year of his youth mixing poisons as an apprentice to a senior torturer for the Inquisition. Urtica was a swarthy handsome man in his forties, his greying black hair cropped close to his ears. The Council uniform of green tunic and grey cloak fitted his slim body well.
'Jamur Eir. Commander Lathraea, welcome to the Atrium,' he began in his smooth and deep voice. 'As you will understand we've been debating our current predicament, and I'll get straight on to the details of what we've concluded. It may come as no surprise to you that we wish to bring the late Emperor's eldest daughter, Jamur Rika, back to the city. It is, of course, law and tradition that the closest senior relative should inherit the throne, ensuring there is an unbroken chain of command, as decreed by our divine father, Bohr himself. Jamur Rika is to become Empress of Villjamur, being the most appropriate choice, we feel, in these uncertain times.'
Brynd had anticipated such a move.
'Commander, we're now charging you to escort Lady Rika back from the Southfjords immediately. It should take you several days, and on your return there shall be a festival combining both mourning and celebration. It is essential that we look upon this as a positive move and not a crisis. As a senior member of this Council, I'll advise the new Empress at every stage. We will be happy to welcome her as the new ruler.'
I bet you will, Brynd thought. You'll use the poor girl's innocence and ignorance to drive through every selfish policy you've ever dreamed of.
'Commander,' Urtica continued, 'we've set things in motion for your imminent departure, with a longship moored at the port of Gish ready for you to join it. Take as many of the Night Guard as you feel necessary.'
'Yes, thank you,' Brynd said. 'Talking of the Night Guard, I take it you've heard what happened to us at Daluk Point?'
'Yes, indeed. One of your men – a certain Captain Apium Hol, I believe – made it his business to inform all of the customers in several bars last night, as well as the entire main dining hall in Balmacara. I was myself told about it by a member of the kitchen staff. A most upsetting way to learn such news, for a man of my-'
'My point,' Brynd interrupted, 'was to discover how we came to be ambushed. Our mission was supposedly known only to high-level members of this Council.' Brynd was staring directly at Chancellor Urtica. The man shifted slightly, but kept an expression of concern.
'This is indeed a tragedy, but such things do happen in military operations, commander. If there was a way-'
'I'm just trying to find out why my men died unnecessarily, chancellor.'
'We will set up an investigation into this matter for you, but meanwhile your assignment is to escort back Jamur Rika.'
'What if she doesn't want to return?' Brynd said. 'It's no enigma that she despised the Emperor for his treatment of her late mother.'
'The Emperor is no longer with us, and it is your job to persuade her. We here need her. Villjamur needs her.'
Brynd did not quite understand the urgency – it was the Council that dictated Imperial strategy, and Johynn had only really ever been required for his signature. 'I'll leave tomorrow morning then,' he agreed.
At that point, Councillor Boll interrupted, a slender, short man who would have looked like a child except for his withered skin and grey hair.
'Commander, there have also been a number of sightings recently,' he began, 'of phenomena we are not entirely certain of. We're getting reports of a series of murders on Tineag'l,' Boll explained. 'And people disappearing in large numbers. Admittedly these are only word of mouth from impressionable locals, and we've yet to hear anything from more reputable sources.'
'You wish me to investigate? Report back on what I see?' This wasn't exactly the sort of mission Brynd was used to.
'More or less,' Urtica concurred. 'Nothing to concern yourself with particularly at this moment – at least not until you return. But you can understand our concern that something may be on the loose out there, picking at what's left of our Empire. Killing valuable subordinates.'
'What's left of them if the ice doesn't get them first,' Brynd said sharply.
'Indeed,' Urtica said, then turned to Eir. 'Jamur Eir, in this most unfortunate time for you, I ask that in the interim you take stewardship of the city on your sister's behalf.'
'Of course, Chancellor Urtica,' Eir replied flatly. 'I shall do everything that is necessary.'
'We will make a public announcement shortly,' Urtica concluded. 'Thank you both for your time.'
A rather abrupt dismissal, but at least they were out of there. As he followed Eir from the Atrium, Brynd had to stifle a laugh. No sooner had he returned to Villjamur than he had to leave it again.
*
Brynd was invited to take dinner with Eir, the temporary Stewardess of Villjamur. He had often eaten with the late Emperor, when their conversation would inevitably turn to his most recent mission, or battle tactic, but he had always felt uncomfortable when she was present, because he felt he should not be talking war at the dining table. Tonight, while she picked at the lobster, she was sitting bolt upright, still wearing that black gown which, in this light, made her pale skin glow as white as his own.
'How're you feeling?' he asked eventually.
A distance in her eyes, a disconnection. 'I'm fine,' she snapped. She looked down at her plate again.
The hides of various animals covered the walls and floors. As a fire spat loudly nearby, the poor lighting made the place look as if there were reanimated carcasses all around him.
'Are you looking forward to your sister's return?'
'Yes, very much so.' Eir looked up, her eyes suddenly brighter. 'It's been so long since she… since she left us.'
'Do you think that she'll ever forgive him?'
'I hope so. It's possible. She's become a rather different woman since she embraced the Jorsalir Church.'
Brynd considered the point. 'Perhaps the Empire will benefit from someone with such strong beliefs. Do you forgive him, if you don't mind my asking?'
'I hated him.' Eir pushed her plate away, slumping back in her chair. 'You don't have to stay here just on my behalf, commander.'
Brynd replied, 'I know that. But you're better company than most in this damn place.'
She said, 'I hardly think I'm good company for anyone at the moment.' She was clearly struggling to control her emotions.
Brynd did nothing to fill the silence.
Eventually she spoke again. 'Well, now that he's gone… This sounds awful of me to say…'
'No, go on, say it.'
'It's like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders.'
Brynd said, 'Yes, I think I understand. Talk.'
'I had to keep an eye on him all the time. That means I've not had much of a life here.'
'Eir, you've had as good a childhood as you could expect in your position. Your mother would be proud if she could see you.'
She continued, 'But now he's gone, I don't have to do that any more. I don't have to watch out when he starts drinking too much, or apologizing to servants when he soils his bedsheets. I don't have to stand the other side of a locked door when he's ranting because of his paranoia. Yet every time I don't have to do something, these free moments, it reminds me he's dead.'
'Which means you've got a life of your own back now.'
'Really?' She smiled bitterly. 'This isn't much of a way to go about things. Because of my blood I get treated a little better than most women in Villjamur, certainly. But there's a list of men waiting to marry me within the year, and I've never even met half of them. Think of how valuable their prize is now. I understand Imperial policies, commander. I understand my life will be little more to this government than supporting income flows.'
'Sometimes, in this world, we don't have the option to find love,' Brynd muttered, and realized he was addressing both of them. 'Matters of the heart are not always for us to decide. Situations don't always allow it.'
'Love.' She almost sneered at the word. 'You're a man; you wouldn't understand.'
Brynd motioned for the servant to take away their plates. As the boy left the room, he continued, 'It's OK to be
