She scanned their faces, finding most patently baffled by the question. The Meldeneans regarded her with the same surety that had marked their attitude since the Teeth where, she knew, many believed their gods had invested her with some form of divine insight. Far from undermining their faith the events of the previous evening seemed to have cemented it; who but the gods could have snatched victory from such assured defeat?
Similarly, Fief Lord Arendil and Baron Banders exhibited no sign of distrust as did Wisdom, who had come to speak for the small Eorhil and Seordah contingent. The only clear expressions of unease came from Lord Marshal Nortah, which was typical, and Lord Antesh, still evidently in the grip of his grief. But, like the others, he remained silent.
“Very well,” she said, nodding to Count Marven. “Battle Lord, our tactical position, if you would.”
“We have a secure perimeter extending one mile inland, Highness. Brother Sollis has the Order scouting farther afield, so far there are no reports of significant enemy forces nearby although we have encountered a few cavalry patrols. We’ll gain a clearer picture when the remaining horses are brought ashore.”
“Those that are left,” Baron Banders put in. “A third of our mounts sickened and died on the ships. Horses don’t take well to life at sea.”
“This region is rich in farmland,” Lyrna said. “No doubt we’ll find replacements soon enough. Until then I’m afraid any unhorsed knight will have to fight on foot, my lord.”
“That’ll give ’em something else to gripe about,” Banders muttered, soft enough for Lyrna to safely ignore.
“The Volarian fleet?” she asked Ship Lord Ell-Nurin.
“Still no sign, Highness. But I doubt they’ve gone far. Probably licking their wounds and awaiting reinforcements.”
“Then let’s not allow them the leisure to do so. I hereby name you Fleet Lord Ell-Nurin. The freighters and troop-ships will sail back to the Realm with all dispatch to gather supplies and reinforcements. You will take every warship we have and harry the enemy without respite.”
“I shall, Highness. It would assist our efforts if Lady Alornis were to accompany us. We require more fuel for her engines and my fellows can’t quite get the mix right.”
“The Lady Artificer is indisposed. Make do as best you can.” She paused, making a point of meeting the gaze of everyone present, ensuring they saw no uncertainty in her eyes. “The army must be fully mustered by tomorrow. When it is, we march for Volar. Their Empress will no doubt be revelling in her imagined victory. I intend to disabuse her of this notion in short order.”
? ? ?
“Reva’s dead, isn’t she?”
Alornis wouldn’t meet her gaze, sitting listlessly on the bunk in Brother Kehlan’s tent. If the moans and occasional cries from the wounded troubled her, she gave no sign, her expression as unmoved as it had been during the battle.
“Her ship was wrecked in the storm,” Lyrna told her. “We found some survivors, but none have any word of her. I know you were close to the Lady Governess, and I too grieve for her loss. Her spirit, and her sword, will be greatly missed.”
“I always wanted to ask her about the siege, what she did. But I couldn’t, I saw how it pained her. I used to wonder how a soul so kind could do what they say she did at Alltor, for that was not the Reva I knew. Now . . .” She looked down at her hands, the thin, dexterous fingers moving like pale spiders. “Now I doubt she would know me.”
Lyrna reached out to smooth a wayward lock of hair from Alornis’s forehead, finding herself perturbed by the chill of her skin. “My lady, there are thousands of people now alive because of you.”
“And thousands dead.”
Brother Kehlan came to Alornis’s side, holding out a cup of something hot and sweet-smelling. “A sleeping draught, my lady.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” she told him. “I might dream.”
“There will be no dreams.” He smiled, placing the cup in her hands. “I promise.”
Lyrna joined the healer as he moved away. Despite many hours’ ceaseless work he remained alert, seemingly indifferent to the foul stenches that clouded the tent, and the blood that stained his robe. “Can you help her?” she asked.
“I can help her sleep, Highness. I can give her various remedies to calm a troubled mind. It may return her to some kind of normalcy, for a time. But I have seen this before, the malady of the spirit that arises in those pushed beyond their limits. Once it takes hold, it never really fades. I advise she be returned to the Realm as soon as possible.”
“No!” Alornis had risen from her bunk, advancing towards them, formerly placid features now rigid with determined refusal. “No. I am staying here.” Her words were a little slurred and she stumbled, Lyrna rushing forward to catch her.
“We have more fires to light together, Highness,” she whispered to Lyrna as the queen laid her on the bunk, watching as she slid into slumber, still murmuring, “so many beautiful fires.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Vaelin