Page 10 of Among the Burning Flowers (The Roots of Chaos #3)

brYGSTAD

FREE STATE OF MENTENDON

CE 1003

.’

He woke at once, his fingers still wrapped around the miniature. When he cracked his eyes open, he saw Ermuna holding a lit candle, her hair in the intricate plait she wore to bed.

‘Aunt Liuthe has called us,’ she said, her voice low. ‘You must come.’

rose without complaint. His Privy Chamberlain helped him into a bedgown.

In a crisis, no matter the hour, the Lievelyns gathered as a family before they summoned the Council of State. If Liuthe had woken them in the middle of the night, it must be urgent.

Liuthe Dabanon utt Brudstath, Dowager Princess of Mentendon, received them in the Swan Chamber.

thought his aunt had never looked frailer.

Though she was much younger than Leovart, the sweat had nearly killed her in her forties, leaving her thin and grey.

‘Aunt.’ Ermuna kissed her papery cheek. ‘Where is Granduncle?’

‘Another ague. His physician is tending him,’ Liuthe said. ‘I dare not give him these tidings.’

joined the two people who were already seated at the table. Clothild was his fourth cousin, while Gaspart was his third, once removed. He chose the chair beside Clothild, whose flaxen hair was nearly hidden by a stickelchen, an unmistakably Mentish headdress. She was the only person in the room who was not, and had never been, a redhead.

‘Brecht,’ Gaspart said. ‘I hear you’re finally to be married, come autumn.’ He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. ‘Treasure your sleep, for the love of the Saint. You’ll be a father before long.’

grimaced. ‘Is Henselt still restless?’

‘He won’t settle with the wet nurse.’

‘Think of the poor souls who have no wet nurses to rely on,’ Clothild said lightly. ‘You have it easy, dear cousin.’ Gaspart grunted and reached for the wine. ‘Such joyful news, . When will the Donmata arrive?’

‘By the end of summer, I hope.’ smiled. ‘I think you will love her, Clothild.’

‘I have no doubt, if you do. We all look forward to meeting her, after so much anticipation.’

‘I met her in Ascalon,’ Gaspart reminded her. ‘The first and last time she was ever seen in public, as far as I know. Do you think she’ll be up to this great progress of yours, ?’

‘Of course,’ said. ‘She is a princess.’

‘A princess in a tower.’

hardly noticed the remark, too busy watching his aunt. Liuthe was usually a woman of good humour, despite the sorrow she carried, but her face held as little mirth as a skull.

The twins were considered too young for these family meetings – they would be allowed to join when they were twenty – so the last to arrive was Aleidine Teldan utt Kantmarkt, Dowager Duchess of Zeedeur. Despite the early hour, she was dressed as well as ever.

‘Liuthe,’ she said. ‘I planned to return to Zeedeur tomorrow. Do I need to stay?’

‘I would be grateful if you did, Ally.’

Aleidine sat beside , who gave her a nod. While Aleidine was no Lievelyn, her late aunt had married his grandfather, and she always gave shrewd council. She had opened her home in Zeedeur to him many times.

‘How are you, ?’ she asked him. ‘How is the Donmata?’

grinned. ‘Does everyone know now?’

‘His Royal Highness sent word to us yesterday,’ Aleidine said, the corners of her eyes crinkling. ‘I so enjoyed meeting Her Radiance in Ascalon. A fine match for our clever prince.’

At last, Liuthe took her place at the end of the table, using her cane for support. They all watched her with curiosity.

‘I bear strange and distressing tidings,’ she said. ‘I hardly know how to break them to you.’

‘This family is accustomed to anguish,’ Gaspart said in a dry tone. ‘Let us hear it, Liuthe.’

‘Yscalin has declared its allegiance to the Nameless One.’

The table was silent. She might as well have said that Yscalin had declared its allegiance to apple tarts.

‘The Nameless One,’ Ermuna echoed. ‘Aunt, what can you mean?’

‘A letter arrived from Cárscaro, informing us that Yscalin has broken from the Chainmail of Virtudom. The Saint no longer holds sway there,’ Liuthe said. ‘We should expect war against his followers, and if we do not pledge to serve wyrmkind, then we shall fall.’

could only stare at her.

‘I … feel as if I am in a dream,’ Aleidine said, with a faint laugh. Clothild had twin lines between her eyebrows, a sign that she was sinking deep in thought. ‘Are you in earnest, Liuthe?’

‘I would not have called you here if I were not.’

Gaspart barked a laugh. ‘Is Sigoso mad, or drunk?’

‘Was it sent by dove?’ asked. ‘Or did a rider come?’

All he could do was pretend this was real, even if his mind rebelled against the notion.

‘It came by dove, in the usual manner,’ Liuthe said. ‘As to your question, Gaspart, I know that King Sigoso does not indulge in wine or beer. You could not find a man less likely to be drunk.’

‘Or to pledge allegiance to the Nameless One, presumably. And yet.’ Gaspart reached for his glass. ‘Well, he wouldn’t be the first monarch to lose his wits.’

‘It may be a forgery,’ Clothild said in her reasonable manner. ‘A foolish stab at a jape.’

frowned. ‘What sort of fool would risk his own head for a jape?’

‘A very committed jester,’ Gaspart remarked. ‘In all seriousness, does Cárscaro have a court jester?’

‘The letter is from King Sigoso. I recognise his seal and hand,’ Liuthe said, with conviction. ‘Unless his signet ring has been stolen or forged, which I cannot imagine, these are his words.’

imagined his composure as a nervous steed, to be calmed with a steady hand, but he suddenly felt very cold.

‘Aunt,’ Ermuna said, ‘I have a thought I mislike.’ She looked around the chamber. ‘What if a High Western has awakened in Cárscaro?’

A brief silence followed, during which Liuthe furrowed her brow.

‘The High City sits on the hip of Mount Fruma,’ Ermuna went on, returning all their gazes. ‘If you were a wyrm as large as they were said to be, would you not choose a mountain to sleep in?’

‘The alchemists of Svartal have noticed more and more tremors in the Spindles,’ said, thinking back to the letters. ‘Not only that, but … the Draconic sleepers of Edin have been stirring for years. It is not widely known, but several officials have informed Granduncle. They ascribe it to people accidentally disturbing the creatures, but now I wonder.’

Clothild narrowed her eyes. ‘Why did you not say, coz?’

‘I did not want to scare anyone.’

‘, we must all know everything. That is the strength of the House of Lievelyn.’

‘It could be Fyredel himself,’ Aleidine said, distracting them. ‘Surely his awakening would rouse them all.’

‘Orsul and Valeysa had their own wyverns,’ Ermuna said. ‘It could be any of the three.’

looked back at his sister, whose jaw was tight. She had studied the Grief of Ages since they were children, trying to understand the cause of the devastation. To no avail.

‘Mentendon is prepared. Edvart made sure of it,’ Liuthe said. ‘Fyredel will not expect us to have rifles and war machines, nor ships with cannon and chainshot, nor any of the other defences we have invented since the Grief. Mentendon is even fortunate enough to have bed crossbows, thanks to Seiiki. The wyrm anticipates easy prey, but this time, we are ready to bite back.’

‘And is Granduncle ready to lead us?’ asked the chamber. ‘Is he our Glorian Shieldheart?’

There was a deafening silence.

‘Well,’ Gaspart said, clearing his throat, ‘will gunpowder work on the wyrms, do you think?’

‘It certainly works on sleepers,’ Clothild said. ‘Mother has used it to clear them from her land. The force of the explosion injures or destroys them.’

‘The sleepers are part animal,’ reminded her. ‘The wyverns and wyrms are … pure fire, pure Dreadmount.’

‘I believe the same principle will apply. Two High Westerns were slain during the Grief.’

‘While we imagine ways to kill wyrms, we must declare war on Yscalin,’ Ermuna said. ‘It would be one thing if the Vetalda had simply renounced the Saint, but to have openly declared allegiance to the Nameless One?’

‘Ermuna.’ shook his head. ‘You cannot think the Yscals would do this by choice.’

‘I agree with Erma.’ Gaspart stroked his auburn beard. ‘Can anyone be made to write a letter, in that monstrosity of a tower?’

‘The Yscali ambassador is on her way,’ Liuthe said. ‘Let us hope she can explain this.’

It had taken weeks to reach Cárscaro. Its defensive position was unparalleled, but it had struck him as a lonely place, and its king a cold and humourless man. Though their meetings had been civil, it was clear he believed Yscalin far superior to Mentendon.

King Sigoso had always been watching Marosa. Every glimpse of her father had clearly rattled her, even if she had tried to conceal it. And now he had turned either to madness or to evil. had the sense that a man like that – observant and controlling – would never hold a court so lax that someone would be able to forge a letter with his signet ring.

But it was impossible for the Vetalda family – the most loyal and committed to the House of Berethnet – to have renounced the Saint. During the Grief, they had fought to the end.

‘The Resident Ambassador to Yscalin,’ the Grand Steward announced, and the doors swung open to admit Lady Sennera Yelarigas. A handsome woman in her early fifties, she wore a gown that belled at the hips, fashionable in Yscalin.

She was married to Gastaldo Yelarigas, the Secretary of State, faithful servant of King Sigoso. If anyone in Mentendon could shed light on the situation, surely it was Lady Sennera.

‘Your Excellency,’ Liuthe said. ‘I take it you have been informed about the letter.’

‘Yes, but I do not claim to understand it,’ Lady Sennera answered in Mentish. ‘My lord companion knows the king better than anyone. His Majesty is the most pious and courageous ruler in Virtudom, save only for Queen Sabran. He must have been taken to ransom.’

raised his eyebrows at Liuthe, who only smiled a little at the veiled insult to Mentendon.

When Liuthe had first learned that he was to marry an Yscal, she had advised him to swallow any dregs of pride as soon as possible.

Marosa would have enough for them both.

His aunt had been wrong on that front.

‘By whom, pray tell, Your Excellency?’ Gaspart asked the ambassador. ‘A forger or a fool?’

‘There are heretics and evildoers in every realm, Lord Gaspart. Perhaps it was one of your Eastern trading partners,’ Lady Sennera said, with disdain. ‘Do any Seiikinese live here in Mentendon?’

The idea was so absurd and close-minded, it was all could do not to admonish her.

‘The Seiikinese are forbidden to leave their island, as we are forbidden to enter,’ Clothild said coolly. ‘In any case, I am sure they have no interest in such chicanery, nor in your king.’

‘Then perhaps your Hróthi kin have a hand in this, Lady Clothild.’

‘You know full well the Hróthi have always been close allies to Yscalin. Too close, arguably.’

had to conceal a smile. Now and then, he saw a flash of Northern ice in Clothild.

‘Enough. This bickering serves no one,’ Liuthe said. ‘Lady Sennera, I understand that you must be tremendously confused and shaken, but I will brook no insults to my family, nor to any of our trading partners, in my own court. Kindly be seated so we can discuss this.’

Even as Liuthe spoke, a sharp intake of breath came from Aleidine. frowned.

‘Ally.’ Liuthe narrowed her dark eyes. ‘What is it?’

‘Forgive me, Liuthe. I just had a thought,’ Aleidine replied. Lady Sennera took the seat beside hers in frigid silence. ‘Has anyone else read A Flower in a World of Ash by Lady Nikeya?’

Gaspart lifted a bushy eyebrow. ‘The First Warlord of Seiiki?’

‘Indeed.’

‘She wrote a book?’

‘A very fine one,’ confirmed. ‘My Seiikinese is poor, but I read the Erbevez translation.’

‘I read the original,’ Ermuna said. Lady Sennera looked as if she might erupt. ‘Why do you ask, Aleidine?’

‘A Flower in a World of Ash is an eyewitness account of the Great Sorrow, as the Easterners call the Grief,’ Aleidine said. ‘Near the end, the First Warlord describes the downfall of her father, Lord Kuposa. She believed he forged a bond with a wyrm. His eyes turned grey, his disposition changed drastically, and he spoke as if with the tongue of Taugran. His physicians believed it was some new form of the red sickness. The plague.’

‘I remember,’ said, ‘but Lady Nikeya was an imaginative woman, with a poet’s gift for metaphor. I always thought it was an attempt to tarnish his legacy. He had conspired against Queen Dumai, whose claim Lady Nikeya had supported.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Aleidine said. ‘Perhaps she was being quite literal.’

‘You think Sigoso the Pious has made some unholy connexion to a wyrm?’ Clothild cast the ambassador a cold look. ‘Surely not.’

‘Certainly not,’ Lady Sennera said.

‘He may have been coerced,’ Aleidine said in calming tones, ‘but … if I am right, I fear everyone around His Majesty is in grave danger.’ She looked at . ‘Even his family.’

met her gaze, remembering the next part of the book.

Marosa.

‘This Eastern tale has no bearing on Yscalin,’ Lady Sennera stated. ‘We all know the Seiikinese revere wyrms. This man of whom you speak most likely opened his mind to its trickery.’

‘Lady Sennera.’ Clothild sighed. ‘The Seiikinese do not worship—’

‘We know precisely what they worship, thank you, Lady Clothild. But my king never would.’

‘For his sake, I hope not, Your Excellency.’ Aleidine put on her eyeglasses. ‘May I see the letter?’

Liuthe passed it along the table. As Lady Sennera watched it change hands, her expression changed, and saw the worry beneath that layer of Yscali pride and arrogance.

‘Your Highnesses,’ she said, ‘I trust that Mentendon will not move against Yscalin.’

There was a brief, tense silence.

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Gaspart said cheerfully, breaking it. ‘We barely have an army.’

‘Gaspart,’ Clothild hissed.

‘The decision lies with His Royal Highness,’ Aleidine said. ‘We should wake him, Liuthe.’

‘Only the Queen of Inys can declare holy war,’ Liuthe reminded her. ‘Where she goes, Leovart must follow, but I do not know what she will make of this turn of events. If Sigoso speaks true, the blow to the Chainmail would be catastrophic – but if the wyrms have woken, they will exact revenge upon all of humankind. We must protect our people, as is our duty.’

‘We could enter the caves, as our forebears did,’ Gaspart said, sobering. ‘Mentendon has many.’

could no longer speak. He was sliding into the past again, to the sickroom where Betriese was dying.

Ever since that night, his dominant instinct had been to protect his sisters from anything in the world that would harm them. Now he was the heir, that instinct needed to stretch much farther, to cover all of Mentendon. He had to be more courageous than Leovart.

‘Perhaps we should watch and wait,’ Clothild said. ‘There may be more to this. We should consult with the rest of Virtudom to see if they received the same message from King Sigoso.’

Clothild was always first to call for temperance in a crisis, not wanting to show any hint of Northern recklessness. understood, but it would not do. They could not sit idle.

‘We cannot afford to wait,’ he told her. ‘The Grief of Ages brought humankind to the brink of extinction. Our world has never recovered.’ He looked around the table. ‘I recommend we dispatch scouts to Yscalin. If Aleidine and Erma are right, the Yscals are at the mercy of a wyrm, and potentially, a monarch who does not mean to resist. We must help them.’

‘What can we do?’ Gaspart asked him. ‘A fencing match with Fyredel?’

‘Respectfully, Gaspart, what choice do we have?’ Aleidine said. ‘Lie down and burn?’

‘That might be a little easier, yes.’

‘Our ancestors fought the wyrms to the end,’ said firmly. ‘Regardless of past tensions and disagreements with Yscalin—’

‘You mean when they helped Hróth to press its hulking great snowboot on our necks for centuries?’

‘—its people are our fellow warriors in the Chainmail. We have a moral duty to aid our allies, as the Saint would have desired.’ rose. ‘To that end, while our intelligencers see what is happening in Yscalin, I will lead a small armed force to secure the Donmata.’

There was a brief silence, during which Gaspart huffed, as if he expected to laugh.

‘.’ Liuthe shook her head. ‘Are you suggesting that you go yourself?’

‘I would shame the Knight of Courage if I did otherwise,’ said, soft and firm. ‘If any of our theories on this matter have even touched on the truth, Marosa could be in mortal danger. Regardless of the reasons Sigoso sent this letter, I must go to her.’

‘No.’ Ermuna snapped up, her face turning white. ‘. You can’t.’

‘,’ Aleidine intervened, ‘I really didn’t mean for you to—’

‘—act like a fool?’ Gaspart said. ‘Brecht, with the greatest respect for your mettle, you are no match for a wyrm. Only a select few royals have ever been known for that sort of thing.’

‘Glorian Shieldheart would have gone,’ said, with conviction. ‘So would Lady Kathel.’

‘You are not Glorian Shieldheart.’ Liuthe planted her cane on the floor and stood, brushing off the servants who moved to support her. ‘, I know you care for Marosa – I loved Edvart from the first day I laid eyes on him – but this is folly. Let the intelligencers go first.’

‘She is not only my betrothed, Aunt Liuthe. She is your future High Princess, the future Queen of Yscalin, and heir presumptive to the Ersyr.’

‘And you are our heir.’

‘Marosa is my friend as well as my betrothed. I may not yet have formally vowed to protect her, but the Saint knows I must, to be worthy of her,’ he said, passion lifting his voice. ‘She has lived in that dark tower for years, unable to see beyond it. I will not abandon her there.’

There was another silence. looked between their uneasy faces, his chest tight with frustration.

His family did not believe he was capable of it. Perhaps they were right. They must still think of him as the sanctarian, the spare. But if Marosa was in danger, he wanted to be the first one she saw from any party that went to her rescue, so she would know that she was safe.

‘Prince ,’ Lady Sennera said, ‘Cárscaro is not lightly entered, nor escaped. If I believed it were possible, I would be returning now, to join my daughter and companion. As you know, there is but one path to the city, from the Great Yscali Plain, where there is no cover for leagues. If a wyrm has awakened there – Saint forbid – then you would be seen at once. Even if you were to bring the entire army of Mentendon, large or small though it may be, you would have no hope of reaching the Donmata.’

‘Then we approach from behind,’ told her. ‘From the east.’

‘Through the mountains?’

‘Yes, Your Excellency. There is an ancient bridle path through the Spindles that leads almost directly into Cárscaro. The Gulthaganians used it to move Yscali copper to their own city, and later to send their warriors into the Ersyr, when they laid siege to Rauca.’

From the look on her face, this was news to her. wondered if even King Sigoso knew.

‘The Pass of the Imperator is treacherous, but navigable in the warm months. I could hire a small group of mercenaries and depart with them from Svartal,’ he said. ‘Should we find that the Cárscari have been coerced, we will extract the Donmata Marosa, Sir Robrecht Teldan, and your daughter, Lady Priessa, with all haste. I am certain there will be a way.’

Lady Sennera seemed lost for words, while Aleidine nodded her gratitude. Sir Robrecht was her uncle, a man in his late seventies. He loved Yscalin so much that he had never wanted to retire from his position there. Now his knowledge of its court might prove invaluable.

‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ Lady Sennera eventually said. ‘And … my companion, Lord Gastaldo?’

‘If we can.’ looked at her. ‘If he is not complicit.’

Gaspart drained his glass of wine.

Ermuna was uncharacteristically silent, as if she feared the lightest sound might cause him to leave. Her entire body was rigid, her fingers tightly interlocked under her breastbone. The sight pierced him with shame. She looked as petrified as if she was fifteen again.

‘Yes. Look at your sister,’ Liuthe ordered him. ‘Look at how afraid she is, . How will Bette and Bedona feel when I tell them their brother has left them to go on a fool’s errand?’

‘I am not—’ Ermuna cut herself off, sweat on her face. ‘Not afraid. I only—’

‘No. I forbid this,’ Liuthe told . ‘I have lost too many relatives. The man I loved and his siblings. My daughter. I will not lose my nephew as well. I will tell the Royal Guard to confine you if I must. You are not High Prince of Mentendon just yet, Lievelyn.’

clenched his jaw. Once again, he was to be treated like a na?ve boy, and not a man.

But as he locked eyes with his aunt, he saw the agony, the fear, and it shattered him. Even a peaceful animal would scratch or peck as a last resort, and his aunt was a swan to her bones.

‘Very well. I will give our scouts time to establish the truth,’ he said quietly. ‘But I will organise the mercenaries and see the party off from Svartal. I must know that Marosa is alive and well.’

‘Do you know any mercenaries, Brecht?’ Gaspart enquired. ‘I ask in absolute earnest.’

‘I am the Red Prince of Mentendon. Surely I can find some.’ offered Liuthe a bow. ‘Forgive my folly, Aunt, and the distress I caused you. I ask for permission to go at once, so I might speak to the Margrave of Svartal. I believe she may be able to help.’

‘Do you swear to me, upon your place in Halgalant, that you will not go to Yscalin?’

He touched the brooch of his patron, the Knight of Generosity.

‘Upon my place in Halgalant,’ he said, his voice soft in defeat, ‘I will not.’