“As it happens, Your Grace, I agree with Count Idexes and Count Rillian that this assault on your wife and child cannot be ignored. But I also think there is merit in what Viscount Matreu says. Surely the people of Nabban will be as angered at this dreadful affront as we all are. Never forget, the real danger here is your brother. Without Drusis, Dallo Ingadaris is only a fat nobleman with money.”
“A fat nobleman with more money than God himself and five hundred armed men inside the city walls!” protested Idexes.
“Nevertheless, it is not solely Ingadarine gold that creates this rebellion,” Envalles said. “Some of the concerns they speak for are genuine, even if their motives are not.”
“Such as?” asked Saluceris.
“We have talked of it several times in the past sennight already,” said his uncle. “The Thrithings-folk continue to raid the easternmost counties, burning settlements, stealing cattle and sheep, killing those who oppose them. Much of Count Dallo’s influence comes from the border nobles. They are frightened, and they are right to be so. The men of the grasslands are numerous. If they ever cease fighting among themselves—if anyone ever unites them—Nabban itself will be in danger. All the civilized lands will be.”
“I respect your uncle’s wisdom,” said Rialles in a way that made it sound to Jesa as if he spoke through clenched teeth, “but I think in this case he is being foolish.”
“Dangerous words,” said the duchess, but she was not as loud as she could have been.
“Why foolish?” asked Saluceris.
“Because any movement against the grasslanders will rebound against us,” Rillian said. “Shall we send Drusis to fight them? Or Dallo, or Tiyanis Sulis? Because the Sulian lands are threatened as well. Should one of them defeat the grassmen but die in battle, then yes, all would be well. But if he pacifies the Thrithings and brings prisoners and booty back to Nabban like one of the old Imperators? What then? And if that victorious general is your brother Drusis, the very people who support you most would step aside to let him be put on the ducal throne.”
“What you say makes sense, but does that mean we cannot strike the grasslanders at all?” demanded the duke. “I have no heir to send. My son Blasis is scarcely three years old—a bit too young to carry my standard into battle.”
“Do not jest, husband, please.” Canthia sounded genuinely pained at the thought.
“Send me, Your Grace,” said Idexes suddenly. “Let me lead a force against the Thrithings-men. I will make those mud-men fear the Kingfisher again!”
“But it must not be only your allies who do this,” said old Envalles. “Nobles of the houses whose lands have been raided must also be allowed to satisfy their honor—and their greed for glory and plunder.”
“What plunder could the grasslanders have?” Rillian snorted. “Wagons? Sheep?”
“Horses,” came Matreu’s prompt reply. “The finest horses in all the world. Several thousand Thrithings steeds would be prize enough for any campaign, and their bloodlines would enrich our stables for centuries. More importantly, though, it would draw the attention of the common folk, who already talk about the grassmen as though they were unstoppable demons. But do not forget justice for this riot, too, Your Grace. An even-handed punishment, not unduly severe except for those who actually incited or committed murder, will also help to pour water on Dallo Ingadarine and your brother, where they would rather set a fire.”
Either the room fell silent then or the voices of those discussing these high, frightening matters fell too low for Jesa to hear. She did not know what to think, although she was prejudiced toward all Viscount Matreu had said. She wished she knew more about him, this unlikely man who had suddenly thrust his way into the very innermost circles of the duke’s household.
She curled up beside Serasina’s cradle, but still felt unsettled. Such terrible things! War, murder, torture, all discussed in a single room in a great stone house.
How can men rule other men? she wondered. How do they know they are right and not wrong? How can you know enough to take someone’s life? Is that the difference between the drylanders’ God and He Who Always Steps On Sand? Did their God, the one they worshipped in their high stone churches, direct the hands of men, so that no man was killed who did not deserve it? She wished she could believe that.
After a while she took little Serasina out of her cradle and hugged her to her breast for comfort. The baby wiggled a bit, gurgled, and then was silent. Together she and Jesa fell asleep in the dark.
36
A Foolish Dream
After riding for several days and nights across the Osterdyr plain, across thawing mud, newborn streams, and swelling rivers that had been covered in ice only a short time ago, Makho’s Talons now crossed back into the lands the snow seldom left, league upon league of empty tundra. Nezeru had never seen such a desolate, empty place. But for a few marks of wagon or sledge preserved in frozen mud, or the occasional view of a distant village (never more than a few high-peaked roofs, chimneys leaking smoke into the cold, gray air) this might have been some country that neither mortal nor immortal had ever discovered. But Osterdyr was not as empty as it appeared.
“Someone or something is following us,” Makho announced as they ate a sparse meal one morning. “When the wind is right, I can smell animal fat and animal skins and the stink of mortals.”
“No mortal would be fool enough to let us catch him,” said Kemme, then looked at Jarnulf with a grin that was nothing more than bared teeth.
“Surely even the Hikeda’ya are not foolish enough to think themselves unkillable,” Jarnulf said. “It might be a good idea to learn who is following us.”
“It is not one, it is many,” said Goh Gam Gar. As usual, the giant sat at a distance from the rest of them—Makho, as master of the collar that kept the monster docile, was always careful to stay beyond the reach of those long arms. Goh Gam Gar was eating the carcass of a frozen elk he’d found, tearing the icy mass into pieces and devouring it bones and all with, Nezeru thought, the righteous pleasure of a Hikeda’ya nobleman eating slices from a still-wriggling Lake Rumiya salmon. The giant largely foraged for himself, devouring huge quantities of berries and leafy plants when he couldn’t get meat. But when he did have the chance to hunt, he nearly always succeeded: Nezeru had seen him snatch a live squirrel off a branch and throw it into his mouth with a single motion, then swallow it in one gulp, like a fur-covered berry.
“Many?” Nezeru asked. “Many what?”
“Many mortals. They are too far away to count their numbers, but their stink has been with us for a while.” Goh Gam Gar let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “I doubt they are fewer than this company, however. What small party of mortals would follow the Hikeda’ya?”
“But who could it be?” Nezeru asked.
“These lands are mostly empty of settlements,” Jarnulf said. “But there are bandits who prey on travelers and merchant convoys all the way down to the Erkynlandish border. They find these empty lands a convenient base. There is also the Skalijar.”
Nezeru heard Skolli-yar, a word she did not know. “And who or what is that?”
“Bandits, but of a different sort. They came from the remnants of the Rimmersgarders who fought for you Hikeda’ya in the war, although they did not understand that was what they did. They were crushed by your Zida’ya cousins in Hernystir and their leader, a man named Skali, was killed. After that, many of the survivors turned their backs on their own people and the newer Aedonite faith, returning to the gods of their forefathers. But do not think them allies. They believe both the Hikeda’ya and the Zida’ya to be demons and will kill them when they can.”
Makho was staring out at the northern horizon, where the snows still covered the meadows and the distant hills. “It is interesting that you chose to bring us this way, and now we are followed, mortal. It is also interesting you know so much about these outlaw Rimmersmen.”
“I helped you escape from goblins, Hand Chieftain Makho, when otherwise you all would have died. I brought you safely through the Springmarsh and found river fords for you. And also I led you through the edges of the Dimmerskog without harm, where there are creatures uglier and more unpleasant to meet even than our friend Goh Gam Gar. Still you treat me with distrust, though you have traveled twice as fast as you would have without me.”
“Yes. Just as we traveled swiftly toward the mortal ruler and his mortal army not so long ago.”
Jarnulf’s face remained cold, his eyes unblinking. “That mistake was not mine, as you well know. I grow tired of hearing that foolish accusation.”
Now Saomeji, who had been looking east, contemplating the foothills of Urmsheim, said, “It still is not clear to me why you do help us, mortal. You have had many opportunities to escape.”