The Pages of the Mind (2 page)

“What do you want out of life, Dafne?” she asked then, looking into me nearly the same way Queen Andromeda did. Andi had followed in her sorceress mother's footsteps, but at these moments, I wondered how much of Ursula's uncanny insight into people and politics came from a touch of Salena's magic.

“This.” I gestured with the scroll. “I wanted Uorsin gone, Salena avenged, and a good monarch on the High Throne—you.”

“And now that you have that?”

Not an easy answer. I'd formed this ambition the moment Ursula had been born, when Salena had handed the indignant baby to me and told me I held the future High Queen. When Salena said things like that, you knew they would come true. It had given me a kind of hope, to channel all that rage and grief over the loss of my family, the outrage of seeing Ordnung built on the bones of my family's home, to imagine their destroyer dead and good coming out of all that death. But then, perhaps hope is simply the absence of despair.

“You told me once that you still see Castle Columba when you look at Ordnung. That you returned with me from Windroven because you felt you owed me.”

“Well, that and my deep agenda to see you on the throne, which didn't seem appropriate to mention at the time.” I tried to make it a joke, but that didn't divert her either. She possessed an excellent memory and, now that Harlan had directed her attention, wouldn't let this go. “I couldn't stay at Windroven, couldn't stomach yet another siege and occupation. I didn't care to contemplate how I might have fared at Old King Erich's hands. My place is at Ordnung and I'm fi—I don't need you to do anything for me. I should go copy this. The messengers are waiting. We'll both be late for court.”

She didn't move. “They won't start without us and the messengers can wait a bit more. That has been pointed out to me, also, that a benefit of rank is letting go of some concerns.”

“You have rank, Your Majesty. I am only as good as the work I do.” I tried to pull back my too-sharp words, but Ursula grinned.

“Aha. There you are—the Dafne who doesn't fear speaking her mind. I've been giving it thought. Another thing I never questioned before. Why did Uorsin keep you, out of all your family?”

The weariness of the night shadowed me and I could hardly bear the rise of old grief at her question, on top of my sudden, strange burst of jealousy and longing for something I'd thought I'd long since resigned myself to not having. Ursula would not release me until she'd satisfied herself, however.

“Because I was the only one left.” It felt terrible to say. A final truth.

Ursula, however, waved that off. “That might be true, but it's not why he kept you. We both know my late, unlamented father was not a man or a ruler to give succor to anyone not useful to him. It would have been more in character for him to have you killed.”

She was right about that. “I think . . . Salena intervened? I stayed with her, in her tent at first. She . . . helped me.” A cool hand on my forehead, disbursing the crowding nightmares. Other things. So long ago I barely remembered. Had she called me dragon's daughter?

Ursula nodded thoughtfully. “I could see her doing that. She had a fondness for children, even beyond the high value all Tala place on the young. It's possible she saw you as an adoptive daughter. Uorsin owed her greatly for her role in helping him win the war.”

She didn't have to mention Salena's role in bringing down Columba, or that she might have been expiating her guilt by saving me. The words hung unspoken in the air.

“It's more likely, however, that she convinced him of your usefulness in some way. I wonder that he never married you off. As a ward of the Crown, you could have been used to cement alliances. You count as part of the High King's family by law.”

“But not in fact. A marriage to me would have cemented nothing, as Uorsin cared nothing for me and all knew it. In point of fact, he did attempt to arrange several marriages for me. All unsuccessful.”

She tapped her hilt, both satisfied and irritated by that. “An odd comfort that I can still predict him that well, though I don't recall those conversations.”

“It was in my later teens, around the time you were named heir, but before you were heavily involved in discussions like that. Back then I at least had a measure of nubility and potential fertility to commend me to my future in-laws, though clearly not enough for them to commit to an offer.”

“That was—a bad time for me,” she admitted, the ghost of old pain darkening her eyes. She shook it off. Hesitated. “This is somewhat more delicate, but I need to know. Did you wish to marry?”

“To the men Uorsin proposed? No.” Being young, I'd idealized the fantasy. Marrying nobility and going off to some castle, escaping my tenuous, half-alive existence at Ordnung. Until I met some of my prospective grooms—and their arrogance—and had realized that I would be still little better than a servant in those places, too. Only with a fancier title and likely more rules to follow. “And once it became clear that I would not be useful, Uorsin forgot about me and I gained the freedom to study as much as I liked.”

“And also to find someone of your own. In his forgetting, you could have married,” Ursula prodded.

“I never met anyone I liked enough to marry.” Or even spend time with. It had always been easy to decline the rare offers. To stay safe and quiet instead. “Like you, I've been busy with other things.” My morning for saying the wrong thing, no doubt due to missing sleep. “That is, until you—”

“Met Harlan? An extraordinary development, true. And, as you witnessed, not something that was easy for me to adjust to. It still isn't, to be honest.” She hesitated over something. “It wasn't all being busy for me. I hope there isn't . . .” She trailed off, uncomfortable, and I shared her embarrassment. Both of us so private and protected, in our different ways. She, as always, possessed more courage than I and forged on. “This is more Harlan's area of expertise than mine, but he seems to think I should be the one to talk to you. I have an idea of what it's like to take refuge in being busy, focusing on the goal and telling myself that I didn't need, well, human connection.” She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “Harlan would laugh at me for avoiding using the word ‘love.' But that's part of it. It takes courage to let another person in, to let them love you. More to open up enough to allow for the possibility of loving in return.”

I couldn't quite believe that Ursula—prickly, contained Ursula—was saying these things to me.

She shrugged, a wry smile for my consternation. “The look on your face. I'm trying to tell you that it's worth it, opening yourself to that experience. Even with the fear that you will lose it again. People die. They leave. Sometimes fail to love you enough.”

Sorrow and—yes—fear lodged in my throat. “No one could love a person more than Harlan loves you.”

She nodded slowly, then tapped her temple. “I know that here.” She put her fist over her heart, an echo of the Hawks' salute. “But I don't always feel it here. I think that it's as if the emotional wounds leave scar tissue that keeps us from being able to feel like normal people do.”

“But you love Harlan. You feel that. I can see it in you.”

“No, I don't always feel it. Not like the poets describe. I know that I love him mainly because I know I wouldn't want to live if he didn't. I'd far rather die than attempt to survive him.” She smiled wryly and rolled up her eyes at some memory. “Unfortunately, he feels the same way, so we'll either be racing each other for the privilege of dying first or we'll have to find a way to go together.”

It helped to laugh at that, to break some of the discomfort of her confessions.

“The point is, Dafne—I don't want to hold you back from seeking your own happiness.”

“You're not. I have the ear of the High Queen of the Twelve—I mean, Thirteen—Kingdoms. What could make me happier than that?”

“And her friendship,” Ursula said in a serious tone. “I want you to remember that, especially as I'm not always good at showing it. You've been assiduous in pointing out the precedents we've established in declaring Annfwn an independent ally, justified by Andi's marriage, and that prospective suitors will likely look to widowed Ami to gain the same status. Has it occurred to you that you are also eligible to cement a similar alliance?”

It hadn't. I gaped at her, fumbling for words.

“That's right. And this time it would be different because the person who will be wearing the crown cares for you deeply. It won't take the rest of the world very long to figure that out.”

“Are you offering me an arranged marriage?”

“There have been leading questions. No outright offers, but I need to know if that's something you even want to consider.”

I stared at her, completely dumbfounded.

She shrugged and grinned. “Take some time to absorb the possibility. I'm telling you that you have options. More than most. You can pick the life you want. If I can provide something for you, I will.”

“A Dasnarian prince of my very own?” I teased her, wanting her off the topic of being concerned for me, for both our sakes, regretting the words as soon as they escaped my mouth.

The fact that Harlan, who'd always presented himself as a humble merc and captain of his own fighting force, the Vervaldr, turned out to be the youngest of seven brothers in the Dasnarian ruling family had caused more than a little trouble. We'd counted ourselves lucky that Dasnaria was far away and had never bothered with our part of the world. With the exception of the Vervaldr and the late Illyria, a priestess of Deyrr who'd seduced Uorsin, our last contact with the Dasnarian Empire went back centuries. Hopefully it would stay that way, as we did not need any other challenges at the moment. Though Andi's foresight warned otherwise.

“Harlan does have six brothers.” Ursula smiled and relented, turning at last in the direction of her rooms, finally ready to release me from the uncomfortable inquisition. “Surely one or two remain available. Perhaps the Dasnarians will contact me with leading questions.”

As if summoned by her words, Jepp, leader of the Hawks' scouts, came skidding up, out of breath. She looked much better than she had for a while there, the waxy-pale quality gone from her brown skin and her usual vitality restored. Uorsin had nearly gutted her in that final battle, and though she'd benefited from magical healing, it had taken her a while to completely recover from coming so near death. Not much taller than I, she probably outweighed me substantially, all in muscle. With large, dark eyes in a high-cheekboned face and her deep-brown hair in a short pixie cut, she looked like a fairy-tale creature. One that could slice you open before you saw her move.

Normally she had an easy smile and faster jest. Instead her expression communicated urgency, even alarm. A chill of prophecy crawled over my scalp. Ursula went on instant alert, hand going to her sword. “What?”

“Your Majesty—some of my scouts have returned with news.”

“Tell me.”

“You should hear for yourself. They're waiting in your rooms. I think Captain Harlan should hear this as well, but that's your call. Maybe you won't want him to know.”

Harlan. Dasnarians. It was happening.

Ursula was already striding in that direction. “Don't play coy, Jepp. Spill, and then I can hear it again in detail.”

I had to break into a jog to keep up with their long-legged pace.

Jepp huffed her unhappiness at the news she bore. “Suffice to say that, unless there are Vervaldr in Elcinea, there's a Dasnarian army headed this way.”

2

T
hough I'd nagged and cozened Ursula into taking over some of the late king's meeting rooms and council chambers, she still preferred to use her private rooms to confer with her Hawks. For once I was glad of it. My thoughts piled on top of each other in distressing disorder. So much to deal with, at least in my aegis. Those who'd opposed Ursula taking the High Throne would be the first to attempt to use this against her. This kind of news, so early in her new and tenuous reign, had to be kept quiet as long as possible.

Which would likely not be long at all.

The two Hawks scouts, whose names I didn't know, which meant they were long-range scouts who hadn't ridden with us on my travels with Ursula, came to their feet as she entered. Dusty and road worn, they clasped their fists over their hearts. Harlan stood nearby, hair damp from bathing, wearing clothes he'd changed into for court. Not his Vervaldr regalia, nor the uniform of Ordnung's guard. None of us had been able to decide how he should be presented, except that he shouldn't be either of those things, yet he couldn't be her official consort either. Ursula continued to be irascible and her most stubborn on the topic, and the whispers had yet to rise to the level of a real problem, so I'd let the issue rest.

In the absence of clear direction, he'd taken to wearing a variation on what he'd worn in Annfwn, leather vest over a sleeveless white shirt, black pants, and boots. With his broadsword strapped to his side, he looked both barbaric and obscurely comforting, someone you could count on for protection. He returned Ursula's inquiring glance with a bare shake of his head. No, the Hawks wouldn't have spoken to him without Ursula's express permission.

“High Queen.” The male Hawk bowed deeply and cocked an eyebrow on the side of his face away from Harlan. “We have news.”

“If it involves Dasnarians, then Captain Harlan in particular should hear this,” she asserted without equivocation.

Puzzlement creased Harlan's brow, a rare expression of surprise. “Dasnarians?”

The female Hawk gave Harlan a cagey glance, then spoke to Ursula. “Captain”—she fell into the familiar title they'd used with Ursula for so long—“we witnessed a caravan of very large, fair-haired men making their way north on the main road out of the Port of Ehas. They are not wearing Vervaldr colors, but perhaps . . .”

She let the question dangle. Harlan's surprise had gone to shock. Another man would have sat at that moment, but not one of his training and temperament. Still he shook his head slowly from side to side, as if dazed. “No. All of the Vervaldr are accounted for. They're either in the Ordnung environs or cleanly witnessed as deceased.” He didn't need to specify that he meant either form of death—real or Illyria's monstrous living death. His pale eyes sought Ursula's and held them. “They are not mine.”

“Then whose?” she shot back.

He pressed his mouth in a grim line. “Approximate number?”

“One hundred, even, Captain Harlan.”

“Colors? Could you make out insignia?”

“A deep burgundy, like the wines of Nemeth. They have a banner that seemed to have some sort of fanged fish on it.”

Now Harlan did sit—or at least, folded his arms and leaned back against Ursula's desk—bafflement clear on his face. Then he laughed, completely without humor. “
Hlyti
is playing a fine game with me.”

“Who is it?” Ursula asked with more gentleness than I would have credited her with.

He raised his eyebrows, jaw tight. “It appears that my brother Kral is impossibly here, and with his elite battalion.”

She cursed. “It's a thriced coincidence that I'd barely heard of Dasnaria before and now we've been three times accosted by them.”

“Am I the first of those?” he asked with strained patience.

“I didn't mean that how it sounded. I apologize.”

“Accepted.” He gave her a wry, affectionate smile, touching his fingers to his forehead, almost absently, as he thought. “Your point is well-taken that this can be no coincidence. That's not a fanged fish on the banner, but a
hakraling
. Large sea creatures that can kill a grown man in seconds, for which Kral is named.”

“A ‘shark' in Common Tongue, I think,” I said. Since Harlan had been willing to converse with me in his language, I'd gotten somewhat better at hearing the similar roots between that and the trade language of the Thirteen.

He nodded. “Sounds like the same derivation. Last I knew, Kral was general of the Dasnarian military, under my eldest brother, Hestar, the emperor. He typically uses them as an advance force. It's entirely possible the entire Dasnarian navy stands off the shores of Elcinea, waiting for the signal to send troops ashore.”

“You think he's here for conquest, then?” Ursula asked.

“I can think of no other explanation. My brothers do not mount expeditions to distant lands for other reasons.”

Between the two of them, Harlan and Ursula pumped the scouts for what little more detail they could dig out of them, while I carefully recorded it all for future reference. The two Hawks had returned to Ordnung at top speed to give the maximum amount of warning and had not lingered to observe much more than they'd already reported. If not for Ursula's edict that they all travel at least in pairs in this era of uncertainty, one would have stayed behind to spy. As it was, they couldn't be sure how quickly the company had progressed.

Before long, Ursula dismissed them all, asking Jepp to debrief the scouts again with Marskal, lieutenant of the Hawks, after they'd rested. Jepp wanted to stay for the strategy session, but Ursula asked her to assemble all her in-house scouts and make a strategy to disburse them to watch for General Kral. She would send for Jepp and Marskal later.

Creatures of action, they all hummed with the desire to race out and fight off their enemy—and crackled with frustration at not being able to act just yet. Particularly Ursula. Possibly Harlan, too, though he didn't show it as she did with her restless pacing as she listened. A change for them both, to have the responsibility of planning and sending others to fight, instead of leading their forces personally.

At least, I hoped Ursula realized that. For now she focused on strategy, but if she thought she'd go into the field herself, she'd have a fight on her hands. My style.

Meanwhile, I took steps to see that announcements were made canceling court. I sent a page to hand off the job of copying the missives that seemed so imperative an hour ago, so the messengers could go with all haste. Several more pages went to Uorsin's study, which I'd taken over, since Ursula had refused to and most of the important legal documents were shelved there, to gather my texts on Dasnaria. At some point I'd start thinking of it as my study, but not yet.

We all have our responses to crisis, our own weapons to gather.

“If unopposed, they will be here in five days, possibly four. Presuming they continue to head directly for Ordnung.” Harlan traced a thick finger over the map we'd spread over the table.

“A company that big?” Ursula argued. “I don't see that. They won't cut through Aerron, unless they're fools, in which case the desert will take care of them for us.”

“They are not fools.”

“Then they'll go through the hills at the border between Elcinea and Nemeth, which is not a fast crossing. After that they still have all of Duranor, where I can promise they won't go unopposed. At least they're unlikely to encounter Ami and the babies on their journey to Castle Avonlidgh. Whoever guessed I'd be grateful for Aerron's drought?”

“Six days, then, at the outside,” Harlan conceded, though he didn't sound fully convinced. “And Kral is no fool. He has other flaws, but lack of strategy isn't one of them. Nor is underestimating his enemy.”

“Duranor still has substantial armies between here and there, and also in Avonlidgh.” Ursula grimaced for that reality. Though Prince Stefan had decamped with his forces before the coronation, having lost his bid to convince enough of the kingdoms that a young woman who murdered her father in cold blood should not ascend to the High Throne, they had not been gone long and an army that size moved slowly, even without Stefan's foot-dragging. “But they have some back home, too. It's entirely possible they'll take out Kral and his guard of one hundred before they reach the border of Mohraya.”

Harlan sat heavily, staring hard at the map.

“I apologize,” Ursula said. “I did not mean to wish an ill fate on your brother.” A difficult position for them both. This, I realized, was the primary reason she'd wanted to have this conversation first, without any others present.

Harlan gave her an unamused smile. “It's not that, though I appreciate the sentiment. No matter the state of affairs between us, I do not relish facing my own brother in battle. Though there's no question I would, should it come to that. No—every one of those one hundred soldiers could fight off ten men. In a strategic position, they could defeat a force one hundred times their size.”

I wrote the numbers out, careful to be exact with the zeros. The state of our military wasn't one of my strengths, but the recent conflicts had severely depleted Ordnung's guard. If we were to assemble an army of more than ten thousand, we'd need to draw on the forces of the subject kingdoms. Not a popular move, given recent events. Particularly as we'd regret stirring the pot with Duranor until those ruffled feathers had settled.

“But they're not in a strategic position. They're traveling in the open, in a land completely foreign to them, where they are unlikely to know the language. They could be cut off and surrounded on all sides. I can't get sufficient forces in place in time to stop them, but they can't know that. I would hope, anyway. As it is, they have no fortifications, no supply wagons. They'll have to buy or kill for food. It seems risky, even foolhardy.” Ursula paced to the map, bending over to stare at it, as if by looking long enough, she could see General Kral for herself. “If he's bent on conquest and you believe he has more forces on ships offshore, why not bring everyone on land? He could have taken over Ehas, had the benefit of the city's food and shelter, probably secured all of Elcinea before we even knew they were there.”

“I don't know.” Harlan sounded grimly perplexed, seething with something darker than the need to fight. “I wouldn't have predicted any of this from him. Unless things have changed dramatically since I left Dasnaria, he wouldn't be here without permission from Emperor Hestar, who's never had any interest in these lands before. It's possible Kral came only with his battalion, though that would be a first for him. And why land all the way around at Ehas? Any one of a number of ports in Avonlidgh and Aerron would have been closer. Did they leave a ship at harbor in Ehas?”

“That would be good to know. It would also be useful to know their speed, but we can't get eyes on any of this or messages back and forth any faster than you think they're moving.” Ursula gave the map a black, frustrated glare.

“I have an idea,” I put in.

“What?” she asked without looking up.

“Zynda can take a winged form, right? Send her to look. You trust her.”

“I should have thought of that.” She nodded at me. “Send for her.”

I handed a hastily written note to a page outside the doors to take to Zynda. Ursula's Tala cousin, Zynda had returned with us from Annfwn, expressing a desire to see the world beyond the fallen barrier. A shape-shifter who also possessed some undefined magical skills, Zynda reminded me a great deal of Andi—and also of Salena, their common ancestor.

“Where did you bring the Vervaldr ashore?” Ursula was asking Harlan as I returned.

Harlan reached over and tapped a point on the Avonlidgh coast, a port town so small it wasn't noted on the map. “Here. At Ryalin.”

“Of course. That's where Uorsin told you to land,” she mused. Uorsin's secret importation of the mercenary Vervaldr still rankled her. “You came up the back roads and stayed away from the main trade routes near Windroven, Lianore, and the Danu River, so few would see you pass.”

“And we traveled at night, also by instruction,” Harlan said.

“Your brother wouldn't have known the best place to land, without someone here telling him.”

“No, very little was known of the Twelve and Annfwn in Dasnaria. The Vervaldr had completed a campaign elsewhere when Uorsin sent his offer. We sailed here directly.”

“So why Ehas?”

I tapped one of the Dasnarian tomes. “They didn't know, so they had their scholars research what they could find. Remember when I told you the tale of fair-haired giants landing in here long ago and the sorcerers of Deyrr who likely accompanied them?”