Энтони Райан - Queen of Fire

“This is Lady Ellese,” Reva said, beckoning the girl forward. “Heir to Lord Brahdorʼs estate and now Ward of the Lady Governess. Find suitable rooms for her, if you would.”

“Of course.” Veliss extended a hand to Ellese, who came forward to take it after a momentʼs hesitation.

“I thought Lord Sentes ruled here,” the girl said.

“He died.” Reva glanced back at the still-cheering crowd. “Declare a holiday,” she told Veliss. “Forever more this will be the Day of Victory. And hand out that hidden stock of wine you think I didnʼt know about.”

“The walls,” she said later when they were alone in the library and Ellese tucked into a voluminous bed upstairs.

“To be repaired first by virtue of popular demand,” Veliss explained. “The people donʼt feel safe without them. Iʼve seen to the reconstruction of the larger dwellings when I can, but they wanted the walls repaired and who am I to deny them?”

“The treasury?”

“Surprisingly healthy. Volarian soldiers were rich in loot and I had Arentes set his men to gather up as much as they could before the Nilsaelins or sundry outlaws got to it. Even so, rebuilding a city is a costly business, and when thatʼs done we have a half-ravaged fief to see to.”

“The queen has made firm promises regarding the costs of reconstruction. Apparently the Northern Reaches now yields more gold than it does bluestone. It may take some months to arrive, however.”

“Well, we shouldnʼt starve thanks to Lady Al Bera and Lord Darvus. Itʼll be a hard winter though.” She sat next to Reva on the couch beside the fire, taking her hand, their fingers entwining with automatic intimacy.

“The Reader?” Reva asked, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Sends a messenger every week with stern advice on how best to govern the fief in accordance with the tenets of the Ten Books. Sometimes itʼs addressed to your grandfather, sometimes your great grandfather, and it rarely makes much sense. Last week he fell asleep during his own sermon, not that it matters since the cathedral was mostly empty.”

“A good choice then.”

“So it seems.”

“Where is Arentes?”

“Off chasing down the last of the Sons and hopefully subduing a band of outlaws in the western dales. Theyʼre becoming a bit of a problem. War tends to succour only the vilest hearts.”

“The Book of Reason, verse six.” Reva smiled and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Are you becoming seduced by the love of the Father, Honoured Lady Counsel?”

“No.” Veliss stroked a hand through her hair, even longer now as Reva couldnʼt recall the last time she had cut it. “Iʼve only ever been seduced once. And I find it more than enough.”

Reva tensed in anticipation of the response to her next words, feeling a great temptation to leave it until the next morning but knowing the reaction would be even worse if she did. “Tomorrow I will call a general assembly in the square, where I will read out the queenʼs Edict of Conscription.”

Velissʼs hand withdrew from her hair, her eyes wary. “Conscription?”

“The queen builds an even greater army, and a fleet to carry it to Volarian shores.”

Veliss rose from the couch, moving to the fireplace, her hand gripping the mantel. “This war is won.”

“No, it is not.”

“Am I to take it, my Lady Governess, that you will sail with the queen and her mighty fleet?”

Reva resisted the urge to reach out to her, seeing the whiteness of her knuckles on the mantel. “Yes.”

Veliss shook her head. “This is madness. Her father, for all his myriad schemes, would never have dreamt of such folly.”

“We need to stop them coming back. This is the only way.”

“Lord Al Sornaʼs words, or yours?”

“We are of the same mind.”

“Or are you just hungry for another war? I can see it, you know. The way you chafe with impatience to be gone when youʼre here, how bored you are by this place, by me.”

Though the words were softly spoken they held enough truth to make Reva flinch. “I will never be bored by you. If I seem impatient itʼs because Iʼm not made for governance. And believe me or no, I have seen enough of war. But this has to be done, and I require your help to see it done right.”

“Whatʼs conscription?”

Reva turned to find Ellese standing at the library door, wrapped in a blanket and rubbing her eyes. “Couldnʼt sleep?”

The girl nodded and Reva patted the couch next to her, Ellese trotting over to sit beside her. “I had a dream,” she said. “Father was alive again, looking for me in our house.”

“Just a dream,” Reva told her, smoothing back the now-unmatted hair from her forehead. “Dreams canʼt hurt you.”

Elleseʼs gaze moved to Veliss, still standing at the fireplace, back stiff and eyes averted. “Whatʼs conscription?”

Velissʼs shoulders slumped and she gave the girl a weary smile. “The worst of things, love. A hard sell.”

“All men of sound health between the ages of seventeen and forty-five are to report to Alltor by the last day of the month of Interlasur, bringing with them any bows or other weapons in their possession. Any childless woman of the same age may also volunteer her service. All who serve will be paid at the same rate as the Realm Guard and will receive a pension for the rest of their lives at the conclusion of the war, this pension to be paid to the widow or surviving children of any who sacrifice their lives in this cause.”

Reva fell silent, handing the scroll to Veliss and trying not to make her scrutiny of the crowd too obvious. Veliss had placed a wooden crate on the topmost of the Cathedral steps, giving her a complete view of the throng, some five thousand people in the square itself with more crowding the ruins beyond. There was some murmuring, clear surprise showing amidst the sea of faces before her, but for the most part they were silent, the predominant expression one of expectation. They await the Blessed Ladyʼs word, she thought, keeping the sour grimace from her face.

“We have suffered much,” she told them. “Our trials have been many and our struggle long. I wish I came before you with news of peace, I wish I came to tell you our battles are over and we can at last rest, but that would make me a liar. You trusted my word when the enemy was at our walls and I beg you to trust me again now.” She paused, gathering strength, her own words loud in her head… that would make me a liar…

“And trust that I have heard the Fatherʼs voice.” She put all the force she could muster into the words, hearing them echo from the walls of this wasted city. “And he will permit no turning from this path. Many of you will have heard of the so-called Eleventh Book. I tell you now that book is a lie, worthy only of your scorn. But the Father has ordained there will be a new book, the Book of Justice, written by the Fatherʼs own hand with us as his mighty instrument!”

It wasnʼt a cheer, more a roar, instant and savage, rising from the throat of every soul present. There was hate on their faces now, every head no doubt filled with ugly memories of fallen loved ones and burning homes, a hatred permitted free rein by the Blessed Lady who spoke with the Fatherʼs voice. We drowned in their blood, Reva thought as the sound washed over her. And still it wasnʼt enough.

She stepped down from the crate, pausing at the sight of Ellese burying her head in Velissʼs skirts, small face tensed with fearful tears as she tried to hide from the crowdʼs roar. Reva knelt beside her and wiped the wetness from her face. “Itʼs all right,” she said. “Theyʼre just happy to see me.”