Patricia Briggs - Raven's Shadow

Jes looked back at her impassively, but Lehr smiled. “Maybe the gods are making you make up for those wells and blights you didn’t fix for all these years in one fell swoop.”

Seraph stole Tier’s eye roll—she could do it when she chose. “Cheeky. Carry them for nine months, feed them, clothe them, and what do I get? Impertinence.”

“Seraph,” Tier asked, “if they want my Order—why didn’t they just take it? Why wait for a year?”

“I’m not certain,” said Seraph, “but magic works better on something you know well. I could cast a spell better on you than I could on a stranger. Their magic isn’t foolproof; a lot of their stones don’t work right. The year wait might be time for one of their wizards to get close to you so that their spells will succeed.”

Tier rubbed his face. “I can’t tell a solsenti wizard from anyone else unless he’s gathering magic, can you?”

Seraph shook her head. “I can see the Orders, if I look. But simple wizards, no.”

Tier yawned. Seraph frowned at him.

“How many nights do you sit up plotting?” she asked briskly, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Boys, can you settle yourselves to being quiet? Tier, you won’t do anyone any good if you fall over asleep. You lie down here, and the boys and I will keep watch until the Emperor comes.”

He started to protest, and it was a mark of how tired he was that he stopped himself. “My love, if you make yourself comfortable, I’ll lay my head upon your lap and dream sweetly for a year.”

“See,” said Lehr in a stage whisper, “that’s how you get women to do things for you. You ought to try it, Jes. Think Hennea will let you rest your weary brow upon her lap?”

“Lehr,” said Jes, “shut up and let Papa sleep.”

Seraph didn’t sleep, though truthfully she was tired as well, but sitting peacefully on the soft bed with her husband’s head in her lap was as effective as a week’s worth of sleep. While she waited she worked on loosening the magic net the solsenti wizards had bound around Tier. She didn’t fight them but just encouraged the unraveling that time would have brought.

When she had done what she could, she half-opened one eye and saw that Lehr was sleeping sitting up. Jes was alert and watchful—he nodded his head at her so that she would know that he’d seen her looking. The very peace that had settled in her heart told her it was really Jes who watched and not the Guardian. She thought it was a good sign that the Guardian would trust in Jes.

She closed her eye and let herself enjoy the quiet.

“Someone’s coming,” said Jes softly.

Tier rolled to his feet and stretched. “Thank you, love. Would you all please stand so that you aren’t directly in line with the door—but no disguises, eh? If this isn’t Phoran, I’d rather keep your presence quiet, but if it is Phoran, I don’t want him thinking that we’re trying to ambush him.”

“There’s three of them,” said Lehr as he obediently shifted over without getting up. “One of them is Toarsen, one of them is wearing a lot of metal, and the third is in soft-soled shoes.”

Tier looked at Lehr in surprise. Well, thought Seraph, she’d told him that the children had been growing into their powers.

“How do you know it’s Toarsen?” Tier asked.

Lehr grimaced, “I know. It bothers me, too. Mother says I’ll get used to it. But I liked it better when I just thought I was a good tracker—bringing magic into it robs me of the satisfaction of having a skill. Toarsen’s wearing leather-soled boots and there’s a nail sticking out of one heel. Gives him a stomp-click, stomp-click kind of walk.”

There was a soft knock on the door, and Jes’s soundless response made Seraph shiver with the cold.

“Who is it?” asked Tier, deliberately sounding groggy and irritable.

“Phoran,” replied a firm tenor not a whit less irritable. “Here at your command.”

Tier grinned and opened the door. “Thank you for coming, Your Greatness. Come in.”

“I really hate that one,” said a young man who could be none other than the Emperor. His bright eyes slid over Seraph and Jes, paused on Lehr, and returned to Tier. “It’s bad enough to be Your Mightinessed and Your Highnessed by people who consider you a fool. But to be insulted for my extra weight”—he patted his waist, which was plump—“is beyond the pale. I hope you didn’t wake me up to meet your family—although your wife is certainly lovely enough to be worth any effort on my part. I’m afraid that Avar is miffed with his brother for having the audaciousness to force him to get me up—and twice as miffed that I hadn’t told him that I was meeting a prisoner in the bowels of the palace.”

Tier grinned at him. “How did you know they’re my family?”

Phoran snorted. “A lovely Traveler lady and two boys—one who looks like her and the other like you? Please, I’m supposed to be a drunkard but I am not a complete idiot. I know that you told me she’d come, but isn’t she a little early?”

He turned gracefully and indicated the big man who’d closed the door behind them—the one Lehr said was wearing metal. “Avar, I’d like to introduce you to Tier of Redern—from your own Sept. Tier this is Avar, Sept of Leheigh, and my friend.”

“My Sept,” Tier said, bowing his head briskly.

“Who are you that you call the Emperor to attend you?” said Avar, ignoring Tier’s greeting.

Jealous? thought Seraph.

“I am his humble servant,” said Tier smoothly.

“He’s helping me,” said Phoran. “The Path is more dangerous than you think. It is thanks to Tier that I realized how dangerous. He’s been helping to find out who the Raptors are and at the same time subverting the Passerines.”

“That’s why you started the sword drills,” said Toarsen, sounding disillusioned.

Seraph, being a mother, heard the unspoken— you didn’t really care about us.

“He told me,” said Phoran, not looking at Toarsen, “that there were a number of young men who wanted but a little direction to be the best chance I had of controlling my empire.”

“You thought we could aid the Emperor?” said Toarsen, sounding almost shocked.

As if, thought Seraph with exasperation for the male half of the species, being used by the Emperor were a great thing.

“I know you can,” said Tier. “Where else is he likely to get a bunch of hotheads who can fight and aren’t sworn men of some Sept or other?”

“Collarn’s job,” said Toarsen. “You arranged Collarn’s job.”

“Actually,” said the Emperor, clearing his throat. “That was me.”

Toarsen’s face was bewildered when he turned to Tier. “The Emperor is a drunken sot,” he said, as if the Emperor weren’t standing next to him. “He follows Avar around like a lost puppy and does whatever Avar tells him to. You, Tier, are a bored soldier who has found a hobby to help make a year in captivity pass more quickly. You find the Raptors annoying and the Masters even more so. So you decided to see what you could do to tweak their tails and gain the admiration of the Passerines. When you started, you found that you actually liked a few of us.”

“I was never allowed to be anything but a drunken sot,” said Phoran coolly, but without anger. “And everyone follows Avar around like lost puppies.”

“I saw a bunch of rowdy boys being led into hell by a pack of carrion-eaters,” said Tier. “As I rather liked some of you and despise men who play games with other people’ s lives—I decided to see what I could do about the situation.”

“It works because he does care,” added Lehr. “If he’d just been trying to use you, you’d have seen through him.”