Babies began arriving, and most of them were accepted and loved as they expected to be. Neither they nor their mothers could be blamed for their existence, and life was a precious thing in the bleak north. Krasnegarians rallied together to welcome and cherish the smelly little darlings.
Tea parties with Kade became a regular part of Inos’s life, and a wonderful relaxation. Kade, having organized Kinvale to her satisfaction, was available to help in other ways, also. Her shrewd common sense was worth a dozen councils.
“This,” Inos explained one sunny afternoon in her aunt’s parlor, ”is List Number One.”
Elegant in a rose cambric tea gown, Kade accepted the scroll with a well-manicured hand. “Adzes, awls, bishop . . . A bishop? Really, Inos! A bishop in a shopping list?”
“And at least two chaplains. That’s just the repair-and-restore list, to get us back to where we were. Now here’s List Number Two, stuff we need to replace the land traffic the goblins have blocked. It’s mostly salt and some foodstuffs, but we do need fresh livestock to build up the herds, and the sailors won’t like that.”
Kade pursed her lips, and then tried List Number Three.
“That’s an Inos—innovation list,” Inos said airily, waving a hand that was decidedly not manicured. “Books and teachers and things, and furniture for the palace.”
“Musical instruments? Five hundred pairs of dancing shoes?”
“Well, they’re not all necessities, I admit. And of course all three lists come after the usual trade that comes every year, like grain and medicine and spices and dyes and sponge iron—”
“What’s sponge iron? Well, never mind, dear. I don’t suppose I should be any happier for knowing. Have some of this sponge cake instead.”
Bored by lack of respectable company during the official mourning for Ekka, Kade was delighted to act as Krasnegar’s business agent. She called in the merchants and collected bids, she chartered the ships, and finally she insisted on paying for everything out of Kinvale’s ample revenues. Ekka had caused much of Krasnegar’s troubles, she said, and her estate should make recompense. Rap’s gold would not last forever. Besides, how was Krasnegar going to survive in future if the goblins stopped trading their furs?
Inos had not even thought of that problem. She inquired and learned that the goblins had not shown up the previous summer. No one seemed very worried, but she asked Foronod to work out the figures for her, and he soon discovered that Krasnegar depended on goblin trade even more than on trade with Nordland.
Queen and factor agreed to suppress that worrying information, keeping it even from the council—queen and factor were developing a reluctant respect for each other.
Spring came early, and the causeway cleared sooner than expected. The herds departed, the boats were made ready. Life went on.
Slowly Inos reestablished friendships and made new ones. Her crown set her apart, though, and she had to accept that subjects, no matter how loyal, could never be true intimates. Even at parties, she was alone. The old stories of Inisso had been revived, and it was generally assumed that she had inherited his magical powers. Odd packages of things like nails and medicines turning up from time to time around the castle did nothing to dispel such rumors. She guarded the secret of the portal to Kinvale; she thought that without that magical escape, she would have gone mad.
The ice cleared the harbor and the southern fleet arrived. The citizens were astonished by the number of ships that came that year, and how many needed items were suddenly available.
Foronod continued as factor, but he was no longer capable of the infinitely detailed supervision for which he had been renowned. Inos herself spent weeks on the mainland, looking over his shoulder, watching, studying, and eventually almost superseding him. An adept could learn to do anything.
The goblins did come, although they now inexplicably refused to cross the causeway and insisted on doing their bartering on the mainland. Queen and factor were very relieved to see the first party arrive, and the bundles of stinking skins the women carried. On impulse, Inos offered swords in trade, and the male goblins were overjoyed to accept. She had plenty of swords and no use for them.
Only after that first party had gone did it occur to her to read over her treaty with the Impire. She discovered that it forbade her to sell arms to goblins. Dear Emshandar!
The nights grew longer. The harvest was gathered into the town, and that great task was completed earlier than anyone could recall.
Every day now Inos hoped for Rap. He had promised to return before winter, and she knew he would keep his word.
He had not faded in her memory, and no other strong lad had taken his place—or, rather, the place that should have been his. She had spent long hours pondering the inexplicable change that sorcery had produced in him, the hints he had dropped, the curious glimpses she had caught once or twice of something in him maddeningly just out of reach of understanding. Now she had a theory. It was farfetched, but it matched her skimpy evidence.
She also had a plan.
Inosolan was not yet ready to admit defeat.
5
A full moon was creeping over the horizon as Rap rode down to the shore. The air was nippy and the ground hard, but there was no snow lying around yet. The God of Winter had been neglecting Their duties. The tang of weed and fish, the strident gull calls—it was all heart-rendingly familiar to him. Three wagons were waiting on the tide, anonymous black shapes below the overcast sky. With a broad border of ruddy sunset on one side and the silver stain of moonrise on the other, earth and sea were melding into gray. The waves, though, bore heraldic trim of gules-on-argent.
Few people still lingered amid the shoreline cottages, and they paid small heed to the stranger on the big black horse. One or two nodded in a friendly fashion and then went about their business. He was being immemorable, and they would barely recall seeing him, nor notice that he rode without bit or bridle.
Little remained to be transported: some hides, bones, and a few casks of salted horsemeat to feed the dogs. In bad years the people ate the horsemeat, of course, and sometimes the dogs, also, but this would be a good year. Foronod was missing, which was proof in itself that the town was stocked up for the winter. There was still plenty of peat heaped around. Krasnegar could never have enough of that. As long as the weather permitted, the wagons would continue to haul peat.
Inos had done well. Rap had checked on her progress—often at the beginning, less frequently as he saw that she was coping. She herself had usually been inside the castle, and hence shielded from him, but he had seen the happiness in the streets. Krasnegar was going to survive. He would not have come back had he not promised. He need not stay long. This would be the last time.
He noted the new winter stables with surprise, and casually made them goblin-proof as he rode by. Times were achanging, even in Krasnegar.
He trotted past the lead wagon with a nod to Jik, who returned the nod, then frowned to himself as if annoyed by a failing memory.
Evil flickered his ears at the ripples washing the shingle; occultly reassured, he ventured to splash his big hooves into the water. Fleabag sniffed suspiciously and tried a taste of this unfamiliar, restless fluid. He took more persuading than Evil, but he followed, growling briefly.
The gaps were narrow, now that the tide was near the ebb and the causeway higher than it used to be. Soon Evil was trotting over Big Island and the big dog loping ahead again. The road was curving in to shore, and Rap finally allowed himself a scan of the docks ahead. It was all heartbreakingly as he had expected—humble folk going cheerfully about their business, fishing nets hanging on their racks, many of the boats already out of the water and being made ready for their long rest. Peace and friendly dullness and security. An empty wagon was just starting its outward journey, its driver having seen a horseman crossing.
And Inos! She was riding Lightning along the dock road; coming to watch the crossing, doubtless. Not much would escape Inos, Rap thought. She would be as good a ruler as Krasnegar had ever had. But he had always known that. He blinked away a tear and laughed aloud at the thought of a sorcerer weeping. What reason could a sorcerer ever have to weep?
He saw that she was peering at the lone rider, shielding her eyes from the sunset. He lifted his occult veil for her. Her instant reaction made her mount shy, but Inos brought it under control at once and kicked it into a gallop. Evil splashed through the last traces of Big Damp, and the two horses met on the slope beyond.