Canticle

After the Ninefold Forest invitation had been received, he’d spent two weeks preparing his honor guard and organizing their winter march north. The Foresters had worked hard to be ready for the rest of the Named Lands, erecting what he suspected was the same massive tent they’d used when they’d hosted the Androfrancines’ last council. They’d also carefully established quarters for each of the kin-clave in attendance, their Second Captain of the Gypsy Scouts working with each military liaison to assure that no nation was placed improperly in the elaborate network of relationships, all precariously balanced with the recent troubles to the north.

When the council had convened three days earlier, the new Gypsy Queen, Jin Li Tam, had invoked the Articles of Kin-Clave regarding the call to council and-as hostess for the event-had taken petitions for the agenda. It was no surprise that matters in the Marshland quickly eclipsed Entrolusia’s interests in the kin-clave. Rumors flew the camp of Y’Zirite resurgence and coup d’etat. The young Marsh Queen was placed on the agenda, along with Meirov of Pylos and the dour-faced steward of Turam. Petronus had made his petition as well, along with Erlund, who supported the old Pope’s call for a public trial. And then, because it had been some time since a kin-clave had been called, other issues were voiced. In the absence of the Androfrancine Order, the matter of access to the Churning Wastes through the Keeper’s Wall was on the agenda. Representatives from the various counties of the Divided Isle petitioned the Ninefold Forest Houses for the return of Androfrancine land titles in their territories. It was a long list. Longer than Lysias could keep track of, particularly with his mind on other matters.

You should go to her. She is not hard to find. Somewhere in the Foresters’ city of tents, his daughter sat with the young Gypsy heir. He’d gotten confirmation from his spies in their camp, even had word that she was healthy and well cared for. That should have been enough for him. But it wasn’t; he longed to see her.

More than that, he longed to atone somehow. For many things, he now realized, beyond his parenting. The quiet snow fields of Windwir’s buried dead whispered his sins to him. And at night, when he dreamed, he saw the coldness of Vlad Li Tam’s eyes as he passed the cloth-wrapped weapon and forged confession across to him during the night of their clandestine meeting. He heard the muffled cries as he and Grymlis helped Sethbert’s cousin, Pope Resolute, exit this life and make way for an end to a war they could not win by force but might survive by intrigue.

Petronus had been wrong, surely, to try Sethbert summarily and without regard to kin-clave and Entrolusian law. But Sethbert, regardless of why or how, had brought down Windwir-and boasted of it-and then, after breaking the back of the Delta’s economy, had forced a war upon the Named Lands that even now spun out consequences of violence faster than a Tam could weave strategies. This unrest now to the north with the recent Marsher skirmishes far from their usual teritories, the civil wars that still brewed in Turam and Pylos and the recently ceased hostilities on the Delta were all certainly outgrowths of Sethbert’s actions. Because from his vantage point, before Windwir fell and the Androfrancines were taken out of the role of shepherd-and before House Li Tam packed up its network and vanished-the Named Lands had been safer.

Before Sethbert brought back the blood magicks of Xhum Y’Zir.

And I helped him do it.

He’d thought that rainy night last spring, nearly a year past now, he’d done his part to make that right. He’d worked with Tam, planted a forged suicide note that was actually more truth than lie, from all he could see. The note had implicated Sethbert and his cousin Resolute in the destruction of Windwir. Certainly, Resolute had been deceived and manipulated. That was clear. And Sethbert had made a great show of having evidence supporting Androfrancine plans for subduing the Named Lands, but when the Overseer had been called upon to produce it on the night of his arrest, he’d not been able to. And then the Overseer had fled.

No, as far as Lysias was concerned, Sethbert had gotten what had been coming to him and the wrong man was now under scrutiny. If there was a villain here besides Sethbert he suspected it was Vlad Li Tam and not Petronus.

Lysias rubbed his eyes now and tried again to read the reports before him. But it nagged him now, and he felt something clawing inside of him, demanding that he pay it heed.

It is never too late to do the right thing. He remembered these words from his father, long ago. They were the very words his daughter, Lynnae, had recited to him when she allied herself with the Democrats and their dangerous philosophies.

Whistling for his birder, he pulled a scrap of parchment and started triple-coding a message. When the birder came and went, taking the note with instructions to send it under the white thread of kin-clave, Lysias pushed aside his reports, drew down a fresh piece of paper, and started making his notes.

Within the hour, he’d written down his every recollection of that night in Pylos and then that later night in Resolute’s guest quarters. Last, he wrote his recollection of his attempt to arrest Sethbert.

The more recent memories cataloged, he went back further, into the days of the war and days just before Windwir fell.

Some part of him knew that it didn’t matter, that there was no way Petronus’s kin-clave would find Petronus guilty. He was a gifted orator and had the graves of Windwir as his stage for this present drama. He was also a strong king and perhaps the most innately talented of the papal line when it came to statecraft.

Lysias did not do this now to save Petronus. Of that he had no doubt.

But he hoped, perhaps, he might save some part of himself.

When the bells announced the resumption of council proceedings, Lysias stood, scooped up his sword and helmet, and left for the palatial tent with his bundle of notes tucked beneath his cloak.

Winters

Winters sat to the side of the council and watched Jin Li Tam preside over another day of questioning and discussion. It had been hard for her to keep her attention on these strange matters of New World statecraft. The Marshfolk had their own approach to council, but with less bluster and bravado and certainly less pomp. They made their decisions largely by consensus, and as queen, her primary role had been that of dreamer and, during time of war, sermonizer. And because the Marshfolk had remained set apart and without kin-clave until their secret and one-sided alliance with the Ninefold Forest, she’d not had any opportunity to see the intricate system of rules and rituals at work in a formal meeting. Certainly Tertius had educated her in these matters, but even the former Androfrancine had glossed over portions of it as unimportant and unnecessary for the work ahead of her.

So now, she sat, trying to remain still and listen. She stayed quiet and she watched. And most of all, she tried not to worry about her people-an impossible task. There had been no word since the Gypsy Scouts had brought Seamus to her, and the ride to Windwir-and away from her troubled tribes-had killed something inside of her with each league. It had even eclipsed her sense of separation from Neb, though when they’d first swept onto the plains to approach the growing city of tents, she’d been reminded of that first meeting, that first kiss, those stolen strolls along the northern line. But the memories seemed small things now in light of what happened among her people.

She heard Jin Li Tam’s gavel and looked up as the Gypsy Queen called for order. The woman looked tired but regal, her copper hair pulled back from her face and held in place by platinum combs. Her blue eyes were clear, and she stood behind the podium watching the crowded tent. “We now resume the matter of Petronus, King of Windwir and former Holy See of the Androfrancine Order.” Jin Li Tam nodded toward the table where Petronus and Esarov sat. “The petitioner may continue his declaration.”

Esarov stood and bowed. “Thank you, Lady Tam.” He stepped out from behind the table. “Over the last two days, you’ve heard Overseer Erlund and his governors discuss the matter of Sethbert’s death. The council has seen and questioned witnesses to the Androfrancine Council. You’ve also heard Petronus himself speak. And there is no doubt: This man did personally and summarily execute Sethbert.” The man’s eyes narrowed, and Winters saw that he was staring hard now at Jin Li Tam. “You yourself, Lady Tam, bore witness to the events of that council and have spoken to them before us. But I would ask a further question of you.” He turned, looking to the crowded tent, and lifting up a piece of parchment.

Jin Li Tam looked nonplussed. “Ask your question, Esarov. You’ve the floor and need no permission from me.”

Winters leaned forward. She could hear something rising in his voice and noted that as he asked his question, he faced the audience. “Very well, Lady Tam, I will be direct: It has come to my attention that Petronus’s actions were heavily influenced by House Li Tam-manipulated directly by your father, according to a highly placed officer in the Entrolusian army. According to documents I’ve recently received, Arch-scholar Oriv-also known as Pope