The Price Of Command

Queen Selenay was the sister Kero would have chosen if she’d been given the power to make that choice; Kero knew it the moment their eyes met, blue to blue-green. They could easily have been sisters, too; Kero judged herself to be Selenay’s senior by no more than two or three years.

“Captain Kerowyn,” the Queen said, rising from behind her desk, and holding out her hand with no formality at all. “I’m very glad to finally meet you, and equally glad that the years have brought you the kind of fortune Eldan said you deserved. Please, sit down.”

The mention of Eldan’s name startled her; she swallowed with difficulty, and she searched the Queen’s face carefully before accepting her hand. “That could be considered faint praise, your Majesty,” she replied cautiously, as she took a chair. “There’s a Shin’a’in curse considered to be very potent: ‘May you get exactly what you deserve.’”

Selenay laughed, a velvety laugh with no sign of malice in it. “I’m sure neither of us meant it that way—and I am not ‘your Majesty’ among my commanders. On the field, the Lord Marshal ranks me, so I’m just plain ‘Selenay.’”

There was nothing in the Queen’s appearance to suggest that her statement was either coy or false modesty. She was dressed almost identically to Talia, who now stood at her side, in the uniform Kero had learned was called “Herald’s Whites.” Here in Valdemar, it seemed, Heralds dressed all in white, Bards in scarlet, and Healers in green. Kero rather liked that last; it would make finding the Healers much easier in battlefield conditions. On the other hand, on that same battlefield, as she had once pointed out to Eldan, those white uniforms must surely shout “I’m a target! Hit me!”

The only difference between Talia’s and Selenay’s uniforms was that Talia openly carried a long knife, and wore breeches, and Selenay wore a kind of divided riding skirt that gave the appearance of a little more formality without sacrificing too much in the way of mobility. The Queen’s thick, shoulder-length blonde hair was confined by a simple gold circlet—there was no other outward sign of her rank. Even this office, the first room of the Royal Suite, was furnished quite plainly. There were two old tapestries on the wall, a few chairs chosen more for comfort than looks, and a dark wooden desk cluttered with papers; there was no indication anywhere that this room was used by anyone with any kind of rank.

“We’re under wartime conditions here, Captain,” Selenay continued, accepting Kero’s scrutiny serenely. “I don’t know what you were anticipating, but I am expecting a certain amount of work out of your troops until we take the field.”

Hmm. Better make some things plain—like we aren’t miracle workers. “I’ll tell you this honestly, your—Selenay,” Kero replied. “If you’re expecting us to turn to and help with everything except training green recruits, we’ll be able to do what you want. But if you thought we could take plowboys and make specialist cavalry out of them in less than a fortnight, you might as well just send us straight out to where you expect Ancar, because we can’t do it. Nobody can.”

Selenay nodded quickly, as if that was what she had expected Kero would say. “I realize that. What I’d like your people to do is work with the mounted troops we’ve gotten from some of the highborn, privately recruited, maintained, and trained. I expect some of them will be dreadful; I’d like the dreadful ones weeded out and put somewhere harmless. Some will be marginal, and those we’ll put with the mounted Guard units, the ones I had out chasing bandits. The good ones I’d like you to train as much as you can, so that they’ll work together without charging into each other.”

“Which is what they’re doing at the moment,” Talia added from behind the Queen. “If the situation wasn’t so bad, I’d advise keeping them around for entertainment.”

Kero managed to keep her face straight.

Selenay’s mouth quirked up at one corner, but she did likewise. “Keep the Lord Marshal appraised on a daily basis; I’ve appointed a liaison for you.”

Kerowyn was impressed and relieved, both. Selenay had a good grasp of what was possible and what was not, and was willing to settle for the possible. That made her job that much easier.

“Can do,” she replied, relaxing. “Who’s my liaison to the Lord Marshal?”

“My daughter, Elspeth,” Selenay said, and Kero’s heart sank. Just what I need, a know- everything princess at my heels. I wonder if I can convince Anders to charm her and get her of my way—with those big, brown eyes, the beautiful body, and all the rest of it, he should—

A rap on the door to the Queen’s quarters interrupted them, and as Kero turned, startled, another slim young woman in Whites slipped inside, a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl with a startling resemblance to Faram. “Mother, I’m sorry I’m late, but there was a—” she stopped instantly as Selenay held up her hand.

“You’re here now, and you can tell me what delayed you later. Elspeth, this is Captain Kerowyn. Captain, your liaison, my daughter.”

The girl’s eyes went round with surprise, and she crossed the room quickly, to take Kero’s hand in as firm a clasp as her mother had.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Captain,” she said in accentless Rethwellan. “If I’d known you were arriving today, I’d have arranged things differently. We Heralds have to spend our first year or two acting as arbitrators and judges