The Hollow Queen (18 page)

“It is, so it is a unique situation. The trees of southern Tyrian—white elms, heveralts, and gray gums, along with a unique group of pine species—are well suited to withstand fire attack, some because they shed their drier, older layers, assuring a high moisture content in their leaves or needles, and others because they actually reseed through fire. I imagine that their plan is to systematically burn the forest and establish temporary bases as they continue to move the burn line forward. Sooner or later, if successful, they'll have a foothold in the south that they can connect all the way to the occupied harbor of Port Tallono on the west coast. Then they can off-load troops from the sea and press forward from the south until they meet up with their forces that have already taken and occupied coastal Avonderre in the north.”

“Hmm,” said Anborn. “Were you able to set anything in place as a deterrent?” He pointed at a chair and took up the pitcher on the table, pouring two glasses of water from it, handing her one.

Rhapsody took the cup and raised it to her lips. “Thank you,” she said after taking a sip. “Gavin and I did a universal blessing of the trees and plants of the Great Forest, which should protect them somewhat from damage by fire, though little else. In the Tyrian raids I noticed the heveralt seemed to be of special interest, or at least that is the type of tree which seemed to have the most samples taken from it. It is certainly one of the most plentiful species in the southern forest, so before I left for the Circle, I sang a song of protection in its language, the name of the species, in the hope that it might help specifically.”

“I hope so, too,” said the Lord Marshal. “Now, take a seat, if you please, m'lady. While you, the young duke of Navarne, Solarrs, and Knapp are about to be assigned to the division command of one of each of the northern cities and basilicae, the other half of the new military forces are about to be deployed under my direct command to the south along the Threshold, which the reserve troops have been holding since our far-too-easy victory in Bethany, north of Sepulvarta. We need to rid the holy city of its occupiers and move the front back into Sorbold proper.”

Rhapsody nodded. “Where are you putting me, Lord Marshal?”

“I was going to offer you the choice. Your husband has been recruiting and training these troops I am about to see for the last three years, or so he continuously claims. Those men have been mostly deployed for training in this province, and within the other northern states of Yarim, Bethany, Navarne, and Bethe Corbair. There were mercifully few in Avonderre, owing to that being a naval area, not an army installation, and so at least those new soldiers were spared. So, if there is one place that you think you would prefer to be assigned as the division leader, now is the time to say so. I assume young Navarne will want to be similarly assigned in the encampment of his own province.”

“That would make sense.”

Anborn's face grew serious.

“I think you might wish to avoid Yarim, and potentially Bethe Corbair, m'lady,” he said, a quieter and more direct tone in his voice. “Those are bad places traditionally for women. Now, you will have a whole garrisoned city of men to protect you, but I am only leaving a half contingent in each and moving the rest down to the Threshold of Death in the south.

“Talquist's forces have a history of harming women and children, and rape is an instrument of war where he is concerned. Fhremus Alo'hari, the supreme commander of the Sorbold forces, is a good man, or at least he was when he trained with me long ago, but since the Merchant Emperor has taken the throne, the atrocities that have been reported are inconceivable. I would not want anything to happen to you.”

His words ground to a halt.

Rhapsody was staring at him as if his head was sprouting fire.

“Please tell me you are joking,” she said flatly.

A smile passed between Solarrs and Knapp as they directed their gaze down at the tabletop.

Anborn drew himself up severely.

“I never joke in the advent of war,” he said, equally flatly. “I have only the greatest respect for your abilities with a sword, m'lady—”

“Clearly.”

“—but as your sworn knight, I have pledged my life to you for your protection and need. It will be hard to defend you in a place where both the enemy army and the
populace
are known for brutal attacks on women, at least historically.”

“Not since the new Cymrian Age has begun,” Rhapsody said, trying to keep the amusement that had risen within her out of her voice. “Ashe sent extra divisions to Yarim at the very beginning. Ihrman Karsrick has assisted in the undertaking with his provincial troops. The crime rate has dropped markedly.”

“You cannot undo two thousand years of culture overnight, m'lady,” Anborn said darkly. “And so, since you asked, I will amend my offer to ‘any of those provincial garrisons
except
Yarim.' ”

Rhapsody bowed her head humorously.

“I will request Bethany, then,” she said. “The basilica of Fire is there, and that is an element I am very comfortable with, given that I bear the sword dedicated to it.”

“An excellent choice—a well-fortified citadel and centrally located. Should all else fail you could evacuate the province and flee to the south, to the central garrison of the Threshold of Death just north of Sepulvarta that we defended together a short time ago.”

“Thank you,” Rhapsody said, a wry smile touching the corners of her mouth. “Now, if you will allow me, Lord Marshal, I should like to show you some precautionary armor that might make you worry less about me and the women of that province.”

Anborn nodded agreeably.

She rose and went to the saddlebag Anborn had carried for her and rummaged through it. Finding what she was looking for, she returned with a ring about a knuckle and a half in diameter, forged of thin, flexible metal. Inside the ring were tiny metal wires, similarly thin and forming a fluid, bristly circle that resembled a miniature wire cleaning brush. Anborn touched one of the tiny wires and then withdrew his finger, bleeding slightly.

“What is this?”

Rhapsody smiled. “Protection against rape. Or at least deterrence.”

The three men exchanged a blinking glance.

“Please clarify,” said the Lord Marshal.

Rhapsody took the ring and held it up to the light.

“Those metal wires are tiny and flexible, but, as you can see, they are sharp, barbed, and easily draw blood. There are about five hundred of them in each ring. This ring is worn internally; if a woman is violated, the rapist's penis goes through the ring, and the wires catch on however much of it goes through the circle, embedding themselves in the skin of his shaft. Or sometimes just the head, depending upon how enthusiastic he felt when he began the undertaking.”

The three men, ancient warriors of more than a millennium of epic heroism and valor in battle, blanched white.

“While he can disengage from the woman he has assaulted, he cannot disengage his tarse from the ring itself. The wires dig in, and the tiny barbs at the tips anchor like a fishhook into the shaft or the glans, depending on how far—”

“I believe we understand, m'lady,” said Anborn quickly. “Thank you—”

“The man is neither able to walk nor urinate until the ring is removed,” Rhapsody continued, nonplussed. “It must be removed by a healer with experience in such things, which most humans have never seen before. The pain is said to be excruciating, and if the ring isn't removed in a timely manner, gangrene can easily set in—”

“For the love of the All-God, Anborn, make her
stop
,” Knapp groaned.

“—and oftentimes the man would need to have his penis cut off, lest he succumb to the gangrene. It seemed a better choice to just remove it rather than to die while it rotted off.”

Anborn was struggling not to laugh and vomit simultaneously.

“I yield to your point, m'lady. This is a—er, Lirin armament?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I am surprised the Lirin have cause for such things.”

A moment before, Rhapsody had been struggling to keep a straight face as she rendered her explanation. The humor drained out of her eyes now like water running downhill.

“That is a circumstance dating back to the old world,” she said curtly. The hard edge in her voice was as sharp as the wires she had been describing, and all three men fell silent as she spoke.

“In Serendair, there used to be a myth among human men, most often human soldiers, that Lirin women had a sweet taste to them, to their skin and lips.”

“'Tis no myth,” said Solarrs, who had been married to a First Generation Cymrian woman of Lirin extraction. “You do taste sweet, m'lady.” When Anborn and Knapp looked at him, astounded and aghast, he quickly corrected himself. “I mean, Lirin women do.”

“Aye,” Rhapsody said seriously. “That's not the part of the custom that is mythic; the chemistry of the Lirin body is perceived as sweet to the human tongue. To the Firbolg tongue, as well—Grunthor often tells me that our race was always his favorite of the carnivorous palate, followed distantly by deer. The myth is that if a man, generally a soldier, can drink of a Lirin woman between her legs, imbibe the ‘juice of her excitement,' as they used to call it, he gains some sort of invulnerability or strength in battle, or some other hogwash. It is obviously nonsense.

“Lirin women primarily lived in forests and fields, or in small communities with longhouses and barricades that prevented the human world from catching them alone. But when a Lirin woman lived in a city, as some did, it was not uncommon for her to be standing in the street, a basket over her arm, buying bread or potatoes one moment, and to find herself the next moment in an alley, in the grip of three men or more, with her skirt over her head, being harvested for such juice, shall we say, whenever a human regiment happened to be in the city on leave.”

Solarrs and Knapp looked down at the tabletop. Anborn's eyes traveled over her face, which was set in a solemn mien.

“And did you live in a city, m'lady?” he asked softly.

“Easton.” Rhapsody folded her hands on the tabletop.

The three men fell even further into awkward silence.

“So, that is the reason that this ring was designed and produced,” Rhapsody continued. “Because a human man was not always satisfied with a beverage, and sometimes wanted more of a meal.”

“Did you design it for use here, in this world?” Anborn's voice was quiet but steady.

She shook her head and smiled slightly. “No. Grunthor did. He was aware of the custom and took great pleasure in doing so. But it works for almost any woman of any race. It comes in multiple sizes, for women of all internal dimensions. It is a very popular item among Bolg women.”

“Bolg women?” Anborn asked incredulously. “If anything, I would think the race most needing protecting against rape would be human women, from men of the Firbolg variety.”

“Certainly you would,” Rhapsody agreed. “Just as the Spring Cleaning exercises that Roland used to engage in against villages in Ylorc were effective deterrents to marauding killers of women and children—oh, wait. My mistake; the only women and children who ever died in those events were Bolg.”

Again the three men lapsed into silence.

Rhapsody rose from the table.

“Well, now that I have my assignment, I suggest we go and meet the trained soldiers that Ashe has recruited and brought into professional status,” she said, pushing her chair back under the table. “The volunteers and the reserve forces have fought bravely and successfully, but if you plan to hold the northern cities
and
reinforce the, er, Threshold, you will need to get these professionals deployed quickly and efficiently.”

“Agreed,” said Anborn, following her to his feet. He smiled as he stood, remembering a recent time when he had been unable to do so.

“If I might have a moment, I need to attend to nature's call—it was a very long ride from Tyrian—and check in on my mare. I shall return momentarily.”

The other two men rose and bowed as she left the tent.

Once she was gone, Solarrs turned to Anborn. “What in the world has gotten into her?” he asked incredulously. “I've never known her to be even vaguely like that, so coarse and hardbitten. Is it the war?”

Anborn's mind was far away, remembering a beautiful child that Rhapsody herself had all but forgotten.

A child with whom she had left a very significant and lovely piece of herself, her true name.

And that most of the world did not know existed.

“In a way,” he said distantly. “But she is your sovereign and mine, lest you forget. Whatever she said, harsh and direct as it might be, was the truth, as any Namer would tell it. And while she has always been humble and without the airs and the insistence on protocol that her position would warrant, do not allow yourself for a heartbeat to believe that I will tolerate any but the most reverent of respect being directed to her face or behind her back. I would happily die for that lady, and even more happily tear the throat out of any man—even an ancient friend and ally—who gainsays her in any way.”

“Understood,” said Solarrs quickly. Knapp merely nodded silently.

*   *   *

When Rhapsody returned a short time later, she and the three Cymrian soldiers went to the garrisons where the troops were beginning to arrive, eighty thousand in total. The four of them came in through the heavy gate and stopped to watch the muster.

Anborn looked out over Ashe's trained soldiers, who were taking a last opportunity to practice before assembly.

In nearest sight, a rank of archers was toeing the line, nocked and drawn, before a stand of targeted haybutts three hundred yards across the courtyard. At a shouted command, the troops drew back and let fly, their arrows whizzing from a draw point a hand's length past each archer's ear, plummeting into the centerpoint of each target, thudding resoundingly.