“Certain is a dangerous word,” Loth said, “but I am as sure as I can be that everything he does, he does for the crown—and for the queen who wears it. Strangely, I trust him.”
“Even though he sent you away. Even though if not for him, Lord Kitston would still be alive.” Sabran caught his gaze. “I could still have him stripped of his titles, Loth. Only say the word.”
“The Knight of Courage teaches mercy and forgiveness,” Loth said quietly. “I choose to take heed.”
With a small nod, Sabran returned to her letter, and Loth returned to his.
It was late in the afternoon when a disturbance far below the tower made him raise his head. He went to the balcony and leaned over the balustrade. In the courtyard, at least fifty people, small as emmets from here, had gathered in the Sundial Garden, with more flocking to join them.
“I believe Ead is back.” He grinned. “With a gift.”
“Gift?”
He was already halfway out of the Council Chamber. Sabran was at his side in moments, chased by her Knights of the Body. “Loth,” she said, half-laughing, “what gift?”
“You’ll see.”
Outside, the sun was bright and heatless, and Margret and Ead were at the center of a commotion. They flanked Aralaq, who stood amid the curious onlookers with a sort of dignified exhaustion. When Sabran appeared, Ead curtsied, and the court followed suit.
“Majesty.”
Sabran raised her eyebrows. “Lady Nurtha.”
Ead straightened, smiling.
“Madam,” she said, “we found this noble creature in Goldenbirch, at the site of Berethnet Hearth.” She placed a hand on the ichneumon. “This is Aralaq, a descendant of the very ichneumon who bore Queen Cleolind to Inys. He has come to offer his allegiance to Your Majesty.”
Aralaq assessed the queen with his huge, black-rimmed eyes. Sabran took in the miracle before her.
“You are most welcome here, Aralaq.” She lowered her head. “As your ancestors were before you.”
Aralaq bowed to the queen in return, his nose almost touching the grass. Loth watched how faces changed. To the people of the court, this was further confirmation that Sabran was divine.
“I will guard you as I would my own pup, Sabran of Inys,” Aralaq rumbled, “for you are the blood of King Galian, bane of the Nameless One. I pledge my fealty to you.”
When Aralaq nuzzled his nose against her palm, the courtiers stared in reverence at their queen and this creature of legend. Sabran stroked between his ears and smiled as she seldom had since she was a girl.
“Master Wood,” she said, and the pimpled squire in question bowed, “see to it that Aralaq is treated as our brother in Virtudom.”
“Yes, Majesty,” Wood said. The knot in his throat bobbed. “May I ask, ah, what Sir Aralaq eats?”
“Wyrm,” Aralaq said.
Sabran laughed. “We are a little short of wyrm here, but we have plenty of adders. Consult the cook, Master Wood.”
Aralaq licked his chops. Wood looked queasy. Sabran walked back toward the shade of the Alabastrine Tower. Ead spoke to the ichneumon, who nudged her with his nose, before she followed.
Loth embraced his sister. “How were our parents?” he asked.
Margret sighed. “Papa is fading. Mama is pleased that I am to marry Lord Morwe. You must go to them as soon as you are able.”
“Did you find Ascalon?”
“Aye,” she said, but with no joy. “Loth, do you remember that coney-hole I went down as a child?”
He thought back. “Not that daft game we played as children. In the haithwood,” he said. “What of it?”
She took him by the arm. “Come, brother. I will let Ead tell you the unhappy tale.”
When they were all back in the Council Chamber, and the doors had shut behind them, Sabran turned to Ead. Margret removed her feathered hat and sat at the table.
“You brought an unexpected gift.” Sabran placed her hands on the back of her chair. “Do you also have the True Sword?”
“We found it,” Ead said. “It seems the Beck family has guarded it in secret for many centuries, the knowledge passed from heir to heir.”
“That’s absurd,” Loth said. “Papa would never have kept it from his queens.”
“He was guarding it for when they needed it most, Loth. He would have told you about it before you inherited the estate.”
Loth was thunderstricken. Removing her cloak, Ead took a seat.
“We found Ascalon in a coney-hole in the haithwood,” she said. “Kalyba appeared. She had followed me from Lasia.”
“The Lady of the Woods,” Sabran said.
“Yes. She took the sword from us.”
Sabran clenched her jaw. Loth watched his sister and Ead. There was something odd about their expressions.
They were keeping something back.
“I suppose sending mercenaries after a shape-shifter would be an exercise in futility.” Sabran sank into the chair. “If Ascalon is lost to us, and there is no guarantee that we will find the second jewel, then we must … prepare to defend ourselves. A second Grief of Ages will begin the instant the Nameless One rises. I will invoke the holy call to arms, so King Raunus and High Princess Ermuna will be ready to fight.”
Her tone was even, but her eyes were haunted. She had more time to prepare than Glorian Shieldheart, who was sixteen and in bed with a fever when the first Grief of Ages began, but it might only be weeks. Or days.
Or hours.
“You will need more than Virtudom to be ready, Sabran,” Ead said. “You will need Lasia. You will need the Ersyr. You will need everyone in this world who can lift a sword.”
“Other sovereigns will not treat with Virtudom.”
“Then you must make a gesture of the love and respect you have for them,” Ead said, “by withdrawing the long-standing proclamation that all other religions are heresies. Changing the law to allow those with different values to live at peace in your realms.”
“It is a thousand-year tradition,” Sabran said curtly. “The Saint himself wrote that all other faiths were false.”
“Just because something has always been done does not mean that it ought to be done.”
“I agree.” Loth had spoken before he knew it. The three women looked at him, Margret with raised eyebrows. “I think it would help,” he conceded, even as his faith groaned in protest. “During my … adventure, I learned what it was to be a heretic. It felt as though my very existence were under assault. If Inys can be the first to cease using the word, I think it would have done this world a very fine service.”
After a moment, Sabran nodded.
“I will put this to the Virtues Council,” she said, “but even if the Southern rulers join us, I cannot see that it will do us much good. Yscalin has the largest standing army in the world, and that will be turned against us. Humankind has not the strength to resist the fire now.”
“Then humankind will need help,” Ead said.
Loth shook his head, lost.
“Tell me,” Ead went on, without explaining, “have you heard from High Princess Ermuna?”
“Yes,” Sabran said. “She will have the date for me presently.”
“Good. The Nameless One will rise from the Abyss on that day, and even if we do not unite the sword and jewels, we must still be there to drive him away while he is still weak from his slumber.”
Loth frowned. “To where? And how?”
“Across the Halassa Sea, or beyond the Gate of Ungulus. If evil must exist, let it not be in our bosom.” She looked Sabran in the eye. “We cannot carry out either of these plans alone.”
Sabran sat back.
“You mean for us to call upon the East,” she conjectured. “Just as Lady Truyde wanted.”
An end to a centuries-long estrangement. Only Ead would have dared propose it to a Berethnet.
“When I first learned of her plan, I thought Lady Truyde reckless and dangerous,” Ead said, voice tinged with regret. “Now I see her courage was higher than ours. The Eastern dragons are made of sterren, and while they may not be able to destroy the Nameless One, their powers—however strong or weak—will help us drive him back. To split the Draconic forces, you could also ask your fellow sovereigns to create a diversion.”
“They might well help,” Loth cut in, “but the Easterners will never parley with us.”
“Seiiki trades with Mentendon. And the Easterners may help Inys if you make them an offer they cannot refuse.”
“Tell me, Ead.” Sabran looked unmoved. “What should I offer the heretics of the East?”
“The first alliance with Virtudom in history.”
The Council Chamber fell silent as a crypt.
“No,” Loth said firmly. “This is too much. Nobody is going to stand for this. Not the Virtues Council, not the people, and not me.”
“You just now advocated for us all to stop thinking of each other as heretics.” Margret crossed her arms. “Did you bang your head without my noticing in the last few minutes, brother?”
“I meant people on this side of the Abyss. The Easterners venerate wyrms. It is not the same, Meg.”
“The Eastern dragons are not our enemies, Loth. I used to believe they were,” Ead said, “but I did not understand the duality our world is built on. They are opposite in nature to infernal things like Fyredel.”
Loth snorted. “You begin to sound like an alchemist. Have you ever met an Eastern wyrm?”