Petrodor: A Trial of Blood and Steel, Book 2 (8 page)

“Excuse me, Duke Rochel?” Alexanda turned to find a woman approaching up the stairs, a little girl in her arms. The woman had long, dark hair, tastefully arranged to a knot at the back, and wore a rich, green gown. She seemed perhaps thirty-five, with a round face, a pleasant smile, and a weight to her hips and bust that was typical of a wealthy Torovan woman. “Oh how lovely to see you once more. My husband is performing his duties well at the door, I trust?”

“Lady Marya Steiner,” said the duke, gravely, and kissed her offered hand. “Your husband was most eloquent, as always. I believe you have not made the acquaintance of my wife, the Duchess Varona?”

“A true pleasure.” Unlike most wealthy Torovan women, with Marya Steiner, one could almost believe she meant it. Though married to a Torovan for fourteen years, she still spoke the tongue with a thick, musical highlands brogue. As Duke of Pazira, the western half of which was one long, uphill climb into Lenayin, Alexanda had had plenty of experience with highlanders. There were those who said that the accent was so strong it was infectious and could be caught when the wind changed from the west, like a cold. Once caught, it stayed for life.

“And you must be Bryanne!” Marya exclaimed. “Aren't you pretty!”

“Thank you, Princess Marya,” Bryanne said shyly. “Is that Shyana you're carrying? She's very pretty.”

“Yes, this is Shyana.” Marya said, kissing the sleeping girl on the hair. “She's only two, she's very tired. I was just about to take her upstairs to sleep. Would you like to come?”

“Oh could I?”

“Lady Marya, you're too kind,” Varona interrupted, “but I had really thought to introduce Bryanne to the dance at the earliest—”

“Oh, dear Duchess,” Marya laughed, “I'll make certain she's introduced to all the most handsome boys personally. But first, she can help me put my little girl to bed, yes?”

“Oh…well, of course.” Varona smiled, thinly.

Marya appeared not to notice the discomfort, took Bryanne's hand, and swept toward the big, guarded rear door. “Do you know any lullabies, Bryanne? Tell me which are your favourites?”

“All these servants and nannies to take care of the children, but she takes her girl to bed herself,” Alexanda said approvingly, watching them leave. “That's a true Torovan woman for you. Pity we have to go to Lenayin these days to find one.”

“Oh, Alexanda, really,” Varona huffed. “It's all very well for her, all the most eligible men will be falling over themselves trying to marry
her
daughters.”

“My vast apologies for
only
being the Duke of Pazira,” Alexanda growled.

Before long, the senior men were invited to gather in Patachi Steiner's study, on the third floor overlooking the celebrations. The room was grand, its walls lined with books in polished bookcases, a large writing desk in a corner, with a view of the harbour. Alexanda stood before the open balcony doors, a glass of wine in hand, and gazed out at the view until Patachi Steiner himself had arrived. The pompous git had to be the last one in, of course.

Reluctantly turning, Alexanda considered the gathering. Patachi Marlen Steiner was looking old, his broad shoulders now stooped, his white shoulder-length hair thinning on top. Where once his beard had accentuated a fine jaw, it now hung sagging upon loose folds of neck. But his eyes were watchful, and full of knowledge.

Symon Steiner stood talking to Duke Tarabai of Danor, a tall man with a square face and big ears. As far away as possible, examining books on an ornate shelf, was Duke Tosci, a man as solid and squat as a statue. Tosci and Tarabai continued the tradition of hatred between Coroman and Danor provinces. Surely even a man as dull as Duke Tosci knew that the families liked to play Coroman and Danor against each other? Or then again, Alexanda pondered, perhaps he was the only thinking duke in Torovan.

Also present were four other patachis. Alexanda recognised only one—Patachi Elmar Halmady, Marlen Steiner's right-hand man. He had far better things to do than memorise the faces of this quibbling crowd. Duke Belary of Vedichi, fat, bearded and stupid, sidling now to Steiner's side, Alexanda knew only too well and he loathed him most of all.

“My friends,” said Patachi Steiner, “a toast to Saint Sadis.” He took a cup from a nephew, there were no servants in the room tonight, and held it aloft. All drank.

“A toast to the archbishop!” said Patachi Halmady, and all drank to that as well.

“A toast to our gathering of families,” Patachi Steiner finished. A nephew made the rounds with a wine decanter, refilling the men's cups. Even the boys had swords at their hips. “I shall begin proceedings by relating the latest news from my good friend King Torvaal Lenayin. The rebellion in their north has truly ended. Lenayin stands ready to serve the Verenthane cause, and preparations are being made even now to muster a great army.”

“That is good news,” said one of the patachis. “Our forces grow strong. Even the Saalshen Bacosh cannot stand against us.”

“Good news?” exclaimed Duke Tarabai of Danor. “It's phenomenal! The only thing in all the world those barbarians are good for is fighting! Usually they just fight each other or the Cherrovan, but now! An entire, united army of Lenayin! Good gods, should they march with us on our crusade they'll wipe the Bacosh clean of serrin single-handedly. The rest of us will just need to watch and applaud.”

“And what of the girl?” asked Duke Tosci of Coroman. “Is it true that she's come to Petrodor?”

“Assuredly,” said Patachi Halmady, gravely. “And her uman.”

“Then Kessligh Cronenverdt truly led the Lenay rebellion?” asked another patachi.

“No,” said Symon Steiner. “It seems that the great Nasi-Keth left Lenayin for Petrodor well before the rebellion. Sashandra Lenayin led the rebellion on her own, and survived.”

“And fled in terror for her life!” Duke Tarabai added.

“She was expelled from Lenayin by her father,” Symon Steiner corrected, elegantly fingering his wine cup. “After producing from him some very reasonable terms, sparing the lives and fortunes of those who followed her.”

Some of the men appeared disquieted at that. No one questioned the heir of Steiner's information. Family Steiner, it was well known, had a great many sources, in all the most unlikely places.

“Well, better her leading the rebellion than Cronenverdt,” said another of the patachis. “That man has too much standing already, Lenay Commander of Armies and hero in a land that loves war and heroes more than most. If the Nasi-Keth unites beneath his leadership, we shall have trouble.”

“No,” said Duke Tosci, somewhat gloomily. The expression suited his dark, downcast features. “Not better. Much, much worse. A Nasi-Keth uman draws much status from his uma…his pupil, if you will. It was said of Kessligh Cronenverdt that his achievements in Lenayin are so formidable, the only thing he lacked was an uma to match them. And now, his uma has become legend by her own hand. And she's a
princess
. This will complicate King Torvaal's position. And ours, when Cronenverdt's prestige rises even higher, with the girl now at his side, here in Petrodor.”

Alexanda saw the dark look that passed between several of the dukes and patachis. Being of Coroman, Duke Tosci was the best informed of all the dukes on affairs in Petrodor. His knowledge gave him an advantage, and the others didn't like it.

“Duke Rochel,” said Patachi Steiner, his gaze settling upon Alexanda. “You know the highlanders well. What think you of this outcome?”

“Outcome?” Alexanda said dryly. “There is no outcome, Marlen.” Several
men frowned at that informality. Alexanda did not care. “The matters that divide the men of Lenayin divide them still. I believe this rebellion was overdue, in truth. King Torvaal is an honest and trustworthy man, but his circumstance makes him a poor ally. Lenayin is unstable, it always has been, and always shall be. Only a fool would hope otherwise. Should an army of Torovan march into the Bacosh to fight with the Larosa, the army of Lenayin could just as likely prove our doom as our victory, you mark my words.”

“If you don't wish to fight, Alexanda,” Duke Tarabai said loudly, “just say so. Rather than invent these pitiful excuses to frighten us all.”

“Only a fool, I said,” Alexanda repeated, with a glare at the tall Duke of Danor.

“Will you not fight, Alexanda?” Patachi Steiner asked. His tone was still, his eyes unreadable. This man had ordered more men killed than Alexanda had drunk cups of wine. The gaze of such a man held a great weight, regardless of his expression. “I am informed that you have come with a guard of four hundred soldiers?”

“Five hundred,” Alexanda replied, matching Steiner's gaze. “These are but a token. Archbishop Augine himself has called for men of faith to make war in the Bacosh, to reclaim the holy lands of Enora, Rhodaan and Ilduur from the serrin. I have many more men of faith in Pazira who stand ready to join such a quest. I merely state that no battle was ever won by wishful thinking. Should the men of Pazira join an army of Torovan in the march south, we should be fully prepared for all eventualities.”

“And beneath whose
banner
shall you march, Alexanda?” asked Duke Belary. His jowled, bearded face was pink with the pleasure of his insinuation.

“I am here, aren't I?” Alexanda said coldly. “Where are the Dukes of Songel and Cisseren, might I ask? Why not aim your barbs at them?”

“They accepted other invitations,” Patachi Halmady said coldly. Family Maerler, he meant. The rivals. The enemy. Family Steiner were not the only ones who knew how to throw a Sadisi party.

“As is their right,” said Patachi Steiner, mildly. “Family Maerler have stronger holdings in the south, it is only natural that Songel and Cisseren should accept their invitation. More talks shall be had. We shall see if there is an understanding to be reached between us.”

Which, Alexanda thought darkly, could mean anything from innocent dialogue to mass slaughter. He had not brought five hundred soldiers merely to demonstrate his readiness for war—he'd brought them for protection, too. Patachi Steiner, for reasons that eluded Alexanda, saw a profit in this mad war. If an army of Torovan was to be formed, Family Steiner wanted command. House Maerler most likely wished the same. Gods prevail upon them
all a rare common sense and civility, Alexanda thought. Or else there'll be trouble.

“The girl,” said Duke Belary, scratching at where his beard failed to cover his second and third chins. “She should be killed.”

“And Cronenverdt too,” agreed Duke Tarabai, nodding vigorously.

The patachis, Alexanda noted, showed little enthusiasm at the suggestion. “Easier said than done,” said Patachi Halmady. He was a tall, thoughtful man of a mild temperament. It was said he had a taste for books and learning. It was also said that his interests sometimes made the brothers from the Porsada Temple uncomfortable. He did not show any outward sign of ambition, and was said by some to lack the spine of Patachi Steiner and his ilk. It made Halmady a safe, reliable ally for Steiner—a rare thing in Petrodor. “The Nasi-Keth are formidable warriors, and they have much support across the lower slopes. We do not venture there lightly, my Dukes.”

“Allow entry for two hundred of my best men,” Duke Tarabai boasted. “I have swordsmen in Danor without equal. Tell us where they live, and we shall storm the place and have their heads.”

Amongst the patachis, eyes were rolled. “Are you that eager to lose two hundred men, Duke Tarabai?” one asked.

“Such has been tried before,” Symon Steiner said coolly. “There are many hundreds of Nasi-Keth, my Duke. Perhaps as many as fifteen hundred. They fight like demons, and they own the alleyways as surely as the cats. The poor love them and will warn of any move in force. Worse, the poor will barricade, and spy, and drop flaming jars from the windows. And, in all likelihood, the serrin will help them. There are at least two hundred of the
talmaad
in Petrodor, probably more of late. Senior Nasi-Keth also move from house to house and rarely stay in the same lodgings for long, so their location can hardly ever be guaranteed. Even should your two hundred men survive long enough to reach the target, the house would likely be empty…and very few of your men would live to escape back here to the higher slopes.”

Duke Tarabai drew himself up, bristling. “You underestimate my men, young Steiner—”

“There shall be no such attempt,” said Patachi Steiner, with a sharp gesture of his hand. “The forces of the provinces shall not operate in the city without the consent of the families. And we do not give it.”

Duke Tarabai paled a little beneath the patachi's stare. “As you say, Patachi. I meant no offence.”

“You are correct in one thing, though,” the patachi continued. “Cronenverdt and his girl make matters complicated. It shall be difficult to raise any army and come to an understanding with the Maerler, with the Nasi-Keth
suddenly militant and interfering beneath Cronenverdt's command. But one must know the city, Duke Tarabai. You are a foreigner from the countryside. I—” he raised a crooked forefinger, “
I
have lived in this city for all my sixty-four years. I have done business here, and I have made fortunes here. I tell you that there are other ways, Duke Tarabai, to resolve a problem, than the brutal force of a direct assault. Such is not the Petrodor way.”