Jusson shrugged. “I’ve spent time at Veldecke, Captain Prince, and I’ve read my great-grandfather’s letters, diaries and accounts of the last war. I know that the Border is more than tales of make-believe.” He took a sip of his wine. “Just as I know that the Amir of Tural has court wizards. Wizards that follow the amir—or at least the amir’s generals and admirals—into battle.” The room grew quiet and I paused midpour, staring at His Majesty.
“And now you’ve a wizard of your own, Your Majesty?” Suiden asked carefully.
“No,” Jusson said. “I also know the difference between a master and an apprentice, Captain Prince, and that Rabbit won’t become a mage for many years.” He took another sip. “What I do have, however, is Ambassador Laurel and through him the chance for something beneficial for both the Border and us.” He sighed. “If he and Berle can come up with a solution to the mess we’ve found ourselves in.”
“I’m sure they will, sire,” Javes said.
“Oh, yes,” Jusson said. “We will not have another war.” He drained his glass and allowed Javes to pour another. “That, though, is for the morrow. Right now, we must see to the disposition of Lieutenant Groskin.”
Suiden looked up, his face sharp. “’Disposition,’ Your Majesty? He’s not going before a review board?”
“No,” Jusson said. “Groskin will remain in his present office with his present duties.”
Suiden snapped his glass down. “Why the hell do I have to take him back?”
Jusson eyed Captain Suiden. “Is it something that you breathed in Freston’s air or were you born contrary and willing to gainsay a direct order from your king? If I say ‘Wear motley and ride an ass to war,’ you say, ‘Yes, sire.’ “
“But the donkey wouldn’t have been involved in a conspiracy, Your Majesty,” Javes said.
Jusson took his glass of bloodwine, rose, and walked to the window, looking out into the night. “We are aware of Lieutenant Groskin’s failings.”
“Failings,” Suiden said. “The man twice helps bring us to the edge of war with another kingdom—perhaps succeeding this time—and you liken it to a character flaw.”
“I will not tolerate insolence, Suiden,” Jusson said, still looking out the window.
Suiden’s green eyes grew hotter, a flame flickering in them. “Why keep him with me? There are plenty of assignments that do not come in contact with the magical—and where his shortcomings won’t matter.”
“The king has spoken, Captain. Groskin will remain your lieutenant and that’s an order.” Lord Commander Thadro’s voice was as mild as Jusson’s.
I finished my glass and suppressed a yawn—it had been a long night and an even longer day—and I stared heavy-eyed at the king. “Factions, sire?”
Jusson stared at me over his shoulder.
“Factions,” Suiden echoed.
I nodded. “You know, Captain, like you said—the arch-doyen. You’ve told me he’s already been writing letters. Can you imagine what he and Doyen Orso would say if Groskin was disciplined because he objected to being physically translated? What their supporters would say? What the patriarch would be forced to say?” I glanced again at Jusson and then back at the captain. “You saw, sir, that His Reverence felt his position strong enough that he could barge in on the king’s questioning of Teram.”
Suiden frowned at me, then at his wine before finishing it. “Pox take it.”
A yawn escaped me. “Sometimes, sir, you have to risk the part to preserve the whole.” I drank more wine.
“Oh, really? You want Groskin as part of your unit?” Suiden asked. Javes reached over with the pitcher and poured him another glass, and Suiden gave his fellow captain a narrow look.
“Hell no—I mean, as I’m a lieutenant now, wouldn’t I be assigned elsewhere, sir?”
“I was thinking of asking Ebner to assign you to me,” Suiden said.
“What makes you think Rabbit is going back to Freston?” Jusson said before I could respond. He turned around to face the room.
“But you’ve just said you didn’t want Rabbit at Court, sire,” Javes said.
“No. I said that I don’t plan to have Rabbit as my tame mage.” Jusson waved a hand. “But that’s something for later. Right now we’re discussing Groskin, and my decision is final, Captain Prince. He will remain with his unit.”
“Factions,” Suiden said, frowning at the wall in front of him.
“Factions,” I echoed this time. “The Border is rife with ‘em. It’s why the Border didn’t sweep down during the War and just take back Iversterre.”
“Oh?” Jusson asked, his brow raised.
“Yes, sire. Once we defeated the Royal Army, no one could agree on anything else. Who to lead, where to go, how to get there, what to do when we arrived.” I waved my glass, encompassing the whole room. “The miracle wasn’t that we won the war. It was that we had joined together to fight it.” I drank more wine. “We lost Iversterre in the first place ‘cause of factions. Cities against cities. Clans against clans. The cities and clans against each other. Elves against the other fae. The fae double-crossing everyone. Bit by bit, here a city, there a province, it was all taken away as we squabbled amongst ourselves.” I gently burped. “Pardon, honored sirs.” Jusson and Thadro both smiled.
“So the elves don’t get along?” Thadro asked.
“No, sir. The northern warrior clans think the city elves soft. The city elves think the clans are backwoods.” I looked at Jusson. “Sort of like the northern and southern part of Iversterre, sire.” Both Jusson and Thadro’s smiles faded into thoughtfulness as I happily finished my wine. “Laurel Faena calls it ‘lively.’ I say it’s insane. Vicars starting stupid fights over where one breathes in the Earth Songs. The fantastic slamming the human. The dragons thinkin’ of everyone else as toys or food. Or both. And the mages—” I yawned long and loud. “The Weald council meetings drove my da crazy ‘cause they couldn’t even agree where to dig a privy.”
It was Javes’ turn to look amused. “That bad, old fellow?”
Suiden nudged the pitcher away, but I found it anyway. I poured another glass.
“Sod, yes. Sir.” I guzzled my wine and, setting my glass down, leaned back on the couch. “It was the Faena who pulled us together during the War and made us fight as one. Now they keep everyone in check and remind us what happened when we were all divided.” I felt something wet slide down my cheek. “Damn.” I brushed the tear away but there was another. Honor Ash. The wind, which had been quiet, murmured softly and I strained to hear what it was saying.
“Rabbit!”
My eyes flew open. Everyone was staring at me and I sat up. “What?”
“You started to go—I don’t know, someplace,” Javes said, his brows together.
“What?”
“It was like your edges blurred,” Jusson said.
“There are stories in Tural,” Suiden said, “of wizards becoming the very thing they summoned—water, fire. Or air.”
We had those stories too. I sat up straighter—or at least tried to. “I summoned nothing.” I blinked at the captain, trying to focus. “It’s probably the wine. Y’all are a little blurry too. Sirs.”
“Perhaps we should have Sro Laurel check on you,” Suiden said, standing. “What with the translations and all the other weirdness.”
“I’m not weird an’ I feel fine, sir,” I said. I tried to stand also and didn’t quite make it.
Suiden caught my arm. “Well, for sure there’s been too much wine. Bed for you, Lieutenant, then I find Sro Cat.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I pulled away from the captain and took a step, then waited for the floor to stop moving. “I’m goin’ to be awfully sick tomorrow,” I remarked.
Jusson’s frown disappeared and he laughed, putting down his glass. “Come on, cousin.” He slung one of my arms around his shoulder, and the rune flared warm. He froze. “What the hell is that?”