North Star Guide Me Home (12 page)

Your grace.
There it was again. Ardamon had used the title to tease her, but Mira had always known that if the babe lived, it would be bestowed upon her sooner or later. She still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it, but she was careful to keep the uncertainty from showing on her face. ‘It would be my pleasure, your grace,’ she said with a bow of her head.

In precisely one hour, Captain Bayard escorted the Tomoan prince to the great cabin.

Mira was already there, sitting in the captain’s chair with the baby nestled in the sling across her chest. Amaya lounged cross-legged in the corner, ready to take the lad if he started to fuss, and Alameda sat beside her, gnawing on a thumbnail. The girl seemed nervous.

Ardamon was there as well, of course, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, while two of his best men stood silent and impassive behind them. Out of respect for the prince’s rank and their status as guests, they appeared to be unarmed, but Mira had no doubt they had some small weapons concealed within their clothing.
But if these folk do mean us harm, I doubt it would help even if our men were fully armed and armoured,
Mira thought.
Two dozen mages! By all the Gods …

As she heard a heavy step approach the door, Mira shrugged the thought aside and straightened in her chair.

There came a knock, and then Captain Bayard entered with a bow. ‘My Lady Mirasada, may I present his excellency, Prince Makaio Trestrail of Tomoa, special envoy of King Trekano.’

Ardamon stood as the prince followed the captain inside, with the girls scrambling up as well. Makaio was accompanied by a lady in a fine velvet dress, and a handful of guards wearing leather armour stamped with a pattern of huge scales, though what manner of beast grew a hide like that, Mira was afraid to guess. She started to rise, but Makaio waved her back. ‘Please, my dear lady, don’t trouble yourself,’ he said in Mesentreian as he settled into the chair that had been set out for him. ‘Lady Mirasada, Lord Ardamon — please forgive me for skipping the customary introductions, but Captain Bayard has told me of your situation, and our time is too short to waste in the usual song and dance.’

‘In all honesty, your highness, I’d count it a favour,’ Mira said, wrapping one arm around the sleeping baby. ‘I find myself tiring easily these days. I am most grateful for this hospitality, but I confess I don’t understand why your king would choose to involve himself in our affairs.’

‘It’s quite simple,’ Makaio said. ‘My king wants what I suspect you want — Ricalan in Ricalani hands, not under imperial control.’

Mira felt the urge to laugh, but she suppressed it and gave the prince a smile instead. ‘You’re correct, sir, I’d like that very much, but it seems little more than a pipe dream.’

‘I understand, my lady, and I must concede our chances of success seem very small, but that’s no reason not to try. Let me explain. Your nation and mine share a common neighbour. To my way of thinking, the nations of the world make up a kind of village. Of course, some households are richer and some poorer, and some are troublesome sorts who will steal chickens from the yard; but there are also those who mind their own business rather than shoving their nose into everyone else’s concerns.’ Makaio smiled and spread his hands. ‘And then there are neighbours like Akhara. They are a large and prosperous household with many boisterous sons, seeking always to expand their borders.

‘Every man wishes to see his neighbours prosper … just not at the expense of one’s own interests, or as much as one’s own household. When a good neighbour’s business falters, one may offer aid and advice, as some misfortunes pay no heed to fences. But when a neighbour like Akhara falters, after all their belligerence, one cannot help but take a certain amount of pleasure in the sight.

‘When a neighbour’s house catches fire, however, a wise man sends his own sons to help throw water on the flames before they engulf the whole village.’

‘Speaking of neighbours and villages is all well and good,’ Ardamon said, ‘but don’t expect us to believe that’s the heart of the matter. Tomoa lies far to the south — what does this matter to you?’

Mira propped her elbow on the arm of the chair. ‘I think I understand, your excellency. The Akharians are not strong seafarers and, if I know anything of them, I know the lack must rankle. Sailing requires ships and ships require forests. We have them in abundance, but I understand the Akharians have cut down most of theirs.’

‘That’s part of it,’ Makaio said with a nod. ‘There’s also the matter of mines. Many of the empire’s mines are played out, and those that remain have low yields, due to the scarcity of slaves and the price of fuel. In recent years, Tomoa’s mines have met the empire’s hunger for metal. I understand Akharian surveyors have spent the summer searching Ricalan for wealth under the earth and found significant reserves, largely untouched.’

Ardamon pursed his lips and nodded. ‘So. You wish to protect your own trade. Fair enough. Your king has no desire to possess the north himself?’

Mira shot him a dark glance. It wasn’t only that Ardamon had no talent for diplomacy; it was that, if anything, his contributions had a detrimental effect. In that moment, she would have given her eyeteeth to have Isidro sitting at her side instead, but Makaio merely chuckled.

‘A good joke, my lord, but no. When the empire tested our borders, we sent them away with a whipping, but I doubt we would fare as happily in the snowy north — just as your men would not readily adapt to the heat of the south. No, I’m afraid my uncle can offer no armies in your support, merely information, a few ships and whatever assistance I am able to provide. And, should the matter turn out to be a hopeless case, my uncle has offered refuge in Tomoa to you and your household, my lady.’

Mira found herself raising a hand to her throat, heaving a great sigh of relief, before she’d even realised what she was doing. Hastily, she altered her course and laid it on the baby’s sweet-smelling head instead. ‘Your uncle is most generous. I’d be honoured to accept his hospitality, though I hope I may visit as a woman of a free country with my son’s father at my side, not as an exile in search of shelter.’

Makaio leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. ‘Now, those are words worthy of a toast. Captain Bayard, would you be so kind?’

‘Of course, my prince!’

As Bayard laid out a rattling set of silver cups and sloshed some amber liquor into them, Mira caught the prince’s eye. ‘Your excellency, I’d like nothing more than to drive the Akharians out of the north, but it seems an impossible task. I have some friends whose aid would make a great difference, but they’ve been lost to me for some time now. If you have connections in Akhara you may have heard of them …’

Makaio leant forward in his chair. ‘I may have, but the tale is a confusing one. I hope you might shed some light on it. Tell me, my lady, have you had much news from the empire?’

‘Very little,’ Mira said. Her clan had placed some spies in the Akharian ranks, and until the last few weeks, she’d had friends enough in Ruhavera to pass word along.

‘It’s been difficult to get much news from northern Akhara since the summer,’ Makaio said, ‘but it seems our neighbours had some trouble with their harvest. Our ships were hired to resupply the legions, but vessels have waited days or even weeks for their cargo, and are sent away with holds only half-full.’

Mira frowned. ‘I thought the Mesentreian raiders were responsible for their famines.’

‘For the last few years, yes,’ Makaio said, ‘but not since the Akharians took their northern harbours.’

‘Then what’s behind it? Some pestilence?’ Mira couldn’t see it helping much. Ricalan had suffered a poor growing season as well, what with so many people lost as slaves or hiding from the Akharian legions and leaving the fields fallow.

‘We’re not sure,’ Makaio said, ‘although there are rumours aplenty. Some talk of a slave uprising. Others mutter of demons running amok through the empire. Still more say that Blood-Mages have settled in Akhara and are raising an army to march on the emperor himself.’

‘Well,’ Mira said, ‘I think we can safely lay aside any talk of demons. As to the rest —’

‘Is it true that the former king’s Blood-Mage fled into the west?’ Makaio said.

‘It is,’ Mira said, still frowning. What of Isidro, did he still live? She’d hoped and prayed that he and Sierra would destroy the old man, but if they’d failed, at least he was Akhara’s problem now, rather than Ricalan’s. ‘And this slave uprising — does Akhara have any other source of slaves?’

‘They’re all from the north, my lady. Akhara has had trouble supplying slaves for some years now — peacetime is always poor for the trade. It’s been suggested that they carried some pestilence.’

Mira drummed her fingernails on the arm of her chair. ‘That seems unlikely, our spring fevers passed months ago. I’d have thought our folk would suffer from Akharian diseases, rather than them be afflicted by our illnesses.’

‘I agree, madame, but I’m not certain I can give this talk of slave uprisings any more credence. You’ve seen for yourself how warriors fare against mages. How is it possible that some cowed and unarmed slaves have defeated Akhara’s attempts to subdue them, to the point of plunging the empire into famine? The Blood-Mages seem to be the only answer — and yet, our information there is confusing as well. Our spies have reported that the Akharians are certain the one known as Kell has been slain —’

Mira sat bolt upright. ‘He’s dead? Are you certain?’

‘The Akharians seem to be. As we understand it, the Akharian Blood-Mage Kell fled Ricalan after the death of King Severian and was pursued by his rebellious apprentices, a man called Rasten and a woman known to the Akharians as the Stormblade.’

‘Sierra,’ Mira said. ‘She’s not a Blood-Mage.’

‘Indeed? Curious,’ Makaio said. ‘There are two others mentioned — an Akharian mage turned traitor, and a Mesentreian man.’

Mira’s heart leapt in her chest. ‘Was that all? There should be another man with them, a northerner. Kell took him as a hostage when he fled to the west.’

Makaio frowned. ‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘I seem to remember him from the initial reports … but nothing since.’

Mira had to turn away, hiding welling tears behind her hand.
By the Black Sun, Issey …
She remembered him in the Spire, lost in despair but fighting it for the sake of the babe in her arms. She remembered the night he’d led them to Cam, and then, weeks later, when he sacrificed himself to keep them safe from Kell.

‘My lady,’ Makaio said. ‘I do apologise. I am truly sorry to have caused you distress.’

‘It is not you who has distressed me,’ Mira said, while Ardamon handed her a handkerchief. ‘It’s the son of a bitch who killed him … if he’s truly dead.’ She forced herself to draw a deep breath as she mopped at her eyes.
Isidro’s been given up for dead before, and yet proved us wrong.
She wrapped her arms around the little lad. She’d been thinking of a name ever since the boy was born. If Isidro truly was dead she’d name the young prince after the one who’d sacrificed so much for his kin. ‘Please do go on.’

‘Our spies are certain Kell is dead … but in all honesty, it makes no sense. The tales always come back to this talk of demons in the desert — it’s rubbish, of course, but there must be an ounce of truth behind it. There are whispers of whole legions disappearing without a trace. When you see how many Battle-Mages the Akharians have deployed to quell the matter, only to have them vanish …’

‘You don’t know my friends, your excellency,’ Mira said.

‘My lady, I —’ Makaio broke off in frustration and snapped his fingers, holding a hand out to the woman behind him. ‘Give me that report.’

The woman pressed a thick sheaf of papers into his hand.

‘Here,’ Makaio said, folding the pages back to a map of the northern reaches of the empire. ‘These are known troop movements, you see. With the old one dead, we know of only two mages in the region capable of so much destruction — there seems to be no way only two people could account for so many losses. Do you see, my lady, the time frame, the distances, it simply doesn’t work out. They would have to travel more quickly than any horse could take them, and as they’ve headed eastward, it only gets worse.’

‘I see,’ Mira said. ‘I understand.’

‘It seems the only explanation is that they have many more mages than we thought, and that number is growing — but that raises yet more questions. Now, I understand that this woman Sierra was able to conceal her powers from the Akharians …’

‘That’s true,’ Mira said.

‘Do you know how? Could others have done the same and escaped the empire’s cut-throats? But even that seems implausible. There would have to be dozens, and by all accounts Ricalan has been devoid of mage-craft for a century, with the exception of these Blood-Mages and the corrupted Sympath.’

Mira shook her head. ‘No, I agree, it’s not possible. Sierra only kept herself hidden because she had help from the other mage.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Makaio said. ‘So you see, my lady, what’s going on in the west is unexplainable.’

‘May I?’ Mira took the report from him and leafed through the pages. It was written in Mesentreian. She frowned as she studied the maps and skimmed the text, and in her mind’s eye, she pictured the ruins of Terundel, the first time Sierra had truly tested her powers, the first time the Akharians had seen just what she could do. ‘It has to be Sierra,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Such destruction … who could it be, but her?’

‘My lady?’

Mira slapped the documents down on the desk. ‘We have to find them. If this is true — if Sierra has destroyed Kell, if she’s now marching across northern Akhara, freeing slaves as she goes … then, by all the Gods, she has an army.’ A ragged horde of former slaves, unarmed and untrained, but an army all the same.

‘Could she have done it alone?’ Makaio said.

Mira thought for a moment, and then shook her head. ‘No. She has the spirit, but she’s not a warrior, or a leader.’ Someone else had to be there with her. Not Rasten, he was no more equipped to lead than she was. ‘It has to be Cam, or maybe Isidro, if he’s still alive. We have to find them.’