my words, but I could see limited understanding in their eyes. It didn’t matter to me if they thought it was the truth, or an effort to restore my wounded pride. So long as they believed. That chore done, I turned to the important issues. “With the Kingdom returned to the House of Xy, we must consider the needs of our country and its people. While the Warlord has offered assurances that the raiding will not resume during his lifetime, Lord Warren and I have discussed our safety. The knowledge of a female ruler on a throne will spread, and there may be those who will challenge our throne and borders. Our military must be strong enough to deal with these challenges, and that will mean raising taxes for its support.”

I cleared my throat and took a sip of water. The headache was still there, pounding fiercely behind my temples. “Which leads me to the next topic that I and my council need to consider. We need to consider any potential alliance marriages and assuring that the royal line continues.”

Archbishop Drizen was frowning. Hopefully, he was starting to think about what a royal consort would mean. A man, unknown to them, who would come in and, by simple virtue of my lack of skills, would move into a position of power. Let that idea settle into their understanding.

“We must also prepare in the event that I should die in childbirth or without living issue. The people must be assured that the kingdom will pass into safe and strong hands.” I bit my lip, as if in thought. “There are few distant cousins, but they must be considered as potential heirs.”

There were definite looks of concern now. They all knew the cousins.

“Would that there was time to discuss some type of trade relations with the Warlord before he left.” I turned my head carefully. “Simus, would your people be open to such talks?”

Simus shook his head. “Your Majesty, our people take what they want. The idea of trade is foreign to them. I fear that will not happen.” He shrugged. “That is a concept that only a warprize could introduce to the tribes.”

“A shame. I liked the colors.” I smiled at him. “Especially the purple that you wear today.”

Simus arched his eyebrows and smiled, sitting a bit straighter in his chair. I stifled a smile, for Simus out of uniform was a sight to behold. He seemed to prefer gaudy colors, and shone like a peacock among drab pigeons. He preened as the lords and ladies of the council gawked at him. What he missed was the look of greed on Masterweaver Meris’s face. She looked like she would do anything to get the secret of those dyes.

Exactly as I had hoped.

I rose, and everyone rose with me. “We have many hard decisions to make in the coming days. We will meet tomorrow, three hours after dawn, in order to begin this great work. May the Goddess bless us all.”

Simus extended his arm, and I took it. The buzz of talk started before we were over the threshold and into the hall. As the doors swung shut, I took the crown off with a sigh. “Simus, do you have any kavage in your chambers?”

Simus laughed. “I do indeed.”

Chapter 13

Anna had assigned Simus servants and they brought hot kavage as we settled into the chairs by the fireplace in his quarters. Even with the flames roaring, there was a chill in the room. I took the offered mug and sipped the bitter liquid carefully. The servants bowed and retreated from the chamber. Simus had a mug of his own, and settled in a chair opposite me. “I swear by the skies that my tent is warmer than this stone castle of yours.” He grumbled in his own language.

I nodded and ran a hand through my hair, thankful to be rid of the weight of the crown. It sat on the table next to me, gleaming in the firelight. The taste of kavage was bitter on my tongue, yet soothing. I could almost feel my headache fade with every sip.

“You did well, little healer.” Simus leaned back, stretching out his long legs, cupping his mug in two hands. “You showed knowledge and strength.”

I stared down into the dark liquid left in my mug. It was time. “Simus, as Queen of Xy, I must obey you as the representative of my liege lord, right?” I used his tongue, mindful of those who might overhear us.

Simus nodded. “Yes, I speak for the Warlord until he releases his claim. You have sworn fealty to him.”

“But I haven’t sworn, have I?” I looked out of the corner of my eye.

Simus was puzzled, but he answered my question. “Your system allows oaths to pass from heir to heir, am I not right?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, but the oath must be ratified.”

Simus shrugged.

Casually, I continued. “And as warprize, Simus?”

“Eh?”

“As warprize, must I obey you?”

Simus tensed. It was a slight movement, involuntary on his part, but I caught it. He recovered well. “You are no longer warprize, Your Majesty.”

“But if I were?”

“As warprize, you would rank me.” He looked at me closely, but his eyes betrayed nothing. “But you are no longer claimed as warprize.”

I tilted my head and smiled at him over the brim of my mug. “That’s odd.”

“Odd?”

“I’m sure that Joden told me that once claimed, only the elders could confirm or deny my status as warprize.”

Simus stared at me, his eyes wide.

I thumped my mug down on the table, hard enough to rattle the crown. “You will tell me now, Simus, and tell me the truth, with the flames as a witness.”

Simus dropped his mug, groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Who told you? Keir was sure that—”

I stood, furious. “No one told me the entire truth. I had to figure it out for myself.” I breathed in, trying to maintain my anger and control my delight. “I must be confirmed as the warprize by the Council of Elders, yes?”

Simus nodded, head never leaving his hands.

“I remain the warprize until the elders confirm or deny me, yes?” I pressed him hard. I was rewarded with a muffled ‘yes’. I pressed on. “Keir can’t change my status once he claims me, can he?”

“No.”

“As warprize, I answer only to my chosen warlord and I haven’t yet formally chosen a warlord, have I? That’s why he denied me access to the camp, so I couldn’t talk to Marcus or Joden, isn’t it?”

Simus moaned.

“Look at me.” He didn’t move. “Look at me, Simus.”

Dropping his hands, he collapsed back in his chair and looked at me. “Lara, please—”

I drew myself up. “As warprize,—”

Simus held up a hand, palm out. “You rank me, little healer.” He dropped his hand down, and leaned forward slightly. “Keir is trying to do what is best for you and this land. Your kingdom needs you and there are things that you will face as warprize, obstacles that—”

“Never asking if there might be alternatives!” I was furious, practically spitting. “Without considering my thoughts on the matter!”

“Lara—”

“Enough, Simus.” I lifted my chin. “Hear now the will of the warprize.”

He sagged in his chair. “I will hear and obey, warprize.” He looked up, pained and yet with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Can we at least have more kavage before you order me to thwart Keir’s plans?”

I smiled, and sat back down, feeling strangely exhilarated, my headache gone. I was going to make this work, find a way to balance the interests of my kingdom and my heart.

Keir had been right. The best part of being a queen and a warprize is getting exactly what you want.

Once again I faced the council over my father’s desk, my hands sweating, my stomach cramping, and the crown of the Kingdom of Xy about to fall off my head at any moment. I put my hands face down on the maps spread out over the desk, and tried to remain calm, for this day would see either the birth or the death of my hopes. “My councilors, I thank you for joining me this morning. I have something that I wish to announce before we begin our deliberations.”

This was no group of sleepy lords, craftmasters, and clergy—half -awake from being roused from their beds. These men and women faced me alert and ready, each with their own agenda to be considered. They’d all come, with the exception of Lord Durst. He still lay abed, recovering from his wound. I’d tried to blunt the edge with an offering of tea and sweet pastries, but mere food would not be enough. Othur had a chair off to the side, not technically part of the council, but as Seneschal he’d been invited to councils by my father. Xymund had removed the privilege, but I had restored it the day before. Warren was sitting next to Simus, whose tunic and trous were the color of gold. He looked relaxed and opulent, with the onyx brooch of the cat gleaming on his collar.

I pulled my eyes from the brooch, and cleared my throat to continue. “I believe that it is in the best interests of this kingdom if I go with the warlord as the warprize.”

I’d stunned them. Taking full advantage, I continued. “Our joy at my return must quickly give way to the hard reality of this kingdom’s situation.” I held up my hands as Othur and the Archbishop both tried to interrupt. “I will state my case, then I will answer your challenges and questions.” I drew in a breath. “ There are no potential alliance marriages that would be acceptable to the council or to me, one of the reasons that Xymund didn’t contract my marriage.” There were none. I had poured over the damn map for hours, checking the status of the neighboring monarchs. The only one that might be a potential ally was five years old and had a regent.

“There are no nobles within the kingdom that would be suitable for me to take as consort.” This was trickier, since there were a few that I could marry. But I was certain that the political infighting would prevent anyone from becoming attractive in the entire council’s eyes.

“If I should pass to the Goddess without a living heir, the throne would descend to my cousins.” I cleared my throat. No need to go any further, since they knew of the cousins. “The combination of a lack of an heir and a lack of a potential spouse is a fatal one.”

They sat there, focused on me. The only encouragement I saw was in Simus’s eyes. I stiffened my resolve, hoped that the crown would stay on, and continued, “Our army has been weakened, and there will be attempts on our borders, especially with an inexperienced woman on the throne.” I glanced at Warren, but his expression told me nothing. “To strengthen the army will take time, men, and an increase of taxes and tithes. That will be especially hard, since there has been little trade with other kingdoms since the war, and no new routes since my father’s time.” Remn, Estoval, and Kalisa had all confirmed that fact for me.

“A union between the Warlord and myself provides answers to these problems. We would have an alliance, bound by marriage.” The Archbishop coughed, but I ignored him. “Bound by marriage. I am certain that our union would be fruitful, and Simus of the Hawk has confirmed that my firstborn could be raised as a Son of Xy, and designated as the heir to the throne.”

“By taking my place as warprize, I would be able to promote trade between our peoples, opening up potential markets for us, and bringing in new trade goods. By taking my place as warprize, I will insure that the Warlord will provide men to aid in our security. When our more aggressive neighbors hear of this alliance, they’ll be slow to challenge a warlord. That would reduce the need for increasing taxes and tithes.” I wasn’t going to let them off the hook completely on that issue. The Kingdom needed money.

“I’ll listen to your arguments and answer your challenges. If any has a better idea to serve the needs of the kingdom, let them speak. I must stress that time is of the essence. If the Warlord returns to his people without the Warprize at his side, our opportunity will be gone. And he departs soon.”

They were on their feet in seconds, talking at the top of their lungs. Othur pressed his lips together in a thin line. Warren looked thoughtful. Archbishop Drizen looked apoplectic.

I let them stew for a while, not so much listening to any one voice, but trying to catch the general tone. I’d diagnosed my patient, now all I had to do was convince the patient that the treatment would work, no matter how bad the taste.

I put my shoulders back, called the room to order and called on Lord Warren to speak first. By all rights, it would have been better to have gone about this slowly, persuasively, and tactfully, approaching the councillors individually. I had time for none of that. If this were to happen, it had to happen quickly.

Step by step I took them through my reasoning. We poured over the maps of the surrounding kingdoms, and scrutinized the potential marriages in agonizing detail. Of the six potential rulers, three were already married, with heirs. One was a woman. One was age five, and the last one had a streak of madness that ran through the male side of the family. To my astonishment, there were advocates for this alliance, until they were silenced by their peers.

A marriage with one of the local nobility caused a great deal of ruckus. There were a few second sons that might have qualified, except that many of the lords hated one another. I sat back in my chair and let them have at it. Simus was having a wonderful time, although his command of Xyian was not strong enough to follow all of the rapid cursing and swearing. I happened to catch Othur staring at me at one point. I tried to catch his eye, but he looked away. Finally, I had to take a stand and stop the discussion. It was getting no where and we were losing time.

The discussion about potential heirs was very short. Everyone knew my cousins and no one wanted to see them on the throne of Xy.

It was during the discussion on taxes and tithes that I got my first indication that I had support. Lord Warren stood and held up a hand. “I believe that Xylara is right. If she claims the title of Warprize, it will bring more good than harm to the Kingdom of Xy.” Warren looked around the room, then focused on Othur. “I’ve dealt with the Warlord first hand, and I know that he is a man on whom we can depend. I say that we should support the Daughter of Xy in her decision.” He took a seat as the members of the council talked among themselves.

Masterweaver Meris popped up. “The merchants support this decision as well.” She popped back down. Thank the Goddess for mercantile instincts. We weren’t going to have to debate the benefits of expanded trade. The way Meris kept eyeing Simus, I’d had no doubt she’d support me.

“Well, I’m against it.” The Archbishop rose ponderously from his chair. “We are talking about binding a Daughter of Xy to little more than a barbarian, and a heathen barbarian at that. Goddess forbid.”

Having anticipated this argument, I rose from my chair. “Perhaps now would be a good time to speak privately and refresh ourselves.”

The servants brought in fresh drinks and offered mugs of soup and warm bread. I circled the room, talking to each councilor for a moment, smiling at each one, and made sure that I ended up at the side of the Archbishop. Deacon Brow-dus stood at his side. “Devoted One.” I sat next to him. “May I speak with you privately?”