“Raises his fur?” Malcolm chuckled.
“Like a badger on a fresh kill. Gets all protective and tries to scare off anything that gets too close.” When Malcolm chuckled again, she added, “I wouldn’t go laughing at a badger. No sense of humor—none at all. Trust me on that.”
“Every time I see Persephone, he’s there. I can’t get the woman alone. They sit together at every public meal and council meeting.”
“He finishes her sentences now. Have you noticed?” Suri said, looking up at him while shielding her eyes from the sun.
Raithe hadn’t, but he’d seen little of Persephone of late. Most people weren’t allowed inside the Kype. Persephone’s personal attendants, such as Moya, Padera, and Brin, were among the few that had access. Suri could get in because she and Arion shared a room behind the bronze door. As for Raithe, he only saw Persephone during the large, noisy, obligatory, and increasingly infrequent council meetings held in the Verenthenon. “He keeps her imprisoned in that tower like a dragon guarding its hoard.”
“She’s just busy,” Malcolm said. “You forget, she’s the Keenig of the Ten Clans. If you add the Instarya to that number, it means she’s in control of the whole frontier. I’ve heard she has constant meetings, all day and late into the night.”
“With who?”
“All kinds of people: civic leaders from here, who are still fearful of Rhunes in their midst; messengers from all the Rhune villages; and Fhrey commanders keeping her posted on developments from as far away as Ervanon.”
“What’s Ervanon?”
“Another fortress like this, but north of here. All the Instarya outposts now fall under her control because they recognize Nyphron as head of the Instarya and rightful lord of the Rhist, and he acknowledges her rule as the keenig.”
He pointed at the Fhrey instructors moving through the combatants, holding their own little sticks and shouting instructions, encouragements, and insults. “And then there are these fellows here. Persephone has them reporting on the training process. And there are the supply train organizers and the quartermasters giving reports on growth, field rotations, and forecasted yields, not to mention the Fhrey who keep the Rhist functioning. I’ve heard the wells are running low. And, of course, she has to listen to grievances in the high court of the Karol.”
“I have grievances,” Raithe said.
Malcolm plucked a long blade of grass from near the bottom step. “But not pertaining to official business. The things I’m talking about are complaints about new regulations or unfair treatment.”
“I’m being treated unfairly! She’s my friend; I shouldn’t need official business. I used to be able to just walk over and see her.”
Malcolm shrugged with an apologetic smile. “Times change.”
Suri sat up and addressed Raithe. “I’ve told you before, I can get you in.”
Raithe looked at her and she smiled. Her grin was more than an offer to escort him through the door. She was hinting at greater consequences.
Suri had spoken of her trip to the land of the dwarfs. Not all of it, he could tell some parts were too raw to get near. Her reluctance was similar to Raithe’s silence about his family and life in Dureya. Certain moments were avoided, hinted at but not trod upon—not from a lack of trust but due to a desire to avoid walking over old graves. She’d told him enough to know that, if so inclined, Suri could reduce the Kype to rubble or melt the bronze door to an insignificant puddle. This was what her grin had meant, and that smile was accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that said it would be as much fun for her as it would be advantageous for him.
He smiled but shook his head. “If I really needed to get in, I could. Frost or Flood would pop the hinges off that door, or I could just ask Brin or Moya to arrange an audience.”
“My way would be more fun.” Suri wiggled her eyebrows.
“Arion wouldn’t like it,” Raithe said. “You know she wouldn’t.”
“I’d put it back,” the mystic said.
Raithe had no idea what it was she planned to put back—the door maybe? Knowing her, and judging from the size of that grin, it might be the entire front-facing wall of the Kype.
“So, why don’t you?” Malcolm asked Raithe. “Why not arrange for an audience?”
“Because I don’t want an audience with the keenig. I want to see Seph, and…I don’t want to see her if she doesn’t want to see me.” He pulled his legs up and sighed. “I’ve been to that door a couple dozen times over the winter. Everyone knows. I’m sure she’s heard by now, but even if she hasn’t, why has she never come looking for me? And don’t tell me she’s busy. No one is that busy.”
The sound of cracking sticks diminished as most of the pairs stopped fighting. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the center of the field where no grass grew, and two combatants faced off.
“What’s going on?” Raithe asked.
“Tesh and Sebek,” Malcolm replied.
“Again?”