Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (24 page)

When Red finished, Helene sniffed, and cast a glance over her shoulder at Wolfe. Wolfe shrugged ever so slightly. Helene turned back, and straightened in her chair. “I don’t appreciate your insults, Red Gloves. But I will consider your words.”

“As you wish, Lady High Baroness.” Red stood. “Return in the morning, and give me your well-considered, and sober, decision.”

Helene rose, using the table for support. Evelyn had her arms folded in her robes. “Do you wish me to cast the portal for you?”

Helene shot her a glare, but her words were polite enough. “No, thank you.”

“My men will see you to the shrine,” Red said, and nodded to Oris. “Until the morrow.”

Helene took Wolfe’s arm and left. Josiah moved closer to Red as they watched them leave.

Evelyn sighed. “You were hard on her.”

“No harder than life itself,” Red said. “She needs to think of someone besides her own self.”

“Do you think she will join us?” Josiah asked softly.

“If he will, she will.” Red took a last swallow of kavage. “And that Wolfe is no fool. So three down, one to go.” She set the mug on the table, and studied it for a moment. “You’ve said not to waste time on Lord Verice.”

Josiah nodded. “His dislike of humans is well known. After the death of King Everard, he cut off all contact with the Council.”

Evelyn tilted her head. “There have been changes there, Josiah. But he still won’t offer support that might endanger his people.”

“Takes only an afternoon to ask.” Red squinted at the sun. “What’s the harm in asking? Would Verice betray us?”

“No.” Evelyn shook her head. “Of that I am sure.”

“Then let’s pay a friendly visit, eh?”

THERE’D be no boots on the table in this place. Red had never seen so much cold white marble in her life.

And that was just the mucking elves.

The palace—and it was a palace—chilled her to her bones. The halls towered over her, and her boots rang as they walked with their escort of elven warriors toward their audience. Evelyn stayed beside her, seemingly unaffected, a source of warmth in this cold place.

Red had always thought of elves as nature-loving, roaming the forests with their bows, singing elven songs. But this building spoke of power, rigid and unforgiving.

Verice’s coat of arms was a fierce eagle, wings spread, defiant and cruel. Clutched in its talons was a rose, but not a simple blossom. It was one of those large cabbage rose blossoms, with a few petals falling from the bloom. It held an aura of sadness, somehow. As if the eagle, for all its power, could not protect the flower.

They reached the huge doors, which swung open silently, with no hand to aid them. Red scowled and marched through.

Lord Verice was on his throne, his scowl even deeper than hers as he watched them approach.

“So, Lady High Priestess Evelyn, you bring me another Chosen. Older, I grant you, but no more solid than your prior will-o’-the-wisp.”

Evelyn was unfazed. “Lord Verice, allow me to make you known to Red Gloves. She bears the mark of the Chosen, and the skills to see the Throne of Palins restored.”

Lord Verice sniffed.

Red said nothing. Given her temper, no good would come of it. Mucking elves. She unlaced the leather bit, showed him the mark, and then laced it back up again.

“I see no reason to change my position. I see no need for Tassinic to support—”

“Nonsense.” The voice was warm and light and joyous, such a contrast that all heads turned.

An extremely pregnant human woman waddled into the room, a warm smile on her face. “Evie, it’s lovely to see you!”

Lord Verice rose from his throne, his face grim. “My Lady Warna, this is a formal audience.”

Warna smiled. “I’d curtsy, my Lord, but more than like I would wobble and spoil the effect.”

She spread her hand out on her belly. “Besides, this is Evie.” She reached out her hand. Evelyn crossed over and hugged her.

“Warna, you look wonderful.” Evie stepped back to look. “How do you do?”

“My Lord’s heir is kicking. We are hungry, although I’m eating for at least two. I’ve sweets and kavage in my sitting room. Come.”

Verice raised an eyebrow.

Warna laughed. “You can come, too, my Lord.” She took Evie’s arm, and they turned and started to walk away.

To Red’s surprise, Verice’s granite face melted to a wry look of acceptance, and maybe just a hint of humor. He raised an eyebrow, and gestured for Red to precede him.

She returned the nod, and they walked down the hall after the women.

LADY Warna’s sitting room was done in white marble, with wide, high windows that let in the sun. But here the marble was covered with a layer of…fluff.

Red blinked in the light. She’d never seen so many cushions, curtains, and bright colors. Pink ruled this room. Especially in the vases of large pink cabbage roses that seemed to be on every surface. The floor was covered with a thick carpet of greens and golds. The effect was cluttered, and rather glorious. Not Red’s taste, but still impressive.

Warna sank slowly onto one of the padded seats. She settled in with a sigh, then smiled at her guests. “Sit, sit. Verice, watch your sword. Don’t knock over any more of my vases than you have to.”

Verice snorted, and sat on the edge of one of the chairs. He put a hand on his sheath, making sure it stayed under control.

Red followed his lead, careful not to sink into the softness. And she minded her sword as well.

Wouldn’t do to break anything.

A maid came in with a tray, a pot of tea, and small white cups of thin alabaster. Warna took one and a small cake, and bade the others join her. Red was careful with the cup, which felt so thin and fragile to the touch. The heat of the liquid warmed her fingers.

Warna smiled at her. “So, you bear the mark? And are a warrior as well. Excellent.”

“Warna…” Verice growled.

She gave him a wide-eyed look, then smiled at Evelyn. “The elven midwives give me a few more weeks before our heir arrives. I think I am going to explode any day.”

“You look well.” Evelyn took a sip of her kavage. “If you’d like me to attend—”

“No,” Verice growled.

“There are some traditions that must be adhered to.” Warna smiled softly. “I will be attended by elven healers.” She glanced over at Verice. “But I thank you for your offer, Evie. It was kindly meant. Besides, you have other work to do.” Warna looked at Red. “What support do you have at present?”

Red glanced at the woman, surprised. “So far, I have Lord Fael’s and Lady Helene’s. And Josiah of Athelbryght.”

“Josiah!” Warna exclaimed.

Red sighed, and let Evelyn explain.

“Immune to magic.” Warna bit into her cake with a thoughtful look. “There’s a deadly weapon.”

Red gave her a grin. There was no fluff in that brain.

“And what strength of arms?” Warna pressed.

Verice coughed. “You are so fascinated by such talk.”

Verice and Warna exchanged glances.

“I love to talk troop strength,” Warna replied, lifting her chin. “Wait until I ask about the placement of the necessaries in her camp.”

Verice put his head back and laughed out loud.

Red looked down at her knees, a shaft of pure envy lancing through her. They were clearly smitten, and Warna was so comfortable in her fluff and ruffles and pregnancy. Her genuine happiness was painful to look on.

“The point,” Evelyn said, “is that we have the strength and a leader. Will you aid us?”

“My Lady has made her support of your cause clear,” Verice said. He set his cup of kavage on a table. “But I am not convinced that the interests of Tassinic are best served by being drawn into this matter.”

Evelyn opened her mouth, but Verice cut her off with a gesture. “I have heard your arguments, Lady High Priestess.” He glanced at Red. “But you are a new factor.”

Red returned the look. “I am no lass with no knowledge of the sword, or of what it takes to win a battle.”

Verice shrugged. “Even so, why should I take this chance when neutrality serves me and mine just as well?”

“Verice…” Warna started to speak, only to give way to an enormous yawn.

“And that”—Verice nodded—“means that my Lady needs her afternoon nap.”

Warna laughed. “To be followed by my early evening nap.” But she made no protest when Verice rose and swept her up into his arms, frills and all.

“I’ll grant you this.” Verice paused, Warna in his arms. “I’ll place my warriors at my border with Edenrich, to prevent encroachment on my lands, from either side. I’ll not support one side or the other. Fight your battles as you wish. I will protect me and mine. Give my regards to Josiah. He is a good man. Now, if you will excuse us…” He swept Warna out of the room.

Evelyn stood, and Red joined her. “That went better than I’d hoped,” Evelyn said softly. “Now there is only one more High Baron to approach.”

Red nodded as the door opened and their escort appeared. “Then let us be about it, Priestess.

Time is not on our side.”

TWENTY-TWO

RED felt her shoulders ease as soon as they were through the portal and back in Athelbryght. She turned to Evelyn. “We’ll gather tomorrow, then, and work out the details?”

Evelyn shook her head. “Tomorrow night is the earliest. Lord Carell doesn’t like surprise visitors. I have to send a message through a portal first, asking permission to visit. Besides, I’ve Church duties tomorrow that can’t be traded off.” She sighed.

“Do you think anyone suspects?” Red asked.

Evelyn gave her a tired laugh. “No, they are used to me running about healing the ‘unworthy.’

Only Dominic has commented that I seem busier than usual lately. For all my vaunted powers”—Evelyn grimaced—“they don’t keep track of me that closely.”

“In the afternoon, then.” Red watched as Evelyn gestured at the portal. It seemed to flicker slightly, then the priestess stepped through and was gone.

Red stepped out of the shrine and hailed the guards. “Anyone know where Lord Josiah is?”

“The herb beds, Chosen.” The lad grinned at her. “Lord Josiah gathered up a bunch of slackers and took ’em off. Said he was gonna make ’em weed.”

“A fate worse than death.” Red grinned back. “Thanks, lad.”

She headed that way, thinking of marjoram. Perhaps she’d scold Josiah for demeaning her warriors, release them from their servitude, and then she and Josiah could make better use of the herb “beds.”

“Chosen!”

She looked over to see Auxter hailing her from the barn. Ezren was seated next to him. Red frowned, concerned. The man was sitting in a chair, half-naked, breathing hard. Auxter sat next to him, his staff leaning against the barn wall.

“Ezren,” she asked as she drew closer, “are you well?”

Those green eyes flashed in a smile. “Well enough, Chosen. What happened with Verice?”

“Ezren’s fine.” Auxter chuckled. “He’s been chopping wood. Trying to gain strength.”

Bethral came around the side of the barn, with a bucket of water and a few mugs. She had a towel, which she handed to Ezren.

“Your idea?” Red asked Bethral.

Bethral nodded. “We need the wood.”

Ezren snorted as he wiped his face. “I’m certain the kindling I managed to cut will aid someone.

Now, what happened with Verice?”

“Ah.” Red folded her arms over her chest, and told the tale as Ezren recovered.

He nodded at her words. “To be expected.” He took a long drink of water. “Now, would you say that word is out? About you?”

Red considered this. “In the common ear, to be certain. In the ears of the powerful? I don’t know.

But word travels on the wind.”

“Talk works against us.” Ezren drew a breath. “Let me make it work for us as well.”

“How so?”

Ezren reached for his tunic. “I need ten or fifteen of your men. Older, experienced men. War veterans, if you have any.” He tucked his head into his tunic and struggled with the sleeves.

“What for?” Red asked carefully.

Ezren’s head popped out of the neck of the tunic. His hair had started growing back, but there wasn’t enough to be in disarray. Still, he ran his hand over it just the same. “Why, to send them on leave to Edenrich and some of the other towns, of course. For an ale, and a meat pie, and a bit of gossip at a tavern or two.”

Red glanced at Bethral, who shrugged. “I don’t—”

Ezren’s eye gleamed. “They will spread the word that the Chosen has raised her banner and will soon issue the call to any man willing to serve Palins.”

“Banner?” Red pointed out. “We don’t have—”

“I will design one for you.” Ezren waved away her protest. “The power of story, Chosen. For what is gossip but a tale told over and over?”

Ezren seated himself next to Auxter. “Let me gather the men, talk to them, then have the Lady High Priestess open a few portals around the Kingdom. All I need is a few nights, and a few coins to buy a few rounds of ale for the thirsty.”

“It’s a good idea,” Auxter rumbled. “And I know just the men.”

“Is it too soon?” Bethral asked.

Ezren shrugged. “It takes time for a tale to spread. But if it works, it may gather support in unlikely places.”

Red considered this for a moment. “Do it.” She turned to go.

Ezren’s voice rose behind her. “You mean you are going to listen to me?”

Red smirked, but didn’t stop. She had a goatherder to find. She walked quickly, not wanting further interruption. But when she caught her first glimpse of the group, she paused.

Sure enough, Josiah had the warriors on their hands and knees, pulling at the plants. She was pleased to see one of them posted as watch. She suspected they were trading off that duty to escape Josiah’s eye for a few brief moments.

The watchman spotted her, and lifted a hand. She returned the greeting, and gestured for silence.

Josiah was on his hands and knees, patiently explaining to one of the warriors the difference between a wild onion and a weed. His voice floated over, warm and patient. She watched him for a moment as his hands moved, sorting out the plants and digging in the soil.

A man of the earth, of crops and livestock. A man reclaiming his lands and eventually his people.