Shadow's master

“That sounds serious.” Major Walthom entered with a horseman's rolling gait. “Bad news, Majesty?”

Josey tamped down her irritation. The major had accounted himself with valor. Between that and her dearth of good officers, there was the possibility she would have to promote him again before they reached Othir, as much as it galled her.

Josey didn't want to explain the contents of the message twice, but seeing how Brian was glaring at Walthom, she gave in. “Yes. The lord regent writes that the governors of Mecantia have voted to join the kingdom of Arnos in a new crusade against Akeshia. And they have severed all trade and diplomatic agreements with the empire because of our failure to”-she looked down at the letter-“‘eradicate the threat of the godless heathens of the east.’”

Major Walthom sat down on her undergarment trunk. “That's prickly.”

“And decidedly poor timing,” Captain Drathan said as he walked in. His left leg was bandaged from his thigh to the top of his boot, but he refused to walk with a crutch despite the army physicians' advice. “This smells of diplomatic sabotage.”

Josey had been toying with the same thought. “Philomena.”

Drathan nodded, but Brian asked, “An enemy of the throne?”

“Yes,” Josey answered. “Well, not exactly.” But before she could launch into an explanation, another man entered her tent.

“Empress, I thought you'd like to know…” High Captain Keegan took a look around and stopped. “Oh, sorry. Your Highn-er, Majesty. I didn't know you were having a meet. I could come back-”

“It's quite all right, my lord.” Josey forced herself to smile. After all, if I'm going to keep my promise and grant Eregoth permanent autonomy, we must remain on friendly terms. “You were saying?”

Keegan cleared his throat. “Ah, the Uthenorian survivors are fleeing north in good order. My band is going to follow after them, if that's all right. To make sure they don't get into any mischief.”

Josey rolled up the message. “That's excellent, my lord. I have decided we shall start back south today, but before we left I wanted to speak with you about what assistance the empire can lend your country to rebuild.”

Two more of her officers had arrived, and a quartermaster with the list of their remaining supplies, which were depressingly scarce. Brian talked with Keegan about the Eregoths' return trip home while Captain Drathan grilled the junior officers about their preparations for departure, and Major Walthom looked around for a drink. But there was one face missing. Josey's eyes misted as she imagined Hirsch standing at the table, scratching his beard as he listened to the others. She'd only known him for a couple months, but he had become such an important figure in her life since she took the throne. I would be dead if not for him.

Josey wiped her eyes as Iola returned with a covered bowl. It was boiled oats, but Josey was too hungry to complain. While she ate, Iola herded everyone out of the tent and started rooting through the trunks. The girl pulled out a black gown with a high neck and long sleeves, but Josey stopped her and pointed. “No, that one, I think.” Hirsch always preferred her in lighter colors.

“Majesty?”

Josey nodded, and together they manhandled her into a flowing yellow kirtle with small green flowers that was only slightly muddied. When she was ready, Josey stepped outside the tent. A cool wind caressed her hair and pressed the material of the dress taut against her belly. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sun on her face. Someone cheered, and the hurrah was picked up by other voices, until a multitude called her name. Josey looked across the camp to a lone hill. A yew tree stood atop the bald tor, its leaves shining like gold in the early light.

An honor guard stood ready on either side of the elmwood casket. Captain Drathan and Brian stood at the front of the procession, looking to her.

Iola clasped her hand. “Shall we, Majesty?”

Josey took a deep breath. A trumpet called as the honor guard took up their cargo and began the slow march to the hill.

Josey smiled. “Yes. Let's say good-bye to our friend.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The rising sun warmed his back through the heavy cloak. Balaam resisted the impulse to pull up his hood. He'd have to get used to the sunlight.

He shifted his weight. His knee was stiff from where the scion had left his mark, but it would heal. Balaam focused on what lay ahead.

The waves beat recklessly against the shore below, where a team of men wrestled large casks onto the waist of the tall sailing ship. She was beautiful and sleek, like a great wooden mare riding on the sea. Turquoise waters stretched into the morning's gray mist, slowly burning off with the advent of dawn. Balaam took a deep breath of the briny sea air and held it. I am my own man.

He had dreamt of this day all his life, even before he understood what his spirit wanted. Freedom. It was the sweetest smell in any world.

He hefted the haversack slung to his shoulder. Inside it was everything he owned: spare clothing, an extra pair of boots, a pouch of metal coins. His belt was empty, with not even a knife to weigh him down. He had left his kalishi sword behind in Erebus. A difficult decision, but he felt freer for it. He was tired of living by the blade. Perhaps one day he would find a place to settle, take up a peaceful profession, but for now he just wanted to see this world with new eyes.

Balaam took his gaze off the sea and looked over his shoulder. Dorcas stood behind him, with her burgundy cloak draped over her arm and her hair flying free. He reached out, and she gave him an uncertain smile as she took his hand. She was nervous. But so am I. We're both trying something new. To trust again.

He returned the smile and nodded, and then led her down to the shore where their ship awaited.

CHAPTER FORTY

Caim stepped softly as he arrived back on the wastes. Kit, still wrapped in the cloak, sat beside a small fire made from broken sticks. She was beyond beautiful. The sight of her calmed him. She was the only person in the world he trusted completely. She knew all of his secrets, but she loved him anyway.

She looked up, and then jumped to her feet, dropping the cloak as she ran to him so quick it was like her feet never touched the ground. But she was real when she crashed into his arms, and the kiss she planted on his lips seized his heart in a vise-grip.

“Can't you two wait until I'm gone?”

Malig dropped a pair of crude burlap sacks beside the fire. His stolen sword hung over his shoulder by a rope. “Looting already?” Caim asked.

The big man shrugged as he squatted beside the fire. “Just trying to make something good out of this shit- storm you served up. There's lots of good stuff sitting around here, and I figure nobody's coming back for it.”

“There's been fighting in Eregoth.” Caim told Malig what he'd learned from Josey about the invasion. “Are you still going back?”

Malig nodded. “I've had enough of these wastes. I'll go back home and maybe find a wench. Settle down and have a pack of whelps. What about you two? Back to Nimea?”

“Not on your life,” Kit growled.

Caim laughed. “I guess not. But it's a long walk back to Liovard for one man alone.”

“I was thinking about that.” Malig spat into the fire. “You get around pretty quick, vanishing in one place and appearing in another. Can you send me back?”

Caim fought back a smile. He never thought he'd see the day when one of his northern countrymen would even acknowledge his powers, much less request their use. “I think so. Do you want to go to Liovard?”