Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha) Page 16
Sethra chuckled. “I should imagine that this was not entirely satisfactory to Elde?”
“He didn’t even waste the time to send for instructions; he merely declared it to be impossible. I had the honor to point out to him that it was not at all impossible, as we had taken this harbor from them less than three hundred years ago, and would be most happy to do so again.”
“Ah. Well, no doubt this was a popular remark.”
“Indeed. He stormed out without so much as a farewell, turning his back upon me, and committing, oh, I don’t know how many separate breaches of etiquette. I lost count after nine or ten.”
“Splendid. So that now, whatever his orders might be, he must either return to apologize, or be disgraced, which certainly will do him no good at home.”
“Exactly.”
“And you, of course, can apologize as well, and offer more reasonable terms.”
“Yes, which he will be nearly obligated to accept. And if he doesn’t—”
“Yes, we will know where Elde stands without any room for doubt or confusion.”
The Empress nodded.
“Your Majesty is a formidable diplomatist, I perceive.”
“I am learning, I hope. The House of the Hawk has done as they said, at least in part.”
“Indeed?”
“They have publicly declared that I am Empress, and have called for a Meeting of the Principalities.”
“Have they, then? Well, that is good, because I do not believe we can continue feeding the army much longer, although, to be sure, the subscriptions from certain Lyorn and Dragons have done wonders.”
“I am glad to hear it, Warlord. At all events, it is progress.”
“Without question.”
“So, then, is that all?”
“Your Majesty—”
“Well?”
“I beg to remind Your Majesty that it was I who asked for this interview.”
“Shards! That is true! And, in addition, there is the matter of your insistence that a detachment of cavalry will be difficult to come by in the near future. I imagine these matters are connected?”
“Your Majesty is perspicacious.”
“Well, let us hear, then. Upon what subject would you address me, Warlord?”
“Oh, on war, as a matter of course.”
“Naturally. But, if you please, be precise.”
“Oh, Your Majesty knows I desire precision in all things.”
“Well then?”
“Your Majesty, I refer to the Pretender.”
“Ah, yes. Come, permit me to show you a map.”
“Your Majesty knows that I adore maps.”
“Then look at this one.”
“Is it Your Majesty’s work?”
“It is.”
“A splendid map, Your Majesty. What does the blue represent?”
“That is the area in which, a year ago, the Pretender had a reasonable claim to control.”
“It is tolerably large.”
“Oh, yes.”
“If I had seen this then, I should have been more worried.”
“Warlord, you were not worried?”
“Not as you would say, worried. Perhaps concerned. But what is the area marked in pink?”
“Ah! You noticed that?”
“Well, it would have been difficult not to see it—Your Majesty observes that it is, after all, pink.”
“Yes. The pink is the region that, according to our best intelligence, he controls as of to-day.”
“Your Majesty, how good is our best intelligence?”
“It could be better,” admitted the Empress.
“And then?”
“Still, I believe this is close.”
“Well, so we have made considerable gains, there is no denying that.”
“I am pleased you see it, madam.”
“However, it is my respectful opinion that the map is slightly, well, out of date.”
“Indeed? You have more recent intelligence?”
“Exactly. And it was to share this intelligence that I did myself the honor of coming to see Your Majesty in person.”
“Well then, let us hear. If it was sufficiently important for you to leave your sanctuary, I will listen to it.”
“And Your Majesty will be right to.”
“So then, what is this famous intelligence?”
“I should say that the Pretender now controls an additional area approximately …” She put her finger in the map. “Here.”
The Empress turned pale. “What do you tell me?”
“The Pretender has an army here. Our best guess is that they are two days from the city.”
“How is it possible for them to get so close without our knowing?”
“Oh, as to that, I would guess they moved only small units until they reached somewhere near Hartre, and then marched just inland from the coast, following it.”
“Nevertheless, it doesn’t seem possible.”
“We think they may have divine or demonic aid, Your Majesty.”
“Humph. Of the two, I would think demonic is more likely.”
“Your Majesty may be right.”
The Empress sighed. “Well, Warlord? What shall we do?”
“Majesty, I would suggest that we fight.”
“Fight. Good. Yes, I agree. Let us fight. Instead of meekly surrendering to the Pretender, I think fighting is a good plan. The more-so because I lived in this very city, and so, should I abdicate, well, I should have nowhere to go. So then, having settled that, exactly how should we fight?”
“Have you a map of Adrilankha to hand? If not, I can easily procure one.”
“Certainly. There was one upon the wall of this very room. It is a map of all of Whitecrest, most of which is the city, because it was from this room that the Countess was accustomed to transact her business. It is now in that corner, behind the book-shelf.”
“Very good,” said Sethra, fetching the object in question. With Her Majesty’s permission, she laid it on top of the table (covering most of the papers there), and studied it from this position.
“I should cover these three roads, each with a division stationed a quarter mile outside of the city, so that, in case the line is broken, we can retreat into the city, and there defend it, if need be, house by house.”
The Empress nodded. “Continue, then.”
“I will give this division to my apprentice, this one to Morrolan who is the least experienced, and this one I will command myself, wearing two badges, as we say. A fourth division will remain in reserve, and a fifth division will guard the harbor, in case they attempt to land boats. The Lord Khaavren will be perfect for that duty. Apropos, I should speak with him as soon as practicable.”
“Alas, the Lord Khaavren is no longer the Captain of my Guard.”
“What then is his rank?”
“None.”
“None? Have you dismissed him?”
“Not the least in the world. He tendered his resignation.”
“For what reason?”
“None that he would give me. He pretended he was old and tired. I believe you know as well as I how much truth there is in such a remark.”
“Well, I will speak with him. If he is not to command the harbor defenses, then, at least, I should like to see him here, guarding Your Majesty. And then I will require Brimford, as well. Does Your Majesty know where he is to be found?”
The Empress flushed at this question, and the Orb turned a faint pink, but Her Majesty said, “He will be produced.”
Sethra, feigning not to notice Her Majesty’s confusion, said, “I will, in addition, speak with the Necromancer to see if we can repeat the games we played with such effect at South Mountain.”
“Will not the Pretender have prepared against this?”
“Perhaps, although I cannot think of how. You perceive, I know of few forces that can counteract a necromancer except a more skilled necromancer, and I take my oath that nowhere on the world is there
a more skilled necromancer.”
“Very well, Warlord. But I am nevertheless concerned.”
“As far as that goes, Majesty, so am I.”
“What do you think of this battle? Come, give me your honest opinion.”
“Your Majesty, I don’t know. In numbers, they have the smallest edge, but, as we are defending, that means that, even if we set ten companies to guard the harbor, tactically, we have a pronounced advantage; it takes far fewer to hold a position than to take it.”
“Well come, that sounds good.”
“Moreover, we have Lord Brimford and the Necromancer, and, with more time to prepare, I believe they ought to be able to be give a good account of themselves. And, above all, we have the Orb. I have not yet put together a sorcerers’ corps, but there are several of us who will be more than able to do our share as part of the regular army. This is an advantage they do not have, and no small advantage it is.”
“You fill me with hope.”
“Well—”
“Yes?”
“As Your Majesty has indicated, the Pretender knows these statistics as well as I do. It is possible he is counting on surprise, but, well, it is possible he isn’t.”
“Well, what is he depending upon, then?”
“Your Majesty, I should give anything to know.”
The Empress frowned, then shrugged. “Very well,” she said. “What next?”
“I will go to speak with Khaavren, and to summon the Necromancer and my apprentice. And I must at once put together something of a staff, at least sufficient to handle logistics, communications, intelligence, and engineering. If I may make a suggestion to Your Majesty—”
“You may.”
“I believe Your Majesty should summon Brimford, and then command the Countess regarding bringing food and supplies where they will be needed for the army. Once my staff is in place, I will send a list of what is needed, and the material required for building such fortifications and defenses as we can construct in two days.”
“Very well. I shall also inform Brudik to tell those who wait that I will be seeing no one to-day.”
Sethra frowned and reflected for a moment. “I would suggest, in fact, that Your Majesty not do so.”
“But, how will I have time to see them?”
“Your Majesty almost certainly must attempt to make time; business ought to go on as much as possible. Should Your Majesty do as you have suggested, and suspend business, word of this might reach our enemies, and they might conclude that they have been discovered. You perceive, this would cost us a certain amount of our advantage.”
Her Majesty bowed her head and said, “It will be so. This will be better, in some ways.”
“Yes?”
“I believe that, while you set about your errands, I will have at least time to meet with our emissary from Elde. That is one matter I should like to have settled.”
“Your Majesty is full of wisdom.”
Sethra at once set off about her errands, leaving Her Majesty to, first, call for Brudik to have the emissary announced, and, while waiting, to contemplate her maps.
Upon leaving Her Majesty’s presence, Sethra at once went past the waiting room (exchanging the briefest and friendliest nods with Brudik) and, by means of certain hallways and passages, soon entered the area of the Manor which was still reserved for the use of the Countess. It took only moments to find a servant, who seemed to be both maid and cook. Having found this worthy Teckla, she addressed her, saying, “I am called Sethra Lavode. I desire to know if it would be possible to have two words with your master the Count.”
Now this maid, we should say, had gradually become accustomed, over the last two years, to the notion that the Empress was sharing a roof with her; and having powerful nobles and occasional sorcerers coming and going was no longer a trial to her—the more-so because, remaining on her side of the Manor, she never encountered them personally. Yet, to find herself suddenly face-to-face with the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain was rather more than the girl could have been expected to manage. What tales she had been told as a child in which the Enchantress was featured as the ultimate evil, we cannot say, any more than we can know precisely how much she believed them. Her reaction, however, was unmistakable: She turned pale, then she flushed, then she turned pale again, as if unable to decide if all of her blood or none of it should be in her head. After several of these transformations of her countenance were completed without a decision being reached, she ultimately managed to solve the dilemma by the simple expedient of fainting dead away.
Sethra, who had, perhaps, predicted such a denouement, caught her before she had entirely hit the floor, and carried her to a couch. There being no other servants present, the Enchantress, with something like an amused expression on her face, went into the kitchen and herself procured water, which she applied to the girl’s forehead and lips. Presently the maid’s eyes fluttered open, she looked up at the Enchantress, who was staring down at her not unkindly, and opened her mouth with the obvious intention of emitting a scream.
“Hush, child,” said Sethra.
The maid, whose instinct to obey was stronger than her fear, closed her mouth.
“Come, stand up, my dear. No one is going to hurt you. Just you run along and find out if the Lord Khaavren is available.”
The maid attempted to regain her feet. Sethra offered to help, an offer from which the Teckla at first shrank, which reaction was followed by another flush. Sethra feigned not to notice this reaction, and, eventually, the maid suffered herself to be assisted to her feet. She then managed a trembling curtsy, and said, “Yes—” stopping because she appeared unable to decide exactly which honorific would be appropriate. The Enchantress, for her part, never lost her kindly smile, and it was this, as much as anything else, that permitted the maid to walk off—unsteadily it is true, but under her own power—to carry out her errand.
Sethra paced slowly, regretting her book, which she had left on Her Majesty’s desk, but soon enough she heard footfalls too heavy to be the maid’s, and, indeed, Khaavren appeared at the doorway.
Chapter the Eighty-Second
How Khaavren and the Empress
Came to Something of an Understanding
Khaavren had been involved in keeping Daro company, while she considered county business in her apartments. Daro, in between reviewing, amending, and signing papers, would engage in various conversational gambits with him, speaking amiably; from time to time he would kiss her hand, smiling into her eyes.
It was in the middle of these activities that the maid appeared.
“My lord the Count,” she said.
“What is it?” he asked mildly, and then, observing her countenance, he said, “Come, girl, it seems you are distraught. Has the Manor been invaded? Because if it concerns the part of the Manor which is our own, you must speak at once, whereas if it is an attack on the Orb, I must decide if I wish to concern myself.”
“My lord husband,” said Daro, “you know that, in such a case, you would take an interest.”
“You think so, madam?”
“I am convinced of it.”
“Well, but let us see. Is the house under attack?”
“No, my lord.”
“Well, then we shall not find out, at least on this occasion. But then, what is it that has so upset you, my dear? For it is clear, to judge by your pallor and trembling, that something most unsettling has occurred.”
“My lord, you have a visitor.”
“How, that is all?”
The maid signified with a nod of her head that this was, indeed, the case.
“Well then, it but remains for you to tell me who this famous visitor is.”
“My lord, it is—”
“Well?”
“It is …”
“Say it!”
“Sethra Lavode!” she burst out, then immediately ducked her head, as if to avoid a supernatural blow that, having uttered this name, must necessarily follow.
Instead of a blow, natural or supernatural, however, what followed was, in its way, even more disturbing. Khaavren shrugged and said, “Well, is that all? What does Sethra Lavode wish?”
The maid’s eyes widened. “What does Seth—that is, what does she wish?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Why, to see you, my lord!” Having said this, she took a deep breath, drew herself up to her full height, and said, “My lord, if you wish, well, I will go and delay her while you make your escape.”
Khaavren’s eyes widened, and he turned to Daro. “My love.”
“Yes, my dearest?”
“We must double this girl’s salary.”
“I had come to that same conclusion, my lord.”
Khaavren gave the maid a smile that was not unkind, patted her on the head, and said, “Well, I believe that I can exchange two words with the Enchantress of Dzur Mountain without losing my soul directly. But, did she indicate what she wished of me?”
“My lord, I—that is, she didn’t say.”
“Very well.”
Khaavren frowned, shrugged, realized that he was incapable of guessing, and, taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, took himself at once to the aforementioned parlor, where, indeed, Sethra Lavode awaited him.
“Enchantress,” he said, bowing low. “You do my house honor.”
“It is a pleasure to see you, sir. May I beg two minutes of your time?”
“Certainly. I am in no hurry.”
“So much the better.”
“Upon what subject do you wish to converse?”
“Her Majesty has been studying maps.”
“Has she?” said Khaavren, shrugging as if what Her Majesty did was of no concern to him.
“She has been studying maps, I say,” repeated Sethra, “for a particular purpose.”
Khaavren, by now aware that the Enchantress was in the process of telling him something important, looked at her closely. “A purpose, you say?”
“Yes, and a most serious purpose.”
“And does this purpose in some way concern me?”
“It might.”
“Then, if you would care to tell me this purpose, well, I promise that you will have my entire attention.”
“It is for the purpose of planning her battle.”