Lescari Revolution 03: Banners In The Wind (49 page)

'I believe that would win the Tormalin Emperor's approval,' Litasse ventured.

Ferdain nodded unhappily. 'Since he is sheltering Duke Secaris, murdering Draximal's heir would hardly be politic.'

Iruvain threw the letter to the floor, contemptuous. 'What has Tadriol the Provident to do with our affairs? His legions have dithered beyond the Asilor since the turn of the year.'

Ferdain looked at Ridianne. 'Will Tadriol intervene?'

The mercenary woman stooped to retrieve the parchment. Her whole stance challenged Iruvain to try to take it back as she smoothed it out and read.

'Tadriol has no interest in Tormalin rule over Lescar,' she said eventually. 'He wants to extend his dominion over these new lands across the eastern ocean. But he won't allow Lescari chaos to damage Tormalin interests. He's watched and waited all through the winter. As the weather improves?' She shrugged. 'If there's anarchy in Parnilesse and Draximal the legions will march.'

She cut off Iruvain's incoherent protest with a curt hand. 'But as long as someone can convince him that they can secure peace, he will watch and wait. I'll bet a sack of gold crowns against the same weight of goat shit that these rebels have sent an envoy to Toremal along with whoever pleads their case in Sharlac, Draximal and Triolle.'

Ridianne flicked the parchment with her hand. The noise was startlingly loud.

'If we let this folly of a Conclave proceed - and that will flatter Tormalin sensibilities, my lord, just as much as it will seduce the Caladhrians - this war is as good as over. So we must act, and quickly, before the Spring Festival. If we capture this cripple, we can draw out negotiations for his ransom.' She smiled viciously. 'Our first condition for his safe return, as opposed to his richly deserved execution, will be dismissal of this Conclave nonsense.'

'And then?' Ferdain wondered.

'Then there will be no summer of fighting to provoke His Imperial Majesty. But there will still be no rule of law, no guarantee of safety for the honest and the innocent.' Ridianne shook her head. 'While we tie up these rebels in offer and counter-offer for their cripple's return, we must convince Tadriol to lend us his legions to re-establish Lescar's remaining dukes.'

She glanced at Iruvain. 'Since his aid will be best secured by offering the most generous terms on tolls along the Great West Road, I suggest you take yourself off to the Caladhrian Spring Parliament. Convince the barons how sorely they will lose out unless they lend their shoulder to our wheel.'

Litasse thought Iruvain would argue but to her surprise, he just scowled. 'Indeed.'

Satisfied, Ridianne continued, 'With allies on both flanks, we offer these rebels the choice of fighting or retreating into the Dalasor grasslands and wherever they may care to run after that.'

'We'll offer them a noose or a headsman's axe!' cried Iruvain.

Ridianne shook her head. 'Corner the smallest rat and it'll take on a dog that outweighs it a hundredfold. We don't want them to fight and draw Emperor Tadriol's legions across the River Anock.'

Ferdain looked at Iruvain. 'You don't want to find Triolle encumbered with whatever settlement best suits Tormalin.'

Litasse saw hope winning out over the apprehension in the Marlier duke's eyes.

'Karn says the cripple's heading for Hengere. If he gave this speech in Carluse three days ago--' Ridianne paused for a moment. 'Your man must have killed a horse or two to get word to you. Where is he now?'

'Already gone,' apologised Litasse. 'He said he would find the scholar's carriage on the road to Hengere and try to kill him himself.'

Ridianne clicked her tongue, exasperated. 'Carluse to Hengere is seventy leagues. On those roads, at this season, that's four days' travel--'

'At best,' objected Iruvain. 'For a cripple whining at every jolt?'

Ridianne ignored him, addressing Ferdain. 'I will need to ride fast and light, my lord. I'll be gone before noon with a small troop of chosen men. But I will catch this rabbit, never fear, before Karn can have his throat out.' Clearly relishing that challenge, she thrust the parchment at Litasse. 'Write on the reverse of this to prove it comes from your hand. Insist that he yield to me.'

'Karn will do as I tell him.' Iruvain was adamant. 'So I will accompany you.'

'If you insist.' Ferdain looked a trifle anxiously at Ridianne.

Litasse was amused to see the mercenary captain's feral smile. 'I will be honoured by Your Grace's company.'

Now Iruvain looked a little uncertain.

Litasse spoke up quickly. 'Then there can be no misunderstanding. These rebels will see from the outset that we are united. Just as Triolle will have a hand in this villain's capture, so we will play our part in every negotiation and settlement that follows.'

'Quite so.' For the first time, Iruvain favoured her with cold approval.

Litasse avoided his gaze, her eyes modestly downcast. She was still thinking how best to avoid him until he rode north with Ridianne.

Her next task would be all the easier. As soon as Ridianne's troop had departed, Litasse would throw herself on Duke Ferdain's mercy. She would plead and weep till he agreed to support her claim to Sharlac in her own right.

She had all her arguments marshalled. Her mother had no right to install some upstart. No wonder the Sharlac Guilds were ignoring the man. To put an end to this Conclave idiocy, Sharlac needed a ruling duchess of Duke Moncan's blood. Indeed, that would win them all the more support from Caladhria's barons and Toremal's princes; a clear demonstration of the rights of birth and rank.

Ferdain had seen for himself how Iruvain showed her such scant respect; as his wife, as his duchess. He didn't even respect Marlier's hospitality; debauching Ferdain's servants and nightly swinishly drunk on His Grace's finest wine.

Litasse was almost sorry Iruvain hadn't been provoked into striking her earlier. No matter. She would tell Ferdain he had been beating her since the very day of their wedding. There were no servants here from Triolle Castle who could give the lie to whatever she claimed.

After all this was done, she never wanted to see her husband again.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Aremil

The Hengere Road,

in the Dukedom of Marlier,

17th of For-Spring

'Branca should reach Wyril sometime today.' Tathrin looked through their carriage window, squinting upwards to assess the weather.

'Halfway to Draximal,' Aremil agreed. He winced as a wheel hit a frozen rut. These cloudless days came at the cost of icy temperatures.

Tathrin settled himself back carefully on the padded seat. 'What news from Kerith?'

Aremil grinned. 'He tells me Lord Rousharn has decreed his vassal lords must send out their tenants to make good any damage to the Great West Road from the winter's snows.'

'That's customary duty at the start of For-Spring unless you want to pay an extra Equinox levy.' Tathrin cautiously rubbed his shoulder. 'Are the Sharlacs doing so?'

Aremil chuckled. 'The villagers turned up with their mattocks and spades and barrows of stones and gravel but wouldn't start work until their liege lords agreed to pay them. They won't take a coin with any duke's head on it either. It's Caladhrian or Tormalin marks or the potholes can break wheels and axles from now to next year.'

'Every merchant from Ashery to Vanam scorns the dukes' coinage now.' Tathrin looked more serious. 'We must give some serious thought to minting new Lescari currency.'

Aremil nodded. 'Though I don't know how until we have a reliable source of bullion.'

Tathrin grinned. 'Let's ask Sorgrad.'

Aremil looked quizzically at him. 'I don't doubt he and Gren can tell us which lords are sitting on the most Tormalin coin. Do you propose some levy or simple robbery?'

Tathrin began a shake of his head before stopping with a wince. 'I meant there might be some elemental means of drawing the silver out of the lead that our noble dukes stamped their heads on.'

Aremil hadn't thought of that. 'Would Planir the Black allow it?'

'It's hardly using magic for warfare,' Tathrin pointed out.

'As long as we've secured the peace first.' Another thought struck Aremil. 'If such a thing can be done, Triolle's silver mines would be worth a cursed sight more.'

'Tell Failla to drop a few hints to the Triollese guildsmen.' Tathrin looked at him, expectant.

Given half a chance he'd have Aremil sending his endearments across the aether night and day. Aremil sympathised but he would rather not be privy to all those glimpses of the passion Tathrin and Failla shared.

'I cannot work any Artifice while I'm being jostled like this,' he apologised.

As he spoke, the coach swayed violently round a bend. Aremil used his crutches to avoid sliding to the floor. With his back to the horses, Tathrin held his injured arm close, bracing himself with his feet.

'Failla said she was cordially received in Triolle,' Aremil reminded his friend once they were back on an even keel. 'Charoleia has enlisted Parnilesse's most influential men to our cause.'

A wry smile tugged at Tathrin's mouth. 'What disgraceful secrets do you suppose she's selling back in return for such cooperation?'

'No, I really think she's persuading them this is Lescar's best way forward.'

Aremil had no doubt that Charoleia was second to none at deception and dissembling face to face. But she wasn't quite so practised at hiding her thoughts from an adept of Artifice. He had been assailed by echoes of countless conversations and glimpses of faces; guildsmen, priests, merchants and tapsters, along with their wives and housekeepers and maidservants.

'Parnilesse folk seem more eager than any other--'

He broke off as the carriage lurched to a halt. A shadow fell across the window as a rider approached.

Tathrin rubbed his injured shoulder before throwing open the door.

The rider calmed her affronted horse. 'That's far enough.'

'Master Aremil, may I make known Ridianne the Vixen, Marlier's Captain of Mercenaries,' Tathrin announced with mock formality. 'Captain Ridianne, I have the honour to present you to Master Aremil, scholar of Vanam.'

'No scholar without the university's ring.'

Aremil saw the woman's sharp eyes had taken in every detail of his narrow shoulders and withered legs, his trembling, ungloved hands.

He noted her casual ease in the saddle, easily controlling the spirited horse, along with the sword sheathed by her muscular thigh.

'You're looking well for a man who's supposed to be dead.' Ridianne smiled at Tathrin, friendly enough. 'Do I have your oath that you'll behave as long as you're in my custody?'

'In your custody?' Tathrin queried.

'You two are hardly going to make a fight of it.' Ridianne snapped her leather-gloved fingers and whistled.

Shifting closer to the carriage window, Aremil saw their mounted outriders were being escorted back down the road. Ridianne's men, mercenaries wearing Marlier's red shield with its three silver swords surmounted by a fox's mask, outnumbered their own soldiers two to one.

'We're not here to fight,' he said. 'We merely offer the folk of Marlier the prospect of lasting peace.'

Ridianne shook her head, sunlight catching the jay's feather in the band of her low-crowned hat. 'Not at the cost of His Grace's rule.'

'Not at any price?' Aremil enquired. 'Not for clear title to your manor and demesne free of any fealty? Not for freehold property for your sons, for them to bequeath without hindrance to their own blood? Instead of whatever scraps Duke Ferdain and his noble-born heirs might throw whenever they need to whistle up their hounds?'

'You're wise enough to know when not to fight,' Tathrin urged her. 'I saw that at Triolle Castle.'

'You've seen me fight when I must,' retorted Ridianne.

Tathrin nodded. 'Your men didn't falter at Pannal.'

Aremil saw a flash of emotion in the woman's eyes as she answered.

'Because they fought for Marlier above all else, so Orlin of Parnilesse didn't crush your Soluran and trample all of Lescar underfoot as he snatched the High King's crown. Do you think I will break faith with those fallen, one in six of my own, by letting you ride in to overthrow Duke Ferdain?'

'How?' Tathrin scoffed. 'We have one sound arm between us and only this escort to dissuade bandits.'

'If Duke Ferdain is so beloved by his people they'll reject our proposals out of hand.' added Aremil.

'Do you honestly think you can hold Marlier's borders against such ideas,' Tathrin persisted, 'once Triolle men and Carlusians are managing their own affairs? When Sharlac and Draximal and Parnilesse all share the benefits of trade with Tormalin and their lands beyond the ocean, along the Great West Road and all down the Asilor?'

'Enough,' Ridianne said briskly. 'No war's over till the last battle's done. I'm still ready to fight on my own terms. Now, if you'll give me your oath, you need not be chained until we reach Hengere.'