Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) (36 page)

Rising to her feet, and making a point of not looking in Stefan’s direction, Jillian said, “I will do as you request, Shin Galiana.” After a bow, she strode toward the door. As she twisted the knob, she glanced over her shoulder. “I almost forgot to mention, some fool named Captain Wendel Giomar has been attempting to recruit our youth for Sendeth’s squabbles with Doster. I tried to talk to the man, but he is beyond arrogant. I’m sure you’ve seen him strutting around town.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the complaints from a few,” Shin Galiana said. “I shall deal with him.” She inclined her head to the others and gestured toward the door. “Now, if the rest of you will excuse me, I need to speak to the Dorns.”

Jillian bowed again and left. Chairs scraped and murmurs followed as the other Council Heads said their goodbyes and filed out soon after.

Shin Galiana shuffled to the top of the stairs and made sure they had all descended and left through the Whitewater Inn’s front door before she spoke. “A hundred years and still Jillian has not forgiven you.”

“It’s only become worse since the Shadowbearer War,” Stefan said. He and Thania had taken their seats once more.

“It didn’t help when we took her last surviving family member and raised her,” Thania added. She tapped a finger to her lips as she spoke. “When Irmina’s parents died, Jillian expected she would take the girl in. It would have been folly, but she has never seen it any other way. Sometimes I wonder what will become of her hate for the Dorn clan. When will she realize we may be the last free Setian, that she is a part of the clan, and has been ever since she decided to flee with us to seek safety?” Thania shook her head.

“I still remember trying to soothe Irmina when her parents died,” Shin Galiana said as she returned to her seat. “She blames Amuni’s Children and the shade as much as she blames the old leaders of the Setian themselves. She has used her hate as fuel for her training.”

“It still surprises me that with all her misgivings about the Dorns, Jillian has not yet revealed who I am to Irmina,” Stefan said.

“Which is why I keep asking how you and Jerem could send her to Ostania,” Thania said. “Who knows where her mind is now, and our Ancel is worse off for it.”

“Bah. You know better. You of all people. I can no more change Jerem’s mind than I could force water come from a rock. I did what I could when I learned where he intended to send her.”

“I know,” Thania said. “I’ve written to Jerem myself and asked. The response has always been the same. Anything he did should not be questioned, and it was crucial for Ancel and the clan’s future.”

“Speaking of which, with these reports concerning the sudden rise in aggressive Dosteri tactics, I will assume the negotiations did not go well?” Galiana asked.

Stefan shook his head. “No, they didn’t. I don’t think the Dosteri ever had any intentions to bargain in good faith. They were more interested in how the Tribunal felt. The High Shin didn’t appear to support one faction or the other, insisting they find a way to settle their differences.”

“Did you suggest you would give Doster part of our kinai harvests or wine at a highly discounted rate?”

“Yes.”

“And what were their replies?”

“They want land allocated to them with several hundred thousand acres worth of kinai crop and our people to tend it.”

Galiana raised an eyebrow. “I am sure the Sendethi nobles were not pleased.”

“Not in the least,” Ryne said. “Their denial was, shall we say, pronounced? After that, the Dosteri walked away from the table. They said they would resolve their issues their own way.”

“Well,” Galiana said, “I guess that explains this recruiter and the Dosteri actions in Sendeth.”

“You promised Ancel would be safe,” Stefan said, his voice grim. “We sent him to Randane for that reason. Now that we haven’t found any credible threat, I wonder if sending him was the correct decision. We’ve placed him in the middle of a brewing war.”

“He is quite safe, I assure you.”

“If my wife didn’t insist on my trust in you, or hadn’t given him a
divya
token so we know Ancel’s alive, I would be dispatching a patrol instead of blowing hot air at the Council so Guthrie and Devan don’t send their own men,” Stefan admitted.

“Although I do not approve of what you did, Thania,” Galiana admonished, “I understand. However, the one we have sent to guard him has yet to fail. Not only will Ancel be safe, but he will return a new man, having put Irmina behind him.”

“I still say we should send out a few soldiers from the town watch along with my own men to secure him and his friends in case the Dosteri do the unexpected,” Stefan said. “You haven’t drilled me in the Disciplines to have me forget them now, Galiana. Your sayings about coincidence and well laid plans are forever etched into my mind.”

Galiana smiled. “I am sure they are, but no, do nothing of the sort. Not with Ancel coming into his power. There are more subtle ways to act that would not draw the attention of the Tribunal’s Pathfinders here. I have a solution in mind.” Tension eased out of Galiana’s back as she thought about what she intended.

“Always the secrets.” Stefan shook his head. “So what of the other report Edwin brought back?”

“I’ve sent an eagle with a message to the Tribunal at Coren. I also dispatched a messenger by dartan. As soon as word comes back, we shall know if there is any truth to an attack in Ostania and if shadelings were involved. Until then, all we can do is wait.”

“And be cautious,” Stefan added. “I have an ill feeling about all this.”

“My dear husband, you always have an ill feeling.”

Stefan shrugged. “If you say so, my dear heart. What about this Giomar? We ought not to sully our good relations with the King, but this recruitment cannot be allowed.”

“My solution will see Giomar handled while taking every precaution with the boys.” Galiana couldn’t help the smile on her face at the frowns on the Dorns’. “As you said, Stefan, deception has always been my strongpoint. Now, unless there is something else you wish to discuss, I must see to this Captain Giomar.”

The Dorns shook their heads and stood. Galiana followed suit.

“With Ilumni’s Blessings, until the next time,” they intoned almost as one with bows to each other. They left the Whitewater Inn.

CHAPTER 28

Galiana shivered despite the warm breath of wind that stirred the dust along the Eldan Road’s cobbles. Although dawn tinted the sky to the east, blue lights still illuminated the streets and buildings. To the north, above the Kelvore Mountains, dark clouds boiled and lightning flashed as a storm brewed unlike any in recent memory. And it was not yet winter. There was still a whole season to go before northern Granadia should be seeing its usual fierce winter weather.

The reported events in Ostania were forcing her to move sooner than she wanted. Something she didn’t much like. Added to those events were the recent reports of merchants murdered by Dosteri from Sendeth to as far south as Ishtar and its port cities. After each killing, they left a quote from the Chronicle of Undeath. Could this be Jerem’s doing? If so, it was certainly a risky maneuver considering the Pathfinders were already inquiring about students from the Mysteras across Granadia. Why draw more attention? Would that not lead to greater scrutiny?

In some ways, she could understand why Jerem would see it as a sound strategy. Not only would these killings, which were spread over a great area, delay the Tribunal’s Pathfinders, but the Chronicle of Undeath and any knowledge of Mater fascinated Ancel. This could function as a way to draw him back into his studies. But at what cost? Sacrificing someone to guide Ancel was one thing, but risking his discovery was folly. One issue was clear. If this was not Jerem’s actions, then she needed to take any possible measure she could in case the Dosteri had indeed infiltrated this far north into Sendeth.

Galiana was so deep in thought, she hardly noticed the early risers around her going about their daily activities. Or those hurrying along to early morning prayers at the Streamean temple. She raised her hand or nodded her head out of habit as she traveled down the street. Not even the clangor from a blacksmith’s hammer interrupted her musing. Preoccupied by her thoughts, Galiana arrived at Eldanhill’s south end.

She gazed across a field at the regiment’s encampment. Torches stood out on tall posts, and patrols strolled around the perimeter. Standards displaying a black boar charging across a green pasture under blue skies flew from many tents. Others had the banners and flags from minor nobles flapping in the light breeze. Next to those, and flying higher still, was the Silver Spear—a fist enclosed around a shining lance set against a black backdrop—King Emory of Sendeth’s banner.

Galiana shambled toward the tents, relying heavily on her staff. Her fingers tightened on the weathered wood at the thought of this Captain Giomar adding to the present troubles. She did not appreciate having her hand forced like this.

Today, she’d made sure to wear her long, flowing crimson dress with the one silver sleeve and its short, white stripes. Five stripes marked her as one rank below a member of the Tribunal. Embroidered onto the breast in gold and white was the Lightstorm insignia. She hoped they would be enough to serve her purpose.

She headed across grass flattened by constant travel toward the largest tan structure, more a pavilion than a tent, positioned at the encampment’s center. It was one of the few with light inside. The Charging Boar and the Silver Spear flew at the same height in front the tent. A sign of this man, Giomar’s arrogance, to fly his standard the same height as the King’s.

To one side of the field, dartans picketed in neat lines stamped and mewled impatiently. One of Eldanhill’s small dogs barked at the creatures, until they showed their fangs, trilled a warning reply and tore at reeking pieces of meat piled on the ground. The dog ducked its head, whimpered, and slunk away, its tail between its legs.

Soldiers, in blue and green or gold surcoats emblazoned with the Charging Boar and worn over chainmail, moved about the camp with a purposeful bustle. Lancers, in burnished armor, practiced formations under the supervision of a stern faced man-at-arms. Another group copied sword forms taught by a swordmaster. A few dozen murmurs followed her as she passed, but no one questioned her. Several soldiers knuckled their forehead, or nodded slightly, and she acknowledged them in kind.

Hopefully, she could affect the Captain in the same manner and with as much ease. From what she’d heard, the man brandished his insolence as much as his sword. Like so many others accustomed to command, he wouldn’t be easily intimidated, and he was loyal to a fault.

Therein lay her biggest obstacle—his blind loyalty to the King. The same King who had made his displeasure with the Tribunal’s lack of direct interference to resolve the issues between Sendeth and Doster abundantly clear. In fact, he went so far as to declare his dislike for the Tribunal and Matii as a whole. In his words, if they wouldn’t help him, then why should he tolerate them? He was not the first ruler to make such a declaration, but once the Tribunal turned their attention on those monarchs, they had a habit of changing their minds. All this meant she would need to give Giomar a stiff reminder of her status. There was something to be said for small dogs with big barks.

She stopped at the tent’s entrance where a grizzle-faced, bone of a man stood at the slit for a doorway. His eyes shifted as his gaze followed her, but nothing else moved. She announced herself as Ashishin Galiana, Eldanhill’s mender and a Teacher. The man blinked. He nodded and ducked inside to relay her arrival. Returning shortly after, he beckoned her in. She shuffled inside past the guard, and he let the flap fall behind him.

Captain Giomar stood next to a table poring over Granadian maps by lamplight. Among the maps and papers, she noticed a half-rolled glossy sheet of paper with the King’s Seal.

The spacious pavilion contained two other tables, a bedroll, and a stand with a black and green suit of armor embossed with the Charging Boar on the chest. One table held food—two roasted quails, bread, gooseberries, kinai fruit and two pitchers filled with wine, one yellow, and one red. A longsword rested on the other table along with gauntlets, greaves, and a gorget, all matching the armor on the stand.

“Good day, Mender Galiana, or would you prefer Teacher Galiana. Better yet, Shin Galiana?” he asked, in a smooth tone without taking his eyes from the maps. A smirk played across his lips. “I tend to forget myself sometimes when it comes to addressing your kind. I seem to have a difficult time deciding which title is appropriate. You tend to have so many it can be quite confusing to one as simple as myself.”

She dismissed the man’s blatant attempt at disrespect, refusing to let any emotion show as she stepped up to the table. “You shall address me as Shin Galiana.”

Giomar straightened to his full height. Any other time, she would have chuckled at the man now towering over her. Men often felt their great size and height over women affected a meetings’ outcome. She smiled inwardly with the thought and leaned even more heavily on her staff. Most men could be such fools. He strode from behind the table with a smooth, arrogant grace, his beady eyes studying her. She met his gaze with a blank expression.