Tad Williams - Shadowheart

Utta looked at the old woman’s smile for a long moment, then turned away to dab discreetly at her eyes. “All things come in the gods’ time.”

“You sound as if you don’t think he’ll be back soon,” the duchess said, “but he had better not dawdle. After all, it is my coach and driver he’s taken!” Merolanna arranged her cushions and sat back, then reached out for Utta’s hand. “But until then, dear friend, sit with me for an hour, if you would be so kind. What is the weather like today? Is it truly summer at last?”

Utta let herself be pulled down into the chair, her thoughts skittering like mice. “Summer? Oh, yes, I… I think so, Duchess. It is not overly warm today, but the sky is bright and big ...”

“She is guilty of murder. More importantly, she is guilty of conniving at the death of a ruling prince. You cannot let her live, Princess.”

Rose was fussing with a loose ribbon on her stomacher and it was beginning to annoy Briony severely. She waved the young woman away. “Master Dan-Faar, this is my stepmother we are talking about—my father’s widow. It is nothing so simple as you make it sound.”

“It is just as simple as that. If there is discontent with your rule, Anissa will become the center of all resistance—she’s the baby’s mother, after all. “Put King Olin’s son on the throne!” they will say. “We need a king!”

“As opposed to a queen?” Briony asked. “You do not know the history of my folk as well as you think you do, Dawet. ...”

“Yes, we all have heard of Queen Lily, pride of the Eddons, yes, yes.” He laughed in that infuriating way he had, as if everyone else’s thoughts had already occurred to him, been considered, then dismissed. “But that was long ago and nobody dared speak against Anglin’s blood. Times have changed, Highness. The world has turned topsy-turvy, especially here in Southmarch, and nobody will ever again feel quite so certain about what is important and what is not.”

Briony shook her head. “Not all you say is wrong, Master Dan-Faar, but I am not you, this is not Tuan or any other Xandian satrapy, and we do not kill our relatives.”

“Any prince would execute a relative who has already tried to kill him. We are not so uncivilized in the south as you think us, Princess.”

She felt herself caught out. “I meant no offense, Dawet.”

He made a little bow. “I know, Highness. But the facts remain.”

“Enough. Tell me of something else. What of the Xixians? Did the last of them take ship this afternoon?”

“They did—the new Autarch Prusus and the minister and the remainder of the Leopard guards. They sailed in a Helmingsea coastal trader, so they will have a slow journey home.” He grinned. “It was quite satisfying to watch, actually—what remains of the great Xixian army forced to hire ships and slink away. Perhaps someday my own country will joy in such a sight.”

“Perhaps. And Prince Eneas?”

“He and his men are set to begin their own journey home tomorrow. As you know, his father is ill and he is needed at home.”

“Poisoned by the bitch Ananka, I have no doubt. I hope Eneas can put things right there. Meanwhile, we will miss him. I will miss him.” She sighed. “I am glad you are here, Master Dan-Faar. In a time when so much else is in doubt, you have been a good adviser and a good friend. I am grateful.”

“I am happy to take your gold, Princess,” he said, still smiling. “I assure you, my helpfulness is mostly mercenary.”

She laughed. “Oh, yes, you are a famous villain, are you not? I had forgotten.” Her brightened mood was short-lived. “I will never forget that… that you brought Shaso home. I know you were enemies in life, Dawet.”

He shrugged. “In the end, I could not forget that he and I shared something important—a love and admiration for the same young woman.”

“Ah.” Briony nodded wisely. “Shaso’s daughter—the one who died. Of course.”

Dawet seemed surprised but did his best not to show it. “Ah. Yes, her. Of course.”

Vansen rode as far from them as he decently could, but wished Briony had not insisted he come along. Just the kindness and intimacy with which she spoke to Eneas, the obvious fact of her admiration for the Syannese prince, pained him.

“Do not take them yet,” he heard her beg Eneas. “Let me thank them again.”

He frowned. “They are soldiers, Princess. They do not expect to be thanked for what it was their honor to perform.”

“Most men like to be praised when it is well deserved. I think your soldiers will not think too ill of me if I speak again of their bravery and sacrifice.” She rode to the spot where Lord Helkis, Eneas’ lieutenant, had assembled the troops at the crossing of the broad Coast Road. “Men of Syan!” she called. “I have been fortunate enough to ride with you. I count my pride at being allowed to ride as a Temple Dog as second only to the blood of Anglin running in my veins… !”

“She will give everything she has to this country of yours,” Eneas said, watching the rapt soldiers. It took Ferras Vansen a moment to realize the prince was speaking to him. “Someone must watch over her. Protect her.”

Vansen felt a moment of resentment. “We have soldiers in this country, too, Prince Eneas.”

The prince laughed and turned toward him. “Did I say that aloud? My apologies, Captain. I meant no slight on you or the men of Southmarch—I only spoke what was in my heart. I knew I would never hold her, never tame her. She is too noble and singular a creature.”

“She is not a creature, Your Highness.” Vansen knew it was foolish to argue with a prince, but something more primal was going on beneath the words and he could not easily let go of it, either. “But we will agree that she is singular.”

“Fairly spoken!” Oddly, the prince did not seem to take offense. “I meant only that her… determination is such a pure thing. Like a bird’s need to fly ...”

A great cheer went up, although it faded quickly beside the open, windy road. Several of the Temple Dogs were waving their swords and standards in the air, crowding around Briony to call their farewells, all semblance of military order gone. But men are so few and the world is so big , thought Vansen, looking from the knot of soldiers and mounted men to the empty hills. How will we live without the gods?

Fool, he chided himself a moment later. We have exactly as much of the gods as we have always had.

When Prince Eneas and the others had at last turned south toward their homeland, Briony rode with her retinue back through the mainland city, as empty and haunted as the places Vansen had seen on Northmarch Road that day so long ago, when he rode with Collum Dyer and the poor merchant lad, Raemon Beck.

“I go to meet my brother now,” Briony told him. “There is much for you to do back home and Sergeant Dawley can look after me.”

Young Dab Dawley, Vansen knew, was nearly as enthralled with the princess as was Ferras Vansen himself, and had no love for the Qar. Vansen had no doubt he would look after her carefully, but that was not his only concern. “No,” he said. “You may dismiss me, of course, Highness, but if you will permit me, I would like to see your brother once more. We traveled together for a long time.”

“What happened to him behind the Shadowline, dear Captain?”

He shook his head in frustration. “I cannot tell you, not truly. When I saw him last in Greatdeeps he had not changed much from what you knew. A little harder, perhaps. A little quieter. Becoming a man, I would say, because he wouldn’t have survived that terrible place any other way.” The sun was dropping down toward the tops of the western hills as they rode up Market Road toward the Coast Road crossing just outside the city. “Then Gyir, the fairy I’ve told you about, gave him a commission to take a mirror from Yasammez to the king of the Qar. I am still not entirely certain why, but it was meant to wake Saqri the queen, so he must have succeeded.” He shrugged. “The next time I saw him was a few hours before you did. It was like meeting another person.”