The Key to Creation (36 page)

That afternoon, they sailed between two large icebergs and discovered open waters beyond—the end of the frozen sea, and Saan meant to get a good head start on Iyomelka. At last they could proceed as fast as the wind and sail could take them.

Somewhere far behind, Iyomelka’s ship remained lost in the ice. “This is a race,” Saan said, “and I plan to reach Terravitae before she catches us.”

Tierran Military Camp,
Ishalem Wall

Now that Queen Anjine had joined the encamped army at the wall, the Tierrans cheered, sang Aidenist hymns at the top of their raucous voices, and swore to tear the barricade down, brick by brick. As darkness fell, the soldiers built their campfires brighter, banged on their shields, and yelled out defiant insults to ensure that the cowering Curlies could hear them. The catapults continued their bombardment.

Though Mateo had known that Anjine and her party would arrive before day’s end, he didn’t rush forward like an eager puppy (though he very much wanted to do so). For nearly three months now he had clung to the wistful recollection of the night they had finally let down their walls and admitted their love in the darkness. But he had left her without speaking a word. She must think
he
was ashamed, guilty. He had run from her as if embarrassed—how that must have hurt her! For all that time, he had wrestled with the uncertainties in his heart, but he hadn’t been able to resolve his doubts.

Anjine might be pining for him as much as he pined for her…or, being left alone to think about the night they had spent together, she might have developed an entirely different mindset. She was the queen of Tierra, responsible for five reaches, hundreds of cities and towns, taxes and laws and decisions. She might have decided to protect herself by creating a larger gulf between them, and they would have to go back to pretending. He just didn’t know.

So, even though Anjine was on her way to the camp, Mateo saddled a bay gelding and rode out on patrol, following the Ishalem wall. Out of arrow range, sometimes out of sight, he paralleled the hateful barrier that sprawled across the isthmus. He surprised two Urecari scouts and thundered after them, but they ducked through a small gate in the wall before realizing that he was only a single soldier. Mateo turned the bay about and galloped away before the Urecari could summon reinforcements.

Most important, as he followed the hills inland he discovered a possible vulnerability where intrepid fighters might be able to scale the wall. The stone barricade followed the landscape, but at one point the crest of a hill came close enough to the wall that he guessed soldiers with ropes and ladders might be able to swarm over the top. But it was a mile from the army’s main encampment, and if he embarked with a full fighting force, the enemy would spot them and easily mount a defense. A small party might get over the wall…but what would they accomplish?

Mateo arrived back at camp by nightfall with this new information. His heart beat harder when he saw the new banners and an additional large tent erected near the headquarters. Yes, Queen Anjine had arrived and was already meeting with her officers and field commanders.

He handed off his mount to a horsemaster, straightened his uniform, and wiped off as much mud and dust as possible in an effort to resemble an impressive subcomdar rather than a trail-weary scout. He had to deliver his report like a good soldier. From inside the headquarters tent, he heard voices,
her
voice, and a thrill of anticipation ran through him at the thought of seeing her again at last. Mateo hesitated, braced himself, and pushed aside the flap.

Anjine saw him, and her eyes widened just a fraction, but she schooled her expression not to let any joy show through. His own words caught in his throat. She looked so beautiful, but so tired, her face unusually pale. He wanted to hold her, but he could not, especially now.

“Majesty,” he said. The formality sounded foreign.

“Subcomdar Bornan,” Anjine said. “Just in time to give your report. We’ve had good news from Comdar Rief.” She gestured, and another man at the table acknowledged him.

Mateo forced himself to tear his eyes away from Anjine. Rief gave a cool smile of acknowledgment. “A small dinghy took me ashore north of the wall so I could make my way here to the camp. Our navy has blockaded the Ishalem harbor, and Uraban ships won’t be going in or out if I have anything to say about it. They are cut off.” The comdar indicated a chart on Anjine’s table—a detailed drawing of the western harbor and the rebuilt docks. Rief looked at the other officers with clear satisfaction. “Our ships are ready to fight whenever the army is.”

“The army is ready to fight,” Shenro said. “We’ve just been waiting…and waiting.”

“Another supply train just arrived,” Subcomdar Hist reported. “We are well provisioned.”

Rief had brought additional sketches. “South of the wall and below the city, the Urabans have excavated a large canal. There have been rumors of this waterway for some time, and now we have confirmed it. I sent spies ashore, several of whom were killed, but others returned to report that they had seen the canal extending miles inland. From our fleet, we studied the western mouth from afar, approached it with three of our warships, but the bulk of the enemy navy is arrayed there. Because they defend it so heavily, I am convinced the canal has great strategic importance.”

He paused, as if worried the queen wouldn’t believe him. “We have seen ships emerge, Majesty—large sailing vessels that seem to have come all the way from the Middlesea. Apparently the canal does indeed span the isthmus, from one sea to another.”

“If we could capture that waterway, our warships could sail through and attack Olabar!” said Subcomdar Hist.

“Ishalem first,” Anjine said. She was entirely businesslike and did not look at Mateo. “Patience, all of you. We’ve still got three weeks before Destrar Broeck is due to arrive. You know the plan. We must strike at once from all sides, or the Curlies will fight us off one by one.”

“I don’t mind letting them sweat on their cots each night,” Jenirod said. “It will only build their dread of what we intend to do.”

Destrar Shenro fidgeted with excitement. “I have news as well. My men have been watching the wall and taking notes in great detail. From some of the high points, we can even see parts of the city.” He sounded breathless. “Based on what my scouts reported, I am now convinced the
soldan-shah himself
—or some person of great importance—has come to Ishalem. I believe his residence is very near the wall, if only we can get to him.” He looked around, waiting for the others to see the implications. “It gives us a way to end this war immediately. Think of it, Majesty. If we kidnap Soldan-Shah Omra, hold him hostage, we could force the Curlies to surrender. They would have to pay the ransom and sue for peace!”

A dark flush crossed Anjine’s face. “I was willing to pay the ransom for Tomas, but they killed him even so.”

Comdar Rief seemed intrigued by the possibility. “Capturing the Uraban leader would fundamentally change our situation, Majesty.”

Jenirod kept his tone carefully neutral as he summarized the faulty plan. “So, if only we could get through a wall we haven’t been able to breach, and run through a city we don’t know, that’s full of enemies who want to kill us, in search of the soldan-shah—whom we aren’t even certain is there, nor do we know what he looks like—and if we could somehow bring him back to our side,
then
we’d have a quick and easy way to win the war.” His sigh sounded like a disappointed horse.

Shenro was annoyed. “It wouldn’t be as difficult as that…”

Anjine turned to Mateo. “Subcomdar Bornan, you spent the day out on patrol yourself.” He heard no warmth in her voice. “I thought we had trained scouts for that, but I trust your eye. What did you find? Any sign of the soldan-shah?”

He forced himself to participate in the discussion as if this were any other strategy meeting. “No, but I discovered a possible vulnerability, Majesty.” He moved Comdar Rief ’s sketches to reveal a map of the Ishalem wall and pointed to the area he’d scouted. He glanced at her, and her eyes briefly met his.

Mateo explained about the barricade’s low point with respect to the adjacent hill, and his theory that a team of dedicated Tierran soldiers might be able to scale the wall at that spot under cover of darkness. “Once there, we could open the gates from inside and let the rest of our soldiers charge in.”

Destrar Shenro seemed particularly excited by the prospect, but Anjine cut off further discussion. Mateo could see that she wasn’t feeling well. “We should revisit the idea, but only if we have better intelligence.” She let out a long sigh. “Gentlemen, I have had a long trip. I need time to consider what we’ve discussed, and I’d like to retire to my tent alone.”

As the queen and officers stood to leave, Mateo remained at attention, hoping that Anjine would see the longing in his eyes, but she kept her face averted. Perhaps she was trying to find a way that they could meet alone. He finally found his voice. “My Queen, if I may have a…private consultation with you? There is a matter we should discuss.”

Anjine’s cool response, however, surprised him. “Another time, Subcomdar. Your scouting today was sufficiently enlightening. We’ll speak later.”

Though she spoke without any obvious emotion, her words struck Mateo like a slap. He had waited so long to see her, and she was pushing him away. He saw it clearly now: she hadn’t forgiven him for riding off like a coward, for fleeing with the army rather than facing her in the light of day.

Though it devastated him after months of wondering, at least now Mateo had his answer. She had dismissed him. Maybe Anjine didn’t want to take the chance of opening her heart once more. Or maybe she didn’t want to see him at all.

Queen Anjine might well be ashamed of the weakness she had shown when she’d made love to him. She obviously didn’t want to be with him.

“As you wish, Majesty.” Mateo was sure he would never be able to break through her icy façade again. He bowed and followed the other men out into the dark night.

Tierran Military Camp,
Ishalem Wall

When most of the soldiers had bedded down and the campfires died to embers, Anjine waited for the Saedran physician in her tent. Outside, everyone but the night watch and perimeter patrols had gone to sleep.

After waiting for months, how she longed to speak with Mateo. He must be hurt because she had brushed him aside, but this was crucial. She had to
know
. It wasn’t fair to him until she had an answer; the question would change everything.

In Calay, Sen Ola na-Ten had treated Anjine’s occasional illnesses over the years. One of a handful of Saedran doctors qualified to tend battlefield injuries, Sen Ola had joined the siege camp; the wise and cautious woman served the army not because the crown paid her well, but because she felt obligated to help the inevitable wounded.

From prior conversations, the Saedran physician knew of the unsettled stomach and general malaise that had afflicted the queen for several weeks. Those who noticed probably blamed her nausea on a delicate stomach, on camp food, on travel, or on mental turmoil over the impending battle. But Anjine had other suspicions, so she requested that Sen Ola examine her—in secret, at an hour when the visit would go unnoticed. After careful consideration, Anjine decided that even Mateo could not know…not yet.

The Saedran doctor entered her tent without ceremony. Sen Ola normally kept her gray-brown hair in long braids while in Calay, but had recently cropped it short so it would not get in the way on the battlefield. Her brown robes were clean, her hands rough and red from frequent washings with strong soap. The curt woman had never been overly compassionate with her patients, but she was also nonjudgmental. She had once said to Anjine, “Infirmities of all sorts are part of being human. If we didn’t have them, we would be tempted to consider ourselves gods, and then why would anyone need Ondun?”

Sen Ola set her leather satchel on the plank table where Anjine had spread out strategy charts and diagrams of naval positions to review. The physician opened the case and removed beakers, herbs, chemical jars, and treated papers. “How are your symptoms today, Majesty?”

“Unchanged for the most part. Continued nausea. My head aches.” Anjine sat back on a wooden chair, but no matter how many pillows and blankets she used for padding, the seat remained uncomfortable. “I feel tired and weak at a time when I cannot afford to be either. My army is here, and we’re due to end this war.”

The Saedran looked up at her. “I ran the chemical tests you requested, and I have an answer.” Anjine realized she was holding her breath. “Mind you, these tests are not infallible. They provide a point of reference, to be interpreted along with your symptoms, but they could be wrong.”

“They are usually right,” Anjine added in a dull voice.

“Yes, they are usually right.”

The queen wished the woman would just hurry up and answer. Sen Ola looked at her with a penetrating gaze. “It is the result I’m sure you’ve been expecting. A woman tends to know, without other tests or explanations.”

The strength drained out of her in a rush, like water from a sprung barrel.

“You are pregnant, Majesty—as far as I can tell.” Sen Ola paused delicately, then continued, as if merely asking about how often the queen slept, “And what is…” She paused again. “What is the time frame?”

Anjine knew exactly how long it had been since the Tierran army had departed from Calay, how long it had been since Mateo had left her at dawn to march off. For weeks now Anjine had feared that she carried his child, and she also feared what she might have to do about it. That was why she’d been so cold and distant to Mateo, until she had a real answer. She needed all of her strength to face her own fears, and Mateo frightened her; her feelings for him frightened her. He could not know about it until she decided what to do. And perhaps not even then.