Cresset-lamps and candles had been lit, but the lowering sun still shone through tall narrow windows, casting bars of red-gold light across the sixteen people sitting on the dais. The conversation was low-pitched, even along the sideboards where the knights and retainers ate, with only an occasional burst of nervous laughter from the younger ones.
Following the prince’s instructions, Duke Tanaby had summoned the council attendees to table early, saying there would be only simple fare, and cautioning them against heavy drinking that might cloud their brains when such would be sorely needed later. Most of the high lords and great barons, Conrig noted with approval, were following Tanaby’s example of sobriety and drinking water from the castle’s renowned mineral spring — although Parlian Beorbrook, who was Earl Marshal of the Realm, and his lone surviving son Count Olvan loudly demanded refills of their bumpers of mead. Not even Vanguard dared deny them.
Numbers of the noble guests seemed to savor their meal as little as the Prince Heritor himself had done. Old Baron Toborgil Silverside had scarce touched the slices of meat on his silver trencher-plate, and the hovering pages found few takers for the steaming tureen of carp in nettle broth and the bowls of garnished frumenty and platters of apple and cherry tarts that were the final courses.
Neither Duchess Monda nor any other of Castle Vanguard’s ladies were present. The only woman there — and her seated at the duke’s right hand, by Bazekoy’s Blazing Bones! — was the redoubtable Baroness Zeandrise, the Virago of Marley. She was still clad in her stained green doeskin riding habit with a divided skirt, and wore no veil and no head ornament but a glittering jeweled pick nearly the size of a dagger, transfixing her coil of frowsy grey hair.
Conrig knew that the baroness had only ridden into Vanguard at the last moment, when he and Tanaby had nearly despaired of her arrival. Her manner at table was taciturn and forbidding in spite of the duke’s best efforts at hospitality. The prince had debated long with himself before including the Virago among those invited; but his godfather told him to swallow his southern prejudice against a belted female, reminding him that warriors of her sex were far from uncommon among the Didionite barbarians. And besides, Zeandrise Marley commanded fifteen knights and nearly a hundred mounted thanes …
He noted stout Count Munlow Ramscrest and his allies Bogshaw, Cloudfell, and Catclaw. And there were Tanaby’s sons, Swanwick, Hawkhurst, and Grimstane. The wealthy mountain barons Kimbolton and Conistone, with estates bordering those of Beorbrook, were holding close conversation with their powerful overlord. At the far end of the table on the left sat Viscount Hartrig Skellhaven and his cousin Baron Ingo Holmrangel. Their seaside castles and fleets of armed cutters defended Cathra’s far north-eastern coast, and they were themselves rumored to be little better than pirates.
‘So all of those invited did come after all,’ said a soft voice behind Prince Conrig.
He felt the hairs at the back of his neck prickle as a draft of chill air brought a familiar, green-fen scent of vEtiver.
‘It bodes well for the enterprise,’ the voice continued, almost purring with satisfaction. ‘For you know that not even I could compel their alliance. Of course, they haven’t accepted your proposal yet, but I believe that the odds are strongly in your favor — and your plan for taking care of any nay-sayers is most ingenious.’
Still crouched low, Conrig dared not turn around. Suppressed fury tightened his throat. A Sending here? Now, at this critical juncture? Was the woman mad?
‘If you’re seen,’ he hissed, ‘I’m ruined! My brother Vra-Stergos is hidden away with my other Companions in the repository tower, and your Sending could only be attributed to me!’
‘No one will see or hear me, my prince.’ She spoke with a hint of mockery. ‘Your accession to the throne is safe, untainted by any whiff of magical talent.’
He craned about and saw a cloaked and hooded figure standing in a dark niche. The face was invisible and the glowing moonstone sigil that enabled the Sending was out of sight. Slowly he withdrew from the railing and climbed to his feet, keeping well out of view of those below, and went to her. ‘Why are you here?’ His whisper was brusque, to hide the fact that he had been badly startled.
‘I come with good news, as well as some of less happy portent.’ Her hand reached out and caressed his cheek. ‘Affairs in Didion have fallen into place just as we hoped, and you may so inform your council of war. King Achardus will remain at the palace in Holt Mallburn during the crucial time. He has scant motive for traipsing abroad among the faminelands listening to the wails of hungry peasants or the mutterings of mutinous vassals. His sons Honigalus and Somarus are another matter, however. Both have taken ship to the south, probably to seek help from Stippen or another Continental nation in countering your blockade in the Dolphin Channel. Beynor and three senior members of the Glaumerie Guild are accompanying the Didionite princes. My dear brother is playing some game of his own, and he’s probably being well paid for it. He has used a sigil to cast a strong spell of couverture over their vessel, and I cannot penetrate it.’
Conrig muttered a quiet oath. ‘But you will be able to find out what they’re up to?’
‘Eventually. It may become necessary for me to empower another of my own Great Stones in order to learn his plans, but I hope I can use alternate means. The most powerful sigils are activated only through atrocious suffering, and their conjuring puts the user deep in debt to the Lights.’
He felt the familiar thrill of dread at her mention of the awful Beaconfolk. ‘Lady, must you invoke those dire creatures? Is there no other manner of sorcery that will serve our purposes?’
‘None so effective. I call upon the Coldlight Army as rarely as possible, since they’re notorious for twisting petitions and conjurations to unwelcome outcomes. But we must find out what Honigalus and Somarus intend. They are the real power behind Achardus’s throne and they have powerful friends on the Continent. It would do you small good to triumph in the north while disaster strikes the southern underbelly of your unborn Sovereignty.’
‘No,’ Conrig admitted reluctantly. Most of the Cathran navy was at sea, enforcing the blockade against Didion, and the capital city of Cala on the south coast would be vulnerable to a lightning assault from mainland ports.
He was silent, considering other things that her words had brought to mind. Then: ‘Advise me, if you please. None of these council attendees, not even Duke Tanaby or the earl marshal himself, knows that the Edict of Sovereignity was as much your idea as mine. Would you have me tell them?’
A patronizing laugh. ‘I’m not the one who covets the ancient glory of Emperor Bazekoy, my prince. Warriors mistrust sorcery, and for good reason. It’s best that they know nothing of our earlier … strategic consultations, for that might taint the sanctity of your great vision and weaken your authority. You must certainly tell your council of war how I intend to assist the invasion, and my reasons for doing so. But keep the rest secure in your own heart. The unification of High Blenholme is your own dream, after all, and none but you can fulfill it.’
He felt sweat start out on his brow, not from doubt of his own abilities to persuade and command the others, but in a belated flush of apprehension at where this alliance with her might eventually lead.
‘They will ask — my godfather and the earl marshal, at any rate — how you and I came to this marvelous friendship. Lady, what am I to tell them? They know we could never have met face to face. And even though we have made some use of my brother’s arcane talent—’
‘He has always been our go-between! You must convince the others of it. And see that Vra-Stergos is also convinced.’
‘I’m sure my brother has suspected that I possess the talent, that you and I bespoke each other through magical means long before your Sendings appeared to Gossy and me together at the hunting lodge. He’s a timid soul, and he no doubt