Dave Duncan – The Living God – A Handful of Men. Book 4

A sorcerer? In Krasnegar? As Inos spoke the counsellors’ names, the youth turned a grave blind face on each in turn and they shrank back in their chairs, almost gibbering. Obviously Jaurg was enjoying himself, and she could not honestly deny that she was, too.

“Now, Master Jaurg, we seem to have need for certain supplies. Salt, for example.”

“Quite easy, ma’am. Just tell me where you want it put.”

“And medicines?”

Jaurg opened his mouth and then paused. He turned a disapproving frown on Captain Efflio, whose labored breathing now sounded like a bag of newborn kittens on their way to the harbor. Sailors were notoriously superstitious.

“Is that noise necessary, Captain?”

Unable to speak, Efflio just shook his head.

“The captain is afflicted with asthma, Sorcerer,” Inos said.

“Oh?” The jotunn’s silver brows drooped lower. “Do you mind if I cure him, then?”

Sudden silence.

“Now, ma’am,” the sorcerer said. “Medicines, you said. What do you need medicines for?”

4

The Queen’s parlor at Krasnegar was a shabby, homely room. It had a lived-in air composed of peat scent mingled with hints of candles and polish and leather and dogs. The pictures and paneling had faded, the rug was worn almost threadbare in front of the sagging, overstuffed chairs. Accumulated clutter of generations lurked in corners, on bookshelves, all over the mantel shelf of an enormous stone fireplace—ornaments, well-thumbed volumes, stuffed birds, golden candlesticks, silver inkwells, carved crystal decanters.

Eshiala had never seen any chamber quite like it. Her parents would have dismissed it as hopelessly dowdy and oldfashioned, and it would certainly be spurned by servants within the palace in Hub. Yet somehow it fitted her mood like a favorite old slipper.

She felt more relaxed than she could remember being in months. Twelve months, probably—ever since Shandie had returned from Qoble and resumed their marriage. She had eaten a large meal. Maya had been whisked away by servants and Princess Eva. The usurper was dead, most horribly dead. Ylo was dead, too, and Shandie was alive . . .

A small pile of peat smoldered in the great hearth, although the warmth was not needed. In fact, one of the windows was open, and a murmur of surf drifted up from the sea far below, but now Inos was pulling the drapes, leaving only a slit of light from each of the windows.

“What time is it anyway?”

Inos chuckled and settled into the opposing chair. “Middle of the afternoon, I think.” She wriggled herself comfortable, pounding a stubborn cushion. “But Krasnegar time is not the same as Hubban time, or Thumian time, so I’m thoroughly confused.”

“Will the sun set at all?”

“Not on Longday. It’s never easy to tell the time in summer here. People forget to sleep for days, and then suddenly drop in their tracks. It can be quite funny to see.”

“I should be going back.”

Her hostess shook her head. “Shandie knows where you are. You’d be one more problem he doesn’t need right now. Can’t have two impresses around the palace! He knows where you are and he knows you’re safe. I’m sure he’s glad not to have to worry about you for the time being.”

That was wonderful rationalization. What else was there to say?

The green eyes were as sharp as rapiers. “He still loves you, you know. He may not be very good at showing it, but I’m sure he still loves you: Shandie is a very clever man and he will want you back.”

Eshiala nodded miserably. She was afraid of that. She did not love Shandie. She had never loved him. Ylo had taught her what love felt like, and it had been quite, quite different. Her heart had died with Ylo.

“An impress of Pandemia bearing another man’s child?” she said. ”That’s treason! Shandie can have me put to death for that.”

Inos laughed. “Not very likely!” She sounded quite sure, but she probably knew the imperor now much better than Eshiala ever had. “Never mind what he wants! What do you want?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” She had given the future no thought, except to acknowledge that it would be a desert, a barren solitude stretching as far as mind could reach, with no Ylo in it. With Ylo, anywhere would be a paradise. Without him, nowhere could be.

She would much prefer never to see the court again. A nunnery would suit her perfectly, or Krasnegar, even—any quiet haven where no one knew her or ever wanted to put her on display. But Maya was heir presumptive and belonged to the realm. Maya would be returned to the palace. Eshiala had lost the man she loved and now must lose her child, too.

Inosolan had lost a child today, also. A few hours ago she had watched her daughter burned away until not even ash remained. Not dead, but lost forever. If Inos could bear her bereavement so well, then Eshiala should try to be as strong. But few women could ever match Inos. She was determined and gentle, motherly and queenly, understanding and assertive, all at the same time.

“I am sorry about Kadie!” Eshiala blurted.

Inos shrugged wistfully. “The Gods warned us that we must lose a. child. We had two years’ warning, two years to adjust to the idea. And in a sense she is not really lost.” She stared at the quietly hissing fire. “When I am as old as the castle, Kadie will still be as she is now. When Krasnegar crumbles to dust, she will be here to see. That takes a little getting used to, that idea! But it is a comfort.”

“What will you tell the people?”

“Nothing. The Gods do not allow that secret to be spoken of. It seems that others will not even miss her. That helps, and yet it doesn’t help, if you can—”

There was a tap on the door.

Inos stretched herself comfortably into her chair and covered a yawn. ”That will be Shandie, I expect.”

Eshiala quailed. “How can you tell?”

“Because I said I was not to be disturbed except by Rap or a visitor from the Impire. I didn’t know what name he’d use. If you don’t want to see him, then say so. He’s not imperor here.”

“He will have a sorcerer with him!”

Inos smiled grimly, not moving from her chair. “The castle gates are closed. I’ve never ordered that before! But the castle is shielded from sorcery, so he can’t enter unless you want him to. Say the word and he will be sent away.”

That thought conjured strange visions: the Impire besieging the castle at Krasnegar, the Imperial Navy in the harbor, an imperor bringing an army to rescue his daughter . . .

“Of course I must see him.”

Inos smiled approvingly and rose. “May as well get it over with! I’ll send him in here, then. You will not be disturbed.” She came over and laid a comforting hand on Eshiala’s shoulder. “Be honest, all right? Only absolute truth will serve now, for both of you. And for Maya, too.”

Eshiala nodded, and was alone.

Ten minutes, she thought. Five minutes to send word to the gate and five more for Shandie to arrive. Perhaps a few more for Inos to lecture him. She stood at a window and stared out at the blue of the Winter Ocean, white scars of breakers over the reefs, white birds. She rehearsed her Speech, the Speech she had been preparing for three days, the Speech that would never come out the same way twice and reached no sort of ending but just went on and on.

She must, of course, submit to whatever he wanted. He was the imperor and would decide: to put her in a nunnery, send her into exile, chop off her head . . . or take her to bed. Gods! She shivered. Not that! Not so soon, please Gods! Lying on her back in the dark, with Shandie pulling up her nightdress and her trying not to remember Ylo’s touch, Ylo’s banter, Ylo’s body . . .

She was standing by the fireplace when Shandie opened the door, came in briskly, and turned to close it. She sank to her knees on the hearth mat and bowed her head so she need not look at him as he strode across to her.

His silver-buckled shoes came into view, and then his pearlgray hose as he knelt down, also, about an arm’s length in front of her. What? Why? Was this some sort of trick? Disconcerted, she forgot the Speech completely. She froze. Only her heart was still alive, clamoring like an alarm bell.

“I came as soon as I could,” he said. “I just couldn’t get away any sooner! You do understand that?”

She nodded, not looking up. No matter how tightly she clenched her hands, they would not stop shaking.

“I am deeply, deeply sorry about Ylo,” Shandie said. “I mourn him greatly. He was the most valuable aide I had or could ever hope for, but I shall miss him even more as a friend. I know your loss is far greater than mine, though. I offer my deepest sympathy.”