Aimee clasped her hands together fervently as she dipped her knee to Gerick. "And I can hear that you're well. Oh, my lord, welcome." It took me a moment to recall their claim that Gerick was a king in his own land.
"And your third . . ." Aimee's whole being strained to guess the answer, a fruitless yearning until Gerick gave Paulo an elbow in the ribs.
"Uh . . . pardon, mistress . . . I'm here as well. Paulo, that is."
Paulo's state was not going to improve, for Aimee graced him with such a smile as might melt a steel post.
"What's going on here, mistress?" said Gerick, his good humor already set aside. "Where is my mother?"
"Come sit down." Aimee settled on the couch nearest the fire and quickly drew us close: me beside her, Paulo on the floor at her feet, Gerick a few steps away, standing by the hearth, his elbow propped on the mantle, his curled fingers resting lightly on his mouth. Each of us had one eye on the door.
"A great deal has happened over the past weeks," she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "Our plan to discover the truth of the Lady has been exposed. It pains me to report that it is your involvement, my lord, that has caused the greatest disturbance. I'll tell you all, but I must be quick about it. Ha'Vor and D'Kano are good men and very kind, but they don't wholly trust me."
She leaned forward confidentially. "Most importantly, my lord, your parents are safe. Four days ago, your mother was arrested and charged with conspiracy"— Gerick jerked his hand away from his mouth, but Aimee held up her own to keep him quiet—"but she was not harmed. She was allowed to join your father by giving her word not to leave the hospice. Your father's identity has not been revealed to the public, and, as he is her guest, Lady D'Sanya refuses to allow him to be disturbed or questioned. You see, the Lady has taken the throne . . ."
In a concise summary, Aimee described Ven'Dar's arrest, the new attacks on the eastern Vales, the massive movement of fighters and arms to the northern Wastes, and Je'Reint's oath of fealty to D'Sanya. ". . . for he claimed that his oath to his prince bound him not to report our activity. She accepted his word, and has entrusted him with command of the northern troops. He vouched for me and T'Laven the Healer, as well as your mother. These men with me are Je'Reint's own guardsmen, sent to protect me on any foray outside the palace."
"Protect you?" said Paulo. "If there's such danger about, then you should stay somewhere safe and have guards that serve you alone. I would— There's those as would give anything to keep you from danger."
Aimee's cheeks could have ignited a mud puddle. "Thank you for your concern, good sir. I've slept safely at the palace since the Lady Seri was sent away. I've only come here tonight to retrieve some gems that were my father's. We need every artifact of power we can gather for the war."
She laid her hand on my lap and nodded to the other two, lowering her voice even more. "You must all take great care in the streets. Rumors of Zhid fly everywhere. And rumors . . . terrible lies … of you, Master Gerick. I must warn you: You are in the most dreadful danger every moment you stay here, as is anyone seen with you; your description is everywhere and the Lady has commanded that you be hunted down. This city is choking with madness . . . riot. Two men were killed when the mob named them Zhid."
A mob . . . killings . . . madness . . . Avonar. In all the days of my life, even the most wretched and terrible of my captivity, never had I felt the weight of catastrophe that settled over me with Aimee's news. Avonar was the heart of the world. Our bulwark against everlasting darkness.
"With Prince Ven'Dar confined no one knows where," she continued, "Commander Je'Reint fighting the Zhid in the north, and Preceptor Mem'Tara and her advisor N'Tien sent to retake Astolle and Lyrrathe in the east, the walls of Avonar have never been so poorly defended. The Preceptors have talked of evacuating children and the sick."
"How can they think of ignoring the city defenses?" I burst out. "If Avonar falls, the Vales can be partitioned! And one by one, they'll fall, too."
Amid the ebb and flow of Dar'Nethi history, only a few things could one hold as incontrovertible fact: the sun would rise in the morning, the yellow jeffiri would wing their way to the Lydian Vale on the spring equinox, and Avonar—blessed Avonar, the City of Light—would endure. How could the city that had withstood the worst assaults of the Lords for a thousand years be brought to its knees so quickly now they were dead?
Aimee hushed me again. "Just today, the princess sent most of the city guard north, as reports have Je'Reint facing ten thousand Zhid with more on their way. We hear the Zhid are savage—far worse than in the past. Their numbers increase overnight, and they seem to think as one mind. The Princess has taken on the security of Avonar herself, saying she will shield us in the same way she shields the residents of her hospice."
"She'll fail," said Gerick, ferociously quiet. "They mustn't rely on her devices. Surely they've kept some capable warriors among the defenders."
"Certainly. The core of the palace guard remains, and a thin reserve on the walls. She has enlisted a number of untrained volunteers from the city, but also many capable warriors that the other troops have refused."
"Who would refuse a willing fighter?" I said. "Have we so many to spare?"
Aimee ducked her head. "They are the Restored. She's put them in their own band, called the Lion's Guard, and because they are experienced in war, she's set them to command the defenses."
At that, Gerick's head popped up. "The ones who were Zhid? The ones she's healed?"
"Even if the legion commanders were willing, too many Dar'Nethi refuse to fight beside them. But they are good and loyal—"
"If her healing enchantments fail like all her others," said Gerick, "she's as good as put Avonar in the hands of the Zhid."
Aimee blanched. "Are you saying the Restored could lose their souls again?"
"I've not seen it. But yes . . . everything she's done has gone wrong, bent or twisted in some fashion."
"But there are hundreds of them." Aimee's shock left her stammering. "The two men killed by the mob were two of the Restored. We assumed it was just people's fear . . . prejudices against those who had been turned . . . making people see Zhid where there were none. Commander Je'Reint . . . the Preceptors . . . must be told of this possibility. We must convince them to send reinforcements—"
Brisk footsteps, the jangle of chimes from the entry hall, and the hiss of a triggered door ward sent Gerick and Paulo ducking behind furniture. I was hard-pressed to keep my seat, but Aimee held my arm and leaned her head close. When she started to giggle and babble something about people I didn't know, I gaped at her. "You remember," she said, "it was the silliest thing she ever did, and I never thought to tell her mother." A firm finger poked my side. "You remember, don't you?"
"Of course," I blurted out. "The silliest thing. I didn't tell her mother either." I was unable to muster any giggling.
"Mistress Aimee, should we not be on our way?" The man's voice came from the doorway. "We would have you safe behind the palace gates before the night gets late. They're hunting the Destroyer house to house tonight. Perhaps your friend should accompany you to your quarters."
"No!" I said, much too loud. "No, I have to get back to my grandmother. Will you be seeing Commander Je'Reint, Aimee? He is so kind, and was so concerned about my grandmother when she fell ill. He'd come to oversee her favorite stallion's breeding and ended up spending the entire day with her. You know she loves nothing better than her horses. And if you were to see him, you could give him all my news."