Hammer Of God (16 page)

“From theft and each other, Rudi,” she retorted. “From piracy and pillaging. Not from a full-scale invasion by a nation of warriors with powers we can scarcely comprehend.”

“True,” said Alasdair. “But once you convince them we are in danger from Mijak, all of us, they might see our raising of an army as an attempt to take advantage of the situation.”

“To what end?” she said, staring. “There's no advantage to us if the charter is broken. Every trading nation knows how much we benefit from it. And armies are expensive. Why would we pour money into that ravenous belly unless we were forced to it?”

Alasdair shrugged. “We wouldn't. But that doesn't mean a nation like Keldrave won't suspect some hidden motive.”

He was right. It would. They'd all be suspicious. Ethrea sat in the midst of a tangled web, each trading nation sticky with grudges and alliances that could break from one heartbeat to the next. Still…“I must believe I can convince the trading nations to give us leeway,” she said. “Why else has God favoured me, if I can't do even that?”

“This army,” said Rudi. “You're thinking to create it from each duchy's garrison?” He pulled a face. “That's not enough soldiers to defend the kingdom.”

“True. But our garrison soldiers are only the beginning, Rudi,” she said. “You're forgetting the men and women of Ethrea. They can be trained to defend their home. Indeed, it's my belief they'll defend it whether they're trained or not. So I think it preferable that we give them as much help as we can, starting as soon as possible. I'd not have one Ethrean die because he or she knew too little.”

“Trained…” said Alasdair, slowly. “You mean by Zandakar?”

“By men he has trained, yes,” she said, and tried not to see how his eyes were now blank, his expression guarded. “I'll have Zandakar train the best of our garrisons, so they in turn can train the men below them, who will then train the people.”

“What makes you think Zandakar will do it?” said Edward. “You'll be asking him to turn on his own kind to help us. I tell you straight, Majesty, I'm not inclined to trust him that far.”

Ven'Cedwin's inky quill scratched busily over his parchment, a loud sound as Rhian stared in silence at her dukes. The pain behind her eyes grew with each harsh breath. “Oh, Edward. Have you forgotten so soon who my father was? I grew up learning from him every trick and trade of statecraft…including how to read a man.”

“It's true Eberg gave you an uncommon education,” said Rudi, red-faced. “But it was Ranald and Simon he had in mind for leadership.”

Helfred cleared his throat. “I find this conversation pointless, my lords. I find it dangerous also. If we, this privy council, cannot hold to a woman as our sovereign lord, what hope do we have of showing example to the kingdom and the world at large? God himself has chosen Rhian to rule. And still you cavil? Are you termites, my lords, that you would eat out the very foundation of this kingdom?”

The dukes, and even Alasdair, stared at Helfred – as though for the first time they truly saw their prolate. Saw past his youth, his unfortunate complexion, his even more unfortunate family…saw past all that to the man himself. Then they exchanged uncomfortable glances or frowned at the table, unwilling to invite their prolate's further censure.

Rhian looked at Helfred, who met her gaze without comment. His expression was composed, but she thought she saw sympathy in his eyes. They were, after all, in similar situations. No churchman in his right mind would've imagined Helfred succeeding Marlan as Prolate of Ethrea.

In his own way, Helfred is as unlikely an ally as the Emperor Han. Truly my life has become…unexpected.

Hurting and weary, she returned to her seat. “Gentlemen, I know this is difficult. But the Ethrea we knew died yesterday in the tiltyard with Damwin and Kyrin. This is a new day. A new kingdom. If you don't have faith in me as your queen, how can you serve me?”

Edward sat back, his eyes narrowed. “We can't serve you if, when we question your choices, we're accused of disloyalty.”

“Of course you can't,” she agreed. “By all means be rigorous in your examination of any plans I might put forth. But be rigorous with hearts wholly and solely believing in me. Otherwise, truly, is there any point to this?”

“This Ethrean army,” he said gruffly, after a moment. “The idea's not bad, I grant you, but like the raising of an aramda it'll take time. Not even Zandakar can create an army overnight.”

“I think we have a little more time than that, Edward.”

“How much more time?” said Ludo. “How soon before Mijak comes knocking on our door?”

“I don't know,” she said. “No-one does. Zandakar left his people almost a year ago, and Han's witch-men can tell us only that they come.”

“Er – Your Majesty?” said Ven'Cedwin, looking up from his swift scribbling. “If I might interject?”

Surprised, she considered him. For all the talking he did in council meetings, Ven'Cedwin might as well be mute. “Yes?”

“Your earlier mention of Icthia stirred my memory,” said the venerable. “As you know, I've been sorting through the haphazard records kept while your late father was ailing. Did you know the current Icthian ambassador was recalled from his post almost three months ago? His replacement is now some weeks overdue.”

Rhian felt her mouth dry. “No. I wasn't aware of that, Ven'Cedwin.”

“It might not mean anything,” said Ludo, breaking the circumspect silence. “There could be a dozen reasons why the new Icthian ambassador's been delayed.”

Or it might mean that Mijak had swallowed Icthia alive and even now was sailing towards Ethrea…“Rudi? You oversee the running of Kingseat Harbour. Has word reached your ears of trouble to the east?”

Rudi looked offended. “If it had, you can be sure I'd have mentioned it long before now.”

She pulled a face at him, apologising. “Just to be sure, find out from the harbourmaster if he knows of any other tardy vessels. It's possible no-one's thought to be alarmed yet, if there are.” She took a steadying breath. Stay calm. Stay calm. “As Ludo says, the Icthian ambassador's delay might mean nothing. But in case that's not so, all the more reason for us to push ahead, gentlemen, as hard and as fast as we can, using whatever tools lie within our grasp to protect Ethrea.”

“It's going to be a battle, convincing the trading nations the danger from Mijak is real,” said Rudi. “When we can't say for certain how soon they'll attack, or even prove their existence.”

“We can prove it,” she said, sounding far more confident than she felt. “We have Zandakar.”

“One man isn't proof,” said Edward dubiously.

“We also have Han and his witch-men.”

“The trading nations fear and resent Tzhung-tzhungchai, even Harbisland and Arbenia,” said Rudi. “Majesty, these are treacherous waters. There are currents and cross-currents here no monarch of Ethrea has ever had to swim.”

“And since I'm young and a woman I must perforce drown?” She tilted her chin. “Nonsense. You forget the centuries of goodwill Ethrea has in its bowl. The trading nations might distrust each other, but they won't distrust us. We have never lied to them or played them false.”

Alasdair sat forward, his elbows braced on the table. “Fine. Say you're right, and you do convince the ambassadors that Mijak is coming. Say they agree to this armada, or at the least to us patchworking an army together. After that you'd best leave Zandakar locked safely in prison. Let the trading nations see us so cosy with an enemy and I think it likely there'll be a revolt.”

She stared at him. Don't do this, Alasdair. Don't bring our bedroom into my council chamber. “The ambassadors aren't stupid men. They'll recognise Zandakar's worth. Once I explain—”

“You don't know that!”

“No,” she said carefully. “Not for certain. But I believe I'll convince them.”

“How? Castle servants chatter as much as those who serve the ambassadors. It's likely they know already you tossed him into prison.”

A swift exchange of glances around the council table. Rhian felt her face heat. “I was angry,” she said stiffly. “I felt betrayed because he didn't trust me with the truth. I'm not angry now. He was frightened. Any one of us in his position would've acted the same.”

“Perhaps,” said Edward heavily. “But even if you can ease their fears over Zandakar, you'll never stop them mistrusting the Tzhung. Han's a law unto himself. Chances are he'll step in and try to take over. The other nations won't stand for that. I'll not stand for it. Ethrea's no vassal state of the Tzhung empire.”

“Edward's right,” said Adric. “Everyone knows the Tzhung care only for the Tzhung. I doubt you'll control him. Their emperor will never be led by a woman.”

She could feel Alasdair's eyes upon her, his gaze cool and speculating. Suspicious. He didn't know about her two meetings with Han. She hadn't felt strong enough for the arguments that would surely follow.

“He'll be led by me,” she said flatly. “His witch-men brought him here, to Ethrea. He knows we lie at the heart of this dilemma. He'll listen. He'll be guided.”

“And if he won't?” said Alasdair as Adric sat back, silenced but dissatisfied.

“He will.”

Scratch, scratch, scratch, went Ven'Cedwin's quill over a fresh sheet of parchment. Underneath it, the soft slide of velvet against leather, against wood, as the dukes shifted on their chairs.

She looked at each of them in turn. “I promise you, gentlemen, I will deal with Emperor Han. I'll deal with all of them. Edward and Rudi, first thing tomorrow visit the ambassadors in person and invite them to a special convocation here, in the castle, at noon. Don't elaborate on the purpose of the meeting. Stress only that their lives depend upon their attendance.”

“Majesty,” her dukes murmured.

“Helfred, I'll need you at that meeting,” she continued. “The full weight of the Church must be helpful when I lay our case before the ambassadors. Once they're aware of the danger from Mijak you can turn your attention to the matters of Hartshorn and Meercheq. Ludo will assist you in the matter of the funerals.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

She stood. “Then, gentlemen, I believe we're done for the moment. Let us be about our business.”

The chamber emptied until only she and Alasdair remained. He stayed seated, staring at his hands, as she once more began to pace. Her belly was churning, and the pain behind her eyes was monstrous. Every cut and bruise shouted. Dear God, how much she needed to lie down.

“Alasdair, I want this meeting in the Grand Ballroom. Can you see all is made ready?”

He nodded. “I can.”

“Have Adric assist you. He's green and needs seasoning.” She pulled a face. “I fear I was too hasty in making him Kingseat's duke. Just because no king before you has been king and duke at the same time—”

“Is there any point to you looking over your shoulder?” he said. “You made your decision. You can't unmake it now.

“Besides…”

“What?” she said, when he didn't continue. “Alasdair? Besides what?”

“At the time it seemed unlikely you'd prevail and be queen,” he said reluctantly. “But you did, so we must live with that decision.”

Which might well prove difficult. But if I unseat Adric I offend Rudi and make every other duke and prospective duke in the kingdom nervous. Oh, Rhian. And you pride yourself on your statecraft.

“I confess, it was…not well thought through,” she admitted. “Though the choice did bind Rudi to me, which is important. Especially with the Mijaki coming to slaughter us all.” She managed a dry laugh. “And if I don't prevail against them, then my choice of Kingseat's duke will be the least of our troubles.”

“True,” said Alasdair. He still hadn't looked at her.

“I'd value your opinion of those men eligible to be made Duke of Hartshorn,” she said, after a moment. “You've mixed with them all your life, but being from Linfoi…their stupid prejudices…you have the advantage of an outsider's eye.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

His scrupulous politeness was unbearable. She dropped into the chair nearest to him and reached for his hands. He didn't withdraw them, but neither did his fingers clasp hers.

“You know I'm right about Zandakar,” she said, holding onto him. “With what he knows of Mijak, he could make the difference between victory and defeat.”

“If he tells you the truth.”

“He will, Alasdair. He's not what you suspect.”

A muscle leapt along his jaw. “And what's that?”

“A spy, sent by his mother and brother to help them destroy us. If he was, why wouldn't he do his best to ingratiate himself instead of making me so angry by hiding the truth?”

Alasdair looked at her. “But that's exactly what he's done, Rhian. He's ingratiated himself. He's wormed his way into your affections, earned your trust. You defend him against everyone, even me. And now you're about to defend him to the ambassadors.”

She released his hands. “Because he was sent here to help us. Because he might he all that stands between us and destruction.”

“Or he might be the key that unlocks the door, not only to this kingdom but to all the civilised world,” said Alasdair softly. “But you won't even entertain that possibility, will you?”

He'd never understand. In a thousand years she'd not make him see her side of this. To him Zandakar was the enemy, even though he admitted that without Zandakar she'd be dead.

“Alasdair, all I've done is put him in a more comfortable prison cell,” she said, her hands fisted in her lap. “And I promise he'll never be alone while he remains in this kingdom. You're right, I do trust him and I don't believe I'm wrong. But I'm not stupid, either. He'll be watched. And if it seems he no longer has our best interests at heart…”

“Then he dies, Rhian,” said Alasdair flatly. “In the moment of his treachery, he dies.”

She nodded. “Yes. He dies.”

Alasdair dropped his gaze again, fixing it to the polished mahogany table. She waited for him to speak, waited for him to say something, anything, but he seemed content to let the silence gain weight and stifle the chamber's sunlit air. She didn't need words to know what he was thinking.

“Han came to me,” she said, when she couldn't bear it any longer. “Twice. In secret. The first time to tell me I had to kill the dukes. The second time…” She shook her head. “I don't know why he came the second time. I think I confuse him. I think he resents me. The wind – the god of the Tzhung – someone or something has told him I'm important and he has to listen to me. He doesn't like it, but he obeys. He'll not move against Ethrea, or any other nation. I know it.”