A War Dawning Ch. 04

Evaline's heart lifted as she was reminded of nights in their youth when Neral had stayed to comfort her, or just to be there. "And that is to be here?"

"I told you, I have to be up before sunrise and this is the closest bed."

"I am queen now. It's unseemly." her words belied the speed with which she'd settled herself next to her friend. "Hah. Perhaps she will be awake and we will shock the new handmaiden." She got coy, "More so if we were naked, you know, since you like that now."

She left out that her husband was a master of forbidden arts and changed, even though it was with her consent. One of the changes the spell made allowed her to respond, "I have...evolved on such matters, as is my right as an adult. Aside from that, it's no secret where you stand on the issue personally."

"I could see myself making an exception in one particular case, were she so inclined." Neral expressed the briefest shock at the idea, which pleased Evaline no end as she stretched out and spooned against Neral, holding tightly to the arm that hooked around her waist. She reveled in the warmth and security of it. "Please be safe, General."

"That is always my intention, Majesty."

The alcohol made her warm and added a pleasant heaviness to her eyelids as she watched the flicker of the lamp before closing them. "I love you, Bootsie."

"I love you, too, Evie. Good night."

For the first time in too long, she had one.

***

Distance fostered difference. While technically part of the kingdom of Erette, Idros was very different. Closest to the mountains that sheltered the land from the wasteland beyond and farthest from the reach of the queen's hand, Idros paid proper homage to the queen, and paid it taxes, but, in the end, was far more interested in the protection of Erette's military than actual rule by it or Evaline.

Life in the outer reaches was never easy and the response to that harshness usually manifested itself in one of two ways: a completely nomadic existence, or perhaps in small, distant communities that held fiercely onto their sense of independence and individuality. The other option was authoritarianism. One group took the reins and brought the people together. You could agree to accept the will of that group, or leave, taking your chances with the wilderness.

While there were small communities of the former around Idros, the city itself was a testament to a balance struck with the latter. The city of Erette prided itself on its dignity and formality, but it also made an open secret of its ability to look the other way while all types of good times were had. Idros, however, did not embrace its vices. They were there, of course, but here, indulging them could be dangerous if one weren't very careful, wealthy or not. Formality was the order of the day.

Since Idros was, depending on direction, was the first or last major city in the kingdom to be, it became its own nexus for all manner of travelers. The maker of the poison would be there or at least be known by someone well enough to point to them. The darker edges of society were deeper underground here than in other places because, everywhere, piety led to harsh judgments and harsher punishments.

The city itself favored sprawl over height as though the goal was to be a second wall against the wastes. The highest buildings were either government buildings as testament to the fact that, as much as they felt that they were an island unto themselves, Erette had reach, and the churches. They were towering monuments of gray or pale yellow stone and stained glass that seemed to fight one another to reach the Goddess. They were beautiful by any measure and the steeples reminded Deres, in their own way of the spires of Adar. Those were more reminiscent of the world before the fall, but the desire to reach for something larger than themselves was the same.

Leaving their horses at one of the livery stables outside of town, packs on their backs, the trio walked as a fine snow fell through the city streets on the way to the city seat to see the governor as he seemed a reasonable place to start. Without the eyes of government upon them it often put its fingers into every pie it could find. "Have you ever been?"

With Bryana at his right, he answered, "Many places, but never here, though Neral mentioned it once or twice when she came through to show the flag. You?"

"A few times in my youth. There are places in the mountains a young mage can go to be mentored in secret. I learned at one for a time."

Elan kept pace easily watching the people mill around the streets and shops in what was one of the more affluent areas. The glass was so clean, it was nearly invisible, letting the stores show everything from fine metal and glass work to clothes. People walked the streets guarded against the cold in heavy wools of muted colors and fur caps. Risque for the women here seemed to be makeup and overcoats with belts cinched enough to point to an hourglass figure. "Would it be better to start there?"

She thought of how that would go and shook her head vigorously, "They would be harder to find and harder to reach, if you get my meaning. They move frequently and cover the traces of their magic well. We could search for weeks in those rocks for the right places. And they generally trust no one, not even other mages. The longer a student is out in the world, the more corrupted they run a risk of being. A mage coming back may well signal them selling out the teachers for their own ends, or somehow otherwise using them."

Elan couldn't quite process it. "They would endanger their own teachers?"

Bryana inhaled the chill air, enjoying the feel of it. There was a crispness to it that was a fond memory. "Many teachers abandoned guild because they had no use for the politics anymore. Others are older and consider it a sort of penance for their own pasts. Between those two points is fertile ground for paranoia, as one lapse in judgment could doom the future of all of them. They will not help us."

Deres looked down the street, having a tendency to see the things that others might miss or choose not to see, coloring them with his own upbringing. From the crafts in the shop windows, well made but plain to signage that didn't seem to go out of its way to lure customers, it all came across as oddly modest.

He spied a young girl of ten or eleven huddled under one of the awnings ahead with a tablet of paper that she was holding up in front of passers by who mostly ignored her. Some looked at what was on the tablet and nodded approval, but otherwise did nothing but move on.

Bryana saw where his eyes went. "She has to sell something. Try to beg and she'd be arrested for sloth and vagrancy. Try to steal and...you'd better be good and be fast. You'd rather be a vagrant child in that case."

He noted the number of uniformed soldiers in the street. Erette had its share, of course, but these ones seemed to be on patrol. "If I didn't know better I'd think the place was under martial law."

Elan answered that point. "The governor saves money by using the garrison as police. General Jaye and the queen command, of course, but, since an invasion, much less a surprise one is unlikely fo come from the mountains, there is little for most of them to do. Many troops rotate through here, as it teaches them that they do not have to always be hammers and not every problem is a nail. It has done much to reduce tensions between the government and the poorer quarters."

The three closed the distance on the girl. She looked in fair shape until they drew closer to see the threadbare light blue coat streaked with charcoal and boots that were beginning to pull away from the soles. He looked at her fine blonde hair dark eyes and saw much that was familiar. As she saw them approach she held the tablet before them with both hands as if to force their attention onto it. A bird of prey on a cliff ready to swoop downward. There was fine detail in the feathers and the eyes had texture and the feel of life. "One silver," she said almost questioningly, as though she'd take what she could get if pushed.

He looked at it. "Very good. Less good if it's wet though. Your work?" It wouldn't be the first case of a more sympathetic face selling for another or a decoy being part of a greater scheme.

"Yes, sir," she answered with the exuberance of a salesman. "One silver. You won't find a better artist on the block either."

It was Bryana that answered with the question, "Is there another one on the block?"

"No." The girl shrugged. "Best artist on the block."

Bryana gave him the side eye, "She does have your what you call wit."

He ignored her. "You have an other or others you share the street with, or do you have a home?"

Deres couldn't tell if she was offended at the question or if she just feared that they were some kind of authority. "I have a home, winter's hard is all."

"It is," he agreed. "You do faces, nameless artist?"

She sat the tablet down carefully and opened a worn black satchel as she spoke. "Tahna." She pulled out another tablet and flipped through them. "Parents. My brothers."

"Those are good," he said, and Elan and Bryana agreed.

He reached into his pocket, "Tell you what, one silver for the bird, the rest is an advance on drawings of each of us."

She anxiously watched him count the silvers and put her hand out to take them. "Minimum ten more for the work and more if we like them. I don't know how long it will be, but it will be days at least before I can return. You will be here?"

"If you owe me money, I'll be here. Besides, it'll take me a few days anyway."

Deres smiled warmly. "Good. You remember faces, yes?"

She looked them over once more, but it seemed to be more than to appease him than anything else. "If you owe me money, I'll remember you." With that, he grinned back.

She carefully removed the drawing from the tablet and held onto it while he pulled the pack from his back and tucked it carefully away. "Pleasure doing business with you, Tahna."

As they pressed on Bryana looked upon him. He was a good man when those early years before the miracle of stealing from the wrong soul created a new path for him when those formative years could have turned him dark and bitter. Hindsight wounded her when that reminded her that she had taken that path for far too long. She woke up every day resolving to do the right thing more often than not and so far it'd proved a good strategy.

They walked from that particular merchant arm of the city to the city seat; a renovated church itself. It was smaller in and of itself, but with buildings added to either side in meticulous replication of the architecture and a courtyard it took most of the block. The church had four tall spires to give it the illusion of greater size with the tallest front and center with the Goddess peering over the city with her arms outstretched.

Up the many steps and through the door their boots clicked the floor. The windows still held the stained glass representations of the faith from crusades, to noted instances of Her benevolence. Their bearing suggested authority and some of the lesser staff took note. Almost at once they were met by a middle-aged soul with deep set green eyes and a balding head that he did his best to cover with hair from the other side. His paleness suggested he never left the work much. He bowed slightly. "I am Gresh Tallin, third deputy assistant to Governor Waylan. How may I assist you?"

Bryana pulled back her cowl and matched the depth of the nod. "Greetings. I am Bryana Lia, member of House Jaye. We come on an urgent matter on behalf of Queen Evaline and require an audience with Governor Waylan."

"The governor is quite busy. Do you have an appointment?"

"We don't." keeping her tone measured, she hoped that they would not have to dance long. "The situation evolved quickly, so there wasn't time to make all the proper arrangements."

His tone remained pleasant, if a touch put upon. "Governor Waylan is a very busy man. He's currently preparing for tonight's festivities and is indisposed."

Deres set his jaw and pulled the silver necklace with the royal seal out from under his cloaks. "Is he indisposed now?"

For all intents and purposes he was standing before the ruler of Erette and Gresh knew it. His nostrils flared and the put upon tone vanished. "He is, as a matter of fact. He is shopping and is unlikely to return before the festivities. You are, of course, invited to attend and speak with him then."

"There's no way to get a message to him?"

He was diplomatically apologetic. "Governor Waylan's tastes are eclectic. There are any number places that he could be. Realistically, in the time it could take to find and summon him the ball could well be underway. Since he is certain to be there..."

Deres quelled his annoyance, not only at having to wait for the whims of time and a flighty governor before he could press on in his efforts to find the one responsible for the poison threatening the queen, but for another bit of Court nonsense that he loathed even in the best of times. In his mind's eye, he could easily picture Cassea Voss, Court liaison for House Jaye, mocking him not so gently.

He was certain that he saw a bit of that in Bryana's eyes anyway. But, at least there was sympathy in Elan's. He would take what he could get. Tallin misunderstood the look. "In the meantime, please think of these grounds as your home away from home and rest assured, not only will I give him the message personally the instant he returns, I, and the manor staff will prepare you for the ball in manner befitting your station and giving proper respect to the queen."

Deres' broad shoulders slumped as he accepted the inevitable.

***

Tallin, true to his word, wasted no time and apparently spared little expense in getting the city's unexpected guests ready for what the trio was told was the governor's birthday celebration, though he liked to throw parties often. Merchants brought in the finest clothes from the finest shops, coming in and out of the lavish quarters Tallin provided like an insect swarm. It was short lived though, as none of them were particularly interested in being fussed over. Deres finally insisted that the people coming in and out just stand in a line with their personal favorites and the three would pick. After doing so, everyone was dismissed and the three dressed.

Deres was happy to be left alone with his thoughts as he dressed. There were too many things gnawing at his mind. The queen was fine for the time being, but the blade or its maker had to be found and it was frustrating that they seemed no closer to either. Then there was Neral, off to face bandits or Goddess knows what. Risk was the very nature of her business and every time she did head to the border or slap down bandits there was a danger. If there was a positive in this quest of his, it was that he could not dwell on what she may be facing. He heard her voice in his mind telling him that she could take care of herself and he needed to stay focused.

Then there was Khylen. He missed that smile. He missed everything about her and longed to hold her and teach her and simply be with her. But, in a sense, she concerned him least. She was safe and sound and surrounded by people who loved her. He smoothed out his gold jacket with a fine, wide diamond pattern he wore with matching pants and a crisp white shirt. He thought he looked ridiculous, but he often thought he did at any of these Court functions. At least I don't have to fuss with that damn cape.

He buttoned down the jacket and left his chambers. Far off in the distance, nobles were already milling in two by two in a way that sort of looked like a casual march. Between him and them stood several small groups chatting. He homed in on Elan and Bryana, noting the way Bryana towered over her in a gray dress with embroidered leaves and Elan in a black dress with a white collar and cuffs and a belt with a small white buckle that served to accentuated her figure, Elan having picked it because it reminded her of her formal military garb. None of the guests looked what one would call plain, but they were certainly modest.

Elan tailed her hair in a way not unlike Neral while, for Bryana, blonde hair came down in soft waves before they gave way to spirals of very tight curls and both kept the makeup decidedly minimalist. He eyed them warmly. "Be careful, ladies, I can see ankle."

Elan looked at him, "Being a woman is scandalous enough here apparently. I'm not sure what showing ankle would do."

"Ankle is fine," Bryana answered. "Much higher and you will stop hearts." Bryana exaggerated, but not by much. She looked around with some mirth, "Also note that women here dare not show cleavage. Scandalous."

"I like cleavage," Deres said with a bit of a pout.

"I've never noticed," she deadpanned.

"They are always quite clean after a bath with you," Elan said softly, but without any real effort not to be overheard. "You are conscientious and it's appreciated."

He much enjoyed her dusty dry humor. Looking ahead to the processional to the ballroom he quelled a grimace. "Shall we get this over with?" He offered each an arm and they hooked their own around his and made their way to the line. Tallin had been waiting for them in the vestibule and ushered them in, much to the confusion of those at the gate confirming invitations.

The ballroom nestled behind the main building was ornate in the extreme. The walls and dome overhead were decorated in such a way as to most compliment the church, with painstaking recreations of scenes depicted in the Works of the Goddess. They were beautifully done and Deres took a few minutes to tour and take them in before the formal procession, which he was used to by now, enjoying that he now had position of his own and didn't have to rely on the skill of the announcer not to make him sound like a leech.

There was a long rectangular table, presumably for the most honored guests with round tables in a three-quarter circle around it. Fully half of the room was meant for dancing and otherwise mingling, which is what everyone set about doing as they waited to for Governor Waylan to make his grand entrance. Deres, for his part, stayed close to the familiar. A rather dashing older gentleman offered his hand to Elan who accepted graciously, leaving Bryana and Deres together on the dance floor together to a rather lovely slow waltz. "If he has to be late, there are worse ways to spend the time."

They slowly spun around the floor and Bryana made note of the smoothness at which they did. "This is true. I do enjoy a dance partner with some skill."

"Some," he admitted, his voice slightly on the quiet side. "Aside from the social niceties, many instructors at home thought it good for learning casting as it teaches rhythm and coordination between voice and movement."

Bryana could well see the practicalities there, but she loved to dance because, when one meshed with a skilled partner it could feel like she was flying and that was glorious. Her mood turned concerned if not somber. "Any new word from Neral?"

He shook his head slightly, his eyes untroubled "But there's no reason to expect any either, so I'm taking that as good news. I expect she will rout the bandits, go home, and will be there waiting when we return."

She gripped his leading hand just a touch more. Her mind's eye longed for it "That will be a lovely sight. In the meantime, we at least have each other."

Bryana looked into those boyish blue eyes and saw his love for her. It was a feeling that had been largely foreign to her until she'd crept into General Jaye's bedroom one evening on a mission of corruption and evil, the unexpected turns of which bound her to them through magic, years, and life. Sometimes there was still a voice that whispered that she didn't deserve it, but the time between those whispers grew longer and longer as time passed. "I love you, too, Master." She put a touch emphasis on the last as she knew tweaked his heart and parts south.