“It’s putting the Gula at the mercy of Rhulyn. That’s what it is! Putting a noose around our necks and calling it a leash.”
Erdo had succeeded Udgar as the leader of the Erling after Moya killed the prior chieftain in the contest that made Persephone the keenig. She had expected more challenges from the northern clans, but trial by combat was seen as sacred by most and especially by the Gula, for whom combat was such a large part of their lives. The Gula so far had been honorable in their acceptance of her rule and obeyed her judgments, even if they couldn’t always control their people. Over the winter there had been eight cases of murder that had come before her. The majority had been committed by Gula-Rhunes against people from Rhulyn, but the Rhulyn-Rhunes weren’t innocent and had a fair number of killings on their hands. Even more deaths had been reported in the territories, where interaction between the two sides had been required. Persephone had left those issues to the local elders and hoped they would prove to be wise.
There were no reports of Fhrey killing or being killed.
Erdo, new to his post, was the loudest of the Gula-Rhune chieftains. This wasn’t his first visit to the Karol. Most of the Rhune leaders aired grievances in the monthly council meetings, which made them run notoriously long. Erdo wasn’t the sort to wait.
“The south is better equipped to grow food,” Persephone explained. “There’s better soil and a longer season, and the fields are farther from the enemy who might otherwise be inclined to burn them. I promise you—your people will be looked after, but right now we need you here.”
“Makes no sense,” Erdo said. “All we do is sit. Easy for you, all warm and happy here in the city. Me and mine have to sit in the fields, in the cold, in leaky tents. No need for us to be here. Been two full seasons. The Fhrey are scared of us. All this waiting is stupid. Use us or send us home!”
Persephone looked at Nyphron, who sat to her left.
Nyphron leaned forward. “How many times did Alon Rhist launch attacks on the Gula in winter?”
The Gula-Rhune shook his head. “Don’t remember.”
“Then let me help you recall—never. Wars are fought in warm weather. If you look outside, you’ll see the snow is off the ground. Your enemy is on the march. They will be here soon enough. And if I were you, I wouldn’t be so eager for their arrival. Now, we have others to listen to.”
He waved his hand in dismissal.
Persephone cringed.
Erdo glared at Nyphron, his mouth a stiff, tight line. He spun and stomped out.
“You really shouldn’t do that,” Persephone whispered to Nyphron.
The Fhrey leader looked at her, puzzled.
“It’s not your place to dismiss—”
“Oh!” Nyphron nodded. “You’re right. My apologies.” He glanced across the hall as Erdo retreated out the door. “It’s just…I don’t like the way they speak to you—these Gula especially. They show no respect. No Instarya would dream of speaking to a superior in such a way.”
“No?” Moya asked. Only one word, but she managed to saturate it with a sea of sarcasm. “That’s not what Tekchin tells me.” She smiled at Nyphron.
Moya stood to Persephone’s right. There was a chair, but Moya always stood, leaning on her strung bow. She complained endlessly about the need for more than a mere bronze bar and a four-foot step separating those coming to complain to Persephone. People with grievances were angry folk. But Persephone wasn’t worried. Moya had proved she could nock and launch three arrows faster than a man could jump the bar. The tale of her stunning victory over Udgar and her increasing mastery with the bow had made her a legend. Most of the clans imagined her in mythic hero terms, which was the only way most could resolve the contradiction of someone so beautiful being so deadly. Even the Fhrey extended an unusual degree of…perhaps not respect, but caution…for something they, too, did not entirely understand. While the secret of the bow had been disseminated to those interested in learning, Moya, who practiced daily, remained the master. And just the sight of her standing at the ready was better than twenty armed guards.
The doors to the Karol opened and Petragar and Vertumus were led in. Seeing them, Moya grinned. “And what do you think these two would say about the respect Instarya show their leaders?”