The council members rose, wishing her well and talking quietly as they left the room.
“Nicely played,” a voice said.
She turned and found Darius entering from a side door.
“You’re back,” she said. “It’s about time.”
Her aide shrugged. “I ran into a complication.”
“I can see that. You’re a mess.”
“You should see the other guy.”
“Did someone at Towering Oaks do that to you?”
“No.” Darius sat and picked up one of the untouched glasses of wine. He took a deep drink, then looked directly at her. “It was a Soul Gaunt. It attacked both me and the aide to Shireen. Unfortunate for me, but lucky for you.”
“How is that?” Jocasta asked.
“Because the other aide is still gone, and from the looks of it, Shireen’s come to depend greatly on him. Much as you have me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She sat back and regarded her aide.
He was sitting uncomfortably, his color horrible. A partially healed wound poked above the collar of his shirt and while she was wrapped against a nonexistent chill, he was sweating.
“You really are hurt, aren’t you?”
“Willow said that Soul Gaunt injuries can take a while to get over. She’s still dealing with several at Towering Oaks. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. How are things here? Has Childress come around?”
Jocasta felt her lips twitch upwards. “I have the House under control.”
Chapter 31
Shireen had only been to House Glittering Birch once before, when she and Orlando accompanied Jediah and Florian here to warn Jamshir about the danger of the Soul Gaunts and ask for his help in retrieving Solomon from his exile. Then, she had been impressed by the gardens and grandeur of the place, even if it was a little much for her.
Now, though, everything had changed.
There were guards at the gate, where before there was hardly a formal entrance at all. Last time the road had led through the forest, coming into the compound with a few Glittering Birch soldiers stationed nearby. The low fences that ringed most other compounds in the Greenweald had been here, too. A barrier of sorts, but not one that would stop a determined force.
Now, there were actual low walls. Nothing that would prevent someone from climbing them, yet high enough to stop most horses and slow an intruder down. They were built of a mixture of wood and stone, earth used to chink the gaps. In front of the wall were shallow ditches from where that earth had been dug and then left. Construction of this type was almost unheard of in the Greenweald.
Guards stood before the gate in the silver and purple of their House, but the crispness that once marked them was gone. At one point, Glittering Birch soldiers were almost as disciplined as those of Towering Oaks, but the slovenly appearance of those she saw now told her those days were long gone.
“Halt.” The guard was sitting on a low stool, leaning back against the wall, his helmet off and tossed on the ground next to him. Four others sat on the ground, their backs also against the wall and legs stuck out in front of them. One of them was snoring loudly.
Shireen reigned in her horse and held up her hand for the others to do the same. There were twenty in her party, all in armor, all armed with swords or bows. Enough of a force to show that she wasn’t to be trifled with, but not enough to indicate a full-scale invasion.
The guard looked up at her, turned his head and spat, then turned back again.
“Why are you here?”
“I need to speak with Jamshir.”
“That’s Lord Jamshir to you, isn’t it?” Near the wall, there was a snort of laughter.
“Will you announce us, or should I simply ride in?”
“Heh. Nah. Go ahead. It’ll be a nice surprise for him.” The guard leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Other than the one burst of merriment, the others hadn’t reacted to the presence of the Towering Oaks soldiers in the least.
Shireen narrowed her eyes, then spurred her horse forward, passing between the low walls and the gate that hung open between them.
Her troops, unlike the ones from Glittering Birch, kept discipline and rode in formation, keeping their eyes moving and not reacting to anything they saw.
Shireen wasn’t so sure her face was as impassive, however. Everywhere she saw signs of neglect. The once proud gardens had been allowed to run rampant, overflowing their beds with weeds and trailers. Flowers struggled here and there to raise their heads out of the surrounding tangle, and the fountains stood empty.
A scattering of Folk wandered aimlessly about, some in the uniform of Glittering Birch, others in the robes of servants, and some in a mixture of both. None paid them any attention or even seemed to be talking to one another.
“What is going on here?” Shireen whispered to herself.
The road ran straight to the main tree of the compound, a mighty specimen that grew taller than any other tree in the Greenweald. Given the condition of everything else, Shireen half expected to find another central tree rotting, like at Rustling Elm.
But the tree was healthy, the leaves in full bloom and the bark solid.
That made sense, really. It wasn’t that the compound was unhealthy, it was more that it was being ignored.
She dismounted before the wide steps leading to the huge double doors of the tree. The rest of her party stayed mounted, formed into ranks.
There was no one who appeared interested in announcing their arrival to Jamshir.
She climbed the steps, waiting for someone to come out. When no one did, she approached the doors and knocked. This wasn’t what she envisioned happening. She expected to be stopped at the entrance to the compound, a messenger
