Jin Li Tam had certainly heard bits of the story whispered in her father’s house. An unexpected and violent coup in the Ninefold Forest led by a charismatic mystic named Fontayne. Fontayne’s cousin had been the steward at Glimmerglam, the first forest manor. First, they poisoned the Gypsy Scouts assigned to guard the manor and its family. Then, they butchered Lady Marielle in her sleep. They had not realized Lord Jakob and his heir had slipped out through a hidden passage in order to do some night hunting. Lord Jakob had returned at the sound of the alarm bells and was beaten to death in front of his son by Fontayne and his mob of insurgents.
Jin Li Tam had spent much more time watching and listening after her first visit with the River Woman. For the first time in her life she found herself doubting her father’s business, but she could not for the life of her understand why. Whatever must be done to move the world-that’s what her father stood by. And she did, too. Or at least she thought she did. It’s how she pleasured and occasionally took her pleasure from the men her father sent her to. She did her watching and her listening for him, first and foremost, and passed what she saw or heard along to her father for his work.
But now, she found that she questioned it. But why? It was perfect strategy at a level that not even the Francines could fully appreciate. For the price of a poisoned brother then, a formidable leader now walked the Named Lands. One who, according to the youngest of his Gypsy Scouts, always knew the right path to take and always took that path no matter what the cost.
And a part of that strategy, she realized, had always been that this leader be paired with a daughter of House Li Tam so that her father’s good work could be realized.
But why did he need this leader? What does he intend for Rudolfo?
And what did he intend for her? She thought about the powders that the River Woman made for her. She thought about the work ahead of her, quietly going about the business of giving him an heir. More than an heir, she realized. A child who would grow up to protect the light that grew where it had been transplanted.
Her head ached for a split moment as she thought of the very different life he would inherit. Rudolfo had ridden the plains, laughing and racing his Gypsy Scouts, living from manor to manor. That would change with the library. The seventh manor would become the new center of the world.
She shook her head, realizing she’d stopped walking, and she looked at Edrys, who had lapsed into silence. “I’m sorry, Edrys. My mind wandered.”
He nodded. “You were asking about Lord Jakob. My father served with him as well as Rudolfo. He said they were very much alike. According to him, Lord Jakob took the turban early as well, and it made him strong. He raised a strong boy and happenstance brought the same fate to Lord Rudolfo. My father thought he was much like Lord Jakob, only more ruthless because of the circumstances under which he came into his own.”
She stopped, and the words settled in. More ruthless because of the circumstances that brought him into his own. Lord Jakob took the turban early and it made him strong.
Unexpected tears leapt to her eyes and she blinked into the cold, her mouth falling open with surprise, not from the realization but from her reaction to it.
She saw her father’s strategy now, and saw that he hadEsaw="0 skillfully intersected Rudolfo’s life at key points to move the river into the path he deemed best, a path toward a Gypsy King guarding the light of the world instead of a Gray Guarded Pope.
She also understood that she too was a part of his plan for Rudolfo, and she felt both gratitude and despair, a sadness for the price Rudolfo had paid in order to follow a path he had not chosen.
She looked away, wiping her eyes quickly. If Edrys saw, he’d say nothing. She knew this.
“Thank you for the walk, Sergeant,” she said, turning away.
He cleared his voice. “By your leave, Lady Tam?”
She looked up. “Yes?”
“You could not want a better man. There isn’t a member of the Wandering Army that wouldn’t lay his life down for Lord Rudolfo.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Edrys,” she said.
As Jin Li Tam walked back to the manor, she wondered how it was that her mind could see so clearly the brilliance of this strategy and yet her heart could only grieve it.
Then she wondered: How could her father have known so long ago they would need a strong, non-Androfrancine guardian for the remnants of Windwir?
The first snowflakes of winter drifted down, and Jin Li Tam felt a deeper coldness washing through her heart.
Chapter 22
Neb
Winters avoided Neb’s eyes until the Marsh King returned, then she disappeared entirely. They hadn’t spoken, they hadn’t known what to say, and all of it was just too new and strange for him. Cryptic prophecies, strange dreams, unexplainable fits of glossolalia were not what he’d expected when he’d run after the magicked Marsher scout.
Now, the Marsh King stood before him and held court, asking Neb about the gravedigging operation, about the armies and even a bit about Petronus. Neb answered carefully about the old man-describing him merely as a wandering Androfrancine-and spoke honestly about the Entrolusians and what little he knew of Rudolfo and the Queen of Pylos, the few scraps he’d picked up listening to the soldiers speak.
The giant fur-clad man paused between questions, glancing to the idol of P’Andro Whym and occasionally askingItif follow up questions. Finally they fell into silence, and after a few minutes of this, the Marsh King spoke.
“You are on the edge of becoming, Nebios ben Hebda,” the Marsh King said. “A man is shaped not only by his choices but by the choices of those around him. You are being shaped by the Desolation of Windwir, and where some have taken up the sword you have taken up the shovel. I have seen in my dreams that your shovel will be the salvation of my people.” Here the Marsh King leaned forward, lowering his deep voice. “And I have seen in your dreams, too, the great sorrow that you will bear because of your great love.” The Marsh King paused. “I will summon you again in due time, Nebios ben Hebda. For now, I will leave you to your work and return to mine.”
With that, the Marsh King stood and departed. Eventually, Neb left the cave and went to the foyer that the tent created. A few minutes later, Winters appeared.
“I will escort you to the edge of the plain,” she said.
They walked slowly through the camp, and once again Neb wasn’t exactly sure where the camp gave way to the forest. It was getting colder, and the pools of rainwater were now staying frozen longer into the day.
As they walked, Neb looked at her out of the corner of his eye. How was it that she seemed prettier each time he looked at her? How was it that the dirt and grime seemed less and less prevalent and her eyes and mouth seemed more? And how was it that it felt so good to be near her, to have the musky smell of her in his nose? It perplexed him.
Certainly, he understood human sexuality at least in theory. They’d covered it in school, and he’d seen a bit of it as it played out around him during his life in the city. And he knew that a lot of people followed those promptings of their nature, but everything he knew said that as an Androfrancine, he lived above such things. It never occurred to him to ask his father about his mother or to ask how it was that Brother Hebda had not kept his vows to the Order. It was simple: His father had made a mistake. And the grace of P’Andro Whym covered that mistake, even providing a home and food and education for the product of that mistake.
Perhaps these were the types of feelings that took men down the path of error. Or perhaps the fit of glossolalia they had experienced together somehow bonded them in a deeper way.
Neb wasn’t sure, but he did know that the awkwardness grew and that she must feel it, too.