Lamentation

looked southeast and downslope to see the edge of the wide, wide river-this was the Third River, the largest of the Three but also the most desolate. They stood and watched the sunrise.

After it climbed onto the horizon, they turned back and walked slowly toward camp.

“What will you do now?” Jin Li Tam asked.

“I ride for Windwir,” he said. “I still have men there.”

“What of Isaak?”

Rudolfo stopped. The way she said it-the tone of concern and the expectation of a favorable response from him-suddenly reminded him of the way his mother had spoken to his father about him when he was a child. Of course, she didn’t know Rudolfo listened. When his father showed the five-year-old heir a myriad of passages and tunnels built into and beneath the Forest Manors, Rudolfo spent his free time learning the arts of espionage and found his parents were easy marks.

By six, he’d abandoned it. Wise to his ears, they’d begun fabricating tales of buried artifacts and ancient parchments in the gardens and forests surrounding the manor. Of course, he came back empty-handed at least a half dozen times before he realized their strategy. Disappointed with espionage, he’d moved into pickpocket training.

He blinked the memory away. She cared for him like a child.

“I was hoping for your assistance,” Rudolfo said, walking again.

She glanced at him. Ahead of them, a rabbit bolted. “How may I help?”

“Stay near him. Use the pretense of helping him with the library.” Rudolfo reached out, gently pulling a branch aside for her as they walked. “Your father knows who this second Pope is. Perhaps he would speak to him on your behalf, asking that this invisible Pope authorize Isaak under your care to gather the necessary data to rebuild and restore what can be found.”

Jin Li Tam nodded. “With all plans and specifications subject to his Excellency’s approval? And generous terms through House Li Tam?”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

Her brows pulled together. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the library,” she said.

Rudolfo paused midstep, looking at her, then resumed walking. “Yes?”

“Why do you wish to do this? You intended to do this before the archbishop declared, even before I proposed you as a suitor to my father. You meant to do this and finance it yourself.”

He chuckled. “Sethbert would have paid for it. He still will if I have my way.”

“But why would you do this? You do not seem to be the sort who would keep what light remains to yourself. The strategy beneath it suggests that you mean to keep the library in a place where it can be protected.”

Like she protects Isaak, he thought. That was the quality of parenthood he heard in her voice.

He shrugged. “I am not a young man. I stand just past the middle of my road. I am only now taking a wife. If I cannot give my Ninefold Forest Houses an heir, then at least I can give them knowledge. Something to love and defend fiercely in this world.”

Her next words surprised him. “Doesn’t it also atone for the first Rudolfo’s betrayal?”

He laughed. “I suppose perhaps it does.”

“Regardless,” she said, “I think it is a wise and wonderful thing that you do.” They settled back into silence before she surprised him again. “Do you want an heir, Rudolfo?”

Now he stopped entirely, a smile widening on his mouth. “You mean now? Here?”

“You know what I mean.”

He shrugged. He’d been with many women. For a time, he’d used the powders to dull his soldiers’ swords. And he’d certainly taken them through enough gates. But when he had finally tried to make a child with a consort sent from the Queen of Pylos as a matter of kin-clave courtesy, he’d been unable. And they’d tried for nine pleasurable months. After that, fearing that he couldn’t sire, he left off with the potions and redoubled his efforts with the women on his rotation. No discreet notes arrived by bird from his stewards, no reports of a girl (or three) heavy with child and claiming his patrimony.

He’d heard that the Androfrancines also had magicks for this. But even if it were true, it felt contrary to him for no reason he could discern.

He looked at Jin. “I’ve certainly considered it at length,” he said. “Alas, I’m afraid my soldiers have no swords.”

When he said it, he was certain that she would look relieved. Though she was quite demonstrative and capable in the midst of their consummation, Rudolfo did not believe for a moment that this formidable woman had any interest in children.

She surprised him for a third time. Instead of relief washing her face, she took on a thoughtful aspect. And she didn’t speak.

As they continued walking slowly back to camp, they slipped into an agreeable silence and Jin Li Tam’s hand slipped into his.

Petronus

Petronus stood at the center of Windwir, in the square where he had once addressed his people from the high balcony of the Office of the Holy See. All that remained of that massive structure was a mound of stones. He turned slowly from that point, taking in the view around him. Here and there, he saw scattered patches of workers as they pushed their loads or shoveled their trenches. As the rains increased, his help decreased. A few more left each day, promising to return with the spring. Sometimes it was a wash as newcomers joined up, but at the end of any given week, there were still less than they had started with at the beginning.

He’d had Neb rework his numbers, and it looked as if they could be finished before spring if the winter followed the cycle of the last few years and stayed more mild than fierce. And if he didn’t go below thirty men. And if the war didn’t swallow them all. Regardless, he wasn’t willing to stop the operation. Those who could stay would stay. He would be one of them, and they would work at the pace they could. If there was still more to be done beyond spring, so be it.

Of course, there would always be more work. He’d seen to that with his proclamation.

You’re a fool, old man.

He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. He’d written the proclamation, forcing himself into the middle of something that every part of his soul screamed for him to flee. So many complained of not having the power to do right, making great boasts of what they would do if only they had this or that. He had that power, but it felt hollow from where he stood. Still, he’d put the light back onto Sethbert where it belonged. And by not acknowledging the Writ of Shunning, he’d made it nonexistent. Taking the time to reverse it meant acknowledging it in the first place and he could not afford to let the Named Lands see Oriv as any more than a subordinate archbishop doing the best he could in light of dark times.

He would wait now and see what Oriv did next. If Sethbert truly pulled the strings, he would bluster and cry foul and try to press on, even without the support of House Li Tam and without access to the Androfrancine fortunes they held in trust.

Vlad surprised him. He’d lost sleep wondering what that old crow played at. He’?d aidtd heard nothing further about the iron armada or the blockade against the delta cities, dispatched early on, then pulled back to patrol the waters and wait. Then, using his knowledge of Petronus as a reason to sever Oriv and Sethbert’s access to funding complicated matters further.

He’s forcing something and I am a part of it, he thought. It was a game of queen’s war they played, each moving based on the other’s previous movement. Petronus did not doubt at all that Vlad had hoped for a full declaration followed by a quick succession. He’d given him something less-a guarded proclamation issued under the Fourth Article of Preservation, citing the safety of King and Pope as critical for the well-being of the Order, and allowing for a measure of secrecy.

But what Pope had ever used that secrecy to hide himself entirely? To remain hidden from view? This game of queen’s war was not a game Petronus could win. He could only hope to move fast enough to stay ahead of his opponent-and the world that watched them play. And move well enough to stay in the game until the stone rolled down the hill so fast that he could slip out the back and find someplace to wait out the rest of the storm.

Unless.