In a surprisingly short time—?the Mountain people were nothing if not efficient—?their little expedition was provisioned and ready. They had six horses, shaggy, short-?legged mountain breeds that would be sure-?footed on bare rock. The Eldest had insisted on loading them with as much food as they could carry, despite Winter’s protests that they could resupply once they reached civilization.
“We have sufficient,” he told Winter. “And I could not bear it if the world was consumed by the Beast because I was stingy with a loaf of bread.”
Only the Eldest and the Ghost had accompanied them to the exit from the valley, a narrow crack in a sheer vertical cliff that was practically invisible from any distance. From here, Winter could see the whole thing laid out in front of her, neatly terraced fields and wide stretches of pasture dotted with grazing sheep. Such a calm place, so close to Elysium. She still couldn’t believe it, sometimes.
“I will convey your warning to Queen Raesinia,” the Ghost said. “I pray that we will meet again in Vordan, Winter Ihernglass. The hopes of the world go with you.”
Winter had thought about adding a message for Cyte, as well, and decided against it. She probably thinks I’m dead by now. Either I’ll get to see her when I make it to Vordan, or I won’t, and at least she won’t have to live with false hope. She extended her hand, and the Ghost shook it carefully. At the back of her mind, Infernivore raised its hackles at the close contact with another demon, ready to spring forth at Winter’s command.
“Good luck to you, too,” she said, stepping back.
The Ghost nodded and raised his arms. Wind swirled around him, carrying the hot, dry taste of the desert, incongruous in this mountain hideaway. Sand rose into a whirlwind, obscuring him from view, and then streamed off into the air, leaving behind nothing but a bare patch of earth.
“That would be very convenient,” Alex said, looking down at her hands. “If my demon could do that, it would have saved me a lot of trouble.”
Winter turned to the Eldest. “My soldiers,” she said. “They can stay?”
The old man nodded. “Of course. The Beast has no reason to hunt them. And if you succeed, they can even return to Vordan. We don’t need to hide if the Black Priests have been destroyed.”
And if we fail, it won’t matter. Winter suppressed a grimace. “Thank you.”
“You are doing God’s work, Winter Ihernglass,” the Eldest said. “I pray that He will protect you.”
“I thought it was God who sent us the Beast of Judgment?” Winter said.
“He did,” Abraham said. “But He also sent us the means to keep ourselves safe.”
“God can be sort of a jerk that way,” Alex said.
4
Raesinia
Mistress Lagovil sniffed haughtily and drew herself up. With her hair piled on top of her head in elegant disarray, she was intimidatingly tall, a head and a half higher than her queen. Raesinia had to fight not to hunch her shoulders like a child being scolded.
“I see no reason why war, if there even is to be a war, should interrupt the social calendar,” she said. “Your father, may God rest his soul, held the view that Ohnlei was a precious jewel, to be preserved from the storms and furors of the outside world. He would have insisted that the Autumn Fete proceed as scheduled.”
“I’m sure,” Raesinia said, biting back the rest of her response. In the privacy of her own head, she added, Perhaps if he’d spent less time attending to the social calendar and more time paying attention to his wars, he might have won a few of them. Raesinia had loved her father, who’d been as kind and loving a parent as she could have hoped for given the demands of kingship, but she had to acknowledge that military matters had not been among his talents. She cleared her throat and said, “But it’s a matter of resources and popular opinion. A great deal of work still needs to be done here, and expenditures must be kept to a reasonable level while war is still a threat. The people will not tolerate a court that pampers itself while soldiers starve.”
“In your father’s day,” Mistress Lagovil said, “we were more concerned with what people of quality thought.”
“Times have changed,” Raesinia said grimly. We had a little bother with a revolution, you might have noticed. They nearly burned your precious palace down. Maybe it would have been better if they had. Then I could start from scratch and not put up with this—
Mistress Lagovil had the look of someone willing to continue the argument indefinitely, but thankfully at that point there was a rap on the door.
“Eric Vandalle to see you, Your Highness,” said Barely from outside.
“Finally,” Raesinia said, cutting off Mistress Lagovil before she had a chance to protest. “Excuse me. I’ve been expecting him.”
“Very well.” The frosty look on the head of staff’s impeccably made-up face said that the discussion wasn’t over, but she stood and walked stiffly to the door, making the palace livery look as martial as a soldier’s uniform. Raesinia waited until she was gone and Eric had stepped in to take her place before she relaxed.
“I should ask Marcus if the Girls’ Own needs any officers,” she said, to no one in particular. “I can just see Mistress Lagovil screaming her troops into line to repel a cavalry charge.”
Eric started to snigger, remembered himself, and turned it into a cough, then struggled to regain his impassivity. Raesinia gave him a few moments, then said, “I don’t suppose you actually have anything important to report?”
“I do, in fact,” Eric said, trying for dignity. “A message from Deputy—?that is, from Minister d’Andorre. He has, as of this morning, been confirmed in the post of Minister of War, and would greatly like to meet with you in his offices.”
“That’s why he’s been putting me off,” Raesinia muttered. She’d been trying to meet with d’Andorre for a week. Once again, she found herself deeply missing Sothe. Alek Giforte was competent, but she was certain Sothe could have done better. And Sothe would have had d’Andorre kneeling on the palace carpet instead of inviting her over to his ministry like some kind of supplicant.
Careful, careful. She couldn’t afford an open rift with the Deputies now, however obstreperous they might be. At least they’ve finally picked someone, and he’s a known quantity.