Hammer Of God (46 page)

Now her cheeks were flushed with temper. “And if you're right, what of it? What do you suggest I do? It might make things easier for everyone if I were to banish Zandakar from court, but I can't do that, can I? We need him. I need him.”

“You can need him, and use him for the good of Ethrea, and still have a care.”

She flinched. “That would make me cruel.”

“All monarchs are cruel, Rhian. Ruling is a cruel business, even in a kingdom as kindly as Ethrea.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “And you think me capable of cruelty?”

“You'd have stood by and let Sun-dao destroy Jatharuj,” he said. “If that's not cruel, Rhian, I don't know what is.”

“Well,” she said at last, after a long silence, and turned her attention back to the harbour. “I think I've detained you long enough, Mister Jones. I'll see you in the council meeting – but first, go to His Majesty. We must be…careful…in what we say about your journey to Icthia. He'll advise you on the most politic version.”

He'd angered her. Hurt her. It couldn't be helped. Before he accepted his dismissal he said, “Ask Zandakar about Vortka, when next you see him. Make him tell you, Majesty. I think it's important.”

“I dance my hotas with him in the hour before sunset,” she said, sounding indifferent. “I'll ask him then. And if what he tells me has some purpose, I'll use it. I'll use him. Mijak must be stopped, no matter the cost.”

And by the time this is over, we'll all have paid a heavy price. Dexterity nodded. “Majesty,” he said, and left her to be solitary.

The privy council listened with growing dismay to Dexterity's carefully worded account of what had befallen him and Zandakar in Jatharuj. The dukes were even more alarmed to learn that Rhian intended deepening Ethrea's ties with Tzhung-tzhungchai. Dexterity's recounting of Sun-dao's witch-man powers had them staring and gasping and exchanging alarmed glances.

“How can you be certain this Tzhung emperor is to be trusted?” said Edward, drumming his fingers on the table. “I tell you plainly, Majesty, I'm not easy about this.”

“Nor am I,” added Rudi. “The witch-men of Tzhung-tzhungchai are not natural. Do we peril our souls in letting their heathen magics assist us?”

“No, we do not,” Rhian said sharply. “Given what we're facing, Rudi, Han's witch-men are a godsend.”

Helfred looked up from his prayer beads. “That's not for you to say, Majesty.”

The scratching of Ven'Cedwin's quill over a fresh sheet of parchment sounded loud as Rhian stared at him. As everyone stared at him.

“I beg your pardon, Helfred?” she said, with great care.

“Ethrea's spiritual well being is my province, Majesty, not yours,” he replied. “And I am troubled by the sorceries of Tzhung's witch-men.”

“Why?” said Dexterity. “If their odd powers are used for good that must be good, surely.”

“Perhaps,” said Helfred, reserved. “But the Tzhung are not my only concern.”

Around the council table, the dukes exchanged more eloquent looks. Rhian, temper simmering, let herself glance at Alasdair, beside her. He raised one eyebrow, cautioning restraint, then leaned forward.

“What else concerns you, Prolate?” he said, so polite. “Share your thoughts with us, please. You know your counsel is valued.”

Rattle, rattle, rattle went Helfred's wooden prayer beads, sliding through his fingers. “Majesty, I cannot like this strange power shared by Zandakar and his murderous brother. What is its source? How is it created?”

“Does it matter?” said Ludo as the other dukes frowned. “If Zandakar's power can serve our cause?”

“Of course it matters!” said Helfred. “If the source of that power is shared…and if it's fed by the shedding of human blood in Mijak…how can we think to countenance its use? Would you wear clothes bought by coin from a murdered man's purse?”

“Not if I knew that's how they were purchased,” Ludo retorted, offended. “And I hope you're not suggesting I'd murder for the coin!”

“No,” said Helfred. “I'm not suggesting that, Your Grace. And nor would I have Ethrea gain from evil.”

“There's no hint that the source of Zandakar's power is evil,” Rhian protested. “His brother's, perhaps, but not Zandakar's. And neither is there proof that Han's witch-men are tainted. Mister Jones, did you see anything to suggest it?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Dexterity said, after a moment. “What I witnessed was strange, but the only evil I saw belonged to Mijak.”

“In your opinion,” said Helfred, repressive. “The truth is, Mister Jones, we can't answer either question with certitude. So I will pray for God's guidance in the matter.”

Rhian felt her jaw clench. Helfred…“Prolate, have you been listening? Or have the burdens of office scattered your wits? Mijak is coming with thousands of warriors. We have to stop them before they reach us, with any weapon we can find.”

Helfred's stare was cool and uncompromising. “So you think now. But is it not possible the world contains greater evils than Mijak?”

“At the moment? No, I don't believe it does!”

He stood. “And I pray you are right. But given what we have learned of witch-men and their doings and what we know already of Zandakar's kin, I cannot say with a clear conscience that the Church will support the alliance you're suggesting with Tzhung-tzhungchai, or the use of Zandakar's unnatural knife. What manner of prolate would I be, if I counselled the saving of our bodies while condemning our souls to destruction?”

He was the most inconvenient man. “Helfred, Dexterity says—”

“Is Mister Jones your prolate?” said Helfred severely, not even glancing at her toymaker. His wooden prayer beads were wrapped tight around Helfred's hand. “I don't believe he is. God appointed me your prolate, Rhian. And I will serve him with a true heart. Rail and bully all you like, but I'll not be forced into supporting a decision my conscience tells me could be a grave mistake.”

Rhian choked. Rail? Bully? What was he talking about, she wasn't a tyrant. She just didn't have time for this nonsense. None of them did.

“Where are you going?” she said as Helfred walked towards the chamber doors. “You don't have my permission to—”

“I have God's permission,” said Helfred. “I return to my privy chapel, where I will ask for his guidance. Be sure I shall tell you when I have answers to the questions that vex me.”

The doors closed behind him with a thud.

“The prolate is right,” said Adric, breaking the stunned silence. “We tempt ruin, I think, to be so quick to embrace the powers of foreigners. Not when we can't say for sure those powers won't be used against us.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Adric,” she snapped. “Helfred's opposition is calamitous. If Helfred tells his venerables to preach against me in this, then—”

“He wouldn't do that,” said Ludo quickly. “Would he? After everything that's happened, would he dare undermine you in such a public fashion?”

She looked at Alasdair, who shrugged. “He was your chaplain,” he said. “Of us all you know him best.”

I know he drove me to distraction from the moment we first met, which means nothing's changed. “I can't be sure of what he'll do. The Church for him has always been a vocation, not a path to secular power. He's not a Marlan. He's not trying to undermine me. He really believes what he says.” It was an effort not to press her palms to her face, but a gesture like that would be a sign of weakness. She kept her hands strong on the table. “If Helfred needs some time to reflect on this decision, I must grant it. But he can't have long. Events begin to outrun us.”

“And if, after reflection, he says God is against a close alliance with the Tzhung?” asked Rudi.

She spared him a grim smile. “It might reward us to pray God says nothing of the sort, Rudi.”

“There'll be no armada without the Tzhung,” said Edward. “But either way, there's still the army.”

With an effort, Rhian thrust the irritation of Helfred aside. “Yes. I've reviewed your various reports and suggestions, gentlemen, and there is much of merit contained therein. But what you have given me is a paper army. And a paper army can't defeat the warriors of Mijak.”

“Then do we move forward?” said Edward. “Even though our spineless friends, the ambassadors, are yet to agree to us breaking the charter?”

Another silence fell, uncomfortable with the consequences of such a bold action.

“We can't wait for their permission,” said Alasdair, at last. “We'll be slaughtered in our beds while they're still arguing amongst themselves.”

Nods and exchanged glances as her dukes recognised the truth of Alasdair's contention. Dexterity sat quietly, his hands folded in his lap. No hint of his thoughts could be read in his face.

Rhian took a deep breath, her pulse racing. “We move forward, gentlemen. Ethrea will have its flesh-and-blood army.”

And may God protect us from Gutten, and the rest.

Soberly, Rudi turned to her. “Then you've a decision to make, Majesty. You must appoint the army's leader.”

She nodded. “I know. And I've been giving the question careful thought.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Alasdair sit a little straighter, his expression sharpening. He knows what I'll say next. Oh, God, of course he knows. Alasdair's not stupid.

Beyond the basic questions of who among her subjects would best be recruited, and how they could be housed, she and Alasdair had not discussed the army in depth. Between them, he, Edward and Rudi had far more experience in the business of garrisons and soldiers than she did. Leaving those details to him had been a relief.

And I've not discussed the army's leadership with him because I wanted the safety of the council chamber and a public declaration. Because I know my choice will hurt him. Because I'm a coward.

Rudi cleared his throat. “I applaud your foresight, Majesty, in considering this important matter. But I'd be remiss if I didn't voice one concern. You've proven your valour. There's not a man on this council – in all of Ethrea – who'd not gladly follow you into battle. But, Majesty, we can't. You can't appoint yourself leader of Ethrea's army. Your person is too precious. If you fall, so falls the kingdom.”

Edward banged his fist on the table. “Indeed, well said. You have dukes – or a king – who will take such a burden from your shoulders, Majesty. You must be a beacon to the people.”

They were her two old warhorses. She smiled at them, unoffended. “I am sensible of my place in this. I'm a proud Havrell, it's true—” She spared Ludo a glance, then. “But not a foolish one, I trust. I have some ability with a knife, but that in no way equips me to train and lead an army. Indeed, gentlemen, there is only one man among us who possesses those skills. One man who has experienced war first-hand. One man who understands intimately the warriors of Mijak and will know how to counter their attack. Zandakar.”

There was no point protesting at their protests. They were shouting so loud they'd never hear her, anyway. So she let their voices storm about her head, sat with her eyes closed and her hands loosely clasped until they pounded themselves into silence against her silence, at last. She didn't even look at Alasdair, whose replies to Ludo's agitated demands were soft, and restrained.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. My love, I'm so sorry.

She opened her eyes. “My lords, this decision has nothing to do with how you are valued. I value each and every one of you, more than I can say. Only a fool would think otherwise. And only a fool would allow pride to blind him to the obvious merits of Zandakar's leadership.”

Rudi snorted. “This has nothing to do with pride! I'm thinking of Ethrea. Leaving aside the small matter of Zandakar's loyalty—”

“No, I won't leave it aside, Rudi! Zandakar swore an oath in blood to me!”

“And when he had the chance to rejoin his people in Jatharuj, he didn't take it,” added Dexterity. “He returned to Ethrea. If that's not loyalty, I don't know what is.”

With a glance at his silent, kingly cousin, Ludo cleared his throat. “I may be alone in this opinion, but I don't dispute Zandakar's loyalty. And I agree he's the only man among us with the skills to train out soldiers how to fight and kill a Mijaki warrior. But we must consider the impression this would create. To give leadership of our army to a foreigner, to the son of—”

Rhian silenced him with a lifted hand. “Ludo – gentlemen – this complaining is a waste of our time. The truth, unpalatable as it may be, is there's not a one of you capable of leading an army to face the kind of bloodshed that's waiting for us. If I don't choose Zandakar, I'll have to find leadership amongst the trading nations. They go to war with each other as though it's a sport. The humblest sword-sharpener in Haisun's army knows more of killing warfare than every one of you combined. Can you deny it?”

She watched her dukes look at each other, watched her arguments deflate their prideful pretensions. When her gaze touched Dexterity he nodded, so very slightly, his eyes warm with approval. A strange thing, that a toymaker unschooled in the business of warfare and politics could see so clearly where her dukes appeared blind.

She didn't dare look at Alasdair.

“It would be Arbenia I'd have to turn to,” she continued, driving home her merciless point. “Or Harbisland. For you can be sure they'd not accept the ascendancy of a lesser trading nation. And if I gave an Ethrean army to Han, well, we'd swiftly find ourselves facing enemies on three sides. Besides, choosing any of the great trading nations must be unacceptable. We'll use all of them when and where we can, because we need them, but they must never come to think we're in their special debt.”

More harsh truth, just as difficult to swallow. But even as she continued to watch her dukes, she saw reluctant resignation wash away resistance. Saw them accept, if not with good grace, that they had no other choice but to support her stand.

“Gentlemen,” she said, “you must know I don't take this decision lightly. You must know it was never my intention to make you feel slighted. What I do, I do for Ethrea. Nothing else matters.”

“Certainly,” said Edward, grudging, “the trading nations must be kept at arm's length. And Zandakar is the best placed to understand how that heathen Mijaki horde thinks.”

“Exactly. And to that end he'll henceforth join our council meetings which must, from now on, be councils of war.”

“What of Hartshorn and Meercheq?” said Rudi. “They still have no dukes to govern their garrisons.”

She hesitated, then answered. “I know. But I can't settle that question yet. If my worst fears are realised, if we find ourselves fighting Mijak on Ethrean soil, we'll not escape losses. I think it's best that I wait…”

“And make your choices from whoever survives the carnage?” said Ludo. “Assuming, of course, that we prevail. Majesty, that is cold reasoning indeed.”

“And doubtless unfeminine,” she snapped. “But you must admit it's practical.”

“It is,” said Edward. “It's a good decision. Harsh, but necessary. What do these times demand if not harsh, necessary decisions?”

God bless him. “That's all they ask of us, Edward. And I can't see but that they'll only get harsher from this point.”

“If you're not naming the new dukes yet, Majesty,” said Adric, “who's to command those dukeless garrisons?”

Not you, my bonny lad, so quench the gleam in your eye. “Ah,” she said. “Now that was an easy choice, one of the few.” At last, at long last, she shifted in her seat to look at Alasdair. “His Majesty, naturally. There's no man in Ethrea who enjoys my greater trust. Zandakar will answer to him for the safety and well being of our kingdom's soldiery.”

“Of course,” said Edward, before Adric could speak. “A wise choice, Your Majesty.”

Did Alasdair think so? His expression was smooth, his eyes held no emotion. Whatever he was feeling had been thrust deep inside. She wondered if deep inside, he were bleeding. Whether she had wounded him. Wounded them. And if she had, if they were wounds past healing.