Magariz and Belial exchanged glances. “If Gorgrael attacks,” Magariz said, “then they are lost. Eight thousand could not possibly hold out against the forces he could throw against them.”
“Damn it, I know that!” Axis shouted. “But what can I dol I have no way of moving any more forces north quickly – even the Andeis Sea has succumbed to storms so violent that five ships have been lost this past week alone.” He paused and calmed himself. “Gorgrael will strike,” he resumed, “and he will strike soon. All we can do is prepare as best we can.” “We move north?” Belial said.
Axis looked at him steadily, then gazed about the room, fixing the eyes of each of his commanders in turn. “We begin to prepare today.”
He hesitated, then decided to voice his concern. “Truth to tell, my friends, I am unsure what to do. Where will Gorgrael strike? Jervois Landing, surely, but we will never be able to get there in time. Then where? If all of Aldeni is frozen he could mass his troops anywhere. I am loath to commit my force to any action or to any route north until I have a better idea what Gorgrael is going to do.”
It was Ichtar all over again, Axis thought. If Gorgrael broke through Jervois Landing he would have the entire province of Aldeni to roam in. And he would be only some fifty leagues from Carlon itself.
“Well, enough of my doubts.” Axis spoke briskly, and more formally. “Princes Belial, Magariz and Ysgryff and,” he smiled slightly at his wife, “my Lady Azhure, Guardian of the East. Within three days I want from all of you a list of the resources that your provinces will be able to provide to support Tencendor’s fight against Gorgrael. I want to know everything you’ve got, from food to wagons to fighting men to weapons to any one or any thing that can contribute to the war effort.”
Magariz’s mouth twitched, but his eyes were grave. “I do not need three days to compose a list, StarMan. My northern
province can provide only one thing, but that in abundance -the enemy.”
There was silence, then Axis spoke again.
“Sooner or later we will to have to ride into that icy hell above the Western Ranges,” he said. “And I fear that there will be no glorious battle at the end of this march.”
Especially if I cannot find the skills and the courage to wield enough of the Star Dance to use effective Songs of War, he thought, black despair threatening to overwhelm him.
“Eleven days ago, amid shouts of rejoicing, I proclaimed Tencendor. Ten days ago I married the woman I love more than life itself. But this has been a false summer, I think. Have we all celebrated too fast? Has darkness merely bided its time, waiting to catch us off guard?”
All that afternoon Azhure attended to her duties as Guardian of the East. Hers was a special responsibility, that of making sure that the integration of three races, three cultures, and three religions went smoothly and with the least rancour possible. It was a challenge that Azhure relished; she had spent time among all three races – Acharites (as the humans were still known), Avar and Icarii. Although the Avar still had not moved from their forest homelands, and probably would not until Faraday had planted the forest below the Fortress Ranges, Azhure had more than enough to do with the influx of Icarii into the southern lands of Tencendor. She was impatient with the paperwork that the scribes continually thrust her way; Azhure liked to hear a problem from all sides before making a decision that was best for the parties involved. She had got very used to the despairing cry of the scribes and administrators -“But it’s never been done that way before!” – to which she always replied, with as much graciousness as she could, “Well, it’s the way it’s going to be done now.”
In the early evening. Azhure wandered back to the royal apartments along the busy corridors of the palace. She hoped
that Axis would soon return from his consultations with Belial and Magariz over preparations for their eventual march north. She needed to speak with him about what she had learned this afternoon and did not want to leave it for later that night as she was now so tired that she longed only for a simple meal and her bed.
Axis was still deeply worried about her health and, though they never spoke of it, both were extremely concerned over her continuing lack of control over her power. The morning after StarDrifter and Axis had tried to teach Azhure the Song for Drying Clothes, Carlon had awakened to a minor miracle.
The contents of every single laundry hamper in the city had been mysteriously emptied overnight, laundered, folded and stored.
There could be no explanation except that, somehow, Azhure had unconsciously used her power as she slept. She had no knowledge of how she had done it, and had become tearful when Axis had pressed her, and the matter of the clean clothes had been quietly dropped. But Azhure could feel Axis’ and StarDrifter’s eyes on her occasionally, wondering. Wondering what? she thought. Wondering what might have happened if it had been a less innocuous Song? What if it had been the Song of Muddlement – would Carlon then have awoken with its population wandering the streets, dazed and disorientated?
Azhure sighed with relief when she reached the royal apartments; Axis was already there, and servants had just finished laying a meal for them on a low table in the Jade Chamber.
As they ate, Azhure occasionally stole a glance at Axis, noting the lines of worry on his face. Some of them she knew were for her, but most were for the desperate situation faced by the troops currently at Jervois Landing. Axis worried for each soldier under his command; every time a man died Axis fretted. Could he have prevented it? Was the man’s death the result of a bad decision on his part? Belial had told her of Axis’ deep guilt after the loss of three hundred men at the Ancient Barrows
when Gorgrael had rained down his cruel ice spears on them, and his even worse guilt after the disastrous loss of life in the battle for Gorkentown. Since she had been with him, Azhure had seen much the same thing. Stars knows how he must be berating himself inside for not foreseeing the probable slaughter at Jervois Landing.
“Why do you smile?” Axis asked as he peeled back the purple skin of a juicy malayam fruit.
“I was thinking on the dismay of the scribes and recorders this afternoon. I do not, it seems, do things in the right order, at the right time, or use the correct bureaucratic procedure.”
To her relief Axis laughed, his whole face lightening. “Then you are doing well, beloved, if you have already annoyed the bureaucrats.”
They smiled at each other, then Azhure’s expression became serious. “Axis. There is a matter that I ought to discuss with you. Do you mind?”
“Never fear to talk with me, Azhure. We have wasted months of our lives because we did not talk truthfully to each other.”
“It is only a mundane matter, perhaps,” she said, “but it needs to be aired. Dru-Beorh came to me this afternoon with some disturbing news.” She paused. “He has seen both Moryson and Gilbert in his travels between here and Nor.”
Axis grimaced. He should have known that their names would re-emerge.
“They were both alone at the time he saw them, Moryson wandering south through the Plains of Tare, Gilbert travelling east through northern Nor. I thanked him for the information and said I would think further on it. Axis, Faraday was heading east when she left here. I cannot but think that perhaps she may encounter one of them.”
Axis returned his eyes to the remains of the malayam fruit. After a moment he gave up all pretence at eating it and wiped his fingers on a napkin.
“I would give much to have those two locked securely in the palace dungeons, Azhure. Together with Jayme, they were directly responsible for many of the injustices that the Seneschal perpetuated. And that I helped perpetuate.” Another guilt.
They both turned their minds to Jayme, and they shared their thoughts regarding his strange death. No-one had been able to explain it, and while Axis had been pleased to see that Jayme had died in a manner befitting his crimes, he was unhappy that Jayme had escaped his trial. The guard had heard or seen nothing, and both Axis and Azhure could not help but feel that some dark enchantment had been at work in Jayme’s death.
“Faraday?” Azhure prompted. “Do you think Faraday is in any danger? It is not only Gilbert and Moryson who concern me – there must be a number of Plough-Keepers wandering eastern Tencendor. They can be nothing but trouble.”