The Dreaming Hunt (35 page)

Will frowned. So. The body of his parents' dear friend, who had died up on the Knot beside the great hickory, had also disappeared? Had the Boki taken the corpses as trophies, then? Mayhap, the orcs had fed all three of their spirits to their cursed bloodwood weapons. “And there's been no sign of my parents or Adrick since?”

“Naw, Will. It's sorry I am to say it, but they's dead.”

He nodded grimly. “As I expected. I have not heard from them since. And you know my mother. She would move the sky and seas to find me and boss me around.”

Tam laughed. “Aye, an' she would at that.” The big youth clapped Will on the shoulder. “Whot've ye got yerself up to these days, then?”

“Not much. Getting by.”

Will caught significant glances passing between Rynn, Raina, and Eben. The jann cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Will. It is time we get on the road if we would not get caught out after dark in the woods.”

Startled by Eben's imperious tone, he caught Rynn's silent look, entreating him to catch on to the ruse. Ahh. Will leaned close to Tam as the rest of the party made its way to the door. “I'm guiding yon merchant and his party about the countryside, and they actually pay me for it. Can ye imagine that?”

“Sweet gig. Where can I sign up—”

He rose to his feet, cutting off any further observations from Tam. “Got to go. Be safe, old friend.”

“Safe travels to ye, as well!” Tam called after him as Will ducked outside.

Rynn murmured, “I am sorry to pull you out of there like that, but if you had stayed any longer, word would have spread that you were back, and the place would have filled with everyone who's ever known you.”

Reluctantly, he conceded that the paxan was right. “I heard all I needed to, anyway. Let us be quit of this place, and the sooner, the better.”

*   *   *

Gabrielle looked down in sympathy at her husband having to endure a session of the Council of Kings presided over by Princess Endellian. Regalo would have his hands full today keeping peace in the chamber with her running the proceedings. Each of the leading Kothites had a distinctive temperament of his or her own—Ammertus was full of rage and passion; Korovo was, by contrast, the soul of disciplined reason. While Iolanthe was the quiet observer who saw everything, Maximillian was all about force of will.

And Endellian—she was a pale version of her mighty father. She was gifted with at least a portion of her father's implacable will, but unlike him, she had no real outlet for enforcing it upon others. Eternally the heir-in-waiting, the princess was destined never to step out of her father's shadow—which Gabrielle guessed to be a cause of Endellian's underlying bitterness. Oh, Endellian was subtle about it, but her cynicism crept forth from time to time.

Like today. The council's discussion had turned to forthcoming conscriptions for the Imperial Army. Grand Marshal Korovo had just finished a deadly dull presentation on troop strengths and upcoming campaigns. He anticipated a return to Pan Orda to settle it down, and Mindor was restless and a potential threat. New trouble was apparently brewing in Kentogen, and then, of course, there was Haelos, in desperate need of a good quelling.

She would expect no less of Korovo. It was his job to see disaster at every turn and to prepare for the worst case. But she was alarmed at the numbers of conscripts he was discussing. It was nearly double what he'd asked for each of the past dozen years.

“Lastly,” Korovo droned, “the Imperial Army is in need of horses and horsemen for future endeavors.”

That made Gabrielle sit up straighter in her seat. Cavalry? The Imperial Army had not relied on horsemen for centuries. Maximillian was a believer in standing on the ground he conquered. That, and his marching armies of foot soldiers implacably rolled over everything in their path like advancing swarms of ants. They had no need of the tactical fast-strike capabilities that cavalry provided.

Korovo was speaking again. “If we comandeer Antille's horse tribes, that should provide the initial numbers we need. Their expert horsemen can train future recruits as we commandeer more horses from other kingdoms.”

Sasha leaned forward in the Heart ambassador's seat, which she occupied today in her husband's stead. Gabrielle noted the way her dear friend's fists clenched the carved armrests, and remembered abruptly that Sasha was a native of Antille's broad steppes.

Her friend asked tightly, “How many horses and horsemen will be left behind to hunt and work the fields and feed the people of Antille? Not to mention rebuilding the herds of horses? It takes nearly a year for a single foal to be born.”

Endellian matched Sasha's forward lean. “It does not matter if the general takes every horse in the kingdom. He will get what he needs.”

“And destroy Antille in the process?” Sasha ground out. “Is the trade worth it?”

“It is worth it if the Emperor's grand marshal says it is,” Endellian snapped.

Sasha subsided, her knuckles still white on the chair arms.

Korovo picked up his presentation once more. “And on the subject of conscripts for the Imperial Army, as I have already outlined, significantly more soldiers will be required in coming years. The agreement of fifteen years ago between the Imperial Army and this governing body is no longer sufficient. That being so, my strategists have run the numbers, and here is a list of how many recruits we require from each kingdom annually. You will meet these quotas, starting immediately.”

Clerks shuffled around the room, passing out pieces of parchment to each king or his representative to examine.

Gabrielle watched Sasha closely for her reaction. Not that she wished Sasha or the Heartland ill, but given the conversation she hoped to have with her friend soon, the angrier Sasha was at these new Imperial conscriptions, the better.

Oh, dear. Sasha actually paled as she scanned down the list. The numbers must be worse than anyone had anticipated. Gabrielle glanced at her husband. A brief look of relief passed across his face, followed by one of general disbelief as he scanned down the list. Haraland must not have been tasked too heavily, then. But the overall scale of the numbers apparently alarmed even him.

So. A great military expansion was in the works, was it? That did not bode well for the Eight or its hoped-for rebellion. Had Maximillian somehow gotten wind of it? Did she dare approach Sasha now, or should she pull her head into her shell like a turtle and hide for a while? Torn, Gabrielle glanced at Endellian and was surprised to see the princess studying Sasha intently.

Sasha looked up. The two women's stares clashed.
Gently, Sasha. Gently
. Endellian might look like a harmless young girl, but the princess was a viper, and her fangs were deadly.

“Your Highness, the Heart has a long tradition of accepting all who ask for shelter into its ranks. We cannot possibly provide this number of conscripts to the Empire.”

“Well, then,” Endellian answered in a barely concealed sneer laced with satisfaction, “the Heart shall have to go without initiates for a few years.”

“Are you telling the Heart how to conduct its affairs, Princess?” Sasha's voice was abruptly silky and dangerously calm.

Alarm spiked through Gabrielle. No one confronted Endellian like this and lived.
Stop, Sasha!
she shouted silently at her old friend.

“Am I to gather, then,” Sasha continued, “that the Eternal Throne is dissatisfied with how the Heart cares for the citizens of Koth?”

Iolanthe materialized beside Endellian. She must have been sitting off to one side out of Gabrielle's line of sight or mayhap behind the throne itself. The high preceptor leaned down to whisper in Endellian's ear for a moment. Side by side like that, their relationship to one another was impossible to miss. Endellian had her mother's dark hair, exotic features, and delicate bone structure.

The princess's features tightened for an almost imperceptible moment and then smoothed over as she listened to Iolanthe.

Endellian looked up. “I make no suggestion about my father's opinion of Heart performance or policy. I merely suggest that the quotas are the quotas. The Heartland may meet theirs any way it wishes, in the same way each kingdom will be expected to do so.”

It was not exactly an apology, but Endellian had stepped back from the edge of the abyss. Had Iolanthe not been there to rein her in, though, Gabrielle wondered if Endellian would finally have gone too far this day. Maximillian's relationship with the Heart might be complex, but he steadfastly supported the organization. Would an Empire with Endellian at the helm have no such bond between throne and healers? If the Heart were to turn against the Empire—the implications were too staggering to consider.

And this was certainly not the place to entertain such thoughts. She fingered her Octavium Pendant, not wishing to test its power to conceal thoughts against the mental probing of Maximillian himself.

The council recessed after a round of ranting from various kings who felt they had been unfairly tasked with providing conscripts in comparison to other kingdoms. Gabrielle hurried from the gallery, eager to get Regalo's take on the morning's proceedings, and furthermore to look at just how many Haralanders would be required to sacrifice their lives to the Imperial Army.

Except when she got down to the antechamber, her husband was already mobbed by other kings wishing to speak off the record with her influential husband. There would be no private conversation for her and Regalo until tonight, at least. Assuming he managed to tear free of court politics before the wee hours of the morning, well after she'd collapsed of exhaustion.

A hand touched Gabrielle's elbow. Given that her guard did not leap forward to defend her, whoever wanted her attention was no threat. She turned to find a white-lipped Sasha standing there.

“Walk with me,” her old friend ground out past clenched teeth.

She had never seen Sasha so angry. Gabrielle linked her arm through Sasha's, ignoring the political implications of such a move during such a charged session of the Council of Kings. To the Void with such things. Her friend was on the verge of losing control and needed her support.

Sasha dragged Gabrielle around the gardens at a gallop for some minutes before calming herself enough to slow her breakneck pace and speak. “Not only will all the orphans in the Heartland be forced into the army, but orphans all over the continent will be the first victims of this edict. No king will wish to strip his kingdom of men and women, full grown and trained in trades. The children will be thrown to the wolves first. Stars, Gabby. They're babes. And they will all be sent to war.” Sasha's voice broke on what sounded suspiciously like a sob.

“How bad are the conscription numbers?” Gabrielle asked low.

“Bad. And the tax levies to feed and clothe an army of this size—do you have any idea how many peasants will starve?”

They traded grim looks. Both of them were old enough to remember famines in the past.

“And Endellian sits there all smug and unconcerned. As if she's enjoying squeezing the common people to within an inch of their lives,” Sasha spat out under her breath. “How dare she tell the Heart how to care for the people—”

Gabrielle placed a gently restraining hand on Sasha's arm. “Not this way, my friend. Do not fling your rage uselessly to the winds.”

“What would you have me do? Let them just take the children? An entire generation lost to these senseless wars?”

Gabrielle took a deep breath. This was the moment she'd been looking for. “Nay. There is another way. Fight back.”

“Against Koth?” Sasha snorted.

For her part, Gabrielle merely stared levelly at her friend.

At length, Sasha's voice dropped, and in a tone of disbelief, she whispered, “Are you mad? You hint at treason.”

Gabrielle's gaze never wavered.

“What? How? Tell me what I may do.”

“I do not know much. Secrecy is vital. The entire organization must not fall if one person is discovered.”

Sasha's eyes opened wide. “An
organization
?”

“As I said, I know little of it. The symbol by which I know it is always an eight-pointed star, a compass rose.”

“Like your pendant!” Sasha exclaimed.

Gabrielle smiled and nodded. “From time to time, someone asks me to do something. Nothing to oppose the Empire outright. A tiny nudge of little consequence here or there. Pass on a bit of information. Suggest to my husband that a certain person is well suited for a posting to some position. I only hope that many, many people are all contributing tiny nudges that might one day topple the entire thing.”

“I will help. You have but to ask, and I will do whatever I may, be it small or large. You know my heart better than anyone save Rafal, Gabby.”

She looked deeply into Sasha's dark eyes. “Aye. And now you know mine. You must never speak of this to anyone, including your husband. You must not even think of it while you are at court.”

“Think—” She broke off and then resumed in a heartbeat. “Ahh. Of course not.” Sasha took Gabrielle's hand and squeezed it tightly. “Thank you for trusting me enough to include me in this. I will not fail you. I swear.”

Gabrielle smiled as profound relief—and a sense of being in too deep to back out now—swept through her. “I never doubted you for a second, my sister.” Though not related by birth, they were now tied together by bonds of treason that transcended blood.

“Is this why you steadfastly avoid coming to court?” Sasha asked conversationally.

Gabrielle turned to head back to the Hall of Kings in the distance. “Aye.”

“Speaking of which, I'm feeling a sudden need to return home to the Heartland. I'm sure I have pressing business there awaiting my personal attention.”

“Understood. I shall send correspondence to you there for the time being, then.”