Rise Of Empire (40 page)

He ascended the steps and knelt. “Your Eminence,” he said, gently taking her hand and kissing the ring she wore. “I am Archibald Ballentyne, twelfth Earl of Chadwick.”

Modina said nothing.

“Archibald?” Ethelred’s voice once more.

“Forgive my rude approach,” the earl continued, “but I find I can’t help myself. How strange it is that we haven’t met before. I’ve been to Aquesta many times but never had the pleasure. Bad luck, I suppose. I’m certain you’re very busy, and as I command a substantial army, I’m busy as well. Recent events have seen fit to bring my command here. It’s not something I was pleased with. That is, until now. You see, I was doing very well conquering new lands for your growing empire, and having to stop I considered unfortunate. But my regret has turned to genuine delight as I’ve been blessed to behold your splendor.”

“Archie!” Ethelred had been calling out to him for some time, but it was not until he used that name that the well-dressed man’s attention finally left her. “Stop with that foolishness, will you? We need to get to the meeting.”

The earl frowned in irritation.

“Please forgive me, Your Eminence, but duty calls.”

The moment the practice had ended, they changed Modina back into her simple dress and she had been escorted to her cell. She thought there had been a time when two palace soldiers had walked with her everywhere, but now there was only one. His name was Gerald. That was all she knew about him, which was strange, because she saw him every day. Gerald escorted her wherever she went and stood guard outside her cell door. She assumed he took breaks, most likely late at night, but in the mornings, when she and Amilia went to breakfast, he was always there. She never heard him speak. They were quite a quiet pair.

When she reached the cell door, it was open, the dark interior waiting. He never forced her in. He never touched her. He
merely stood patiently, taking up his post at the entrance. She hesitated before the threshold, and when she looked at Gerald, he stared at the floor.

“Wait.” Amilia trotted up the corridor toward them. “Her Eminence is moving today.”

Both Gerald and Modina looked puzzled.

“I’ve given up talking to the chamberlain,” Amilia declared. She was speaking quickly and seemed to address them both at once. “Nimbus is right—I’m the secretary to the empress, after all.” She focused on Gerald. “Please escort Her Eminence to her new bedroom on the east wing’s fifth floor.”

The order was weak, not at all in the voice of a noblewoman. It lacked the tenor of confidence, the power of arrogance. There was a space of time, a beat of uncertainty, when no one moved and no one spoke. Committed now, Amilia remained awkwardly stiff, facing Gerald. For the first time, Modina noticed the largeness of the man, the sword at his side, and the castle guard uniform. He was meticulous, every line straight, every bit of metal polished.

Gerald nodded and moved aside.

“This way, Your Eminence,” Amilia said, letting out a breath.

The three of them walked to the central stairs as Amilia continued to speak. “I got her eating, I got her to talk—I just want a better place for her to sleep. How can they argue? No one is even on the fifth floor.”

As they reached the main hall, they passed several surprised servants. One young woman stopped, stunned.

“Anna.” Amilia caught her attention. “It is Anna, isn’t it?”

The woman nodded, unable to take her eyes off Modina.

“The empress is moving to a bedroom on the fifth floor. Run and get linens and pillows.”

“Ah—but Edith told me to scrub the—”

“Forget Edith.”

“She’ll beat me.”

“No, she won’t,” Amilia said, and thought for a moment. With sudden authority, she continued. “From now on, you’re working for the empress—her personal chambermaid. From now on, you report directly to me. Do you understand?”

Anna looked shocked.

“What do you want to do?” Amilia asked. “Defy Edith Mon or refuse the empress? Now get those linens and get the best room on the fifth floor in order.”

“Yes, Your Eminence,” she said, addressing Modina, “right away.”

They climbed the stairs, moving quickly by the fourth floor. In the east wing, the fifth floor was a single long hall with five doors. Light entered from a narrow slit at the far end, revealing a dust-covered corridor.

Amilia looked at the doors for a moment. Shrugging, she opened one and motioned for them to wait as she entered. When she returned, she grimaced and said, “Let’s wait for Anna.”

They did not have to wait long. The chambermaid, chased by two young boys with rags, a broom, a mop, and a bucket, returned with an armload of linens. Anna panted for breath and her brow glistened. The chambermaid traversed the corridor and selected the door at the far end. She and the boys rushed in. Amilia joined them. Before long, the boys raced back out and returned hauling various items: pillows, a blanket, more water, brushes. Modina and Gerald waited in the hallway, listening to the grunts and bumps and scrapes. Before long, Anna exited covered in dirt and dust, dragging armloads of dirty rags. Then Amilia reappeared and motioned for Modina to enter.

Sunlight. She spotted the brilliant shaft spilling in, slicing
across the floor, along a tapestry-covered wall, and over a massive bed covered in satin sheets and a host of fluffy pillows. There was even a thick carpet on the floor. A mirror and a washbasin sat on a small stand. A little writing desk stood next to a fireplace, and on the far wall was the open window.

Modina walked forward and looked out at the sky. Breathing in the fresh air, she fell to her knees. The window was narrow, but Modina could peer down into the courtyard below or look up directly into the blue of the sky—the real sky. She rested her head on the sill, reveling in the sunshine like a drought victim might douse herself with water. Until that moment, she had not noticed how starved she had been for fresh air and sunlight. Amilia might have spoken to her, but she was too busy looking at the sky to notice.

Smells were a treat. A cool breeze blew in, tainted by the stables below. For her, this was a friendly, familiar scent, hearty and comforting. Birds flew past. A pair of swallows darted and dove in aerial acrobatics as they chased each other. They had a nest in a crevice above one of the other windows that dotted the exterior wall.

She did not know how long she had knelt there. At some point, she realized she was alone. The door behind her had been closed and a blanket had been draped over her shoulders. Eventually she heard voices drifting up from below.

“We’ve spent more than enough time on the subject, Archibald. The case is closed.” It was Ethelred’s voice, coming from one of the windows just below hers.

“I know you’re disappointed.” She recognized the fatherly tone of Regent Saldur. “Still, you have to be mindful of the big picture. This isn’t just some wild landgrab. This is an empire we are building.”

“Two months at the head of an army and he acts as if he were a war-hardened general!” Ethelred laughed.

Another voice spoke, too softly or too distant from the window for her to hear. Then she heard the earl once again. “I’ve taken Glouston and the Rilan Valley through force of arms and thereby secured the whole northern rim of Warric. I think I’ve proved my skill.”

“Skill? You let Marquis Lanaklin escape to Melengar and you failed to secure the wheat fields in Rilan, which burned. Those crops would have fed the entire imperial army for the next year, but now they’re lost because you were preoccupied with taking an empty castle.”

“It wasn’t empty …” There was more said but the voices were too faint to hear.

“The marquis was gone. The reason for taking it went with him,” the bellowing voice of Ethelred thundered. The regent must be standing very near the window, as she could hear him the best.

“Gentlemen,” Saldur said, intervening, “water under the bridge. What’s past is past. What we need to concern ourselves with is the present and the future, and at the moment both go by the same name—Gaunt.”

Again, there were other voices speaking too faintly, their sounds fading to silence. All Modina could hear was the hoeing of servants weeding the vegetable garden below.

“I agree,” Ethelred suddenly said. “We should have killed that bastard years ago.”

“Calm yourself, Lanis,” Saldur’s voice boomed. Modina wasn’t certain if he was using Ethelred’s first name or addressing someone else whose voice was too distant for her to catch. “Everything has its season. We all knew the Nationalists wouldn’t give up their freedom without a fight. Granted, we had no idea Gaunt would be their general or that he would prove to be such a fine military commander. We had assumed he was nothing more than an annoying anarchist, a lone voice
in the wilderness, like our very own Deacon Tomas. His transformation into a skilled general was—I will admit—a bit unexpected. Nevertheless, his successes are not beyond our control.”

“And what does that mean?” someone asked.

“Luis Guy had the foresight to bring us a man who could effectively deal with the problems of Delgos and Gaunt and I present him to you today. Gentlemen, let me introduce Merrick Marius.” His voice began to grow faint. “He’s quite a remarkable man … been working for us these … on a …” Saldur’s voice drifted off, too far from the window.

There was a long silence, and then Ethelred spoke again. “Let him finish. You’ll see.”

Again, the words were too quiet for her to hear.

Modina listened to the wind as it rose and rustled distant leaves. The swallows returned and played again, looping in the air. From the courtyard below came the harsh shouts of soldiers in the process of changing guards. She had nearly forgotten about the conversation from below when she heard an abrupt communal gasp.

“Tur Del Fur? You’re not serious?” an unknown voice asked in a stunned tone.

More quiet murmurings.

“… and as I said, it would mark the end of Degan Gaunt and the Nationalists forever.” Saldur’s voice returned.

“But at what cost, Sauly?” another voice floated in. Normally too far, it was now loud and clear.

“We have no other choice,” Ethelred put in. “The Nationalists are marching north toward Ratibor. They must be stopped.”

“This is insane. I can’t believe you’re even contemplating it!”

“We’ve done much more than contemplate. Nearly everything is in place. Isn’t that so?” Saldur asked.

Modina strained to hear, but the voice that replied was too faint.

“We’ll send it by ship after we receive word that all is set,” Saldur explained. There was another pause, and then he spoke again. “I think we all understand that.”

“I see no reason to hesitate any longer,” Ethelred said. “Then we’re all in agreement?”

A number of voices spoke their acknowledgment.

“Excellent. Marius, you should leave immediately …”

“There’s just one more thing …” She had not heard this voice before and it faded, probably because the man speaking was walking away from the window.

Saldur’s voice returned. “You have? Where? Tell us at once!”

More muffled conversation.

“Blast, man! I can assure you that you’ll get paid,” Ethelred said.

“If he’s led you to the heir, he’s no longer of any use. That’s right, isn’t it, Sauly? You and Guy have a greater interest in this, but unless you have an objection, I say be done with him at your earliest convenience.”

Another long pause.

“I think the Nyphron Empire is good for it, don’t you?” Saldur said.

“You’re quite the magician, aren’t you, Marius?” said Ethelred. “We should have hired your services earlier. I’m not a fan of Luis Guy or any of the Patriarch’s sentinels, but it seems his decision to employ you was certainly a good one.”

The voices drifted off, growing fainter until it was quiet.

Most of what she had heard held no interest for Modina—too many unknown names and places. She had only the vaguest notions of the terms
Nationalist, Royalist,
and
Imperialist.
Tur Del Fur was a famous city—someplace south—that she
had heard of before, but Degan Gaunt was only a name. She was glad the talking was over. She preferred the quiet sounds of the wind, the trees, and the birds. They took her back to an earlier time, a different place. As she sat looking out at her sliver of the world, she found herself wishing she could still cry.