regent.
Kathryn did not rise to the bait. Instead, she found herself bemused by the woman’s posturing. Delia had warned her about the Hand, cautioned against underestimating her cunning and lust for power. If Argent had been born a woman, here he would stand.
Kathryn lifted her hand yet again. “I encourage you to cast your stones. I think it wise that you select one amongst you to represent all. It would certainly expedite matters of communication.”
Liannora bowed her head, accepting the compliment with poised humility.
“But,” Kathryn went on. “The warden certainly would not allow any but the heads of Tashijan to attend his meetings in the fieldroom.”
Kathryn offered a look of apology. Let Argent deal with the woman if her ire was piqued.
“Oh,” Liannora said, straightening with an arch glint in her eye, “I’ve already discussed the matter with Warden Fields. He concurs and invites our participation.”
Kathryn gaped for a moment, taken aback. Why would Argent allow-? Then she knew. What better way to further humiliate Kathryn? To be banished while the likes of Liannora were allowed entry.
Liannora stepped into her silence, addressing the others. “So with all in agreement, we will cast stones.” She glanced to Kathryn. “If you’d be so kind as to count the tally, it would be most appreciated.”
Kathryn had no choice but to concede, having been artfully manipulated into this position.
The Hand from Foulsham Dell stood up, clearing phlegm from his throat with a grousing hack. He teetered slightly on his heels, plainly soused. His purple cloak and shirt must have been selected to hide the spill of wine down his paunch of a belly.
“I think there can be no doubt who should represent us.” He bowed with exaggerated flourish. “Mistress Liannora has shown herself to be of ample skill and of quick mind. Hear, hear!” He called to his table, raising an imaginary goblet. “Bring on the stones!”
At the other table, Porace Neel of Moor Eld gained his feet with a groan, supporting the crook in his back. “And I propose Mistress Delia. All know her and hold her in genuine esteem. She is wiser than the whole lot of us.”
A few at her table rapped knuckles on the board, agreeing.
Not so at Liannora’s table.
“I’m sure Mistress Delia would prefer to avoid such a burden,” Liannora said. “All know the tension between warden and daughter. And dare I say, we must acknowledge here that Mistress Delia is not in fact the handservant of a god, but only a man.”
Delia stood. “For the good of Tashijan, I am more than willing to set aside such tensions.”
“And as we had all gathered here to honor that man,” Kathryn added, “to acknowledge his rightful place as both knight and regent, I certainly don’t think we can cast Mistress Delia in a lesser light.”
Liannora stared at Kathryn and read her resolve.
The woman dipped her chin. “Of course.”
With only the two names proffered, it did not take long to cast stones. Each Hand placed a stone into the bag: white for Liannora, black for Delia.
The bag was brought to Kathryn. In short order she tallied the count and announced the result. “We have an equal number of stones for each.”
Liannora hid her disappointment behind pursed lips. Delia merely kept her arms crossed.
“Are there any here who would wish to change the cast of their stones?” Kathryn asked.
No hands were raised.
“Then I see no other recourse as castellan of Tashijan than to declare it an even match. Since the warden has so wisely chosen to expand his council, then what better way to acknowledge his wisdom than to send him two from our assembly? Mistress Liannora and Mistress Delia.”
Liannora wore a momentary expression of irritation, but the look swept away just as quickly, replaced with a feigned smile of acceptance as the others congratulated her.
Delia met Kathryn’s eye, offering her own smile. For days, they had been cut out of the strategies waged in the fieldroom. Now Argent had unwittingly opened the door again.
After all the well wishes had been passed around, the Hands departed to spread the word among the others. Delia paused to touch Kathryn’s arm.
“I will pass on your greetings to my father.”
“Please do.”
Liannora waited at the door, plainly wishing to speak with Delia. If there were any match for that woman, it was Delia. Kathryn waited until the room was empty to step out into the hall.
She found a welcome figure waiting, leaned against a wall. Another of their dejected party. Master Hesharian had had her friend officially sanctioned for his participation in the subterfuge atop Stormwatch. She was surprised to find him here.
“Gerrod?”
He straightened and fell in step beside her. “I heard word of the ploy being set up here. Master Hesharian was never one to keep silent with his gossip-especially if it involved the humiliation of another. And I still have secret allies among his inner circle. Oh, you should have heard what was said when it was discovered that not only had Tylar escaped but he had taken their only weapon against seersong.”
“I can imagine.”
Gerrod accompanied her toward the stair. She could hear the smile hidden behind his helmet. “Master Orquell came near to throttling his benefactor when he heard about the skull vanishing with Tylar.”
“We had no choice,” Kathryn mumbled, suddenly tired. It was a long climb back up to her hermitage.
With his usual acuity, Gerrod sensed her exhaustion and grew silent, offering her nothing more than his company as they climbed together. She appreciated it.
Still, as she wound her way up, her worries mounted with each step, stacked one atop the other. Eventually they toppled out. “What if he can’t find the rogues? Maybe it was a mistake…?”
“Hush. Such thoughts will only drive you into a state of inaction. We did what was necessary. If Tylar escaped the storm, word of our plight has spread. We must do our best to maintain here.”
“So we wait, hoping for rescue.” She shook her head. “I still wish there was something beyond our defenses we could bolster.”
“Keeping alive may prove fight enough from here. Our best offense was in breaking Tylar free to seek the rogues.”
Kathryn was reassured by his confidence in their decision, but little settled. Perhaps her dissatisfaction had more to do with being banished from the inner council of Tashijan. At least a small victory had been won this morning. With Delia admitted to the fieldroom, Kathryn would be kept better abreast of Argent’s plans and defenses.
At last, they reached the level of her hermitage. She would break her fast with Gerrod, then proceed with her day.
As she pushed into the hermitage, her maid Penni greeted her in her usual flustered manner. She had the hearth glowing with low flames. A small table had been spread with marbled breads, hard cheeses, and jams. Kathryn thanked the maid, then dismissed her. She knew that Gerrod preferred to keep his countenance hidden in his bronze armor unless alone with her.
Once Penni vanished down the back door, Kathryn turned to find Gerrod standing, almost shyly, only a few steps from the door.
“We won’t be disturbed,” she assured him and waved to the low table with the morning fare.
One arm slowly raised. His voice echoed hollowly out of his helmet. “Kathryn…”
Gerrod’s arm stiffened with a grinding creak. She stepped toward him.
“Can’t move…” he said, strained. “Mekanicals freezing up.”
She remembered when his armor had last grown sluggish. When he’d been exposed to the sapping of the storm, the Grace drained from his armor’s alchemies.
She heard a scratching behind her.
Twisting around, she drew her sword and pointed it toward the far drapes. The flames in the hearth damped to embers, then even the red coals dimmed. Cold spread across the room.
