Green Wild (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 2) (7 page)

In the Red Plume, she made her way directly to the room they’d set aside for Shanasee and Iriss. Gisen sat between them, looking at a picture book aimed at much younger children, while Yevonne dozed with her head on Gisen’s knee.

“No change?” Jerya asked. Gisen shook her head and closed her book, looking attentively at Jerya.

Cara, Shanasee’s Regent, emerged from an adjoining room. She hadn’t slept much in the last day and night, less even than Jerya and the others, and she looked it. She’d been furious when Yithiere brought Shanasee to her, irrationally angry at how Shanasee had been used and hurt. Now, she just seemed exhausted. She waved at her throat and said something inaudible. A mug steamed in one hand, fragrant with the scent of lemon and honey.

Yevonne lifted her head from Gisen’s knee and yawned. “Cara’s lost her voice. She’s been talking and talking to Shan. But nah, they’re both still sleeping safe. It’s all right.”

Jerya looked at the two still forms, thinking about love and loss. After a moment she turned away and went to one of the inn’s parlours, where Cathay’s mother and Jant’s wife both sat sewing. The Royal Family and its Regents and spouses and parents had been spread out all through the Palace; before the disaster, Jerya would go occasionally go days without seeing Lady Siana or Lady Julina. That was another reason to hold as much business as possible at the Tabernacle. It was too crowded here. The Chancellor had already spoken of moving his own staff to another building but he wanted to identify an appropriately empty one first.

Lady Siana looked up and put her sewing down. “Do you need this chamber?” Jerya had heard that once Siana had been a vivacious woman, but now she was a pale, willowy creature whose laughter was quiet and her disapproval even quieter.

As a child, Jerya had sometimes pretended Lady Siana was her own mother: a mother who stayed with her child despite the sadness. But that hadn’t lasted long; extended flights of fancy were Tiana’s domain and so Jerya had put them away. And it was too easy to see the marks grief had left on Lady Siana. She and Lady Julina were noble-born, but when they’d married Royal princes, they’d become part of the Regency Court. They had some of the training and counseling Regents relied on, but it hadn’t helped Siana. No training prepared you for your husband’s suicide.

Jerya slanted a glance at Twist. “Did Cathay go with her?”

Twist yawned again. “I’ve always thought it was remarkable how single-gender the Citadel appears to be. There are female students, but the Citadel believes the path to avoiding distraction is for the girls to pretend to be boys.” He shrugged. “It works, I suppose. If, like Cathay, you’re not looking for romantic adventures because you’ve already found one and she’s leaving the Citadel.”

Grimacing, Jerya said to Lady Siana, “You might as well stay, if you can bear the crowd.” She moved further into the parlour. Her uncles and Alanah moved in behind her, while the guards clogged the hall outside. Lady Julina stood, held out her hand to Jant, and bent down and kissed his head when he stood beside her.

Jerya walked over to the window, glanced outside, and then closed the curtains, casting the room into shadow. “What has my sister done now?”

From across the room, Twist stared at her for a long moment, as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start. Dread churned in Jerya’s stomach. “Is she well? You would have told me immediately if she wasn’t, yes?”

Relaxing, Twist said, “She’s mostly fine. During the Antecession ceremony an altercation with the sword Jinriki triggered an odd,” he hesitated, as if looking for the right word. “An odd event. All the Logos-workings vanished, and Tiana had a direct encounter with the spirit of Niyhan. Now she’s on a quest, at his command.”

It was Jerya’s turn to stare at Twist. “How much of this is verifiable?” She’d spent her life protecting her baby sister, sometimes from Tiana’s own dangerous, irresistible whims.

“Most of it,” Twist assured her. “The Magister agrees that Niyhan did manifest, and did give Tiana something special. A weapon to be used against the Blighter, if she can acquire the rest of it. Oh, and she reconciled with the sword. Which will probably come in handy... Though really, one has to wonder how many weapons Tiana needs.”

“That sounds like two too many to me.” Jerya wrapped her arms around herself. If Tiana was being guided by the Firstborn, that could change everything. They couldn’t rely on the Firstborn’s aid; the divine creator’s last lesson taught that Blood protected Ceria now—but if they’d decided to involve themselves again, things were changing. She had to make sure they changed in favor of her family.

Despite the fragments of politics and metaphysical meaning and spin bobbing through her mind, she kept returning to an image of Tiana, her baby sister, carrying such a strange and awful burden. “Is she well? Is this new weapon hurting her somehow? The sword seemed bad enough.”

“Oh, she’s distracted but other than that she seems healthy. Now, I’ll have more for you about the Blighter later. Kiar discovered all manner of secrets about him, but while we’re this private—” and he glanced around at the rest of the family watching their conversation—”can we talk about the King?”

All her worries about Tiana faded under a surge of grief. Jerya closed her hands into fists. “What about him?”

“What happened to him?” Twist spoke gently, which momentarily enraged Jerya. He went on. “Kiar said something but she was coming out of the phantasmagory at the time and I couldn’t know if it was just a dream. And then a dragon attacked us.”

The curtains were dark, with bright flecks woven into them. Jerya wondered if they were supposed to represent stars. It was really very interesting to think about, and think about the curtains she did until she had herself under control. “Something. Something happened to him. I suppose we’ll announce it soon, once things settle down. There can be a quick coronation. Maybe in two weeks on Arising-day, since it’s traditional.”

“There are stories already,” said Alanah abruptly. “I heard one little boy telling his friends about how King Shonathan fought the old Bastard beyond the wall Shanasee built. He said the mud was what was left after King Shonathan won.”

“Hah,” said Jant fiercely. “My messenger told me the tale of how Shonathan battled the ghost of his brother Math in my Shan’s barrier. They don’t forget, even when they never knew.”

“I don’t like either of those stories,” said Yithiere. “Allowing them to cast the Blood—any of the Blood—in the role of enemy is too dangerous. We must tell them something else, and enforce it.”

“The truth...” began Twist, and looked inquisitively at Jerya.

Jerya thought back to her last meeting with her father, in the phantasmagory. It had been ugly and painful. She’d been helpless, too familiar a sensation. But under the guise of tormenting her father, the Blighter had been trying to accomplish something. It was hard to understand, but in the end her father had died because he’d made the Blighter angry. He’d made the Blighter fail. “The truth is... complicated. Alanah, did the child you overheard say what happened to the King after he defeated the Bastard?”

“Oh, he flew off into the dawn to find the Bastard’s secret stronghold in the hole in the night. Shonathan is still quite the hero, after all these years.”

“Yes,” Jerya said flatly. “He is.” She took a deep breath and made a decision. “He died, but he died saving Ceria, and he died fighting. But he died. And after he died, the Blighter destroyed the phantasmagory somehow. I don’t know how.” She looked around the room, staring into each shadowed face. “And this is the last time we talk about it. From now on, all we know is that he left to fight the Blighter and he hasn’t returned. We’re waiting for news. Twist, I’m going to need you to help me stay in contact with Tiana, as if the phantasmagory still existed. And we’re not going to release any other story to replace the tales children tell, Yithiere.”

He scowled. “No coronation, then. Without a coronation, you aren’t Queen. This is a foolish decision; perhaps you aren’t ready to be Queen.”

“The people need hope, Uncle.” Jerya softened her voice. “If they believe that the ruin of their city is the side effect of a great victory, they’ll rebuild much faster than if they learn the devastating truth.”

“And what of when they hear the truth after they’ve accepted the lie?” snapped Yithiere. “When they realize the Blighter is still out there, undefeated, his armies and his fortress devouring our country? How much hope will they have then? They will be betrayed, and worse, unprepared.”

“You’ve spent half your life lying, boy,” grumbled Jant.

“Have I? I do what is necessary to keep the innocent safe,” said Yithiere. “But if you are correct, then I must be experienced with the consequences. Trust me to know when it is too dangerous.”

Jerya shook her head. “I will always listen when you think it’s dangerous, Uncle. But sometimes danger must be risked.”

Yithiere moved closer, his head low and his nostrils flaring like the wolf that was his eidolon. “I know that. You think I don’t know that? But they cannot be allowed to turn on you. The Blighter is too close, too uncontrolled. The Royal Guard is a skeleton force given the size of the Blight itself.”

“Then watch them for me? Warn me if their fear outraces their hope and we will see if we can turn them in a different direction.” Jerya hardly thought about what she said. Her only goal was to keep Yithiere behind her, not in front of her. Only those who knew him well understood how unpredictable he was; he kept to himself too much in public for the people to see him as anything other than the war leader who had fought off four Blights. If he decided to ignore her leadership and go his own way, her power would wither before it had fully developed. And without somebody stabilizing him, he’d be dragged down by his own fears before the Blighter could get to him.

Yithiere’s mouth tightened. “I will watch.” It was more a threat than a promise.

Great-Uncle Jant spoke impatiently. “I’m far more concerned about the Justiciar’s Council and the duchies than about what the city does. What will they do without a monarch or a monarch’s regent? Firstborn weapons or not, we need their troops to contain the Blighter, but if the fiction is that the King is off fighting a one-man war instead of calling on them, will they come?”

Jerya dragged her eyes away from Yithiere, toward the little silver-haired old man. He’d spent his life in the Palace, writing books and studying the family magic. He knew a great deal about many esoteric subjects. She hadn’t thought politics was one of them.

“They’ll send them,” she said firmly. Doubt was an impossible weakness here.

“I don’t know,” said Jant. “My messenger told me about the troubles on the roads now. Perhaps they’ll stay home and trust us and the Firstborn to deal with the Blight.” He grimaced, as if personally offended by the Firstborn involving themselves.

Jerya repeated, “They’ll send them. They have to, or there won’t be a country left to live in. And they’re armies, they’ll cut right through any troubles on the road.”

Yithiere shrugged. “The duchies are all far away from the fairy tales you want to spin for Lor Seleni. They know, or will find out, that the enemies we face are akin to our own magic. This Firstborn story weakens our authority;
that
news we should suppress if we can. And even so, trust may be lacking. How do we even teach a common soldier how to fight something made out of eidolon stuff? They’re used to fighting men who are afraid of death, and who stop when stabbed.”

Alanah cleared her throat. “As it happens, I have some ideas on that.” When everybody looked at her, she shifted her weight. “It used to just be a theoretical exercise, after growing up in the Bastard era. I’m happy to share them with the troops.”

The meeting went on, devouring the rest of the day. Jerya did her best to keep both her uncles too busy on details to question her own focus. She knew what was important: Seandri sitting in her place in the Tabernacle of Broken Hearts, and the Justiciar’s Council, who had thought concealing the attacks on Ceria was better than letting her have power. She’d show them. She’d have to, or even if Tiana’s Firstborn Weapon defeated the Blighter, there’d be nothing left for her family.

P
UFFY WHITE CLOUDS
tumbled across a summer-blue sky. The breeze was brisk but the air was warm, and smelled of the harvest. It was the perfect day for a picnic. Unfortunately, they were on a quest instead, which was much less pleasant, and didn’t involve your own bed at the end of the day.

They rode west. That was all Lisette knew: west. The group had met in the courtyard of the Citadel, their horses and mules packed for a long journey, and Kiar had asked Tiana for a destination and she’d immediately pointed... west. That was it.

For three days, they’d been riding west, in entirely the wrong weather for the season. Only the sun, low against the southern horizon, gave any clue it was almost winter. Every time it shone in Lisette’s eyes, it felt like a metaphor for how little they knew about the quest.

It was ridiculous, Lisette thought, and felt guilty for thinking it. She was trained to deal with all sorts of ridiculous whims. She’d had no problems when her charge decided she wanted to grow up to direct plays rather than be a self-directed weapon. It had been fun. They’d been in a city. She liked cities. She liked having someplace warm to go after they spent time outside. She liked not being on a horse all day. She liked, if she was on a journey, to know where she was going and when she could anticipate it being over.

But being a Regent wasn’t about doing what she liked.

When she’d agreed to the expedition, though, she’d thought Tiana meant to sleep indoors. She thought they’d travel on the roads and find posting houses at the end of each day. She fully expected they’d visit some of the country nobles and gentry along the way, as a break from posting houses. She thought they’d use remounts and eat supper in dining rooms most of the time. She knew how a Royal princess ought to travel, even with such a small escort.
Especially
with such a small escort. But that was too dangerous, Tiana said, and Cathay and Kiar agreed. Lisette didn’t expect any better of Cathay, but she tried not to feel like Kiar was a traitor. Kiar knew how it was supposed to be done, and Kiar usually liked to do things properly.

They did travel on a road, once they came down from the mountain. Tiana had asked the guide to lead them down a side route, not the main road. She didn’t want to go past Lor Seleni. There was no need, she said, and it would slow them down. So they came down the mountain on a path more suited for goats than horses, and it took them two days just to reach one of the Regency roads. It ran west, so Tiana was willing to follow it for a while, although she regarded that as a convenience, not a necessity. That night they’d slept on the ground, just as they had on the mountainside, because, Tiana said quite reasonably, if the Blighter decided to attack them in the middle of the night it’d be best not to have lots of noncombatants around. And they’d be harder to find if they weren’t advertising their location at every posting house they passed.

It made sense, but it also made Lisette cranky. A Princess fighting a Blighter traditionally had an army as her escort. If they were with a proper army, they’d have beds. They’d have baggage trains, if they were with an army. They wouldn’t have left Tiana’s cook and maid behind. Instead they had a dozen guardsmen, which was too many for the group to move quickly, and too few to actually accomplish much, and none of them were very good at cooking. And they had to travel carefully, to spare their horses and their own muscles. Berrin said they’d have to pick up at least a few remounts when they could, but that wasn’t feasible until they found somebody with the right kind of horses to sell.

The wind picked up, gusting a pin straight out of Lisette’s hair and whipping the freed lock against her cheek. She tucked it up again as best she could, and then smoothed her horse’s mane. She’d never spent quite so much time on Dustling’s back before but the horse was doing well.

She dropped back to ride with the guards, tired of the whine in her own mental voice. Tiana didn’t notice, and that was another thing that irritated Lisette, as much as or more than the rustic sleeping arrangements.

Maybe it was the heart of everything, really. Tiana had been distant since she’d picked up Jinriki, but since Antecession, she’d been positively withdrawn. Her face turned west so often, even when they were grazing the horses, that Lisette sourly suspected she’d developed a crick in her neck. Cathay, who had once upon a time focused exclusively on pleasing Lisette, now brooded like a tragic hero over Tiana. And Kiar spent all her time reading, on and off horseback. Lisette expected to be useful. At Court, someone always wanted her attention. But right now all she had to do was make sure her mare didn’t get into any trouble on the road and Dustling was better at that without her help.

“My lady,” said Slater gravely, touching his helmet but keeping his gaze pointed ahead. “Is there a problem?”

“Not as such,” said Lisette, summoning a smile. “How are the guards dealing with the journey?”

Slater’s gaze slid sideways to examine Lisette. “Some of the less experienced ones are a little tired, but they’ll toughen up. For most of them, this is an adventure.”

“Better than being with the main army, I suppose,” sighed Lisette. She turned in her saddle and looked back over the more than half-dozen men ranged behind them. Most of them had the same blank expression Slater cultivated. Berrin grinned at her, as he usually did. He always seemed to find something to grin about.

Another guard behind Slater dozed, his head sagging on his chest. Lisette remembered him: young, maybe the youngest of the unit. Not so young he needed to take naps, though. She frowned. “Are they having trouble sleeping? I can certainly sympathize but—”

The young guardsman jolted awake, as if somebody had stuck him with a pin. He looked around wildly, and then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. When he opened them again, his face drained of all color. He stiffened and touched his helmet at Lisette.

Lisette nodded, smiled at him and faced forward again as Slater said, “If so, they’ll get used to it. Young Ryely is new and a little bit nervous.”

He hadn’t appeared nervous to Lisette. He’d looked exhausted, until something had woken him up. She wondered what might have done that, and cast her gaze over the rest of the column, noting the other dozers. Then every drooping head jerked up, wide-eyed and alert, although nobody had said a thing. An idea occurred to Lisette, arriving with the weight of intuition.

**Jinriki?**
She thought, as loudly as she could.
**I know what you’re doing and you have to stop.**
She paused and waited, before thinking at the sword again. Her thoughts were less polite this time: things she’d never say aloud.

Slater kept talking blithely. “You don’t need to worry about them, you concentrate on taking care of the Royals, eh? And we’ll take care of you.” He considered, then rubbed his chin and added, “Sorry about the cooking. None of us are used to cooking for refined palates. I’m not sure we
have
taste buds anymore. Except Berrin, and he’s busy with the horses after we stop.”

If Jinriki heard her, he didn’t answer. She smiled at Slater again, distractedly, and sent her horse trotting ahead to get closer to Tiana. If Jinriki wouldn’t talk directly to her, she’d have to bring up her suspicions to Tiana, who had been able to limit him even before Antecession.

**Don’t.**

**Why shouldn’t I?**
Lisette snapped, and instantly regretted it. She tried never to snap at anybody. But she expected her thoughts to remain locked inside her own head.

**Because I asked nicely, and you know I don’t have to do that.**

Lisette’s hands clenched on her saddle, and the scars on her palms ached.
**You have to stop tormenting the guards.**

**Why?**
Jinriki’s mental voice was mocking.

**Because if you don’t, we will see what Tiana does when you and I have another struggle.**

There was a long silence. Lisette watched Tiana’s back to see if she turned around, or even shifted her weight: any sign Jinriki spoke to her. But Tiana might as well have been a statue propped up in her saddle.

Lisette’s own mare shied nervously at nothing perceptible, and she wondered if Jinriki could get inside the heads of the horses and spook them. She remembered darkly that Cathay’s Regent Sennic had died after being thrown from his horse. That had been a bad day, a horrible day. Cathay hadn’t let anybody near him, until she’d talked her way past his defenses, and then he hadn’t let her go.

**Do you remember these things to irritate me?**
demanded Jinriki. *
*Cathay, Cathay, everywhere I look. Consider Slater. I have. He is also attractive, in a human sort of way, and far more reliable. He even has a few interesting issues I know you’d enjoy exploring.**

Lisette didn’t need to turn around to consider Slater; she’d considered Slater since he’d been assigned to guard her, in an idle, self-indulgent kind of way. He was tall and well-built and smart and loyal and skilled with his sword. And also a Guard, which was a line she wasn’t crossing just for fun.

**Why are you invading the guards?**
she asked, refusing to let herself be pulled further off-topic.

**I’m just helping them... what was Slater’s phrase? I’m helping them toughen up. They’re mostly incompetent. They need to know exactly what my expectations are. I’m giving them helpful advice on where they’re going to fail.**

Lisette couldn’t even come up with words in her head to respond to that, except to squeak, out loud,
“What?
”

Kiar looked back at her quizzically, then back at her book again. Nobody else noticed. Lisette reached out and played with her mare’s mane, muttering under her breath, “How can you possibly think that’s helpful?”

**Well,**
Jinriki sent meditatively,
**It might make them give up and go home before Tiana gets hurt trying to save them. They’re a burden. It’s dishonest not to tell them so.**
He sounded almost pious.

“No, you’re just being cruel. You’re enjoying being cruel.” The mare’s ears flicked back to catch what she’s saying, and she patted her horse’s neck. “Not you, you’re a good girl.” Then she concentrated and sent,
**The Royal Guard is a voluntary force. Every Guard on this trip was hand-picked for his dedication to protecting us. And Tiana is very lovable, in her own way. Don’t torture her guards for wanting to serve her.**

**I’m not. I’m torturing them for being useless.**
Again she caught that strange bubbling sense of self-righteousness, and she focused on it, dissecting it until she found the idle amusement underneath.

**You’re a bully,**
she told him flatly, watching Tiana again.

**No, I’m a fiend, and I don’t like humans very much. Neither did my master. At one point he considered you all a mistake.**

Lisette thought about the lazy arrogance of the voice in her head. Jinriki was, according to his own claims and Kiar’s reading, the favored Secondborn of a dead god. Some arrogance was probably natural. But he was also, in her observations and from Tiana’s stories, incredibly intelligent. Something didn’t make sense about his current approach.
**You’re too smart to think it’s a good idea for Tiana to travel with only you as her companion. What’s going on?**

**And you. We mustn’t forget you, her most precious friend.**
Jinriki said ‘friend’ like Lisette would have said ‘horserace’ and Kiar might have said ‘hairbrush’.

**That would be a disaster and you know it. Why are you being so stupid?**

Jinriki didn’t answer right away. During his silence, Lisette kept a close eye on her mare. Wisps of straw danced by in the wind. The mare stretched out her neck to catch at one. When she missed one, she snorted and shook her head.

**I am... grateful to the princess. But there are many who would be pleased if she once again gave me up. If I could remove their influence, that risk would be minimized.**

Lisette was again surprised. Her mare stopped abruptly, misinterpreting her body language, and once more Kiar glanced over. This time she asked, “Is she all right?”

“Yes,” said Lisette hastily. “I was stretching out my back and confused her.” She urged the mare into movement again and thought fiercely,
**You’re tormenting Tiana’s guards to make them leave, putting her in potential danger, so you can feel more comfortable? That’s so... petty.**

**I know,**
Jinriki thought, low and annoyed.

The wind picked up again, blowing a splat of cold water against Lisette’s cheek. Distant thunder rumbled, and she realized the bright sunny day had vanished. The sun still peeped out between the roiling clouds, but it was like a prisoner catching his last glimpse of freedom. And on the northern horizon loomed a mass of clouds so dark and solid that it seemed like another mountain, one that put Sel Sevanth to shame.

Voices raised behind Lisette, before Slater and Berrin both cantered past her to where Tiana rode in the lead with Cathay. Lisette exchanged glances with Kiar, and as one they both moved close enough to listen in.

“A magnificent thunderstorm is about to break on top of us, Princess,” called Berrin. “We need to find shelter.”

Tiana glanced over at Berrin like he’d woken her from a dream. Then she looked around. The road followed the border between Ingae and Dalein, a territory of mostly farmland. They grew lavender as well as grapes and grain, but there was a fair amount of waste land. They were passing through some now: too rocky and uneven for easy cultivation. There was, however, a small mixed orchard on the right.

“We could stop at a farmhouse?” Tiana suggested slowly. “There’s one over there.” The farmhouse and its barn were both small. Sheltering sixteen humans and twenty equines would be a challenge. “But I’d rather we kept going. I’m sure we’ll get to a posting inn soon. Then we could have baths, too.” She turned her head enough to smile at Lisette.

Thunder crashed overhead, and two of the soldiers’ horses shied violently. Lisette’s horse shook her head again and turned to stare at the misbehaving cobs.