Green Wild (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 2) (14 page)

A few moments later, Ambassador Smith appeared in the door frame, all but filling it with his bulk. He grinned as he ducked into the room, and said, “Ah, Your Highness.” But his grin dimmed as he peered around the room. “Where’s the young woman Sora healed? Not unwell again, I hope.”

Jerya closed her book. The rest of his ‘retinue’ turned out to be Cutter and the clerk called Scriber Stone. They both lingered near the door, while someone stood beyond the door still, only visible by shadow.

“Please, come in. Is everything going well at the riverside?”

The Ambassador gave her a startled look, and Scriber Stone hurried to his side and said, not quietly, “The eagle that plucked the students from the water, sir. She couldn’t have known it wasn’t necessary. I do hope she didn’t strain herself.”

“Eh?” said the Ambassador, pushing Scriber Stone behind him. “That was you? I thought it was young Seandri. Prince Seandri,” he corrected himself.

“We were both present,” Jerya told him mildly. “Was it unnecessary? They seemed to be drowning.”

“They’re safe now, which is all I care about,” said the Ambassador. He looked around the room, and Jerya realized he was still looking for Iriss, as if she was hiding under a chair somewhere.

“Iriss is very much improved, but resting,” Jerya told him, and added firmly, “Please sit down. It’s distressing to have you looming over me. Your attendants can sit near the window if they wish.” She offered Cutter a warm smile as he moved past, and listened to Scriber Stone instructing the final member of their party to wait without unless he was called in.

The Ambassador looked around guiltily, before lowering himself into one of the parlour chairs. “Sorry, sorry. My curiosity sometimes gets the better of me.”

Jerya hesitated before indulging her own curiosity. “Does your diplomatic corps not particularly value subtlety? You aren’t what I expected.” She didn’t look directly at Scriber Stone, but she was aware of him all the same. He stared at her with an unblinking interest she found unsettling. His manners were as bad as the Justiciars.

Ambassador Smith chuckled, but uncomfortably. “Some of them are wretched subtle. I’m primarily a teacher and an administrator, Your Highness, which I imagine you’ve guessed by now. We thought physical assistance would be more useful than politics in your current situation.” He tapped his fingers together. “Speaking of that, how goes destroying the Blight?”

Jerya studied the way he sat in the chair, as if eager to be on his feet again. She wondered if he paced while teaching. “Fighting a war is slow, Your Excellency. It takes time for armies to move. We’re containing it until we have the manpower to eradicate it.”

Scriber Stone rifled through a satchel of papers. The Ambassador glanced at him, then said, “I’ve been told your baby sister is off on a secret mission to acquire a special weapon?”

“Not so secret,” said Jerya. “Though it certainly sounds exciting to describe it that way.”

He waited a moment, clearly hoping she’d go on. Cutter moved restlessly by the window and the shuffling of Scriber Stone’s papers seemed to fill the room.

Jerya smiled. “Is the levee stable now? Usually we’d have to build up the waterfront, which is an annoyance at the best of times., We appreciate your work.” She could be so much more polite than Scriber Stone, oh yes. Why devalue truly useful work, even if people you disliked did it? “You mentioned the bridges in one of the notes you sent? You’ve been quite focused on the river.”

“Well, yes,” he said vaguely, running a hand through his hair. “The levee will keep the river in place for now, although it will stay high, which creates its own problems. As for the bridges... It’d be best if we could get people back into their homes again. And...”

Scriber Stone moved some papers again, and the Ambassador grimaced. “I will be honest with you, Princess. We would very much like to have access to the Royal plepanin reserves.”

Jerya stared at him, long and cool. So this was why they’d healed Iriss. Not a gift, not a kindness, but just politics and greed. “And so you want to get into the Palace.”

“Well, yes. You should get back to your home again too,” he added, a happier note in his voice.

Cutter half raised his hand for attention. “And the supply caravan, sir. Don’t forget about that.”

“Oh, please don’t forget about the supply caravan,” said Jerya. “What must you tell me about the supply caravan?”

Ambassador Smith’s eyes narrowed as he considered Jerya and suddenly she realized that while he might seem foolish in his enthusiasm and lack of subtlety, he was intelligent, and hardly as oblivious as she’d first thought. “Go ahead, boy. Since you’re so eager, share with the class.”

“Oh. Well....” Cutter came forward. “We have more supplies from Vassay coming behind us, Your Highness. It’s protected just as our own caravan was, but it’s larger, with fewer people.”

“Tempting prey,” observed Jerya.

He shifted. “Yes, well. It’s also late. It’s still coming, it’s simply... being careful. On the way here we did have a few problems of our own. Some of your people saw us as... well... invaders. We don’t want to hurt anybody if we don’t have to. The presence of one of your family members would help.”

“As a deterrent,” she said flatly.

“To show your people we’re not invaders.”

Jerya studied Cutter. He seemed nervous and ill-at-ease, not at all like he’d been the day before. The request for an escort didn’t seem like the sort of thing that would prompt a young man to interrupt his teacher. Unless... “Is there somebody in particular you care about on this second caravan?”

He looked down. “Yes.”

“You’re a wretched boy and will no doubt be the ruination of my career,” said Ambassador Smith, without the faintest trace of ire. “Now that you’ve unburdened yourself to the Princess, go wait in the hall with Thorn.”

Cutter bowed again and backed out of the room, his eyes fixed on Jerya pleadingly until he was out of the room.

Jerya regarded Scriber Stone. “And do
you
have any requests to make? I’ve heard that you’ve been just as helpful to the Justiciars as Cutter has been to me. In your own way.”

“If I have, Your Highness, I’m content to let them reward me as they see fit,” said Scriber Stone placidly. “But it is kind of you to offer.”

“In the end, our requests do benefit Ceria, Your Highness,” said Ambassador Smith, as if confiding a secret to a not-very-bright student. He glanced at Scriber Stone, before adding defiantly, “And speaking of the Justiciars, I want to invite you to a special meeting with them in a day or two. I think I could put some of my administration experience to work helping sort out some of the, ah, differences in perspective we’ve heard about.”

Jerya shrugged, unable to summon any real interest in another meeting where the Justiciars would again dismiss her based on her family history. “Perhaps. Not at the Elant, though.”

“No, no, of course not. We’ll find somewhere.” He tapped his fingers together again, waiting on her response to the other, more difficult requests.

Jerya glanced at Siana, who sat with her head down, making tiny stitches with her needle. If things hadn’t gone horribly wrong, right now Iriss would be in Siana’s position, and it would be Iriss she’d consult with before making a decision. She’d have access to the phantasmagory, and she’d be able to attract the eventual attention of one or more of her family just by making it ripple. She could do none of that now.

Instead she was about to make important decisions, almost utterly alone. She’d been fighting for the power to make decisions since her father’s Regent had been murdered and they’d started investigating what was going on in their own country. This was the power she should have had all along, she who would be crowned Queen. She’d set up her own Court in the hopes of calling it to her. But when she started on this path, after her father’s Regent Tomas had died, she had neither wanted nor expected to get the power all by herself. She firmly believed the true strength of the monarchs of Ceria was based in the stability of a partnership.

Her father had been content to leave all the decision-making in Tomas’s hands, even when it came to matters of the Blood, like the use of the Palace and the training of individual family members. Her grandfather, she understood, had been similar. That never would have been the case with Jerya and Iriss. Jerya could never let go of what was hers, and half of the annual holidays Lor Seleni celebrated told her again and again Ceria belonged to
her
.

A murmur of voices came from the hall, growing louder. It was an argument. Jerya glanced at the door and recognized Yithiere’s voice, fast and angry. A moment later, she recognized Seandri, and her guard. Then Yithiere flung open the door and loomed at the threshold.

“I am well, Uncle,” Jerya said calmly, and some tension went out of his shoulders.

“These men outside your door—”

“Just men, Uncle. Is Seandri with you? Please, both of you come in. Ambassador Smith has asked us for a favor.” Then again, she mused, even without the phantasmagory, she wasn’t as isolated as she’d felt.

Seandri stepped into the room behind Yithiere, nudging him forward, and closed the door behind them again. “Here we are,” he said. “Good afternoon, Ambassador. You’ve been busy today.”

Jerya’s heart lightened a touch. Even with Iriss strange and worrying, even with Vassay and the Blight, Seandri could always make her feel better. He was so reliable that sometimes she felt she had a second Regent. He loved her, he took care of her when she needed it, and he never made things hard. He hadn’t been jealous of her brief fling with Cathay. He never felt threatened by anything. He was a deep pool of water that swallowed every stone. And everybody around him, even those who didn’t know him, seemed to feel as if he could be trusted. Or at least forgotten about. She’d noticed that. He was so steady the Chancellor forgot about him when planning sometimes.

Jerya didn’t mind. She never forgot about him.

“Ambassador Smith wants to excavate the Palace first,” Jerya explained. “And he wants a Blood escort for another caravan. I think the first must be considered carefully, since the resources he has brought us are precious and should not be wasted on frivolous things. But the second—the second—what do you think, my Blood?”

Yithiere’s hackles had risen at the mention of Vassay excavating the Palace, but she’d smoothed them in the same sentence. He rubbed his chin at her query. “I’ve been thinking about that. None of us should be sitting idle in Lor Seleni. It can take care of itself as long as we can stop the Blighter from getting any closer to it.”

“This would be a good opportunity to get a look at what’s going on out there,” offered Seandri. “I don’t think we should abandon Lor Seleni though. It would be bad for morale. And other things. I have some ideas there.” His gaze slid over to the Ambassador.

“I see we’re all being straightforward here,” the Ambassador said, back to joviality again. “I personally find honest advice the best kind. It’s hard to hammer out the flaws in a plan with less than honest feedback.”

Scriber Stone audibly sighed, as if he regretted something. Jerya smiled at them again. “You did me a kindness in returning Iriss,” she said. “And on Fallendre, too. I will do you a favor in response—one you
do
believe is necessary—and make sure your own loved ones stay safe on the journey here. As for the Palace, we will... discuss it. I’m not yet convinced it is the best use of resources, but you will have a chance to make arguments.”

The Ambassador inclined his head. “Very gracious. And who will be joining our caravan? The sooner they can depart, the sooner the supplies will arrive.”

Jerya looked at Yithiere and Seandri, and thought of the rest of her family, and too late realized the trap she’d set herself. She remembered, all of a sudden, why she’d sent none of the Blood out yet with the scout troops.

Jant, she could not command to leave Lor Seleni. Even if she had the will to do so, he wouldn’t obey. He’d been ready to die in the mudslide rather than leave the Palace.

Gisen was still a child, younger than her thirteen years. Gisen was what they were fighting
for
.

Yithiere was dangerously unstable now, without a Regent and enormously stressed. Without the phantasmagory, she’d be unable to monitor him. It was a disaster on the edge of happening.

And Seandri... Seandri was stable and had his Regent and could be trusted absolutely... But Seandri was
hers
.

She silently cursed Tiana and Kiar and Cathay—especially Cathay—for running off, taking their strength of mind and independence of action with them. She cursed the Blighter, for destroying the phantasmagory. And she cursed herself, for trapping herself in this sudden dead end.

Siana was watching her, she realized. Her aunt had been sewing all this time, no more involved than the table. But now her needle stopped and she lifted her eyes to witness Jerya’s decision. They were all watching her expectantly, but she felt like Siana expected something particular from her.

Seandri startled her by saying, “I’ll go. It will be interesting and Yithiere can stay closer to the Blight.”

“No!” Jerya covered her mouth, then dropped her hands, regaining her composure. “Uncle Yithiere, you’ll go. You have the most experience in the field. You’ll be able to keep the caravan safe, and that’s what’s important.” It was the best she could do. She couldn’t send away Seandri. She couldn’t. He was hers.

Seandri glanced at her and shrugged. “Also a good plan. I can help the engineers instead. I thought this morning that our magic might be useful when combined with their own Logos skills.”

Jerya didn’t like that much better, but she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t argue without exposing her irrationality to far too many people. Instead she only nodded, and wondered why Siana looked down at her stitching and sighed.

M
INEX KNEW STORIES about Fel Dion
. When she discovered their destination, she wove chilling tales of trees that devoured corpses and bloody revels among the branches. She spoke of the animals hunted for sport with sympathy, as if she’d been one of them. With relish, she described maidens tearing away their own maidenheads. She even giggled as she related the doom that came upon those who stalked the chosen of the wood.

Minex knew stories about Jinriki, nonsensical stories that baffled Jinriki as much as they irritated Tiana. Eagerly she described how Jinriki had come down from the sky and dispensed justice for her people. She related how he’d been courted by the most beautiful of the earth fiends and rejected all his suitors as distractions from his true duty.

Minex knew ancient Blood history. She spun tales about family members in misty past, names nearly forgotten in the long descent from Shin Savanyel to Tiana herself. Kiar was especially interested in these supposed histories, stories of wars fought and earth fiends betrayed by those of her Blood who had seduced them. She wanted Minex to tell her more about Shin Savanyel, but the earth fiend never seemed to hear her queries. Or maybe the stories of Shin Savanyel just didn’t feature enough earth fiends.

But Minex, it seemed, knew stories about almost everything. Privately, Tiana thought she invented them all. But the others paid attention when she breathlessly recounted tales of sorcery, betrayal and murder in Fel Dion, as she walked in the midst of the horses, and sat among them at the campsite. Even Jinriki listened closely, although he commented often to Tiana on the more extravagant or incomprehensible of the earth fiend’s claims.

She wasn’t even a very good storyteller. She’d lose track of one thread and go meandering off in a different direction, and everybody just stared at her in fascination. It was stupid, and Tiana tried not to pay attention, losing herself in the light of the Firstborn instead.

It sang to her, enticing her forward. It seemed to promise her that at the end of the road awaited both duty satisfied and desire achieved. It was a nice song to listen to. Tiana imagined what would happen when she’d gathered up all the lights of the Firstborn. She’d banish the Blighter in one blow, she hoped. There’d be no more fighting, no more watching Lisette cower on the ground or fending off darts from monsters. She’d drive off the Blighter and go home and Jerya would tell her she’d done well.

After a day and a half of Minex’s company, they stopped on a hill. In the hazy distance, dark trees stretched along the horizon. “Fel Dion!” said Minex proudly, as if she was responsible for bringing them there. “And that is the terrible village,” she added with a shudder, pointing at the closer peaked roofs of a small town.

Tiana remembered the original tale of Sinethca vividly; it bothered her more than all the earth fiend’s ramblings. Carefully she led the others in a far circuit around the village so as not to attract attention. More people would only complicate matters, anyway.

Beyond the village, the road abruptly became a track, crossing a wide strip of meadowland before vanishing into the dark woods.

“This is the Gift,” said Minex, springing forward into the long grass. “That’s what the villagers call it, anyhow. It doesn’t call itself anything. They believe as long as they don’t go in it, the forest won’t expand.”

Tiana couldn’t restrain herself. “Have you talked to them much, then? How did you manage that without being murdered, like in your stories yesterday?”

Minex’s ears moved, a disconcerting sight. “I didn’t! But the current remembers. They put their bones underground and the current nibbles them to dust and in the dust weeps all their words.” She gazed up at Tiana with her solemn yellow eyes. “But it’s the stones under the soil that stop the forest, really. So it won’t matter if you cross the Gift.”

“And are we going to be eaten inside?” Tiana asked, nudging her horse forward.

Firmly, Minex said, “The Great Prince would not allow that to happen.” Then she dropped to all fours and scampered ahead.

**She’s right, of course.**

Tiana mumbled, “Did you think I was honestly worried?”

The tall grass hid marshy ground and insects swarmed around the horses’ legs, disturbed by their steps. Halfway across the field, Minex vanished into the undergrowth on the forest side, and then reappeared again, her bushy tail waving. Tiana didn’t know if the waving tail spoke of a dog-like happiness or a cat-like aggression. Sometimes it seemed to her it was both.

“Come! Come! Inside it is hers!”

Tiana’s mount, Moon, pricked his ears forward as he carried Tiana into the shade of the boundary trees. A crushed floral scent wafted up from his hooves and dizziness swept over Tiana.

The emerald light filled the forest. Like a physical force, it pounded on her skin, swept over her, carried her out of herself. She struggled for something to cling to: Moon’s saddle, Lisette’s hand, even the scratchiness of Jinriki. But she had not been prepared and the green light was both close and cruel. Brambles tore through her skin and rooted in her bones, and the spicy scent of crushed wildflowers infused her blood.

Then something caught her. A pool of crimson, floating with roses, moved within the endless green. The ruby light slept within the expanse of the Green Wild, but even sleeping it pulled her free of the other light. She floated, lost and bewildered.

Firm arms closed around her and she gasped for breath. Jinriki murmured,
**I have you.**

Muzzily, she wondered where Jinriki had found arms, and if this was a phantasmagory dream. But she opened her eyes and Cathay’s face looked down on her anxiously. She’d fallen off Moon; one foot was still in the stirrup, and Moon was investigating her bare leg curiously. Carefully, she pulled her foot free, and Cathay helped her stand. She could feel Jinriki’s bulwarks inside, buffering the sensation of drowning in the light.

She felt steady enough on her feet, although the drifting scent of the tiny pink blossoms on the undergrowth made her recoil. Cathay said, “Do you want to keep going?” and she nodded.

Once on her horse again, she looked around at the others. The furtive glances from some of the guards made her ashamed; passing out without warning earned her whispers from strangers, and calm acceptance from her friends. But Jinriki said,
**Hardly calm; that fool almost fell off his own horse in his hurry to get to you.**
His voice sneered but Tiana was obscurely comforted all the same.

They moved past the edge bracken, trampling down quite a large section of it as they did. Once inside, beyond the reach of the afternoon sunlight, the forest dimmed. The light filtering through the green canopy above faintly echoed the green maelstrom Tiana could still sense. The trees were huge, with interlaced branches that absorbed every bit of direct sunlight, with another layer of branches below with fewer leaves and spikier branches. The forest floor was carpeted with needles, old leaves, broken twigs, small ferns and moss-covered sections of ancient tree. The horses’ hooves sunk into it and they moved slowly. Slater dismounted and led his horse, testing the ground as he went, and the others followed, winding among the trees. Near the back of the column, one of the stable girls started complaining loudly.

“I’m not sure how far we should go,” Slater announced. “If our destination is deep in the forest, we should leave the horses with the grooms and some men, and go on by foot.”

Minex appeared over a fallen tree that rested against its neighbors. “This way! There’s a road!”

Slater left his horse, ducking under the fallen tree. Tiana muttered, “I hope you’re getting something useful from her.”

**She is company in a way humans are not. I haven’t had that for a long time.**

Slater reappeared, around the tree this time. “She’s right. I don’t believe it... but there’s something like a road. This way.”

There were no paving stones or tire ruts beyond the fallen tree, but the trees grew farther apart, stretching deeper into the forest. The canopy thinned, and nothing had colonized the open space. Minex crouched in the center of the track, digging with her bare hands. She looked up as Slater arrived next to her. “The current is very deep here. I don’t know why.”

Slater hesitated and then put his hand on Minex’s head, between those ridiculous ears. “Digging may not be a good idea, then. Let’s see what’s further along.”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” Minex said, but stood and shook herself.

They followed the curving path for several miles and more than an hour. The forest seemed endless. Tiana was unpleasantly reminded that the woodlands near her home were small, and surrounded by villages and farmland.
Captured
, she thought. Then, without fanfare, the road ended. Trees pressed closely together on all sides save the way they came.

Slater said, “Shall we make a camp here for the night and see what the area looks like in the morning?” He clearly thought it was the sensible decision, but Tiana remembered waiting outside the big gates of the Citadel of the Sky.

“No. Let’s push a little farther in and find a campsite within.” She looked around and added, “I don’t think we want to be surprised by whatever uses this road normally.”

It wasn’t a tamed forest. There were no pleasant clearings large enough for a royal camp-out. What they found was more like three clearings, each slightly wider than the trail they made, and separated by partially fallen trees. Trees didn’t seem to make it all the way to the ground when they died here; they landed in other trees and become part of the landscape, hosting mushrooms and insects and eventually, ferns. Roots of trees and the ancient remains of deadwood made the ground rough, and it sloped unevenly, dotted with the remains of rivulets from the winter. A tiny creek seeped out from under a stone, the flow of water barely more than a hand span wide.

“Do you know where we go next, Your Highness?” asked Slater, while the others assembled the camp. It was a serious undertaking, with the mules and the remounts in one clearing with a handful of guards, half the guards and the Palace horses in the second, and the Blood in the third.

Even from her clearing, Tiana could hear the loud stable girl complaining. “—should have stayed in the meadow, where there’s better grazing, this is dumb, somebody is going to break a leg, and why—” Tiana had wondered vaguely about how eager the stable girls had been to sign on with their expedition. She wondered less now. Most nobles preferred less vocal servants.

She shook her head in response to Slater’s question. “It’s everywhere, like a fog. I have no idea how to gather it.” She didn’t mention her awareness of the red light, because she didn’t know what it meant. How could a light be sleeping?

Kiar said, “I’m not sure we should be doing some of these things,” and she waved at where several guards worked on fire pits. “This is a holy place and we don’t know what the restrictions are. We could make enemies.”

Tiana raised her eyebrows. “I thought you said this was no different than any other forest.”

Kiar scowled. “I said all forests had stories. This place is strange. And if your green light is here, that must mean it’s holy somehow.”

Tiana shrugged. “Well, if somebody wants to scold us, that will give us somebody to talk to. Which would be better than what we have right now.” She leaned back, resting her head on a tree root and closing her eyes.

Kiar said, “You’re being an optimist again.” Tiana pretended she hadn’t heard, and tried to focus on the lights of the Firstborn. But Jinriki muffled them and it felt like the green light was everywhere, a spiritual representation of the forest. It didn’t welcome her the way the blue light of Niyhan had, and it gave her no clues on how to call it. All she knew was she
had
to acquire it, had to carry it within her as she carried the blue.

Even now she could touch the blue light, sense the movement of the sky and clouds overhead, and feel the trembling balance of the high places.

**Stop that,**
said Jinriki.
**I don’t like this. The Firstborn are using you.**

“But it’s for the same purpose that you’re using me, isn’t it? And I’ve accepted that. I chose to accept that.”

**I don’t know,**
he admitted grudgingly.
**It seems as though they seek more than vengeance against a murderer.**

“Of course they do. He’s currently trying to destroy Ceria. Maybe more than just Ceria, too. He
killed
one of them before.” Her tartness softened. “It’s a lot more complicated than I expected, though. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do here. I thought I’d just... find the light and it would fall into me like the blue light did.”

A tree rustled overhead, as if from a squirrel. A pack of squirrels, or else something very large.

**Humans,**
sent Jinriki, even as the noises abruptly stopped. Tiana sat up, holding up her hand to gain her attendants’ attention. The activity of the camp stilled and several of the guards half-lifted loaded crossbows. A pair of faces peeked out of the leaves.

Both were smudged with dirt and tree sap, with identical preternaturally leaf-green eyes, but the one who spoke seemed more masculine. “Oh no. Who are
you
?” The figure pulled himself to a higher and less obscured tree branch, while his companion remained hidden. He wore only rags, and his hands and feet were stained green.

Lisette rose to her feet, as elegant as if at a tea party. “First, you must tell me who
you
are. After that, I can introduce you properly to Her Serene Highness, the Princess Tiana.” It wasn’t exactly a proper introduction, but they weren’t exactly at a cookie reception. Maybe it
was
the right form of introduction to forest wild children, Tiana reflected. Lisette would know.

The young man’s eyes flicked to Lisette. “You don’t need to know who I am.”

Lisette sighed. “Then I’m afraid we’re at a standstill.”

He frowned. “But you just told me—” The figure below him giggled and he stopped short, flushing. Setting his jaw, he stared at Tiana again. “I don’t believe you. But it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be here.” Without looking away, he added, “And the crossbows aren’t winning me over.”