Hearts in Cups (36 page)

Yes, he had been clever
in his actions and his manipulation. He stilled a tremor of excitement when he
considered that his schemes were just beginning. He was eager to let those in
the south know of his success, but not before he had achieved all that he
wanted here. She would be very pleased, he reflected, savouring thoughts of
her. Another few weeks and a few more details to be taken care of and he could
send the message that would set the gears in motion.

It amused him to see
how easily Torval could be manipulated and how completely obtuse Torval was to
his true thoughts and feelings. He gazed down at his brother with a face of
sincerest regard. "There is one more thing that I think you should
consider in the next day or two. Mother is taking all of this terribly hard.
She looks very ill and I am afraid for her health. I think that it would do her
a great deal of good to take the little ones and get away from here for
awhile."

Torval's hand reached
out and clasped Blaise's forearm in a gesture of affection and gratitude
"You're right, the news of father's death, and then finding out about
Hywell..." Concern and worry were mirrored in his face. "Would she
go, though?"

"I think that if
you suggest it she would.  Tell her that it would be best for Alyce and
Cluim to be away from from where father was killed.  I know that this
whole affair has been dreadfully upsetting to them,” he added with a sorrowful
look.

At the mention of their
two youngest siblings, Torvald’s brow furrowed.  “I confess that I have
not given them much thought lately.  You are a good brother.  Where
do you suggest that they go?”

Casually disengaging
himself from his brother's grasp, Blaise replied, "Deerstand Manor would
be a good place I should think."

"The hunting
lodge? Isn't that a bit remote?" Torval remarked in some surprise.

"It is secluded
but quite comfortable, and I think that seclusion is what Mother and the little
ones need. Quiet, rest and a change from all that Rengard must mean to them
now."

"I see what you
mean. I'll talk to her about it this evening; and Blaise," Torval stood up
and grasped his brother by the shoulder, "I want to thank you for all of
your help and advice these last few days."

Blaise stared
guilelessly into his brother's eyes. "You need say nothing. I am here to
assist you whenever you need me, your grace," he added with a deferential
bow.

The palace grounds of
the Duke of Mirvanovir's court at Challis were extensive and exotic. A small
lake had been constructed and the surrounding gardens were lush with greenery
and flowers. After the cramped accommodations that she had endured traveling to
and from Pentarin, the Duchess of Mirvanovir luxuriated in the spaciousness of
her familiar surroundings. So what if they were indefensible from a military
standpoint. They would not have to worry about enemy attacks and this was
infinitely preferable to the ancestral pile of stones, Talrandir Castle, that
Niall had first taken her to when they were married.

Rashara closed her eyes
and let the warm sun caress her body as she lay on the cushions beneath the
willow trees that had been planted at the shore of her lake. Far off she heard
the discordant crying of gulls, but she ignored them in favour of the small
songbirds that hung in cages from the trees nearby. Several of her women
attendants stood beside her with fans to discourage insects and keep their
mistress from becoming too uncomfortable in the heat.

The trip to Pentarin
had been interesting. As Duchess of Mirvanovir, she loved occasions where she
could show herself to advantage over those deemed her peers. She paused to
consider Pentarin Palace as a possible abode. It was more ancient and had a
grandeur beyond Challis, but it lacked the warmer climate and there was a
historical formality to it that made her uncomfortable. Changes would have to
be made when she was mistress there, she assured herself complacently. The
Duchess of Langstraad and her entire retinue were destroyed, according to Lord
Brescom, and that was but the first step. She stopped to reconsider; no, it was
Niall's first step, her's had been taken long ago.

Her father had been old
Sir Jeram de Sharonnara, a minor noble who had made an immense fortune as a
young man in shipping and trading. When well past middle-age, he took a voyage
on one of his trading vessels, returning with an extraordinarily beautiful
young woman as his wife. Within a few years she presented him with his only
heir, a daughter, before abandoning both and returning to her own people.
Rashara had displayed certain talents as a child, presumably inherited from her
mother, and eventually, not wanting to raise her himself, her father had sent
her to the Scholastium Arcana in Dacara, where she attained the rank of arcane
adept. At the death of her father she was summoned back to Mirvanovir and found
herself in sole possession of her father's fortune. It was then that Rashara
began to seriously consider her future.

The Duke of Mirvanovir
at that time was newly bereft of his first wife. Meeting Lady Rashara de
Sharonnara at the manor of one of his nobles, Niall tried unsuccessfully to seduce
her. Though attracted to the duke, Rashara quickly realized that it was not
just the man that she wanted, but the power and prestige of his office. As his
mistress, she would sit idly on the sidelines awaiting his pleasure; but as his
wife, she would be a duchess, sharing that status with him. Her birth, though
noble, was not exalted, and it was a difficult game of checks and balances,
luring him on and fending him off, that she played until he finally presented
her with an offer of marriage. As his duchess, she found it easy enough to
adapt herself to his wishes, and spent the first year of their marriage
concentrating on producing the heir that he wanted. After that task was
accomplished, she was able to step back and assess the bargain that she had
made.

Niall had proven
himself to be a much more complex person than she originally estimated. Vain,
charming, shrewd and very ambitious, he also possessed a perversely decadent
bent. He was far more difficult to control than she had anticipated, and the
House Power that he was keyed to made him impervious to much of her own arcane
ability; a facet that both intrigued and annoyed her. For his part, he knew
about and tolerated her interest in arcane matters, seeming amused rather than
alarmed at her studies. In time there grew between them a tacit but unspoken
pact whereby each would support and indulge the other's fancies and ambitions
so long as ultimately she acceded and acted in accord with him on all important
issues.

When Rashara complained
that the capital of Mirvanovir, Talrandir Castle, was old and uncomfortable,
Niall had the summer palace at Challis rebuilt to her specifications and
relocated his court there. Enjoying the personal independence that he granted
her, she turned a blind eye to his excesses in return. She learned to ignore
his inordinate interest in the palace maids and young boys, discretely taking
her own occasional lovers when the mood suited her and making herself available
when her husband sought her bed. Thus they established the parameters of their
relationship and created an atmosphere in which to indulge themselves. The
heir, young Lord Galen, was packed off with his nurses and teachers to his aunt
and uncle, who still occupied the ancestral halls of Talrandir, and brought to
court only on infrequent state visits.

Two years previously at
a convening of the Pentacle Council Rashara first met Blaise ap Halberstad, the
third of Gunnar and Tammara's brood. Thinking him attractive, as he obviously
did her, and being without current entertainment in that direction, she
casually invited him to visit Mirvanovir's ducal court. A month later, he
presented himself at Challis on a minor ambassadorial mission. She had been
amused at his promptness and the ingenuity he had employed in getting to
Mirvanovir. They had flirted and he quickly found himself in her bed. His youth
and good looks had attracted her initially and further acquaintance had shown
him to be adroit, accommodating and completely without scruples of any kind.

It was about that time
that the question of the kingship of the Pentarchy was first discussed between
Niall and herself, and the beginnings of their plans were germinated. Niall's
interest became zealous when he saw the possibilities an empty throne offered
to one with his ambitions. While encouraging and advising him, Rashara went
ahead and made plans of her own, not always in strict accord with her
husband's. It was she who first devised the strategy to set the Pentacle
Council discussing the issue of an heir, and urged Niall to accept Blaise as an
ally.

She was idly wondering
how her young lover was faring in the north when the familiar tread of boots
crunching on the graveled walk caused her to languidly open her eyes. Making
his way down to the waterside where she reclined was Niall.

Dressed in high boots
and a leather tunic emblazoned with the black swan, he was returning from a
meeting with his military advisors. His head was bare but the closely matted
hair indicated a recently worn helmet, meaning that he had actually been out
inspecting the troops stationed on the Dulera Plain, half a day's journey from
Challis. He raised his hand in salute when he saw her, and she ordered a chair
and cold ale to be brought for her lord's comfort immediately. As she started
to stand up, he motioned for her to remain seated and joined her on her pile of
cushions.

"This is pleasant
after the heat and dust of Dulera," he remarked, wiping one of his boots
against a cushion to leave a grey smudge.

"I've ordered a
chair and cold drink to be brought for you," she said, ignoring the
cushion and concentrating on gauging his mood. Of late, he had become testier
and more apt to petty irritations. It was the tension before the storm, she
realized, but it put her nerves on edge all the same.

They sat in silence
until two of her maids appeared with a chair, followed by another maid carrying
a metal tankard beaded with moisture. Niall waved the chair away when it was
set down but took the tankard and drank thirstily. He took his time in
finishing the ale and then ordered another to be brought to him. A damp cloth
was offered and he wiped the sheen of perspiration off his tanned face before
tossing the cloth aside.

"She's new, isn't
she?" he asked, settling himself more deeply into the cushions.

"Who? Oh,
yes," she replied when she saw his gaze directed at the scurrying maid.
"Her name is Termia," she supplied, repressing a smile. Increased
appetites were another mark of his impatience with inaction. She had instructed
all of her maids to be ready to comply with anything that her husband might
request of them, and now she made a mental note to send Termia on an errand to
him later in the evening. Keeping Niall satisfied made dealing with him much
easier.

"How are the
training exercises progressing?" she asked.

"Oh, as well as
can be expected. They've been training for six months now; they are as ready as
can be made." He ran a hand through his thick, springy hair. "Send
these women away, I want to talk to you alone," he added irritably.

She sent them off with
a quick gesture of her hand and turned to him expectantly. "You have heard
something?"

"The Duke of
Tuenth is dead." His narrowed eyes scrutinized her closely.

"Good," she
pronounced, aware that he was watching for her reaction. "The plan is
picking up momentum. With Gunnar dead, it will not be long before Blaise makes
himself duke and adds his army to yours." She spoke confidently, knowing
that Niall was ignorant of her liaison with Blaise. Careful to keep her own
indiscretions well hidden, she was especially wary of letting Niall know of her
exact relationship with Blaise.

His eyes passed over
her and fixed on a tree. By the relaxing of his jaw, she knew that she had
screened her reactions well enough to assuage any suspicions he might have been
considering. "I have also had word from Brescom. He is beginning to
position his men in the west for the assault on Morna. Now that he has taken
his first treasonous steps, it seems he is eager to embark on total
rebellion." Niall's tone was light with scorn and humour. The Earl of the
Inner Ward had embraced Mirvanovir's cause with no apparent reservations once
he had been promised the annexation of Langstraad in payment for his loyalty.

"Do you know what
is happening in Pentarin?"

"Percamber has
sent confirmation of the ducal regency to Hollin's cousin, I am told. Not that
it will do him much good.  I suspect that we will receive a summons to a
special session of the Pentacle Council in the near future, but with Gunnar's
death they may delay the meeting. If so, it will work to our advantage. I want
to wait until Blaise has control of Tuenth before beginning our major
offensive." He yawned and readjusted his position on the cushions. "I
spoke with Lord Raney about Galen while I was in camp. Raney's opinion of the
boy is none too high, but by the time his troops are due to head north, he
thinks the boy will be able to spend the day in the saddle and have a
rudimentary idea of what is going on."

Rashara shrugged her
very white shoulders. "It really doesn't matter. Raney's army will be
marching only after the main assault is completed and Galen will not be in
command. After all, the boy is only fourteen. Raney must learn to be more
patient if he is going to teach him." This idea of sending a boy in nominal
command of an army to overrun Pentarell and Gresha was Niall's. She thought it
foolish to send an untried boy to war, but Niall maintained that it would teach
the boy the strength of leadership.