David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

In recent years, as she passed Fating age and began to assume more responsibility for leading the duchy, Diani witnessed for herself the ravages of drought and famine, and came to understand her mother’s fondness for the rains. She might even have shared it in some small way. And in the turns since her mother’s death, she had realized that the smell of a storm and the gentle rumble of distant thunder would forever remind her of Dalvia, of the rainy days they had shared in Curlinte Castle, speaking of what it meant to rule as duchess.

This storm was different, however. It offered no comforting memories, no solace for the loss of her mother, which still made her chest ache. The rain that fell this day seemed to carry only the dark promise of battle and ominous portents of an uncertain future. Water ran down the castle walls, darkening the red stone so that it seemed to glimmer and flow like blood. Thunder made the walls and floors shudder, as if Orlagh herself, the warrior goddess, were pounding at the earth with her battle hammer.

“Is something wrong, Lady Curlinte?”

Diani turned from the window at the sound of the voice. Edamo, the duke of Brugaosa, was standing beside her, somewhat closer than she would have liked.

“No, Lord Brugaosa. I’m fine.”

“You’re certain? You looked troubled-one might even go so far as to say, fearful. Is it possible that you know already why the queen has called us here?”

She shook her head, pushing a strand of dark hair back from her brow. “As I said, I’m fine. And I have no idea why the queen wished to speak with us.”

A lie, one that came to her easily. The matriarchy was poised on the edge of a blade. It no longer seemed a question of whether Sanbira would go to war, but rather when and against whom. Eibithar might already be at war with Braedon and Aneira; just this morning word of the empire’s impending invasion had arrived in the royal city, along with a request from King Kearney that the queen send her army to aid the defense of his realm. Only a few turns before, the Qirsi conspiracy had struck at Sanbira, making an attempt on Diani’s life that had been intended to appear the work of Edamo’s famed assassins.

This was a time for all subjects of the matriarchy to put aside their hostilities and suspicions, to unite behind their queen and fight as one to protect Sanbira. Yet Diani could not look at Edamo as anything more or less than a rival. She no longer believed that the man’s assassins had been responsible for the death of her brother, Cyro, several years before; that too had been a Qirsi deception. But Edamo and his lone ally in the realm, Alao, the duke of Norinde, had resisted the queen’s every attempt to prepare the realm for war, fearing that such measures would strengthen House Yserne’s hold on power, and Diani saw no reason to show him any more courtesy than he had shown Olesya.

“No idea at all?” the duke said, eyeing her doubtfully. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Would you all please be seated?” the queen said from the far end of the room, her handsome face looking lined and wan in the dim light of the oil lamps that burned throughout the chamber.

Diani gave a small smile. “Believe what you will,” she told the duke, before leaving him for her seat at the council table.

The other nobles sat as well, Edamo and Alao taking seats as far from the queen as possible, as they always did.

“As you know,” Olesya began, after regarding them all briefly, “some time ago I sent a message to the king of Eibithar proposing that our two realms forge an alliance so that we might face the Qirsi threat united. We’ve waited a long time for Kearney’s reply, so long that I had begun to wonder if my message ever reached the City of Kings.” She held up a piece of parchment, sealed at the bottom with a swirl of purple and gold wax. “His response has arrived at last.”

“You don’t look pleased, Your Highness,” Edamo said. “I take it he has rejected your overtures.”

The queen gave a slight frown. Diani hadn’t missed it either, Your overtures.

“Actually, Lord Brugaosa, he has accepted our proposal. Indeed, he asks even more of us than we did of him.”

“More, Your Highness?” asked Rashel of Trescarri.

“Yes. Apparently the Braedon fleet has been menacing Eibithar’s north coast and the Aneirans have been massing along the Tarbin. When he wrote his reply Kearney expected to be at war within half a turn, which would mean that the fighting may have already begun. He asks our help in repelling the invaders, and offers in return his realm’s support in our efforts to combat the Qirsi conspiracy.”

Edamo glanced around the table before looking at the queen again. “He must know that we’ll refuse such a request.”

“If so, he knows more than I do.” Vasyonne, the duchess of Listaal, had long taken great pleasure in baiting Edamo and Alao. As a close ally of the queen and one of the younger duchesses, she had also gone out of her way to befriend Diani after Dalvia’s death, and the two of them often agreed on matters of state. As they did now.

“Surely you can’t think that we should go to war with the empire,” Edamo said.

“It seems the emperor is bringing war to Eibithar. If he’s bold enough to attack there, he may order his fleet to our shores next.”

“He wouldn’t. We’ve always enjoyed good relations with the empire. There isn’t a realm in the Forelands that buys more of our wine, our gems, or our blades. And Harel himself owns no fewer than forty Sanbiri mounts.”

“This isn’t about imperial gold!”

“Ah, but it is,” Alao said, taking up Edamo’s argument. “I value our friendship with Eibithar as much as anyone. But can we afford to make an enemy of the empire, and Aneira as well? Together they’re far too formidable a foe, and our people depend upon our trade with both realms.” He turned smoothly to the queen. “I must agree with Lord Brugaosa, Your Highness. We have no choice but to deny the king’s request for aid.”

“As it happens, Lord Norinde, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

Diani gaped at her. “But, Your Highness-”

“I know what you’re going to say, Lady Curlinte: we need Eibithar as an ally in our fight with the Qirsi. And that may be true. But if we’re at war with Braedon and Aneira, we stand no chance against the conspiracy.”

The duchess opened her mouth, closed it again. There was little she could say.

“I’ll compose a reply,” the queen said, her voice low, as if she lamented the soundness of her own point. “Unless anyone can give me a good reason not to.”

None of the nobles spoke, though they eyed one another, seeming to hope that someone else would speak. Except of course for the two dukes, who looked far too pleased with themselves.

“What if there’s more to this war in the north than just the emperor’s greed?”

Everyone looked at the duchess of Macharzo, who merely sat with her hands folded before her, her eyes lowered, and her face so composed that Diani began to wonder if she had been mistaken, if in fact another of the duchesses had spoken. Naditia rarely said anything in council. In the short time Diani had been duchess, she had never known the woman to challenge the word of the queen in even the most oblique way. Indeed, she hardly ever spoke at all, even outside of Olesya’s presence chamber. She was a large woman, both broad and tall, with short yellow hair and wide brown eyes. Someone seeing her for the first time might have thought her a warrior, even a commander of fighters. But she could no more have barked orders to an army than she could fly to the top of Olesya’s castle.

“What did you say, Lady Macharzo?” the queen asked, appearing as stunned as the rest by the woman’s words.