Her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, Nebios ben Hebda. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She shook her head slowly. “The Marsh King would not force such a thing. There is grace in the Marshlands.”
So far, the Marshers had been nothing like he had expected. Very little was shared about them in the parts of the Great Library that he was permitted to study from. They weren’t the half-crazed savages that legend painted them. Oddly customed, to be sure, but not-to his eye, anyway-the lunatic children left over from the Age of Laughing Madness. Children who perpetuated their violent insanity from generation to generation according to the lecturers and texts of the Orphan School. And whose king heard the future from a bust of P’Andro Whym and roared out that word beneath the Moon Wizard’s tower.
They were a complex and spiritual people.
He studied the girl for a moment longer, then realized he had no idea what her name was. He asked and she laughed at him.
“I do not haA220ughve a name like yours,” she said. “You would laugh to hear it.”
He smiled at her and shook his head. “I would not laugh.”
She lay on her side, facing him, her hair spilling around her gray-streaked face. “My name is Winters.”
“Winters?”
She nodded. “Winteria, actually. I did not name myself.”
Neb changed the subject, his mind wandering quickly back to the morning. “What do you think he will want to talk to me about?” he asked.
She frowned and thought about this. “I suspect he will ask what you know of the gravediggers’ camp, of Sethbert’s camp, whether or not you’ve seen Lord Rudolfo yet or caught sign of his scouts.” She shifted in her blankets, and Neb was surprised to see a bare shoulder peeking out from beneath them. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “He’ll also want to know what you know of the metal man and the Lady Jin Li Tam.” She paused and her voice softened. “But I’m sure he will not ask you about the other,” she said.
He sighed. “And afterwards, he’ll let me go?”
She laughed again and rolled over, her back to him now. “You can go now if you want to, Nebios.” She looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Or did you think perhaps I was assigned to you as your jailer?”
He laughed, too. “I didn’t know what to think.”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to know what to think when your dreams become entangled with another’s.”
Neb lay still and watched her back. Her shoulders slowly started rising and falling, and when he was certain she was asleep, he drew the ring from his pocket and held it up to the idol’s light. They were cast of the same metal, he realized.
Slipping the ring back into his pocket, he pulled the blankets over his head and ciphered himself to sleep.
When his dreams swallowed him into that hopeless burning vision of Windwir’s fall, he looked around to see who might be watching, but saw no one whatsoever.
Rudolfo
Rudolfo kept the others waiting for a fashionably appropriate time, taking longer than needed to prepare himself. For the parley, he selected his best turban and matching sash in the brightest green he had, trimmed with the pAmmeongurple. He wore these along with a shirt the color of burnt cream, all over the top of the mesh armor he had received from Pope Introspect for a small heresy he helped suppress.
He selected his best sword-a long slender affair with a hard steel basket and a light blade that could shave a man. He strapped it on, climbed into the saddle and rode with his Gypsy Scouts for the appointed place.
A cluster of scouts from all sides gathered at the bottom of the hill. The only one who came alone was the one Rudolfo assumed to be the Marsh King. He was a giant of a man, maybe the biggest man he had ever seen. Beneath his stinking, filth-matted furs he wore silver armor, and in his hands he held a massive silver axe. He rode a giant stallion that danced beneath him as he listened to the people around him.
Nearby, Rudolfo saw a petite woman sitting sidesaddle on a roan, her golden hair piled high upon her head and tucked beneath her shining crown. She wore a gold breastplate and greaves, but her arms were draped in red silk that matched her battle-skirt. She was still beautiful, though the years were catching up to her. He’d bedded her a handful of times, both for business and for pleasure. She was adequate but took few risks.
It explained the Queen of Pylos in many regards besides just the bedroom.
Rudolfo nodded to her and smiled. She did not return the gesture, but instead stared at him with open contempt.
He looked further but saw nothing of Sethbert. The fat goat had sent his General Lysias on his behalf, making his feelings clear on this matter without speaking or even appearing. Rudolfo was not surprised.
He was also not surprised to see Ansylus-the Crown Prince of Turam-next to Lysias. His family had married into Sethbert’s to the point that the resemblance between them all was uncanny. It was obvious that he viewed those gathered here with disdain, and Rudolfo doubted he’d even speak.
Vlad Li Tam looked up as Rudolfo sidled in closer. “Lord Rudolfo,” he said. “It is agreeable to see you again.”
He tipped his head. “Likewise, Lord Tam.”
Then Vlad Li Tam looked to the Entrolusian general. “It is best that your master did not attend. I would be frank with you.”
General Lysias glared. “I’ll not ask you to be.”
Vlad Li Tam smiled. “Regardless, I shall be. But in just a moment.” He turned to the Queen of Pylos. “Queen Meirov, you are radiant as summer.” She took her eyes off Rudolfo long enough to smile demurely at Lord Tam. Vlad then looked to the Marsh King. “You grace us, Lord.”
The Marsh King grunted but did not speak.
“Now, to business,” Vlad Li Tam said. “The Pope is calling for the cessation of hostilities and the immediate arrest of Sethbert.” He looked at the General. “Here is my frankness, Lysias. Your Overseer brought down Windwir and broke the back of the Androfrancine Order.”
“That is absolutely false,” Lysias said, but Rudolfo saw the lie on his face before he told it. Lysias pointed to Rudolfo. “There is a Writ of Shunning against this man.”
“A worthless writ,” Vlad Li Tam said. “For the man who issued it is, as you no doubt have heard, not the true Pope.”
Lysias spit. “That will be known when he declares himself and the Order has opportunity to investigate his claims.” He looked around at the others. “Until then, Pope Resolute the First is the heir of P’Andro Whym.”
Vlad Li Tam sighed and shook his head. “Even now, word of the new Pope spreads across the Named Lands. Some claim they have seen him, traveling under heavy guard, dressed in the rags of an Androfrancine abbot, never staying in one town for very long. In only a few months’ time loyalties will begin to shift, and you will see the Named Lands descend into war like they have never known. In the end Windwir will lie desolate, and yonder gravediggers will have more unfinished work ahead because of Sethbert’s folly.”
He pointed in the direction of the city, and Rudolfo followed his finger. He could just make out a line of men working with shovels in the rain while others pushed wheelbarrows through the mud.
“I plead with you,” Vlad Li Tam said, “leave men behind to help the gravediggers with their work, but let these be the last graves we dig for a season. War will not mitigate our loss.”
General Lysias spun his stallion. “We’ll not stand down. Resolute is our Pope.”
The Crown Prince looked around at them. Finally, he spoke. “I’ve heard nothing to convince me otherwise.” He turned his horse as well.
They rode off and the Queen of Pylos watched them. When they were out of earshot, she spoke. “I have no love of Sethbert, it is true. But I must concur. I do not need proof as he does of your invisible Pope, but I do need to know that he indeed
Vlad Li Tam nodded. “And you, Lord Rudolfo?”
Rudolfo nudged his horse forward, giving the queen a hard look. “I had no argument withAo ath= the
