Chronicles of the Last Days Chapter 13

Chapter 12

L

ife in the palace left Darna feeling off-balance. Gallia waited at her elbow, always helpful even while she tried to bend every interaction to her accustomed way of doing things, as she must have done with Darna’s father. It was still strange to think of him as her father. She’d always doubted it, but she believed Vigda. There’d been no word of Vigda since the tribunal. Darna more than half-wished she could go to the hills with the bandits, herself, but life in the palace wasn’t all bad.

Even the princes who’d sided with Calar in the tribunal were polite to her. Tiagasa was downright solicitous, which amused Darna. She’d never seen Tiagasa grovel before. Now, between council meetings, she passed by Darna’s rooms from time to time with little gifts – a jewel, some fine wine – sometimes from herself and sometimes from Girizit.

“Girizit says that you simply must allow him to help you see these Cereans on their way. They’re out of favor with their king,” Tiagasa reminded her.

Darna told Tiagasa that she would consider the offer. Surely, there must be better ways of getting rid of Calar’s Cereans, ones that didn’t involve putting herself in debt to Giri or the Cerean king. Harzet agreed. He’d come along to stand in as her Cerean advisor. Despite the fact that she still didn’t entirely like Harzet, she’d begun to rely on him. He and Kinner were the only link she had to her year of exile in Slaradun, the only ones who’d seen something of what had happened to her cousin Hedrin after he’d tried to murder her. They hadn’t passed the news of his likely death on to Calar until after the tribunal, when she’d told them to do so – most of Calar’s Cereans were ranged outside the walls of Anamat city, and some of them had deserted to join Girizit’s forces.

Kinner acted as her secretary, standing below and behind her in the councils. Gallia took the place set for the keep mistress, to act as Darna’s advisor. Most nights’ business in the councils did not concern them much. On the first night, there was another question of succession, between two nephews of a village chief in Coradun. That was to be decided by a contest of arms on Midsummer Eve. Next there was some minor business concerning requisitions for the Midsummer feast. On the following night, the supplies for the following summer’s feast were argued again, and the prince of Naramun asked the council’s approval to build up his harbor for trading ships. Darna felt obliged to say something about that, and Parnet recognized her. She stepped to the center of the room.

“Ivanat of Slaradun embarked on a similar project,” she said. “I was with him there until the opening of the trading season, in my former work as a guildswoman. Although the harbor would have accommodated trading ships well, he put himself in debt to Ganat to build it.”

“Better Ganat than Cerea,” someone said, and was quickly shushed.

“Do you think that the harbor building caused the catastrophe?” Tiagasa asked, batting her eyelashes.

“I don’t know,” Darna said. She returned to her place.

“You must say more if you go forward again,” Gallia whispered in her ear. “And don’t mention that you were in the guilds! It makes your fellow princes uneasy.”

Darna nodded and ignored her. The council requested that Naramun not go forward with its harbor-improvement plans, shaking their heads over the tragic fall of Slaradun and worrying that the same fate might await them all. Then again, they still hoped that it might not.

The visit to Lerat’s ship had been a welcome change of place before the final night of the princes’ councils.

On that last night before Midsummer Eve, the prince of Helanum again brought forward the question of what had happened to cause the province of Slaradun to fall into the sea. Darna glanced back at Kinner. He shook his head. Harzet the Cerean was called as witness. His eyes flicked to Darna once, at the beginning, but they’d agreed earlier that she would distance herself from the troubles in Slaradun, having said too much already. None of the princes needed to know that she’d been there at the end.

“Your Highnesses, Ladies,” Harzet began. In the council chamber, his Theranian sounded stiffer and more heavily accented. “I served as advisor to Ivanat of Slaradun from the time he returned to this land until his death. I do not believe much in the power of your dragons, not even as many of my countrymen do.”

On the dais behind the governor, Girizit sneered briefly.

“I am only a scholar, not a merchant or a ruler. I had little interest in the wealth that the stones might bring, or in their alleged powers.” He hesitated and glanced to the courtyard door. “The Ganateans who traded with Ivanat went into the hills to mine for the dragons’ stones. The earth shook and fell as they arrived at the – at the place where they thought they would mine. I find it – I think it would not have happened if they had not mined.”

“Had they begun?” Girizit asked.

Harzet shook his head. “Hardly, but they were ready.”

“Thank you; that will be all,” Parnet said quickly.

Harzet looked as if he had more to say, but stepped aside. He sat down on one of the low benches near where Darna stood, and she could see him flexing his jaw with impatience as the prince of Helanum took the floor.

“I did not realize the depth of Ivanat’s treachery,” the prince of Helanum said. “Had I known, I might have gone across the border –”

“Which you may not do without an invitation or an injunction from the governor,” the prince of Naramun cut in.

“Order,” Parnet said. He waved the prince of Helanum to the side. Darna felt that she ought to say something. Parnet turned to her. “Tiadun did not fall when these Cereans Calar brought went to mine, did it?”

Darna turned to Gallia, who stepped forward.

“Tiadun did not fall, but our harvests this year were poor,” she said.

Girizit nudged Parnet and whispered something in his ear. Parnet motioned for Gallia to step back. “I understand that the Cereans have other ways of improving harvests that do not involve appealing to the gods,” Parnet said.

The prince of Lemirun came forward next. “It seems to me,” he began, “that as wise as our Cerean advisors might be, their merchantmen bring nothing but trouble and strife to the villages. We should limit our trading season to the traditional three moons before Midsummer again.”

“You’ve been heard,” Parnet said.

The prince of Naramun came forward again. “Trade with the Cereans, even without an improved harbor, has expanded our keep town and brought much good to our province. I would not want to lose that advantage.”

“Even if it means that your lands fall to the sea?” the prince of Helanum demanded.

Everyone began to speak at once, shouting at each other. Parnet shouted for order until he was red in the face. Tiagasa looked flustered and grasped Girizit’s hand. Darna looked to Harzet.

“Don’t let them worry you,” he said. “They know less than we do.”

“Enough!” Parnet shouted again. This time, the noise calmed and everyone settled back to their places. He turned to Darna. “Tell us what the situation was in Slaradun before its catastrophe.”

“The temples of Slaradun were closed, many of them destroyed,” Darna said. Looking around the room, she wondered what had happened in the other provinces, how many of them still had all of their temples or their priestesses. Myril and Sunna had said that many had come to Ara’s Landing, and she’d seen a few of them herself, even when she was just passing through. “I was priestess trained, as you know. I believe that the neglect of the dragons may have caused the fall, but also it seemed that the Ganateans had taken control of the prince, more than merely influencing him. My uncle, too, was letting his Cerean allies force his actions.”

Parnet frowned. “So, as long as we retain our lawful control of the land and appease the dragons, we should survive?”

It was the most directly that anyone in the council had spoken of the much-whispered fear that they would all be sunk into the sea as Slaradun had been.

Darna shook her head. “I’m not sure that would be enough, but giving over control to the foreigners seems a sure way to doom us all.”

She looked up to see Girizit shaking his head. She suppressed the urge to shoot him a rude gesture.

Another spate of out-of-turn conversation surged up as she retreated to her place. Parnet banged his gavel. “You will all return to your provinces on Midsummer morning. Send messengers back to Anamat if there is any change in your lands during the waning year. This council is –”

“Wait!” Harzet stepped out into the center of the room. “There’s another matter,” he said. “Darnasa, Regent of Tiadun, bears the prince of Slaradun’s child.”

Darna opened her mouth to object, then shut it. The hubbub rose around them once more.

“Order!” Parnet hammered the table as Tiagasa reached for a mallet to strike the gong. “Is that so?” he asked Darna.

“The prince Ivanat was my lover this past half-year,” Darna admitted, “and a healer said that I was –” Myril had said there was something odd about it, but pregnancy was a logical conclusion.

“As I understand it, she may be about to produce an heir to two realms,” Harzet said, not letting her go on to explain how she wasn’t so sure about things. “I submit that Tiadun will not be a safe-enough haven for her in her current condition until it is cleared of her uncle’s henchmen.”

Tiagasa whispered something to Parnet, who nodded.

“Darnasa may send her agents to oversee the keep until she is deemed fit to travel after her delivery, and we find whether or not this is a son she bears,” Parnet said. “Meanwhile, I trust that the temple of Ara’s Landing will take her in and give her into the care of their best healers.”

“I don’t want to go to the temple,” Darna thought aloud.

Gallia placed a hand on her arm. “It’s not a bad idea. You’ll be safe there. I’ll take a few guardsmen back to Tiadun and see that the keep is put in order. We’ll return for you after Midwinter.”

Darna nodded. Safe. As if that was what she wanted, what she’d ever wanted. She could feel the walls of the temple closing in on her again, but it was true that the temple could keep her alive. She wanted to curse Harzet.

None of the noblemen had any idea what was happening to the earth beneath their feet, except that it was sinking and parts of it had fallen. They were probably all looking for a way to escape their disappearing realms, even if it meant giving themselves over to Ganat and Cerea. The prophecies from the elders of Ara’s landing may have reached them, but they did not feel any faith in those reassurances, however slim they were. Darna didn’t trust the prophecies either. She felt more sympathy for the noblemen, her fellow princes, than she ever would have thought possible.

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Early the next morning, Darna woke with a pain in her gut like a pair of cats fighting over a rotten fish. It was Midsummer Eve, and Harzet had condemned her to confinement in the temple. Her head hurt. She could smell Harzet in the next room, his cloying Cerean oils even more pungent than usual. He’d left the moment he’d said his piece the night before, so she hadn’t had a chance to tell him what she thought of him then. It didn’t help that Gallia was delighted with the development. No doubt she was just happy to get full rule over Tiadun for a season, though she said that she was only overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Terenet’s grandchild born and raised.

Darna swung her feet to the floor and yanked on her still-too-fine tunic, then stomped into the apartment’s main room, where Harzet was waiting, looking only slightly sheepish. Kinner, beside him, had borne most of Darna’s foul temper the night before. It had taken her until halfway to dawn to fall asleep, and her dreams had not been pleasant.

“What did you say that for?” she demanded without preamble.

Harzet cleared his throat and looked down. “I knew that you were unhappy with what I said, but please, hear me out.”

Darna flopped down on one of the couches.

“You can’t deny that you’re, ah, expecting.”

“I could deny it. The best healer in Anamat said that it didn’t look like any pregnancy she’d ever seen.”

Kinner was blushing. Harzet was not. “Do you have a better explanation?”

“Not really,” Darna admitted.

“I’ve come to respect you more than I did, but whatever my feelings about you, I would be most happy to learn that my dear friend was not entirely gone from this world, that he left a little of himself behind.”

“He left the destruction of Slaradun behind,” Darna said. She could hear Forlan and Ferrent clattering around in their chamber, hurrying to put on their clothes.

Harzet looked over his shoulder at the door, then approached Darna’s couch. He stood awkwardly over her, but she didn’t move to make room for him to sit.

“I didn’t say that because of whatever it is that’s making you clutch your belly,” Harzet said.

“Then why?”

He crouched down beside her. “It’s only a rumor, but I’ve heard that the Duke of the Southern Reaches is planning to sail for Tiadun with the rest of his army as soon as your ambassadress has done whatever it is she does at Midsummer. You would be walking into the teeth of a seasoned army, and whatever you are, you’re not a general yet.”

Darna shifted to let him sit. “Where did you hear that? Is it true?”

“It is only a rumor, but it fits his way of doing things. I would be surprised if he didn’t do something like that.”

“All the more reason for me to go back,” Darna said. “If he establishes himself in Tiadun, he would be hard to dislodge. Shouldn’t you have warned Gallia instead?”

Harzet shook his head. “Someone needs to go to secure the place for you, and I’ve told her as much as I’ve just told you. She knows the land well enough to hide if she needs to, and the guardsmen and village chiefs will be sympathetic to her. They know her much better than they know you.”

“That’s true,” Darna admitted. “Do you want me to thank you?”

“No need; I only wish for whatever’s in your belly to be safe.” He stood to go.

“Are you leaving?” Darna asked.

“I’ve heard there’s a ship sailing to Calandria on the noon tide. I plan to be on it.”

“So, you won’t go with Gallia to keep watch over Tiadun for me? Someone has to parlay with the duke and his forces.”

“I’m not staying in Theranis,” Harzet said. “I have other places in the world to go.” Forlan and Ferrent emerged from their room, but Darna waved them away. Harzet went on in a whisper. “I’ve been in exile for five years now, and the king will have a price on my head if I return, but if the Duke of the Southern Reaches is in rebellion, there’s a chance my own town is trying to shake off the king too. I would like to see that.”

Darna thought that she should be glad to be rid of him, but she wasn’t. “I wish you luck, then, and I thank you for keeping your ears open for me. I only hope that the people I have left here will be as quick to hear and understand.”

Harzet gave Kinner a nod. “His Cerean is not as good as mine, but he’s quick enough. You’ll have ears here still unless you send him with Gallia.”

Darna looked at Kinner. No, she wouldn’t send him to Tiadun. The boy needed to see more of Anamat, and perhaps she could get him apprenticed with the Chroniclers or see him settled in the palace scriptorium to gather rumors for her.

She clasped Harzet’s hands in farewell and sent him off to his ship. He left the noxious scent of hair-oil in his wake. She really ought to be glad to see the last of him. She sent Kinner to fetch tea and bread from the kitchen and prepared to leave the palace behind, but for the temple, not Tiadun. Either way, she would be shut up behind old walls, but she would have rather gone back to Tiadun.

She and Gallia were just finishing their breakfast when the palanquin from the temple arrived. Sunna was there, along with a trio of strong young priestesses to hold the poles while the guards trotted alongside. Gallia ordered more tea, but before long, they were on their way.

“I’d rather walk,” Darna told Sunna.

“It’s not about what you’d rather do; it’s about what makes the right impression,” Gallia cut in. Sunna shrugged in a way that implied she agreed with Gallia.

“It’s the Aralel’s orders,” Sunna said.

“And quite right of her,” Gallia said. “The guardsmen can bring your things down later, and your boy can see it’s done right. It’s a pity you won’t let him come to Tiadun with me. He would be useful there. I’ll walk with you to the temple, and we can discuss that as we go.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to discuss. He’ll serve a half-year apprenticeship with the Chroniclers, if they’ll have him, and I think they will.”

“Well, you are the regent,” Gallia said.

“Yes, and you’re my agent in Tiadun,” Darna said, which did appease Gallia somewhat.

The old keep mistress had plans to turn the temple back the way it had been and to see if baths could be built anywhere in or near the keep. She paid so little attention to Forlan and Ferrent that Darna worried about her ability to manage the guardsmen at Tiadun keep. Still, there was nothing she could do about it until she went back herself. She was about to let herself be bundled into the palanquin when Tiagasa arrived, smiling from one ear to the other, her eyes quick and calculating.

“I’m so sorry that you’re going back to the temple,” Tiagasa said. “It’s been a pleasure having you here, and I hope we’ll have a chance to get further acquainted. Girizit wished to send you a little gift, but he says that he hasn’t been able to find anything suitable.”

“Perhaps after Midwinter,” Darna said, thinking,

Better yet, never.

“Oh, no, didn’t you hear? He’ll be staying with us for the waning year.”

“I see. Send him my regards, and tell him that really, there’s no need for gifts.”

Tiagasa looked confused for a moment before her stiff smile reasserted itself. “Do send the Aralel my regards,” she said. “And remind her of our agreement.”

Behind Tiagasa’s back, Sunna was making a ridiculous face. Darna couldn’t speak for fear of laughing, so she just nodded and ducked into the palanquin, grateful that the curtains hid her face. It was a very short moment of gratitude. The motion of the palanquin was unpleasant, something she’d scarcely noticed on her short trip to the palace a few days before, and it made her stomach cramp horribly.

“I’d like to walk,” Darna said, leaning out.

Ferrent shook his head.

“Dear, you’re much safer in there,” Gallia said.

“I’ll puke,” Darna promised.

“It’s not much further,” Forlan said.

Darna sat back on her satiny cushions. It wasn’t fair. She

had

had more freedom as a scrappling. This was exactly the kind of thing she’d come to Anamat to escape, all this being bundled around like a parcel of fine cloth and ordered by everyone all the time. She didn’t

want

to be shut into the temple. Then again, she didn’t want to die. She

could

endure half a year of complete idleness, she supposed. She’d heard that the Cereans believed that a pregnant woman should do as little as possible. She didn’t even know that she was pregnant; it just hurt. It wasn’t supposed to be like that; even Myril had said so.

They arrived at the back gate of the temple, and at last Darna was able to get out of the wretched moving chair. The Aralel was waiting for her, arms held wide.

Darna, rather stiffly, let the Aralel her fold her into a warm embrace. After all, she was the leader of all the priestesses in Theranis, the heir of Ara, and one of the wisest women she knew.

“You are not happy to be joining us again?”

Darna couldn’t

say

that she wasn’t, so she just shrugged. “You’ll hardly let me join in the peresi’s work again, will you?”

Gallia overheard that, and out of the corner of her eye Darna could see her appalled expression. Darna didn’t want to spend the whole waning year on her back, but it would pass the time and maybe it would help ease the cramps.

“No,” the Aralel said slowly, “but we’ll try to find something to keep you occupied.”

She wasn’t entirely unaware of Darna’s restlessness, at least.

“Let me say farewell to my armsmen,” Darna said.

The Aralel turned her attention to Forlan and Ferrent. “Are they?”

Darna nodded.

The Aralel lifted her hand, and one of the young priestesses came hurrying over, then scurried away again as Darna made a small bow to Forlan and Ferrent.

“Will you go with Gallia back to Tiadun?” she asked.

Forlan nodded. “And keep an eye on her.”

“Especially going through Getedun,” Ferrent said. “In case your murderous uncle gets loose.”

Darna nodded. It wasn’t likely that the prince of Getedun would let his prisoners free, but then, the princes did have a foolish habit of forgiving the bad debts of their fellow noblemen. Maybe that forgiveness would extend to fratricide and letting foreign rapists run rampant.

“Please do, and return with her at Midwinter, if you would,” she said, knowing that although they were acting as her guardsmen, they answered first to the Enatel.

“We intend to,” Ferrent said, “but we may have other obligations.”

“I see,” Darna said. “Send my regards to Vigda and to the others if you see them.”

Behind her, Gallia cleared her throat. Darna looked up the street to see Kinner running toward them.

“The Chronicler says I may stay at the guild hall,” he said breathlessly. “Will I be able to visit you here?”

The Aralel appeared by Darna’s side and answered for her. “The regent of Tiadun will not be accepting visitors or petitioners.”

Kinner blushed beet red.

“I’m sure that’s not what he had in mind,” Darna muttered under her breath. Kinner blushed even more.

“We will be able to exchange letters,” Darna said. “I’m sure that someone will carry them.”

Kinner nodded. “I’ll ask Eppie.”

“Is she staying in Anamat?” Forlan asked.

Ferrent gave him a quelling look.

The Aralel placed her hand on Darna’s shoulder. “We really must be going inside now, Your Highness.”

“Isn’t the correct form of address ‘Your Ladyship’?” Darna asked as she let the Aralel lead her inside the gates, but the Aralel only shook her head.

The young priestesses had already carried the palanquin to its storage closet. The temple walls rose high and white around her. Stifling as they were, they were beautiful, and at least the back courtyard had always been lively. That morning, it was livelier than ever. Visiting priestesses and quarreling scrapplings were all trying to turn their double shares of festival bread into quadruple shares, while the kitchen priestesses tried to ensure that there was enough for everyone.

As they crossed into the relative quiet of the long passage across the temple, the Aralel spoke again. “I must say, I’m glad that you’ve come to us. It’s quite convenient.”

“I wouldn’t think it would be,” Darna said.

“You’ll stay in the ambassadress’s chamber while she’s beneath the earth.”

“I see.”

“It’s really the only place suitable for a prince, or a regent, and no petitioner will trouble you there.”

The Aralel did not need to say that she had no intention of letting the ambassadress fly. Darna would be the official, acknowledged occupant of the chamber, of the temple-within-the-temple. It would not go fallow, as it was supposed to, and it would be much more acceptable for trays of food and bundles of laundry to come and go than it would be if they had to pretend that no one at all was there.

“Of course, you won’t be able to come out much, if at all. It’s troubling, this whole situation, and I think it best if you don’t mix too much with the…peresi. So many of them have been leaving, and I can’t trust all of them.”

Darna nodded. Myril had said that she’d heard some young women going down to the ships, carrying the temple’s treasure with them. “Haven’t they heard what it’s like in Cerea, even in Ganat?”

The Aralel nodded. “Most likely, but with the crowding here, the absence of the dragons, and the sinking earth, I can’t stop them from going, not in good conscience. You don’t need to worry about them, though. You have your own troubles.”

“I have to worry about something,” Darna said. She wished, again, that they’d let her walk from the palace, to see the streets of Anamat again, and because walking did ease her cramps.

“Worrying about yourself should be plenty,” the Aralel said. They were in a deserted small garden, but she spoke very softly anyway. “And about Iola. She will need company.”

“I’m not good at that,” Darna said.

“Well, then, you’ll have to learn. And there’s always needlework.”

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