The Bloodforged (3 page)

“The spring thaw will help you out there,” Alix said. She remembered how dangerous the Black River became in spring, swollen with snowmelt.

“For a while,” Rig said. “The water levels have already risen enough to close off a few crossing points, but it won't last. By midyear, two fords will become five, and I don't have the men to plug that many holes.” Though his voice remained level, Alix knew her brother well enough to detect the hint of desperation
creeping in. “I don't know any other way to say this, Your Majesty: If we don't find a way to strengthen our ranks, we won't last the summer. We need solutions.”

“Yes,” Erik sighed, “we do. And that is why we are here.” He turned to his first counsel. “Lord Highmount, if you will.”

Highmount inclined his head ponderously. “Certainly, Your Majesty. First, a bit of good news. My spies have assured me that the enemy continues recruiting the old-fashioned way. That is to say, the Trionate has not resumed making thralls.”

Rig sat forward a little in his seat. “You're absolutely sure? How do we know they aren't busily bewitching peasants behind enemy lines?”

“My spies have assured me,” Highmount repeated coolly.

“We've problems enough without an army of mindless drones throwing themselves against our walls. We'd never survive another attack like that.”

“True,” said Highmount, “but fortunately, it would appear that the Priest kept his secrets close. The Trionate's bloodbinders continue to forge bloodweapons at an alarming rate, but there is no sign they have learned how to warp their art into controlling men. Madan seems to have taken that knowledge to his grave. However, though the Priest's secrets are not yet known, Nevyn tells me that a number of his fellow bloodbinders in Harram and Onnan are busily trying to discover it. It is only a matter of time before someone succeeds. It might be days or it might be years, but it will happen eventually.”

“And what about Nevyn himself?” asked Norvin Gold. “I presume he is also trying to work it out?”

Erik shifted in his chair. Alix knew he was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of Alden wielding such a dark power, no matter how desperate the cause.
Controlling another man's mind is an abomination
, he'd told her once.
I want no part of it, ever.
Erik had lost much of his principled idealism over the course of the war, but there were still some lines he was not prepared to cross, and enslaving men's wills through dark magic was foremost on the list.

Not everyone shared his scruples, however. “If he managed it,” Lady Stonegate mused, “it could turn the tide of the war, especially if we were alone in mastering the technique.”

Raibert Green frowned. “You would win this war by bewitching thousands of innocents?”

“If that is what it takes to bring an end to it . . .”

Green started to object, but Highmount raised a hand. “Let us not descend into debate, my lords. The point is moot; Nevyn does not know the secret.” Alix noticed that he hadn't answered Lord Gold's question. Not for the first time, she wondered if Highmount might be pursuing the matter without Erik's knowledge.

“Good to hear we won't be facing thralls anytime soon,” Rig said, “but that doesn't change the fact that we're outnumbered two to one. We need our allies to move.”

“Indeed,” Highmount said. “On that front, I fear the news is less positive. Ambassador Corse has informed us that in spite of previous promises, the Onnani fleet will not be ready for launch by spring. Instead, they are predicting midsummer at the earliest.”

A ripple of despair went round the table.

“How can that be?” cried Osmond Swiftcurrent. His outrage was understandable; his family had done more to finance the expansion of the Onnani fleet than any house save the Whites themselves. “It's been nearly six months! How long does it take to build a bloody ship?”

Highmount gave him a reproving look. “There is no cause for coarse language, Lord Swiftcurrent.”

“I disagree,” Rig growled. “There's plenty of cause. If that fleet doesn't start pressing the enemy soon, we're finished. I can't hold them at the border unless a new front opens up, and they've conquered everything to the south. With Harram still dithering away, that fleet is everything.”

“Onnani bloodbinders are working day and night to help supply bloodweapons,” Highmount said, “and they have promised to send a battalion to join you at the front.”

“A whole battalion? Lucky me.”

Highmount opened his mouth to reply, but Lady Stonegate beat him to it. “Have the Onnani given any explanation for the delay?”

“They have offered an explanation,” Erik said, “but I think it's fair to say that Lord Highmount and I did not find it especially satisfying.”

That was an understatement. Alix had been present for that meeting, and the Onnani ambassador had been slippery as a fish. Something was up in Onnan City—that was clear. Something the ambassador wasn't keen to admit.

“Ambassador Corse suggested that their early efforts were not satisfactory,” Highmount said, “and they were obliged to start from scratch.”

Liam gave an incredulous little laugh. “What, like they've never built a ship before? They don't call them
fishmen
for nothing.”

“They do not call themselves
fishmen
at all, Your Highness,” Highmount said, “a fact you must remember at all costs.” An odd remark, Alix thought; she and Liam exchanged a bemused glance.

“From scratch indeed,” Swiftcurrent said disgustedly. “Well, what does Woodvale have to say about it?”

“Rather too much, unfortunately,” Highmount said. “Lord Woodvale has quit Onnan City following a somewhat . . .
effervescent
appearance before the Republicana.”

“They've expelled our ambassador?” Norvin Gold's moustaches quivered in outrage. “How dare they?”

Erik sighed. “Not quite expelled, but they made it clear that he would no longer be an effective envoy. I was obliged to recall him. He should be back in Erroman within the week.”

“But who will replace him?” Green asked. “We cannot leave his position vacant at a time like this. We need someone looking into the situation with the fleet.”

“Quite so, my lord,” said Highmount. “That is among the issues we must resolve today.”

“In due course,” Erik said. “But first, the rest of the news, thankfully of a more positive nature. The Harrami have indicated that they are willing to discuss entering the war.”

“Willing to discuss it?” Rig smiled thinly. “They really shouldn't overcommit themselves.”

“It's been a frustrating dialogue, I admit, but Lord Highmount and I agree that King Omaïd is showing more openness to the possibility than ever before. After months of exchanging letters, he has agreed to receive a diplomatic mission to confer over the matter.”

“That is a good sign,” said Green. “A more committed
isolationist has never been. I cannot recall a single diplomatic mission to Ost since Omaïd assumed the throne. He would never invite a delegation if he were not prepared to seriously consider what it had to say.”

“Agreed,” said Highmount. “It is the opening we have been waiting for, and we absolutely must capitalise on it.”

“Easier said than done,” Green said. “How will we get there, with things as they are? The usual route is in enemy hands.”

“It will not be easy,” Erik admitted, “but we cannot afford to let this chance pass us by. If the Harrami do declare war, it could change everything.”

Norvin Gold hummed a sceptical note. “No one can doubt that the Harrami are skilled fighters, Your Majesty. I have seen their horse archers with my own eyes, and their fearsome reputation is well deserved. But they have known only a single war in their entire history. Their failure to subdue their own mountain tribes stands testament to their ineffectiveness as a coherent fighting force. What makes you think their role would be so decisive?”

Rig answered for him. “They don't have to be particularly effective. It's enough for them to open another front, put just enough pressure on it that the Oridians have no choice but to deploy. It will stretch their forces even more thinly.”

“If we can get the Harrami to declare,” Erik said, “it could dramatically change the complexion of the war.”

“So how do we do that?” Liam asked.

Erik cleared his throat.

Here it comes
, Alix thought.

You're not going to like it
, Erik had said. And from the way he was looking at his brother, it was obvious Liam wasn't going to like it, either.

“I want us all to be absolutely clear about what is at stake here,” Erik said. “It may be nothing less than our survival as a nation. Which means that this mission to Ost, however difficult, may be the most important diplomatic undertaking in our history.”

A moment more was all it took for Alix to realise where he was going with this. Her eyes rounded in horror, and she seized the back of Erik's chair in a white-knuckled grip.
Oh, please, Erik, no. Stay your tongue. Let me talk to you first . . .
But she knew him better than that. He'd made up his mind to table this, and so he would. What followed would be in the hands of the gods, but Alix knew one thing for certain: Her job was about to get much, much harder.

E
rik glanced briefly over his shoulder, but otherwise ignored his bodyguard's silent outburst. “I propose to lead the delegation to Ost myself,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

They all stared.

“You can't be serious,” Liam said.

“I am perfectly serious. Despite the obvious risks—”

“Obvious risks?” Rig echoed incredulously. “It's
suicide
, Erik!”

Highmount
tsk
ed. “Let us not be dramatic, Lord Black.”

The look that came over Rig did credit to the family name. Not for the first time, Alix feared her brother might leap across the table and throttle the first counsel.

“I'm afraid I quite agree with the commander general,” said Norvin Gold. “Unless my geography fails me, I don't see how you mean to reach Harram without crossing enemy lines, of one sort or another. The southern road takes you straight into the arms of the Warlord, and the west into the mountain tribes. Quite frankly, I'm not sure which is worse.”

“I am,” Rig said. “I've fought off more than a few tribal raiders in my time. They're hard enough to defeat when you catch them out in the open, and you want to try your luck on their home territory?” He shook his head. “Suicide.”

“Crossing the mountains in spring is dangerous at the best
of times,” Lord Swiftcurrent added. “It's avalanche season, not to mention those unpredictable springtime blizzards . . .”

Erik listened to it all patiently, hands folded on the table in front of him, gaze shifting levelly between speakers. He'd been prepared for these objections, Alix knew. He'd been through them all with Highmount, probably more than once; he was just waiting for the council to reach the same inescapable conclusions he had.

“Is there any chance we could cross the mountains without the tribes knowing?” Rona Brown asked.

“You might get that lucky once,” Rig said. “Not twice. Even if you somehow managed to make it to Ost, you'd never make it back.”

“What if Omaïd were to send an escort?” Swiftcurrent asked, demonstrating a poor grasp of regional politics.

“That would draw the mountain men like moths to a flame,” Green said. “The tribes take any opportunity to strike at Harrami soldiers. The only hope is to pass unnoticed.”

“Which is exactly what I propose to do,” Erik said. “It will require a small force composed mainly of scouts, relying on stealth. Fortunately, the stealthiest scout in the land happens to be my personal bodyguard.” He didn't turn around, but Alix felt her skin warming all the same. “What's more,” Erik said, “she also happens to hail from the Blacklands, and knows the terrain.”

“The foothills aren't the mountains, Your Majesty,” Alix said, “and I've never dared set foot across the border, for obvious reasons.”

“Isn't this what ambassadors are for?” Lady Stonegate asked, adding wryly, “Or have the Harrami ejected our envoy as well?”

“Lord Sommersdale has devoted an entire year's worth of diplomacy to this sole matter,” Highmount said. “Visibly, he is not succeeding.”

“Perhaps he should be replaced.”

“A brand-new ambassador, a stranger to Omaïd's court, to negotiate the most important agreement in the history of our two nations?” Highmount raised his eyebrows.

Her Ladyship sighed. “I suppose you're right.”

“Aside from which,” Erik said, “the invitation has been
made, and it comes from Omaïd himself. Were we to refuse it now . . .”

“So we have no choice,” Rig said. “Wonderful.”

“There is always a choice,” Erik said. “But inaction has consequences, and these must be weighed against the risks.”

“This is not a quandary, my lords,” Highmount said, “it is an opportunity. As you said only moments ago, Lord Black, we are in dire need of military support. This is our chance to get it.”

“But why does it have to be His Majesty?” Alix felt her grip tighten on the back of Erik's chair. “Surely someone else . . . Lord Green, perhaps . . .”

Highmount was shaking his head before she even finished. “The Harrami are very proud, Your Highness. Anything less than royalty at the head of the delegation would be a slight.”

“Then let me do it,” Liam said. “I'm a member of the royal family, and I'm a lot more expendable than the king. The Wolves are hungry for action anyway.”

“Before you volunteer yourself, brother,” Erik said, “hear me out. We have another task in mind for you.”

Liam's eyes narrowed. “Why do I think I'm not going to like this?”

“I would indeed have you as my envoy, but not to Ost. I would see you travel to Onnan City to oversee the construction of the fleet.”

Liam's mouth dropped open. “But that makes no sense! I don't know the first thing about ships. I've never even seen the sea!”

“I need eyes and ears in Ost,” Erik said, “and fortunately, we have an opening. After the ugly incident with Woodvale, the Republicana felt obliged to extend an invitation to me personally, to show there was no ill will.”

“Perfect. You go to Onnan, I'll go to Harram.”

“I'm afraid that is impossible, Your Highness,” said Highmount. “As I mentioned, the Harrami are”—he cleared his throat—“very proud.”

“Oh, I see.” Colour crept up the back of Liam's neck. “A half-breed isn't good enough for them, is that it? But it's good enough for the Onnani?”

Silence dropped over the hall. Alix squeezed her husband's shoulder. All around them, lords and ladies acquired an abrupt interest in the grain of the oak table.

“Well, that's just great,” Liam growled.

“
Someone
had better find out what's going on over there,” Rig said. “I can't emphasise it enough:
I need that fleet.
”

“You have made that clear,” Erik said. “As to whom, in spite of certain ill-considered intimations to the contrary”—he fired an icy look at his first counsel—“the Onnani are also very proud. As they see it, we are their former imperial masters. We must tread carefully, especially following the incident with Woodvale.”

“His Majesty is right,” Green said. “The Onnani have been staunch allies. If we send a royal delegation to Ost, but not to Onnan City, the Republicana will certainly take offence.”

“So you see,” Erik said, “both of our allies demand royal blood, and I cannot be in two places at once.”

Rig snorted. “Tell me again we aren't in a quandary, Highmount.”

Erik ignored that. He spread his hands, offering the floor. “You have heard my proposals, my lords. If there are others, now is the time to air them.”

Alix's mind whirred, searching for something,
anything
, that might pass for an alternative. She came up empty-handed. Worse, she could tell from the grim expressions around the table that she wasn't alone. “It's too dangerous, Your Majesty,” she said feebly.

“I will not deny the risks,” Erik said. “That is why I convened this council. If the stakes were any less, I would have taken the decision myself. Believe me, I would like nothing better than to find another way.”

Raibert Green sighed. “For my part, I cannot offer one, sire, though it pains me to admit.”

“Nor I,” said Norvin Gold, “though if you ask me, our allies are behaving like spoiled children.”

“Spoiled children with a toy we badly need,” Rig said. “
Bloody
fishmen . . .”

Highmount
tsk
ed again. “If Lord Black is quite through indulging himself, are there any other suggestions from the council?” He raised his eyebrows, met only silence. “So we are decided, then?”

“So it would seem,” Gold said, “may the gods help us.”

“Excellent. Then let us discuss the details. First, Onnan.”

“I'm not a diplomat,” Liam said sullenly.

“That is well understood, Your Highness,” said Highmount, “which is why I recommend that you take Lady Brown with you.”

One could say so much with silence. In the ensuing pause, Highmount transmitted three things: One, Liam was going to Onnan whether he liked it or not; two, Highmount didn't trust him not to cock it up without help; and three, Rona Brown had been bred at court and would hopefully keep the bastard prince from stepping into what Liam typically referred to as
a steaming pile of politics
.

Gods, Alix wanted to wring his neck.

“What is more,” the first counsel continued, “it will be necessary for you to appoint someone of Onnani stock as your second.”

Rig snorted, offering a soldier's opinion of political appointments in the military.

“I
have
a second,” Liam said through gritted teeth. “Ide earned her place. What am I supposed to do, demote her?”

“The symbolism is important.” Erik, at least, had the grace to look uncomfortable. “It will ease your way, I promise you.”

“And just where am I supposed to find an Onnani knight?”

“I have one,” Rig said. “A damned good one too. Former Brownsword. I'm loath to part with him, but he's yours if you want him. But for the record, this is
bollocks
.”

“The record so notes,” Erik said dryly.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” said a smooth voice. Sirin Grey hadn't spoken until now; Alix had almost forgotten she was there. Erik's former intended sat perfectly poised, pale face composed, keen eyes unreadable. “Since we have decided that both you and His Highness will go abroad, might I enquire who will govern the kingdom in your absence?”

A question so fundamental that Alix couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to the rest of them until now.

“His Majesty intends to appoint me chancellor,” Highmount said, “to rule in his absence.”

Rig burst out laughing, bleak and humourless, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as though to ward off a terrible headache. The other lords and ladies exchanged glances.

“That is not
quite
how I put it,” Erik said with a wry look at his first counsel. “I ask that this council serve as advisors to
Chancellor Highmount throughout my absence. Decisions of importance will be taken by two thirds majority, not by fiat. The chancellor will not be ruling so much as presiding, much in the way First Speaker Kar presides over the Onnani Republicana.”

“Democracy?” said Lord Gold, looking very much like a man who has just discovered a rat in his soup.

Erik smiled faintly. “I wouldn't go that far. I have always relied on the wisdom of this council. Chancellor Highmount will do the same.”

Alix pursed her lips to forestall an outburst she would regret. It was so very like Erik to portray all this as a minor affair, a trivial, cosmetic thing.
Oh, I'm just abdicating for a while. Don't fuss about it.

“I will have the details drawn up,” Erik continued, “and delivered to your chambers. Take the evening to read them, carefully. We will reconvene tomorrow, at which point you may address any questions or concerns to Highmount and myself. And now, my lords, all that remains is for me to thank you for your voices in this matter. I trust we are all comfortable with the decisions we have reached here today.”

Comfortable
was surely a stretch; the council members looked more dazed than anything, as if they couldn't quite believe what they'd just agreed to.

Erik rose, indicating the session was over. Chairs scraped across a taut silence. The council members bowed and took their leave. All except Rig and Liam, both of whom hovered over their seats, glaring at their king.

“Godwin,” Alix called, “please seal the doors.”

The four of them stood staring at each other as the guards shuffled out, the rustle of armour echoing off the walls. They waited until the doors sounded with a muted
boom
. Then they all started talking at once.

“Erik, you can't—”

“It would have been nice if you'd—”

“Have you lost your—”

“Stop.”
Erik raised his hands. When he was certain he commanded silence, he said, “I know you're angry, but you all know me too well to imagine that I tabled this lightly.”

“You should have warned us,” Rig said. “The Broken Mountains, Erik? You can call it a
diplomatic mission
all you
like, but you're not fooling anyone. This is nothing less than a stealth incursion into hostile territory.”

“Yes,” Erik said, “it is.”

“Oh good, well I'm glad we cleared that up.” Rig took two ringing strides toward the door before whirling back around. “What are you going to do when you run into some glory-hungry tribesmen looking for easy prey? Not to mention the half a hundred other dangers of a mountain pass in springtime?”

Erik scowled. “Is this Riggard Black lecturing someone on taking calculated risks? You of all people?”

Rig blew out an oath, ran a hand roughly over his beard. “No. The fact is, I don't see any way around it, either. I just wish it didn't have to be you. Or my sister.”

“But it does, and we both know it.”

Alix steadied herself against the heavy oak table and drew a deep, calming breath. Erik and her brother were right; there was no alternative, at least none any of them could see. Still . . . “It could hardly be a worse time for you to leave the capital,” she pointed out. “The White Ravens might be broken, but that doesn't mean we're out of danger. The nobility is divided.” That was putting it politely. The families that had thrown their lot in with Tom and Roswald Grey had been punished, some of them harshly. Scions in prison, lands confiscated, fines levied . . . Some of them, surely, would be only too happy for a chance at revenge. “What if your enemies use the opportunity of your absence to try to wrest control?”

“Why do you think I've delegated so much power to the council? Now each of those lords and ladies has a personal stake in maintaining the current order. If one begins to gain supremacy, he does so at the expense of the rest. They will keep each other in check.”