“Yes, this is Shyana.” Marya said, kissing the sleeping girl on the hair. “She's only two, she's very tired. I was just about to take her upstairs to sleep. Would you like to come?”
“Oh could I?”
“Lady Marya, you're too kind,” Varona interrupted, “but I had really thought to introduce Bryanne to the dance at the earliest-”
“Oh, dear Duchess,” Marya laughed, “I'll make certain she's introduced to all the most handsome boys personally. But first, she can help me put my little girl to bed, yes?”
“Oh…well, of course.” Varona smiled, thinly.
Marya appeared not to notice the discomfort, took Bryanne's hand, and swept toward the big, guarded rear door. “Do you know any lullabies, Bryanne? Tell me which are your favourites?”
“All these servants and nannies to take care of the children, but she takes her girl to bed herself,” Alexanda said approvingly, watching them leave. “That's a true Torovan woman for you. Pity we have to go to Lenayin these days to find one.”
“Oh, Alexanda, really,” Varona huffed. “It's all very well for her, all the most eligible men will be falling over themselves trying to marry her daughters.”
“My vast apologies for only being the Duke of Pazira,” Alexanda growled.
Before long, the senior men were invited to gather in Patachi Steiner's study, on the third floor overlooking the celebrations. The room was grand, its walls lined with books in polished bookcases, a large writing desk in a corner, with a view of the harbour. Alexanda stood before the open balcony doors, a glass of wine in hand, and gazed out at the view until Patachi Steiner himself had arrived. The pompous git had to be the last one in, of course.
Reluctantly turning, Alexanda considered the gathering. Patachi Marlen Steiner was looking old, his broad shoulders now stooped, his white shoulder-length hair thinning on top. Where once his beard had accentuated a fine jaw, it now hung sagging upon loose folds of neck. But his eyes were watchful, and full of knowledge.
Symon Steiner stood talking to Duke Tarabai of Danor, a tall man with a square face and big ears. As far away as possible, examining books on an ornate shelf, was Duke Tosci, a man as solid and squat as a statue. Tosci and Tarabai continued the tradition of hatred between Coroman and Danor provinces. Surely even a man as dull as Duke Tosci knew that the families liked to play Coroman and Danor against each other? Or then again, Alexanda pondered, perhaps he was the only thinking duke in Torovan.
Also present were four other patachis. Alexanda recognised only one-Patachi Elmar Halmady, Marlen Steiner's right-hand man. He had far better things to do than memorise the faces of this quibbling crowd. Duke Belary of Vedichi, fat, bearded and stupid, sidling now to Steiner's side, Alexanda knew only too well and he loathed him most of all.
“My friends,” said Patachi Steiner, “a toast to Saint Sadis.” He took a cup from a nephew, there were no servants in the room tonight, and held it aloft. All drank.
“A toast to the archbishop!” said Patachi Halmady, and all drank to that as well.
“A toast to our gathering of families,” Patachi Steiner finished. A nephew made the rounds with a wine decanter, refilling the men's cups. Even the boys had swords at their hips. “I shall begin proceedings by relating the latest news from my good friend King Torvaal Lenayin. The rebellion in their north has truly ended. Lenayin stands ready to serve the Verenthane cause, and preparations are being made even now to muster a great army.”
“That is good news,” said one of the patachis. “Our forces grow strong. Even the Saalshen Bacosh cannot stand against us.”
“Good news?” exclaimed Duke Tarabai of Danor. “It's phenomenal! The only thing in all the world those barbarians are good for is fighting! Usually they just fight each other or the Cherrovan, but now! An entire, united army of Lenayin! Good gods, should they march with us on our crusade they'll wipe the Bacosh clean of serrin single-handedly. The rest of us will just need to watch and applaud.”
“And what of the girl?” asked Duke Tosci of Coroman. “Is it true that she's come to Petrodor?”
“Assuredly,” said Patachi Halmady, gravely. “And her uman.”
“Then Kessligh Cronenverdt truly led the Lenay rebellion?” asked another patachi.
“No,” said Symon Steiner. “It seems that the great Nasi-Keth left Lenayin for Petrodor well before the rebellion. Sashandra Lenayin led the rebellion on her own, and survived.”
“And fled in terror for her life!” Duke Tarabai added.
“She was expelled from Lenayin by her father,” Symon Steiner corrected, elegantly fingering his wine cup. “After producing from him some very reasonable terms, sparing the lives and fortunes of those who followed her.”
Some of the men appeared disquieted at that. No one questioned the heir of Steiner's information. Family Steiner, it was well known, had a great many sources, in all the most unlikely places.
“Well, better her leading the rebellion than Cronenverdt,” said another of the patachis. “That man has too much standing already, Lenay Commander of Armies and hero in a land that loves war and heroes more than most. If the Nasi-Keth unites beneath his leadership, we shall have trouble.”
“No,” said Duke Tosci, somewhat gloomily. The expression suited his dark, downcast features. “Not better. Much, much worse. A Nasi-Keth uman draws much status from his uma…his pupil, if you will. It was said of Kessligh Cronenverdt that his achievements in Lenayin are so formidable, the only thing he lacked was an uma to match them. And now, his uma has become legend by her own hand. And she's a princess. This will complicate King Torvaal's position. And ours, when Cronenverdt's prestige rises even higher, with the girl now at his side, here in Petrodor.”
Alexanda saw the dark look that passed between several of the dukes and patachis. Being of Coroman, Duke Tosci was the best informed of all the dukes on affairs in Petrodor. His knowledge gave him an advantage, and the others didn't like it.
“Duke Rochel,” said Patachi Steiner, his gaze settling upon Alexanda. “You know the highlanders well. What think you of this outcome?”
“Outcome?” Alexanda said dryly. “There is no outcome, Marlen.” Several men frowned at that informality. Alexanda did not care. “The matters that divide the men of Lenayin divide them still. I believe this rebellion was overdue, in truth. King Torvaal is an honest and trustworthy man, but his circumstance makes him a poor ally. Lenayin is unstable, it always has been, and always shall be. Only a fool would hope otherwise. Should an army of Torovan march into the Bacosh to fight with the Larosa, the army of Lenayin could just as likely prove our doom as our victory, you mark my words.”
“If you don't wish to fight, Alexanda,” Duke Tarabai said loudly, “just say so. Rather than invent these pitiful excuses to frighten us all.”
“Only a fool, I said,” Alexanda repeated, with a glare at the tall Duke of Danor.
“Will you not fight, Alexanda?” Patachi Steiner asked. His tone was still, his eyes unreadable. This man had ordered more men killed than Alexanda had drunk cups of wine. The gaze of such a man held a great weight, regardless of his expression. “I am informed that you have come with a guard of four hundred soldiers?”
“Five hundred,” Alexanda replied, matching Steiner's gaze. “These are but a token. Archbishop Augine himself has called for men of faith to make war in the Bacosh, to reclaim the holy lands of Enora, Rhodaan and Ilduur from the serrin. I have many more men of faith in Pazira who stand ready to join such a quest. I merely state that no battle was ever won by wishful thinking. Should the men of Pazira join an army of Torovan in the march south, we should be fully prepared for all eventualities.”
“And beneath whose banner shall you march, Alexanda?” asked Duke Belary. His jowled, bearded face was pink with the pleasure of his insinuation.