“Rhapsody—wait,” Ashe said, running to her side. He slid an arm behind her to brace her, then helped her out of the carriage, into the warm air. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Well, draconic tones tend to rend the vibrations of otherwise bland air,” she said, entwining her arm through his to stand on her own. “I assume that the other multiple-toned voice could only belong to Anborn, yes?”
The General nudged his mount closer slowly. “Indeed, lady. Can you not see me?”
Rhapsody shielded her eyes and looked up at him. “I can see your shadow, your outline,” she said, smiling wanly. “But I would know your vibrational signature anywhere, Anborn, whether my eyes are working or not.”
The General gave her a slight smile in return, which quickly faded, as he looked at Ashe with a mixture of accusation and disgust.
“Did I hear correctly that the empress is dead?” Rhapsody asked.
“The empress and the Crown Prince both,” Ashe replied, looking off to the south in the direction of the Sorbold border; even at this distance the rocky peaks of the Teeth could be seen, swathed in the intermittent clouds that cloaked the mysterious realm. “Within hours of each other.”
“How awful,” Rhapsody murmured. “Did they get a new chef recently?”
“It’s not clear. But they were both quite aged, and they died in their sleep.”
“Leitha probably had nothing left to live for, after accomplishing the one thing she still had to do—outlive anyone who was a challenge to her sovereignty,” Anborn said, shifting in the saddle.
“Stop it. What a terrible thing to say.” Rhapsody’s face went pale, and she clutched her abdomen suddenly.
“You must go to the funeral for me, Anborn, as my representative,” Ashe said, taking her into his arms and guiding her back to the carriage. “As you can see, Rhapsody is in no condition to be left alone.”
The General’s expression blackened. “So as to not risk offending the lady’s ears, or senses, I won’t curse you properly as I should, and tell you what a ridiculous thought that is. You agreed to take on this accursed lordship, if you recall. I, being the more intelligent and sensible of us, refused to even be considered for it. Now you see why.” He looked at Rhapsody, whose face was blank with illness and concern. “But you are correct in that the Lady Cymrian is not able to be left alone. So I will take her back to Navarne, and you can go off to Sorbold and try and sort out the situation there.”
“If you think I would leave—”
“He’s right, Sam,” Rhapsody said, her voice strained but somewhat stronger. “If we can’t both be there, you must go.”
“Very well,” Ashe said, looking displeased, “I will go once you are safely ensconced in Haguefort.”
“The timing will not suit,” interjected the Lord Marshal. “You will only be on time for the funeral services if you head straight from here to Jierna Tal in Jierna’sid. The rites take place in the Night Mountain, at the basilica of Earth, Terreanfor. That’s a good five days’ ride or more, with favorable weather. They want to bury the old hellkite and her useless blob of a son before they begin to rot and stink in the heat.”
“Oh gods,” Rhapsody moaned. She turned away rapidly and retched.
“You think I would leave you to tend to her?” Ashe demanded incredulously as he handed her his handkerchief.
For the first time since he had arrived Anborn appeared taken aback.
“My apologies, lady,” he said quickly. Rhapsody, her back turned, waved her acceptance. “Listen, nephew, I promise to be on my best behavior—I will comport myself in the manner which she deserves in an escort. And I will protect her with my life.”
Ashe’s face was doubtful as he ran his hand over her back. “Rhapsody? What do you think?”
His wife ran her hand through her thick gold hair, pulling it back off her face, and turned around again.
“I will be perfectly safe with Anborn,” she said, breathing deeply. “I want to get back and check on Melisande and Gwydion Navarne. But I don’t want to remain at Haguefort.”
“Where do you wish to go, then, Aria?”
“To Elynsynos.”
Uncle and nephew looked at each other in shock. Anborn was the first to recover his voice.
“You wish to go to the dragon’s lair? Unsteady as you are?”
Rhapsody nodded. “Yes. She alone of anyone alive that I know has carried a child of a totally different racial line, has blended the blood of dragon and human in her own body. I will be safe with her, and well, in her cave of the Lost Sea. The waves will lull my nausea until Ashe returns from Sorbold. Elynsynos will take care of me.” She smiled wanly. “Those aspects aside, I miss her terribly. It will be good to visit and catch her up on the gossip.”
Ashe exhaled deeply. “I suppose there is nowhere I can think of where you will be safer during your confinement, Rhapsody,” he said at last. He looked at his uncle. “And there is no one else to whom I would entrust getting you there. Very well, Anborn; if you will escort my wife to Haguefort, and then to the northern wilds to the lair of Elynsynos, I will be in your debt.” Anborn nodded. “I will take one of the falconers with me. If there is need of me, if anything goes wrong—”
“I will only send out a falcon if there is a catastrophe. Now go. The regiment is waiting.”
“Travel well, Sam,” Rhapsody whispered as Ashe took her into his arms. “I wish to hear good news when I see you again. And study the basilica; I’ve heard it is one of the hidden wonders of the world. I want you to tell me every detail of it when you return.”
“I hope you know that I am only going because you want it that way, Aria.”
“I know. Your presence there, at this time of upheaval, will benefit not only Sorbold, but the Alliance, and the rest of the world.”
“If you wanted me to stay with you, the rest of the world could be damned,” he whispered back.
The scales had augured that the tiny fishing village would be deserted at midday.
As usual, Fawn is right, the seneschal thought as the rowing scull made its way across the waves toward shore.
Caius, the more seasick of the twins, had elected to sit in the stern, rather than pitch with each wave, and was gripping his stonebow tightly, his face gray. Clomyn, comfortably ensconced in the bow, called to the boatswain, guiding him through the rocky edge of the shoals that were the bane of the fishermen of this desolate northern coast.
Finally, when the sun was directly overhead, and the world swam in billowing heat rippling off the sand, the seneschal’s scull and the three longboats of soldiers he had brought with him from Argaut made landfall.
He stood for a long moment, drinking in the gentle crashing of the waves, the black, pocked cliffs rising tall beyond the shoreline to meet the sky, the cry of the gulls above, the whipping of the wind that dashed along the coast, and the scent of promise that hung in the air, waiting for him to fulfill it.
One more sennight, Rhapsody, he thought. The scales have predicted our meeting.
Within his mind he could feel the familiar boiling sensation as the demon woke and began to come to awareness.
We have made landfall, the voice whispered, excitement evident in the crackling tone. I’ll want a fire.
“Not yet,” the seneschal demurred. “We do not want to draw attention to our presence yet.”
When shall the burnings commence? When will the destruction begin?
“Soon,” the seneschal murmured, trying to remain calm; his excitement only served to enflame the demon. “But not yet; we have work to do, horses to purchase, plans to lay. It is best that we remain undiscovered until we have captured what we are after. Once she is safely stowed on the ship, the fires will begin.”