Temar opened his mouth to deny this but thought better of it. “Thanks to Allin,” he agreed stiffly.
“I’d still rather you’d had a swordsman at your back.” A reluctant smile finally cracked Ryshad’s severity. “There’s no doubt you were born under the greater moon, my lad. Halcarion certainly polishes up your luck nice and bright.”
Temar grinned. “As the mercenaries keep saying, he who plays the longest odds wins most. Shall we take a look in that coffer?”
“We won’t disturb the Sieur, not if we don’t want to feel the sharp edge of his tongue,” said Ryshad with feeling. “We’ll have to make time in the morning, and that’s going to be plenty busy enough to satisfy you, believe me. Someone’s setting up D’Olbriot and D’Alsennin both for a whole new game, and if you’re not to lose your boots and breeches you need to know all the other moves played out today.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Preface to the Chronicle of D’Olbriot,
As Recorded on the Authority of Maitresse
Sancaerise, Winter Solstice of the 9th Year of
Aleonne the Valiant
It falls to me to give this testimony to the year now past in the absence of my beloved husband, Sieur Epinal, and with his Designate, his brother Esquire Ustin, incapacitated by wounds received in battle. It is my sorrowful duty to record that the surgeons now despair of his recovery. On behalf of all the women of the House, I beseech Drianon to watch over our sons and grandsons, brothers and nephews as they take up their swords to repel the Lescari from our borders as a new year of struggle opens.
None could argue with the Emperor’s decree that all those under arms remain in their camps through the Festival. Aleonne has truly won his epithet of Valiant and vindicated time and again the trust of those who saw in him the military leader Tormalin so desperately needed. After the treacherous attacks launched by Parnilesse at Autumn Equinox, in direct spite of agreed truce, Winter Solstice celebrations in Toremal have been accordingly muted. I am pleased to report no word as yet of any such perfidy and the Imperial Despatch continues to bring regular reports from the battle lines, so we need not lament the uncertainty of silence.
The common purpose that unites us in these dark days perversely served to give those of us here a Festival of considerable harmony. When the coarsening effect of soldiering has of late been apt to give the court a masculine and oftimes uncouth atmosphere, so we ladies were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in the ascendant with so many men away serving with the Cohorts. We were able to restore our spirits somewhat with peaceable diversions of music and dance.
As we remember Poldrion’s care of the dead at this season, let us be thankful D’Olbriot and the House of my birth, Den Murivance, have suffered such minor losses compared to some Houses. The twin scourges of war and camp fever have reduced Den Parisot to such a pass that the Name may never recover. On the other side of the scales, the year has seen two more Houses ennobled, by letters patent sent by Aleonne the Valiant with the endorsement of those Princes serving in the field, for the confirmation by those Sieurs remaining to gather in Convocation.
The only Sieur to declare against the proposals was Tor Correl, but that was to be expected and no one took any heed of his vicious insults to the Emperor. I confess myself amazed that the foolish old man sustains such malice and that the men of the Name do nothing to force him to stand down. It is ten full years after his abortive attempt to snatch the throne by force of arms was so comprehensively rebuffed. That Sieur’s continued claims to primacy solely based on ancestral military skills in legendary eras merely make his Name ridiculous. A House already so damaged and even stripped of its right to train men in arms cannot afford further injury.
I have paid my respects to the newly created Maitresse Den Viorel and the Sieur Den Haurient and find both worthy of rank and privilege. In this darkness that surrounds us, let us find some consolation in the way bright courage is bringing new Names to the fore. Let us hope that the Emperor’s belief in rewarding military merit, be it from never so lowly a station, will be vindicated with rapid victories and surcease from this suppurating war.
I find it perplexing that the financial records of the House show a far healthier situation than I might have expected. While the warfare in Lescar has entirely disrupted our links with Dalasor and Gidesta, our galleys continue to ply their routes to the burgeoning seaport of Relshaz and thus to Caladhria. Aldabreshin pirates whom all expected to increase their predations have turned instead to dealing with any and all entangled in the fighting, presumably finding greater returns for fewer risks. This western trade proves crucial in maintaining a continuing market for the finished wares and metals from our tenants, enabling us to trade for the necessities of warfare that we cannot supply ourselves. I find it ironic that my steward tells me our miners and craftsmen are making considerable advances in techniques and skills as a consequence of the increased demands of this ongoing strife. Perhaps we should ascribe that too to Raeponin’s sense of justice.
I was delivered this For-Spring past of my tenth child, our sixth son. As he begins to show signs of walking, I have been considering what name to bestow on him and wondering if his father will be home to share in those celebrations at his first steps. I am minded to call him Ustin, in memory of the uncle he will never know, whose life has been spent in the defence of we women and our heedless babes. Saedrin grant that peace has returned to us before any more of my children are of an age to take up arms with their elders.
The D’Olbriot Residence Gatehouse,
Summer Solstice Festival, Third Day, Morning
I woke with the dawn chatter of eaves-birds on the gables. My first half-conscious thought was regret for past Festivals. More generous Solstice rosters usually mean a chance of lying abed. But I couldn’t get back to sleep, not with that coffer of Kellarin artefacts waiting. A wash and a shave helped clear the weariness fogging my thoughts and, once outside, the cool morning air refreshed me. Gardeners’ boys carried buckets of water past me, silent maids were dusting the front hall of the residence and a heavy-eyed footman set some Festival garlands to rights.
“Ryshad!” A hiss from an upper landing stopped me and Temar ran lightly down the main staircase.
“On your way to the library?” I enquired.
“Indeed.” Temar strode through the house, oblivious to discreetly curious servants sliding past, an unobtrusive girl with an armful of fresh flowers, a shirt-sleeved valet with a pile of pressed linen. “Arimelin be blessed, we are finally achieving something!”
I waited until we were in the corridor to the library and no one else was within earshot. “I meant what I said last night, Temar.” He looked at me as I laid a warning hand on his arm. “If you go off without me again, I’ll take you round the back of the stableyard and beat some sense into you, Esquire or not! It all turned out well, but that’s no answer, not to you risking your neck. You’ve responsibilities to more than yourself now. How would Kellarin fare if Guinalle had to drop everything and come over here because you’d got yourself skewered in some back alley? I’m not saying you shouldn’t have gone, but you sure as curses shouldn’t have gone alone.” I’d lain awake long into the night, chilled by the thought of what could have happened to the lad and the mage girl.
This morning Temar had the grace to look faintly ashamed of himself. “I understand your concerns.”
I nodded. “Just don’t do it again.” But I’d finally slept when it had occurred to me that Temar had probably been as safe in the Lescari quarter, where no one knew his Name or face, as he would have been among Houses where Dastennin only knew what malice lurked behind the tapestries. Not that I was about to tell him that.