Fifty- Five
“The One is the Two is the Sisterhood is the Raven is the Mother Forever!”
CHYR
Because the scabbard hung at his side, Soren kept reaching down to touch the sword and remembering there was none. As the two of them came out again into the clearing, the others were looking at them and Soren saw the new look on Theone’s face. She hadn’t opened her mouth yet, but when he shook his head she nodded. She understood. He could not discuss it. She looked to Anson. Where was their ritual? Who was to confirm them? She felt so unable. Everything was happening around her, and she knew the Prince of Ondres felt the same. She crossed the small space between them and touched his hand.
“We are cousins,” she said. “And soon we will be kings and queens.”
Anson gave her a small, but not entirely convincing smile. All this time Mahonry had been speaking with Ohean and now he said to him, “The time for rags has ended. As Ohean and Iffan opened things, so Iffan and Ohean must end them.”
And he took the cloak from his shoulders even as Ohean put off the old beat up coat, and he placed on Ohean’s back the cloak of white and silver that winked back and forth, and then he handed to Ohean the long and twisting horn and he placed the reins of his white horse in the wizard’s hands and then he said, “With this I leave the world. From now on there will be only four. After today I will not enter this world’s realm again. Gilvaethwy has gone forward and I must go on too.”
And he bowed to Ohean now, and he kissed the younger wizard’s hand and as he did, Anson saw Ohean, ancient for the first time and grand and high, and then Mahonry left, and with him dismounted seven others, and the whole troop of men on the hillside were silent as Mahonry and the seven left. They went deeper and deeper into the woods until finally one of the men said, “And now that is the end of them, and it is our time that is now upon the world.”
And then Conn mounted the dark horse who came to him. Soren and Kenneth mounted their horses, and a horse chose Arvad and one chose Inark, and a kingly one chose Anson and a noble one, Theone, and Ohean mounted Mahonry’s white and positioned himself toward the clearing in which was the pool where Kenneth and Soren had been cleansed.
They all watched Ohean, and he raised the twisted horn to his lips and blew. The sound was clear and strong and deeply tenor. It broke through the trees and blew the birds out of them. And then, rearing up on his stallion, Ohean galloped forward, and Anson was beside him. Next came Conn and Soren came behind and Theone was behind him, and then came Arvad and then Inark and then the whole large, black cloaked and helmeted horde of the Silver Star and of the Gold.
These woods were wide and open. There were hillocks and pools rising and descending and deeply green, mossy places. The companions raced through these, over clumps of grey stone studding the ground and black, cool earth and then up, up and finally out into the broad land.
Down below, the land stretched to a plain, and already, on the plain they could see what seemed like a moving forests and what must have been the hill people. In the distance, always to their left, stretched the eternal blue haze of the Throndon. South of them were tented armies with many banners, and on the sea great ships, cannons extended. It was all too much to take in, though Anson, trying to be something like a king, did. So many troops coming and, as he looked to the south, out of the high hills there, on horses, came more. But they all centered around one, great, long, walled place beside the sea, its towers rising to glint in the sun.
“Yrrmarayn,” Ohean pronounced. “The Crystal City.”
AMBRIDGE
Even in the council hall of Castle Whitestone, deceptively bright with sunshine, they could hear the noises of outrage on the street.
Edith sat alone on the throne her husband had ruled from for thirty years, and the Archbishop of Senae, making his uncomfortable seat beside the Archbishop of Ambridge, noted that the Queen was wearing, not her usual tiara, but the heavy crown of Inglad. The last woman who had worn this on her head had been Ossa, the last Ingladi Queen who, dying without issue, had passed her throne and Inglad into the hands of the House of Hale.
“What is she playing at?” he wondered. “Does she truly think she will sit on the Throne as Queen Regnant?”
Ah, but she does sit on the throne as just that, right now. And will she do it once that child is out of her belly? And is there even a child in her belly? Where is Allyn? Allyn did not take kindly to her announcement. Ah, that one never hid anything well, and he has been gone these many days.
“Your Grace,” the herald began, “shall I give the report of fighting in the west?”
“I do not need you to tell me it will rain tomorrow when I can look out my window, and I do not need you to tell me that the west is lost. I only need to know about my men on the Eastern Strrand.”
“Your Grace, there is a message from the Baron of Richmond saying he is on his way—”
“He has said he is on way!” Edith banged her fist on the stout arm of the throne, “for the last five days.”
Outside the noise was increasing, becoming more panicked. Damn them all.
“He is not coming,” her cousin Ardith said.
Edith’s eyes flashed to the senior member of her family who sat beside her now that Allyn was gone.
“He is not coming,” Ardith said. “None of them will,” the younger woman continued.
“You ought to sue for peace with Osric as soon as you can.”
Sir Roderick entered the hall, baring his sword and saluting the Queen.
“Your Grace!” he called.
The Queen looked down on her lover.
“Roderick?”
“Your brother has returned at the head of an army.”
She rose.
“God be praised,” she began, though she thought, What men, from where? How long could she hold out against a brother at the head of an army? Surely he was still loyal to her? Yes?
“And,” Roderick said, “There is also other news. Visitors.”
“Visitors?”
Edith thought then said, “Send them in, and then we shall go out to greet the Lord Baldwin.
Now, a rather rough, brown cloaked man with a dirty blond beard, and in need of a shave entered. Beside him was a pretty enough girl. They were dressed like nobles pretending to be peasants, for their clothing was fine but plain, and the blond man said:
“At the urging of Queen Myrne Wulfstan and Osric her King, I would ask you to surrender your crown.”
“How dare you!” she snapped.
“Guards! Surround them.”
“Not—” the man lifted a finger, “so quickly. I am Cynric HalfDayne and this is my lady, Hilary. We are cousins and ambassadors to Queen Myrne, and outside of your city now are fifty-thousand soldiers gathered in her name to take your city. You may surrender now, or surrender at the walls. I would, however, leave us unmolested. Things will go much better for you if you do.”
“Watch them,” Edith growled as she stepped down from her throne and left the hall with a detachment of guards.
Left in the hall, surrounded by lords and troops, Cynric turned to Hilary and said, “Are you frightened, my love?”
Hilary looked around the great hall, its lancet windows, its white stone, its many lords, and she said, “This is the least frightened I have ever been in this place.”
From the walls of the city, Edith Baldwin looked down on the soldiers spread across the fields to the River Ahm. But it was was Allyn at the head of the army and he smiled up at her. Like a wolf. They were all bearing the Eagle of House Baldwin, but Allyn turned to them and in a movement, with a gesture, the banners all turned and Edith all but fainted beside Roderick when she saw, not the golden eagle Edmund had adopted to define his reign, nor even the triple crown of House Anred from which Edmund and his brothers had stemmed, but the ancient symbol, the howling grey wolf on white, the original banner of the Wulftans.
“What…” Edith began, trying to rouse herself, “in the world… is…”
“I think,” Roderick said, holding her gently, “when your father died that was when it all began. With you giving Edmund no children, you gave yourself no power. You were never in your husband or the court’s favor. It was then Allyn began to suspect he would never be King. And so, at your bidding, he abducted Edmund. From what I hear it was Edmund who got himself killed, but once Edmund was in Hale, he had to die anyway, and once he was dead. Osric and Myrne had to come for his throne. He had usurped it from their grandfathers. It was his by murder and they were the only heirs to it. Your loyal people and your ties were in North Hale, but North Hale was gone from you. You should have returned there and fought for it. So, when Allyn saw this new stunt, that you would pretend to be pregnant or get yourself pregnant and hold onto power, he threw himself on the mercy of Osric and Myrne and made a deal with the Wulfstans. And there he is.”
“They will make him a puppet king!” Edith fumed.
“No,” Roderick said. “They are mercy, but their mercy is the mercy of wolves. There will be no pupper kings in Inglad. They will make him Lord of Ambury.”
“The burned down bishopric?”
“The city is burned, but it is still a city at the head of a county of cities. And… I do not think it will be a bishopric again.”
Edith shook her head.
“What do I do?”
“Open your gates, my love.”
“And where is this Osric? And where is this Myrne? Could they not even come to their own conquest?”
“The only message I received was a cryptic one,” Roderick told her as they walked the parapet, preparing to come down into the city. “They had other business to attend to.”
“Other business—!” Edith’s voice rose to a howl.
Then she said, “Other business.”
As they walked to the guard tower, Edith Baldwin said, “When I was Queen and high and fair, and she was nothing, I asked Allyn why I feared her. He thought I was foolish.
“But I was right.”
WESTRIAL
“Lady, are you well?”
Isobel blinked. It was true, she had been looking inwardly so long she did not even see the broad sky outside of the carriage, the long, sun bright white clouds or the valley beneath. But the valley was filled with soldiers, and they were a moving army.
“Francis, yes. Thank you,” she told him.
She slipped the letter into her bosom again. Lord Pembroke did not ask what it had said.
Isobel wished she could have ridden on horseback, as she had ridden into the city of Kingsboro when she had come as the bethrothed to King Cedd. But she was too heavily pregnant and, at any road, Cedd hadn’t even wanted her here. She should have been in Kingsboro.
But now the carriage came to a halt, and it was a moment before Isobel said, “Francis?”
“I will see what the matter is,” Francis said, and lightly he leapt from the carriage.
Moments later, the handsome man, far better looking than Anthony, and with a much better personality, held out his hand to the Queen.
“Teryn Wesley has finally returned, and with him the Princess Linalla.”
But when Isobel was carefully lowered from the carriage to stand beside her husband and Anthony, and they saw Teryn riding up the hill they noted two other young men and Cedd said, “That one must be Adrian of Senach, my cousin. The other… I cannot say.”
Soon he learned this was Cody Williams, a herald from Essail sent with the Princess Linalla, and that they had all come to Westrial for safekeeping.
“Which is ironic,” Princess Linalla pronounced, “considering everything. I do not think Mother knew that Edmund would switch his war from the north to the south.”
Linalla looked to Isobel.
“Your Grace,” the Princess said, “I do not believe my mother knew Sussail was so weak.”
“And I did not believe you would enter my country with such an uncivil tongue,” Queen Isobel returned, “considering that, whatever you may one day be, at this time you are a little girl with no crown.”
Linalla’s eyes flashed, but she curtseyed quickly, and Teryn, beside Isobel, whispered, “I missed you, Your Grace.”
“And I you. Friends, together again.”
Teryn looked more moved than she’d ever seen him and she said, “Something happened to you.”
“Isobel, many things happened to me.”
“Including that elfin boy, Cody?”
“He is a great part of it, yes, but not the only part.”
“Will you tell me more, later?” the Queen asked as she went back to the carriage with her long absent steward.
“I will, soon. If you would hear it. My heart is not afraid. Not like it was.”
“Nor is mine,” Isobel said. “We have friends coming.”
She took the letter from her bosom and kissed it.
She had not seen her since the death of King Anthal. Two years younger, a northerner, white as snow but with powerful Royan blood, that girl had been the strongest witch of her year and, with the exception of Isobel, the only princess from the Young Kingdoms schooled at the Rootless Isles. Many nights had they sat up talking before life had taken them their separate ways. For the last year and a half, Isobel had reigned in Kingsboro and watched Myrne Herreboro’s progress from a distance, her heart aching for her old friend. Two days ago, though, she had received the letter with the news of the imminent conquest of Ambridge and the one line she treasured and reread even now.
“Sister, I am on my way.”
