The Fire Mages' Daughter (25 page)

Hethryn nodded, his face serious. I knew that he would be off to the library as soon as he was released to find out more about the treaty, and Icthari military capability.

“What I should like to know,” I said, “is whether this is the work of a small group of fanatics, or whether the desire to see us dead is a general Icthari one. Should we check the bed for snakes each night?”

“These are good questions,” Yannassia said. “We cannot answer them all yet, but I have people working on them. But I have a question for all of you. Do you think this is the right decision, to kill these people, if we can?”

“Of course,” Zandara said at once, and Axandor nodded his agreement.

I hesitated. “I don’t like it, but I do not see any alternative. They wish to see us dead. We can’t sit on our hands and wait for the next attack. We have to remove the threat.”

“It is a pity we knew nothing about this when they were here,” Hethryn said. “Then we could have thrown them in the dungeons, or got the mages to spell them, or something. That would have been better than killing them. But as it is… I do not see an alternative, either.”

Yannassia had the good grace to look contrite. “There
was
evidence of a plot, but I mistakenly ignored it,” she said. “Drina for one was suspicious of them.”

It was the nearest I would ever get to an apology from her. “The evidence was very flimsy,” I said, with a lift of one shoulder.

Yannassia laughed, and inclined her head. “Perhaps, although we must talk about that soon – your
evidence
.” Yes, she would want to know more about my ability to understand languages, now that she believed it. “In the meantime, I have ordered additional guards for all of you, and food tasters. You must not eat or drink anything unless it has been tasted first.”

We all nodded. It was Hethryn who stated the obvious. “What about slow poisons?”

Yannassia sighed. “We cannot remove all risks, it is true. But everyone who prepares food or serves it will be scrutinised, in case an ill-wisher has slipped past our defences. We have been lax about such matters before. We have been fortunate in never having enemies of this type. We will do everything we can, you may be sure.” Another sigh. “Well then. To the matter of reprisals. The four of you are agreed, but what about you, Vhar-zhin? You have said nothing. Do you think it was the right decision?”

“Oh, yes, Aunt Yannassia.”

“Why?”

“I am sure you always make the right decision, Aunt. I would never question your choices.”

“Well.” Yannassia rose fluidly to her feet, shaking out her gown, and walked across to the atrium, gazing through the glass at the trees, their leaves hanging limp in the still air.

None of us spoke. Silence filled the room. I became aware of a mouse scuttling along behind a wooden wall nearby, its mind a sliver of anxiety mingled with hunger. I was hungry myself. I’d been too wound up to eat in Zandara’s apartment, and I hadn’t eaten properly for several suns. My stomach had a sudden longing for a platter of fried pork and mushrooms, shared with Arran. Followed by bed. I was exhausted, and yet the first bell had only just sounded.

Yannassia spun round. “This has been illuminating. You are all aware, I am sure, that the Nobles’ Council has been asking me for some time to name my new heir, for we cannot go on as we are.” She cast a glance at Yordryn, but his head was still lowered. “It has taken me a long time to make a decision, but it is an important matter that requires much consideration. You have all been trained for this role, even if perhaps unwillingly.” A glance in my direction. “It has been difficult to choose between you, but I have listened carefully to all that has been said here and that has settled my mind.”

She stopped, looking around at us all. Zandara smoothed away an imaginary crease in her gown, and Axandor puffed out his chest. They were confident, and why not? They were the obvious choices – Zandara for the primary heir, and Axandor the secondary. I was too wayward, Hethryn too young and Vhar-zhin too meek.

And yet… she had decided on the basis of what we had said here and now? A frisson of alarm passed through me. Surely she would not go against the expressed will of the Nobles’ Council? Surely she could not—

“I have decided that Axandrina will be my primary heir, with Zandara the secondary.”

I stumped back to the apartment, too angry to listen to Zandara and Axandor arguing about it. I didn’t like Yannassia’s decision any more than they did, but I’d agreed to be put forward so it was pointless to complain. Besides, the Nobles’ Council would never agree to it. I had a few supporters, but Zandara was the shining girl, who could do no wrong in their eyes, and there were some who even preferred Axandor. His sword counted for more than his brain, apparently.

Arran’s long legs kept pace with my anger-fuelled stride. “Whatever is it, my love? Is it bad news?”

“The worst. I’m to be Drashonor. She’s making me her heir.”

“But that is wonderful!”

I stopped and spun round so abruptly that Cryalla almost crashed into us. “
Wonderful?
Really? You know perfectly well it’s the last thing I want. I’ve spent years –
years
– trying to avoid it. And now – here it is. Pfft!”

I tore off again, leaving him running to catch up. “Drina… sweetheart… I know how little you want this, but I cannot help but be glad of it. Not on your account, of course, but for Bennamore. Everyone who knows you understands how perfect you are for the role. You will be a magnificent Drashona, when your time comes.”

Well, he was always a smooth talker, and I’d never been able to resist his charm. So I answered him more calmly. “If it ever comes to that. The nobles will never agree to it, you know, never. I’m far too wild for their taste.”

“They are very conservative, it is true,” he said. “But the Most Powerful Lady Yannassia is a determined woman. She usually gets her way in the end.” A pause. “Perhaps we should get a larger apartment? Something more suitable for your new position. I do not think this one is at all appropriate for the Drashonor.”

We had reached the apartment. The door guards sprang to attention, while servants rushed to attend to us. Morning board was already laid out for us, but now that food was in front of me, my appetite evaporated as exhaustion caught up with me. I ate a little meat and played with some bread and honey, but I couldn’t stop yawning. I’d barely slept for several suns.

“Bed for you, my little flower,” Arran said, with a smile.

I wasn’t inclined to argue. Letting him take my hand and lead me through to the bedroom, I thought longingly of my comfortable bed. Oh, for a few hours of restful sleep, unworried by fears for my safety or the prospect of marrying a man who wished me dead.

“Let me help you undress,” Arran murmured, bending to nibble my ear while he fiddled with buttons.

“I’m very tired, my love. Sleep is what I need right now.”

“Plenty of time for sleep, but I can help you relax first.”

“Truly, I’m quite relaxed already.” My eyelids were particularly relaxed, in fact.

“Shhh. I have to take good care of you now that you are to be Drashona. Mmm, you taste of honey. There… this is nice, do you not agree?”

And because I loved him, I made no further protest, letting him do as he wished. But I was asleep almost before he had finished.

~~~~~

It was almost a moon before word came of the assassins: their mission had been successful. Hal Torghesh and Hal Ghat were both dead, and several other men, too, and the attack was blamed on a neighbouring tribe or family – Icthari groupings were strange, fluid affairs – so Bennamore was not implicated.

Yannassia had summoned us – Zandara, Axandor, Hethryn, Vhar-zhin and me – to her private withdrawing room attached to her bedroom. She was preparing for bed when word had arrived, and she wished us to know at once.

“And is that the last of it?” I asked her. “Or will this be the first of many attempts to kill the traitor’s spawn?”

She shifted uneasily at the name. “You, of all people, should not call him that. Your father was far from perfect, but he was no traitor.”

“Not to us.”

She tipped her head to one side. “That is true. He was a loyal son of Bennamore, but the Icthari may have seen him as a traitor to that side of his heritage. But they were happy enough with him when he married me. A great many of them came to the celebrations.”

“They love a feast, so it’s said.”

She laughed at that. Yannassia rarely laughed, but I liked those moments, when the stern mask of the ruler fell away and her whole face came alive. Then she looked like a perfectly normal middle-aged woman, although an expensively dressed one. She had laughed a little more than usual lately, for she had a new drusse, this one chosen more for her own pleasure than from duty. I was pleased for her. She deserved a little happiness, for she had so many worries just now with the war, and this Icthari business, which drained her energy. She so often looked tired and pale.

“As to whether this is the end of the matter – we have people trying to answer that question. My own feeling is that we should, of course, be on our guard, but I do not think this will be repeated. Now off you go, all of you. Get plenty of sleep, for we have another war council tomorrow and we will need all our powers of endurance. No, Zandara, you may tell me tomorrow. Go. Send my women in, will you?”

We filed out, and a crowd of waiting women rushed in to assist Yannassia to bed. I was very thankful for my more humble upbringing that enabled me to prepare for sleep without any assistance. Well, apart from Arran’s eager hands, that is.

~~~~~

The war council was just as bad as Yannassia had feared. Interminable reports from the army commanders on troop numbers, supplies, illness, morale (always high, apparently) and long-running problems with ticks and biting flies. Then the noon board, followed by bad-tempered discussions on strategy.

Zandara always came to the fore at this point, and her answer to every problem was the same. “We must consolidate our position and move on into the heart of the Clanlands. If we hold back, we show weakness and we must maintain a long supply line. If we take the fertile inner plains and the inland sea, the forward camp will be able to provide for itself.”

“We have not the numbers to power a further assault, and also protect the rear,” I snapped back, as I always did.

“There are underused troops on the eastern border.”

“Then we would be vulnerable to the Vahsi. We are already trusting to the goodwill of the Port Holdings by leaving the southern border almost unprotected. The north is below strength as well. But we must maintain the eastern watch. The last incursion by the Vahsi was devastating.”

“Pfft. That was long ago.”

And so it went on. I knew the commanders – indeed the High Commander herself – took my view of the matter, and so did Yannassia, who usually shut down the argument quite promptly. Now, however, she said nothing, and Zandara and I sniped at each other for the best part of an hour.

Some of the attendees were asleep by this point, and I could hardly blame them. The room was stuffy and the discussion so dull, I’d have been asleep myself given half a chance. I began to wonder if even Yannassia had succumbed to boredom and nodded off. Just when I felt I must appeal to her to intervene, she sat back abruptly in her chair.

“It is very hot in here, do you not think?”

And then she fainted.

One of the advantages of being Drashona is that you are accompanied everywhere by at least two mages. My mother happened to be one of them this sun, sitting quietly in a corner with a book, not paying much attention to the military discussions. Not paying attention to me, either, as I surreptitiously helped myself to little doses of her magic. Now she calmly waved aside the anxious faces clustered around Yannassia’s still form, and placed one hand on her forehead.

She squeaked, then grinned broadly. “Nothing to worry about, everyone. Will someone fetch her waiting women? And perhaps send for a chair. She should not walk. Yannassia? Come along, dear, wake up. Move back, all of you. Give her enough air.”

“Is it serious?” one of the commanders asked. His eyes rested speculatively on me. I understood the thought: if Yannassia were to die, there would be an almighty fight to name a successor.

“Not at all,” Mother said, with a smile. “Nothing that a few months won’t cure. But she has been doing too much for a woman in her condition. There, now… are you awake, dear? You just felt a little faint, that is all.”

Well, that was a surprise. I’d thought her well past the age to consider another baby, but seemingly not. The room filled with waiting women and servants and attendants, and as Yannassia began to come round, I followed the stream of people heading for the door. The meeting was over.

It was a welcome early release, and I thought longingly of fresh air and a stroll through the gardens. Only Cryalla waited outside for me. Arran was playing war games with his guard friends for the afternoon, not expecting me to be free until much later. He would not be back for hours. I strode through the corridors, as agitated servants whispered in huddles or rushed about with anxious expressions.

These were Yannassia’s official quarters, where the business of the realm was conducted. The outer rooms were full of various petitioners, waiting to speak to this or that official, or hoping for an audience with Yannassia herself, or a member of her court. I always tried to pass swiftly through, head down, to avoid being accosted by someone hoping to engage my support for some pet project or other. So I took no notice when I heard a man’s voice calling me.

“Drina? Drina! How are you?”

I tried to speed through the crowds, but the man jumped in front of me, blocking my way. For an instant I was irritated – such impudence! And he was a rough-looking specimen, dressed in nondescript travel garments that had seen better times. But Cryalla made no move to protect me from him, and when I looked at his face, I realised why.

“Lathran?”

He laughed merrily, and wrapped me in a hug, squashing my face against his coat. He smelt of horse and woodsmoke and oiled leather. “It’s so good to see you, Drina! I hoped to catch a glimpse of you while I’m here.”

“A glimpse?”

“Well, you’re so grand now, being Drashonor.”

“I am not so yet, and may never be.”

“Oh, I’m sure the Most Mighty will make it so. Well, this is wonderful, seeing you again!”

“But what are you doing here?” I said, smiling back at him, for his excitement was infectious. “I thought you were training with the Elite?”

“Ah, so I was – am! But… I have some leave, so I—”

Another man tapped him on the arm. “We are leaving, Lathran. The Drashona is taken ill, so we cannot be seen this sun. We will try again tomorrow. Take the rest of the afternoon off.” He threw me a quick glance, then a respectful bow before turning back to his friends.

There were several of them, all men, plainly dressed, as if they had just stepped off their horses. It was quite a contrast with the more usual petitioners, minor nobility or merchants dressed in their finest. I was curious.

“It seems we are both at liberty for a few hours,” I said mischievously. “Would you like to walk in the gardens with me?”

He beamed with pleasure.

In the end, rain kept us indoors, so I took him to my rather grand new apartment. If it had just been Arran’s wish, I would never have agreed to it, for the old one was more than adequate, but Yannassia had insisted on giving me one of the official heir’s apartments, the one she had lived in before she became Drashona. Zandara had already furnished it to her taste in anticipation, but Arran had begun drawing up lists of new items. “Just a few small improvements,” he told me. I knew what that meant. But Yannassia had given me an allowance for such changes, so I gave him permission to do whatever he wished.

Its big attraction, apart from a rather splendid private library, was that it opened onto the same atrium as Yannassia’s, although lower down, so the view was of tree trunks and vines and shrubs, instead of the leafy tops of trees. Several rooms, including our bedroom, had small balconies overlooking the greenery. There was even a garden room, with seats scattered amongst numerous plants in pots, and sliding panels to open up one wall completely.

I took Lathran there and sat him on a marble bench. Then I plied him with sweet wine and cakes, while the rain poured down beyond the open doors. Water gurgled in drains, and splashed on the tiled floor. It was rather fun.

He ate and drank as if he had starved for a moon, as all swordsmen seemed to. It must be all that muscle needing constant feeding. Between mouthfuls, he chattered happily about his new life at the Elite training camp on the river, and how wonderful it all was, and how many friends he had. He was the same old Lathran, of course, neither well-educated nor terribly bright, but there was something different about him now. An air of confidence, to add to the professional soldier’s physique. He would never be handsome – his face was too forgettable for that – but he had certainly grown up a great deal.

“But you have had adventures of your own, I hear,” he said. “Being kidnapped by the Blood Clans – what a dreadful business! My parents didn’t tell me anything about it until it was all over, but we heard, of course. Everyone heard. Was it absolutely horrible?”

“Parts of it, yes.”

“Only parts?” He laughed. “Well, the boy god is panting for you, I hear, so I suppose
some
parts were not too bad, eh?” And he winked.