“Two drunken fights leading to fisticuffs; otherwise, all in all, a fairly peaceful event, I would say,” Ashe commented, running his thumb over his wife’s hand. Rhapsody smiled in response, assenting. “And Navarne has a new duke now, with full participation in the council of Roland, which bodes well for the province. I think we can cautiously term this carnival a success.” Gerald Owen, the last of the servants to leave the table, smiled tiredly and nodded, gathering the plates and withdrawing from the room, followed by Melisande, who was on her way to bed.
Anborn belched loudly, deadening all sound in the room.
“Indeed. Any party where no one of significance gets killed can certainly be seen as a good one,” he said. “I’d like to offer my thanks to the Lady for her kind hospitality, and make known that I will be taking my leave shortly.” Those around the table nodded in assent; such an announcement was never unexpected, as Anborn rarely remained in one place very long.
“This time, however, I would like to issue an invitation to the new duke of Navarne to accompany me in my travels.”
“Where are you going?” Ashe asked, taking a sip from his glass of spiced cider.
The Lord Marshal waited until the door had closed behind Gerald Owen to answer.
“Sorbold. I am still troubled by things I have heard on the wind from there; I suspect it is worth investigating.”
Ashe nodded in agreement. “I’m sure whatever information you gather will be highly useful, Uncle. I have been concerned about some of the reports from the shipping trade there; we’ve been watching the actions of the new regent emperor since his selection by the Scales, but thus far, at least on the surface, he seems to be conducting a measured regent year. I have had some doubt expressed about him from people I trust, so whatever you can determine will be valuable.”
“Only if you choose to act on what I tell you, Gwydion,” Anborn said darkly. “I’ve been warning you for some time that war is coming, and while you’ve taken some of my suggestions to heart, I would like to see you moving more aggressively to reinforce both the infantry and the navy.”
“I’ve placed an order for a dozen new warships, built in Manosse and outfitted in Gaematria, this very week, Uncle,” Ashe said mildly. “And the shipments of horses for the Alliance cavalry have been arriving regularly from Marincaer; training is well under way. I am taking what you have said, and what I have seen, to heart, rest assured.” He squeezed Rhapsody’s hand again; her capture had been sufficient to make him see Anborn’s warnings as timely.
“So we would be going to spy, then?” Gwydion asked, barely able to contain his excitement.
“Gwydion, an invested duke does not spy on a sovereign nation,” Rhapsody said reproachfully.
“No, indeed not,” Anborn agreed. “He makes a visit of state, but without telling anyone, and watches from places where he cannot be seen.”
“Forgive me,” Gwydion grinned. “Is that all right, then, Ashe? May I accompany Anborn?”
“That’s for you to decide,” Ashe said, draining his tankard. “You are fully invested; your decisions are your own now. It probably is a good idea for you to make an official visit of state at the beginning of your reign, anyway—but I think you might wish to limit that visit to Tyrian or the Nonaligned States, which are safer havens for you, it would seem, and travel through Sorbold only as a means to get there.” He ignored Anborn’s withering glance. “I would also caution you about remaining away from Navarne for long; as the duke now, you need to be available to keep the province running.” He saw the young man’s face fall, and hurried to finish his thought. “But you have inherited an elemental sword, and need time to travel with it, to train. There is no better teacher than Anborn. I think it’s a good use of your first weeks as duke—and I will mind Navarne while you are gone. Then you can return and assume your full duties.” He turned to his wife. “What say you, darling?”
Rhapsody folded her hands.
“If you are going to venture forth, those are good reasons to do so—the official and unofficial ones—and you will be in good company,” she said. “To that end, I’d like to note that I desire to leave Navarne for some time as well.”
The three men at the table stared at her.
“I have been feeling ill and weak for some time, and it is disturbing to me,” she continued, her face flushed from the weight of their stares. “Something Jal’asee said before Achmed left made a lot of sense to me—it seems to me that since my situation is unique, and somewhat chancy—it would make sense for me to go and spend some time with Elynsynos, to see if there is something I can learn from her experiences with wyrmkin pregnancy, or just to visit with her. There is something drowsy and comforting about being in her cave, and I have not seen her for quite a long time.”
“How long a visit are you talking about, Aria?” Ashe asked, trying to not allow the reaction he was experiencing internally to become rampant.
Rhapsody shrugged. “I don’t really know. I suppose it depends on how I’m feeling. I have no idea how long my confinement is going to be, given that your own mother carried you for close to three years. I think I might like to stay at least until Thaw. But I am not much good in Haguefort; I cannot even properly look after Melly, being ill so much. I am looking for a way to get better, and I believe that the search for the answer as to how to do that may reside in the dragon’s cave.”
She turned her attention away from the others and to Ashe.
“We have talked about this before; what is your decision, Sam? Is it all right with you?”
Ashe choked back his rising gorge. No, the dragon in his blood whispered. My treasure. Stay.
“If that’s what you want, Aria; if you think you will be safer or more comfortable with Elynsynos, I will gladly take you there.”
“Thank you,” Rhapsody said, her green eyes shining. “You can always come to visit me from time to time.” She looked at Anborn, whose face betrayed his disapproval, and said quickly, “Remember, Lord Marshal, should anything happen to you in Sorbold where you might need assistance, you know the Kinsman call. I’m sure I would hear it, even in the dragon’s cave, and come to your aid, if the wind is willing to carry me as it does other Kinsmen.”
Anborn chuckled in spite of himself. “Now, that’s a pretty thought. The three known Kinsmen on the continent—one is lame, the second is pregnant and sick as a dog, and the third—well, the third is a Bolg.”
“Indeed,” said Gwydion Navarne. “But in my view, if I were ever in need, any of those three Kinsmen, however compromised, would be a great relief to have around.”
“You’re right about that,” said Ashe, rising from the table and helping Rhapsody out of her chair. “And as long as the three of you remember to call for aid should the need arise, I will at least be somewhat comforted until you are home again.”
Two mornings after the festival ended, and the last of the stragglers had made their way out of the grounds and back to their homes, when the last of the debris and detritus had been cleared away, Anborn and Gwydion Navarne saddled their mounts and left on their mission together.
Rhapsody had been fighting back tears all morning, helping Ashe check Gwydion’s provisions and sitting at breakfast with him and Melisande, who felt no need to hold any tears back and instead allowed them to roll down her porcelain cheeks into her clotted cream.
“I think I am finally understanding what you went through all those times when the people you loved left you at home and went off to do things they assured you were important, promising to come back,” she said to her adopted grandson after Melisande had left the table. “You want to believe so badly what they say is true, but your dread prevents it. Additionally, you can’t give voice to that worry, for fear that your doubt will somehow be taken as a lack of faith, or bring bad luck. So you put on a brave smile and tell your loved one to hurry home safely, all the while dreading the moment they leave your sight.”