? ? ?
She stood on the roof of the harbour-master’s house to watch the ships leave, seeing Vaelin’s farewell to Dahrena, finding herself unable to look away even though she felt like an intruder. He held her for such a long time. The small woman moved back from him, exchanged farewells with Lady Alornis, Lord Adal, Brother Kehlan and Sanesh Poltar, then turned and walked the gangplank to the Red Falcon, Ship Lord Ell-Nurin greeting her with a bow. As the ship made for the harbour mouth, Lyrna wondered if there was any significance in the fact that not a single Seordah had come to see her off.
Vaelin stayed to watch the ship sail away, responding to his sister’s embrace with a slight shake of the head before she and the others drifted away. After a while Lord Verniers and the Volarian woman arrived and she saw him escort them to the ship. She was still puzzled over the interest he had shown in choosing the vessel to carry them to the empire, but he was ever a man of secrets.
She turned as Orena climbed onto the roof bearing a fur-trimmed cloak. “The wind is harsh today, Highness.”
Lyrna nodded her thanks as the lady placed the cloak over her shoulders, still watching him as he stared after the departing scholar. “Murel says he’s the most frightening man she’s ever met,” Orena mused softly.
“Then there is wisdom in the young,” Lyrna said. “Does he frighten you, my lady?”
Orena shrugged; of all her attendants, she was the least given to formality when they were alone, something Lyrna found sufficiently refreshing to forgive her often-wayward tongue. “Some men are brutes, some are kind. Every once in a while you meet one who’s both.” She straightened then gave a formal bow. “Lord Marshal Travick craves an audience, Highness. It seems his new recruits are squabbling over what to name their regiments.”
“I’ll be there directly, my lady.”
Alone again, she waited and watched as he turned back from the harbour, walking away with a purposeful gait. It wasn’t jealousy, she thought. I can permit you no distractions, my lord.
? ? ?
She was awoken in the small hours by Murel’s soft but insistent hand. There had been no dreams tonight and wrenching herself from an untroubled sleep birthed a foul mood. “What is it?” she snapped.
“Lord Vaelin is downstairs, Highness. With Captain Belorath. It seems he bears an important message from the Isles.”
Lyrna ordered her to fetch a bowl of cold water and plunged her face into it, gasping at the instant headache as the lingering tiredness vanished. She dressed in her simplest robe and managed to summon a welcoming visage by the time she descended the steps to her makeshift throne room.
Captain Belorath matched Vaelin’s bow though his face betrayed his discomfort at finding himself in a servile position to a woman once his captive, a captive he had come close to killing. After the Shield took over the monstrous Volarian flagship, Belorath had resumed command of the Sea Sabre, sailing back to the Isles for repairs and to impart news of the great victory at Alltor. Also, Lyrna had hoped, to fetch more ships for the fleet.
“My lord, Captain,” she greeted them, settling onto her throne. “I trust the news is grave enough to justify the lateness of the hour.”
“Indeed, Highness,” Vaelin said, nodding to Belorath.
The captain’s face betrayed a certain reluctance as he spoke, the tone clipped and careful. “As Your Highness knows, the Ship Lords have been keen to ensure the security of the Isles through . . . certain discreet measures . . .”
“You’ve had spies planted in this Realm for years, Captain,” Lyrna broke in. “A fact not unknown to the late King or myself.”
“Yes, Highness. Most have fallen silent since the invasion; however, we have continued to receive occasional intelligence from one in Varinshold.”
“The one who warned the Volarian fleet had sailed,” Lyrna recalled.
“Quite so. Upon returning to the Isles I found another message had arrived from the same source.” Belorath pulled a scroll from his belt and came forward to hand it to her. “It’s addressed to you, Highness.”
Lyrna unfurled the scroll, finding the words scant, but enough to make her wonder if, for all her vaunted intelligence, she wasn’t just a fool after all.
Lyrna—
Attack on Winterfall Eve. Avoid the walls if you can. Aspects E & D in Blackhold. I’m sorry.
—Alucius
CHAPTER TEN
Alucius
“Don’t lie to me, little poet!” Darnel glowered at him, his voice low and filled with dire promise, the recently stitched cut below his eye threatening to split as he snarled. “They must have told you something.”