Part 1 (2/2)
Seena smiled fondly. Another man might have decided that a king should have servants to attend to his garments. Not so Cvinthil. He had been a warrior. He still was. He would hang up his own clothes.
Now he bowed to her. ”Wife.”
”Husband.” Seena nodded in return. She and Cvinthil had separate duties, perhaps, and different strengths, but they were equals nonetheless. It was a good thought.
Cvinthil greeted Relys, who had risen, and motioned her back onto her stool. Ayya ran to him, and he swept her up in his arms and made faces at her until she laughed.
”How is it in the wide world, husband?” said Seena.
He bent, Ayya still in his arms, and kissed her. ”Well . . .” He looked toward the door almost uneasily, as though at any moment the matters he had left at Hall Kingsbury might suddenly burst in. ”Well . . .”He shrugged. ”The farmers are saying it will be a good year, and the shepherds-thanks to Karthin's advice-have more lambs than they know what to do with ...” He offered a careworn smile. ”... though I am sure they will think of something. Karthin has done much good for Gryylth. Tireas, he said, once called him a hayseed. If so, then let there be more hayseeds in this land, for they seem to be a good lot.”
”And . . . Alouzon. . . ?”
Cvinthil's smile faded. Silence grew about him. He sat down on a stool next to Relys and put Ayya on her lap. For a moment, Relys looked almost terrified, and Ayya added to her confusion by kissing her on the cheek. Relys set her on the floor nervously, and the girl laughed and resumed her sweeping.
He spoke at last. ”No word has come. Indeed, I fear that no word will ever come.”
”Surely you do not-”
He shook his head quickly. ”The hounds have made travel dangerous. The messenger that came from Quay ten days ago with word of Alouzon's departure was attacked on the road by a pack. He barely escaped. I imagine it is worse now.''
He stared into the fire for a time, all the care that had come to him since he had a.s.sumed the kings.h.i.+p plain on his face. ”O wife,” he said softly. ”I was never meant for the duties of king. Marrget, I think, would have been the better choice.”
”Marrget is a woman, husband,” said Seena.
”Aye, that she is. And a brave one. And a wise one. Gryylth could do much worse.”
Relys lifted her head. ”My king,” she said softly, ”if I may speak, I believe the captains made a good choice. And Marrget would have refused the t.i.tle. You know that.”
”Aye. Aye.”
”And, much as I am unwilling to say it, this land is not ready for a woman's rule, and will not be ready for a long time.” Relys spoke dispa.s.sionately, but her words obviously pained her.
”Speak, Relys,” said the king. ”You seem to know more of the results of my reforms than do I. Captains and councilors sometimes tell a king no more than he desires to hear. What can you tell me?''
' 'The reforms?'' Relys shrugged. ' 'I can tell you what I see, and what my women see. I can tell you that Wykla was almost raped. I can tell you that the young men from the country, new to their soldier's livery and their station, laugh and sn.i.g.g.e.r at the First Wartroop. I can say that women are threatened daily in the marketplace by men who care little for decrees and laws, but only for old custom. There are many among your own Guard who would wish to see me bow to them, or at least ...” She smiled thinly. ”... have me provided with a good husband who would make a proper wife of me.''
Cvinthil sighed. ”You tell a grievous tale, lieutenant.”
Relys was impa.s.sive. ”I am sorry to bear ill tidings, my king. But I would be so bold as to remind you that custom is hard to change. But it is changing.”
The king shook his head. ”I wonder if it is perhaps changing on the surface only.''
Vill finished nursing, and Seena laid him on her shoulder and patted his back. ”Time, my husband.”
Cvinthil looked as though he wondered how much time would be given him, but after a moment, Seena realized that he was listening to the horns of the guard posts along the road up Kingsbury Hill. Closer and closer they sounded: a messenger was climbing the switchback trail up to the town.
Relys went to the door, opened it, and slipped out into the fading light, her hand on her sword. Another horn, a different note: the messenger had reached the gate to the city. Seena rose and sent Ayya up the stairs to the loft, then took the seat beside her husband. She was queen. Timid she was, and sometimes she even longed for the old ways, but now her place was here, with Cvinthil.
Horse hoofs clattered on the hard-packed earth of the street, splashed in puddles. Exclamations from the guards outside. Relys cried out: ”By the G.o.ds, man! Your arm!”
”My arm is but a little thing, and it will heal,” said a voice with a coastal accent. ”I would see King Cvinthil.”
The sound of a clumsy dismounting, and then Relys flung the door open to admit a tall man. His face was dark with sun, and his hair was dark too, and long. He wore a heavy cloak against the cold, and as he crossed the threshold, he pulled it closely about his left arm as though to hide it. Phosphor smoked on the thick wool, and more smoke came from his hidden arm.
He bowed deeply to Cvinthil and, after a moment's thought, to Seena. ”My lord . . . and lady,” he said, ”I am Myylen. I am from Quay. Hahle sent me with tidings of Alouzon Dragonmaster and her companions.”
Cvinthil nodded. ”Speak. Quickly.”
Myylen's face had already told the story. ”They are dead, my king. All of them save Helwych. The Vayllens pretended friends.h.i.+p until our company was defenseless, and then they attacked with magic and weapons. Even the lady Kyria was helpless.”
Cvinthil had turned very pale. Seena clutched Vill as though by doing so she could keep away hounds and flying death and fire. ”And . . . and Helwych?” said the king.
”Badly injured, my king,” said Myylen. ”He killed a Vayllen boatman and made for Gryylth so as to warn us of our danger.''
Cvinthil rose and bowed stiffly. ”Our thanks to you, sir.” But he stood wavering. ”Relys,” he called uncertainly. ”Relys, are you there?”
”Here, my king,” came her clear, cold voice.
”Call my advisors and captains to the Hall,” he said, his voice distant. ”And you come also, and bring Timbrin with you. You are now captain of the First Wartroop, and Timbrin is your lieutenant, and your king is in desperate need of counsel.”
”It shall be done, my king.” Relys's icy calm did not thaw in the slightest. Marrget had been not only her captain, but her friend. Relys was, Seena knew, planning revenge and war even now. Terrible war. War without conscience or quarter.
And so was the king.
Darham sat on the simple stool that formed as much of a throne as he would allow in the king's lodge, listening to the messenger who had come from Cvinthil. The man's tale was one of deception, murder, and a single lucky escape, but beneath the surface considerations that would lead-inevitably, Darham knew- to war with Vaylle, there were other matters. A much-loved member of the King's Guard of Corrin was dead, as was a trusted captain who had proved himself both in battle and in council, and also the young woman that he himself had adopted.
The messenger finished. Darham hung his head. He had counseled for caution, and this was the result. ”I cannot believe that they would have been so careless,” he murmured, though he knew that the blame lay upon his own shoulders. ”What madness made them walk, open-eyed, into a trap?”
Tylha, the commander of the women's phalanxes, was frowning. ”The Vayllens seem to control potencies that even Tireas would have envied,” she said. ”Perhaps our people did the best they could.”
The Gryylthan messenger, a young man, stared at Tylha as though surprised that a woman would raise her voice in council. Or perhaps he was irritated that she did. Darham marked his expression, recalled what Wykla had said of Gryylth's continuing difficulties with its women. And more than likely such as this tormented my brave daughter. ”And what of Helwych, sir?”
The Gryylthan composed himself quickly. ”Helwych is near death and far too weak to travel, lord. But the physicians of Quay have hopes that he will recover.”
”He stole a Vayllen fis.h.i.+ng boat, you say.”
”Aye, lord. And to do so he killed the fisher who Downed it.”
Calrach, who commanded what few men Corrin still maintained, fought to suppress a smile. ”It seems the lad had some teeth after all.”
His sentiment was echoed in the faces of the guards and attendants who stood about the lodge. Beneath it, though, ran a deep anger. Helwych had always been irritating and annoying by turns, and his unexpected valor was heartening. But Manda had been a friend to many, and Karthin's abilities were legendary. Corrin had lost two heroes.
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