Shapers of Darkness

Chapter Eleven

Dantrielle, Aneira

Rumors chased one another through the streets of Dantrielle like demons on the Night of Bian, whispering darkly to frightened peddlers, driving children back into the relative safety of their homes, leaving men and women to do little more than go about their lives in glum silence while casting wary glances at the great castle in whose shadow they dwelled. Many said that the Solkaran army already marched toward the city, a thousand strong, with swordsmen and archers in equal number. Others claimed that the host was closer to two thousand, for it included a horde of laborers who had been trained to build siege engines from the trees of the Great Forest. Still others were heard to say that all these men were led by the regent himself, Numar of Renbrere, who had labeled the duke and all his followers as traitors to the realm, and who had sworn that he would not rest until the city and castle had been reduced to rubble.

Tebeo had heard all of these tales, and though his scouts in the north had yet to bring word of the Solkaran army’s latest movements, he knew with the certainty of a man facing his own doom that every one of them was true. He had dispatched his fastest riders three days before, on the fifth morning of the waxing, sending one each to Bistari, Orvinti, Kett, Tounstrel, and Noltierre. All carried messages pleading with his fellow dukes to send their armies to his aid.

He had little hope that Silbron of Bistari would offer any reply at all; the young duke, Chago’s son, had already declared to Brall his intention to keep Bistari neutral in this struggle. Brall would have only just arrived back in Orvinti from his travels. Like Tebeo, he had spent a good deal of time away from his home, trying to convince the others to join their efforts. It would be a few days at least before he was ready to lead his army southward. But Tebeo hoped and expected that the others would respond swiftly and in force. If they didn’t, Dantrielle might not be able to endure the regent’s assault for more than half a turn.

Standing atop the tallest of Castle Dantrielle’s eight towers with Evanthya and his master of arms, Tebeo tried to banish such thoughts from his mind. “The castle of his fathers might not have been as grand as Castle Solkara, nor as powerfully fortified, but still it was not without its defenses. Situated within sight of the confluence of the Rassor and Black Sand rivers, the castle could not easily be attacked from the west or south, or even directly from the north. Any army that attempted to ford the rivers so close to the castle walls would be within range of Tebeo’s archers. Numar’s assault would have to come from the northeast, and since the castle stood at that end of the city, its red stone walls would bear the brunt of the attack, which was as it should be. These walls were as thick as any in the realm, and the three portcullises that blocked the outer gate had been fashioned centuries ago of iron and the Great Forest’s hardiest oak.

Tebeo tried to draw comfort from all of this, and from the banner that flew just above him bearing the red, black, and gold sigil of his house. The Flame in the Night, the fire that endured; a brilliant golden blaze burning above the red towers. The crest dated from the clan wars, when the castle had survived numerous sieges led by the rival families. But Dantrielle’s reputation had not been tested for hundreds of years, and neither had the castle walls.

While Tebeo was staring at the banner rising and falling in the wind, Bausef DarLesta, the duke’s master of arms, was saying something about the towers and the positioning of Dantrielle’s archers. Tebeo had long since lost the thread of whatever point he was trying to make.

“Forgive me, Bausef,” he said, interrupting, “but my mind must have wandered. I’m afraid you’ll have to begin again.”

The master or arms was a capable soldier and, according to some, the finest swordsman in the realm. Certainly he looked the part. He towered over both Evanthya and Tebeo, his long, sinewy limbs making his every movement seem effortless and balanced. Like so many of the men who served under him in Dantrielle’s army, he had shaved his head, and with his thick black beard and mustache, his face had a severe look, more like that of a brigand than a swordsman in a noble’s court.

He glanced at Evanthya now, frowning slightly at the duke’s admission.

“I was saying, my lord, that you should resist the temptation to place all our bowmen on the northern and eastern towers.”

“But isn’t that where the attack is most likely to come?”

“Yes, my lord,” Bausef said, sounding increasingly impatient. “But as I was just saying, it wouldn’t surprise me if the regent tried to surprise us by sending part of his force to the south or west. Even if he keeps the Solkaran army together, he may try to have Rassor’s men flank us.”

Tebeo nodded, seeing the logic in this. The duke considered himself an accomplished statesman, and, though not prone to immodesty, believed that his intellect was as keen as that of any duke in the realm. But he had never been a strategic thinker and had not had cause to train himself in military tactics. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing that he had.

“Won’t he send Rassor’s army north, to the Tarbin?” he asked, hoping that he didn’t sound too foolish.

“Most of it, yes. But with Solkara menacing Dantrielle, the duke of Rassor has nothing to fear from us or our allies. He can afford to leave only a small contingent of men guarding his castle. Even a few hundred of his soldiers attacking the city walls might prove devastating to our defenses.”

“You’re right of course. Have two hundred archers positioned on the city walls overlooking the rivers. That should leave us enough to guard the castle, shouldn’t it?”

“More than enough. Very good, my lord.”

Tebeo turned and crossed the turret so that he could look down on the castle wards. The quartermaster was shouting commands to an army of laborers and soldiers who carried stores to the various towers. Other men gathered weapons-spare swords and shields, axes and pikes, quivers filled with newly made arrows and crossbow bolts. Dantrielle usually seemed a rather quiet castle, almost peaceful. For the last several days, though, it had teemed as if in frenzy, like a nest of ants uncovered by an inquisitive child.

“The provisioning goes well?” Tebeo asked.

This time it was Evanthya who answered. “Yes, my lord. We still have ample stores from the last harvest. The snows were hard, but the growing season was generous. We have food enough to feed the army and the city for two turns.”

Two turns. He could hardly fathom fighting a war for two turns, much less withstanding a siege for so long. “That’s fine, First Minister,” he said. ‘Thank you.”

“Shall we leave you, my lord?” Evanthya asked.

He shrugged, unsure of whether he wished to be alone. “Is there anything else we need to discuss, Bausef?”

“No, my lord. I have men preparing vats of pitch and lime. And we’ll have plenty of fire pots for the gates.” The armsmaster grinned. “We’ll be ready for them, my lord. I promise you that.”

Tebeo nodded, struck by the avid gleam in the man’s dark eyes. Clearly, Bausef was looking forward to this battle. The duke felt only dread.

“Thank you, Bausef. I have great faith in you and your men.”

“They’re your men, my lord, and serve you, as do I. We’ll fight to the death to preserve this house.”

Tebeo didn’t know what to say.

“I have but one request, my lord.”

“Anything,” he said, eager to give this man whatever he could.

“The yellow and red of Aneira should be flying above Dantrielle’s banners on all eight towers. You know that the regent will be riding under the colors of the realm, claiming that he fights for Aneira. We have every right to make the same claim, and it will hearten the men to see both banners over our walls.”

Tebeo felt privileged to be served by such a man. “See to it immediately, armsmaster.”

Bausef bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

Tebeo watched the man go, shaking his head slightly. “Would that I could feel so sure of what we were about to do.”

“You should,” Evanthya said.

“We’re going to lose a lot of good men. We may lose the war.”

“I don’t think so. The loss of life on both sides will be terrible. I’ve no illusions about that. But I believe the realm will suffer more if the regent prevails and this alliance with the empire continues.” Somehow she managed a smile, albeit a sad one. “You’re doing what needs to be done, my lord. Don’t doubt that.”

“And if Brall and the others don’t arrive in time?”

“You must have faith that they will.”

He walked back to the outer wall, knowing that she was right, feeling unworthy of those who served him.

“It would be better if they reached our walls before the Solkarans.”

‘They might not,” she said evenly. “In which case, our preparations will be tested.”

He looked at her briefly. “You speak of these matters with such certainty, First Minister. Have you gleaned anything about this war?”

“No, my lord. Nothing. If I had, I would have told you. Good or bad.”

“Of course.”

“We have men watching the roads and the rivers, my lord. You should take this opportunity to rest. Once the siege begins there will be precious little time for that.”

“What was your impression of Brall and Fetnalla during their recent visit?” he asked, ignoring her counsel for the moment, though he knew it was wise.

She looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “My lord?”

“I know I’m putting you in a difficult spot, Evanthya. No doubt your love for the first minister colors your perceptions of the duke. He’s been distrustful of her for some time now, too much so in my view. But this tension between them is about to become far more dangerous than it’s ever been. Before it pained us both, but now, with this war, it threatens our very lives.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I actually had the impression that their rapport had improved in the interval between this most recent visit and our previous stay in Orvinti. Did you, as well?”

Evanthya shrugged. “Fetnalla still spoke of the duke’s suspicions, and she seemed as angry with him as ever. They were in agreement when it came to standing firm against the regent, but I’m not certain that they had reconciled beyond that.”

She started to say more, then appeared to reconsider.

“Out with it, First Minister. Please. This is no time for secrets between us.”

A gust of wind made her white hair dance about her face, and she brushed it back from her brow. “Fetnalla’s resentment runs deep, my lord. She knows that Lord Orvinti was having her watched. She looks for reasons to defy him. Even if the duke were to try to bridge the rift between them, I’m not sure that Fetnalla would welcome his overtures.”

“Do you think she’d betray him?”

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible half a year ago. But now. .” She shook her head. “I don’t know, my lord.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to hear, Evanthya.”

The minister actually grinned. “When have I ever told you anything simply because I thought you wanted to hear it?”

He tipped his head, acknowledging the point. “Very well. Thank you for your honesty. As I said before, I know that it couldn’t have been an easy question to answer.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He started to walk away, then paused. “What about us?” he asked. “We’ve had some difficult conversations in recent turns. Should I be concerned about our rapport.”

“I can’t speak for you, my lord, but for my part, there’s no other duke in the realm I’d rather serve.”

Tebeo raised an eyebrow. “Given the other dukes in the realm, I’m not certain how to take that.”

Evanthya laughed.

“Thank you, First Minister.”

“My lord, wait,” she said, as he turned to leave.

Tebeo faced her again. Her cheeks had reddened, and it almost seemed to the duke that she wished she had let him go.

“There’s something I have to tell you, my lord.”

“Oh?”

“I hadn’t intended to, but with the regent’s army marching on Dantrielle. .”

I might not have another opportunity. The words hung between them like a storm cloud. “You’re scaring me, First Minister.”

“Forgive me, my lord. That’s not my intent.” She lowered her gaze, swallowed. “Several turns ago, before King Carden’s death, Fetnalla and I decided the time had come for us to oppose the conspiracy, to do something more than listen for rumors and watch other Qirsi for signs of treachery. I. . I went to the city, to the Red Boar, and I hired a blade to kill a man in the north whom we suspected was a traitor.”

“Demons and fire, Evanthya!”

“I know how it sounds, my lord. But we honestly believed that we were doing the right thing.”

“An assassin? You’re a minister in a noble house! My house!”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Under Aneiran law, you could be executed for this!”

“I know that, my lord. And if you choose to imprison me, I’ll understand. But as you said just a moment ago, there shouldn’t be any secrets between us.”

Tebeo passed a hand over his brow, shaking his head. “An assassin,” he said again.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“Did the man you hired know who you were?”

“I believe he reasoned it out, yes.”

“Damn.”

“But I think he also knew that I was acting on my own rather than as an agent of House Dantrielle.”

He nodded. “I suppose that’s something.” He regarded her for several moments, noting as he had so many times before how young she looked. In point of fact, she was young. For all their power, her people lived shorter lives than did the Eandi, which meant that they sometimes shouldered burdens at a more tender age than was appropriate. “I’m disappointed in you, Evanthya. I’ve no doubt that you and Fetnalla were doing what you thought was best, but I have to question your methods.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I’ve no intention of imprisoning you-I think you know that-but I trust that in the future you’ll fight your battles with the conspiracy in more. . acceptable ways.”

“I will, my lord. You have my word.”

They lapsed into silence, the duke grappling with his curiosity. In the end, he was no match for it.

“What happened?”

“My lord?”

“Is the traitor dead?”

“Yes, my lord. I received word from the assassin shortly after our return from the king’s funeral.”

“Well, I suppose we should be thankful for that.”

“Yes, my lord.” Another silence. Then, “You should rest, my lord, while you can.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Thank you, Evanthya.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Tebeo stepped past her and descended the tower stairs to the corridor on which his chambers were located. He knew better than to try to sleep; even at night, recently, he found that he could do little more than doze off occasionally. Mostly he lay awake, attempting to anticipate Numar’s plans and scouring his mind for anything he might have forgotten as he readied his city and castle for civil war.

Rather than returning to his bedchamber, he went in search of Pelgia. He found her in the kitchens, overseeing the kitchenmaster’s work.

She smiled at the sight of him, though the strain of these past several days was evident on her face. There were dark circles under her eyes; her cheeks looked leaner than usual, and paler as well. Still, even wan and weary, she was lovely, and he wondered briefly if it would be unseemly for a duke and his wife to take to their bed on the eve of a war.

He walked to where she stood and took her hand, kissing her brow. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded. “Yes. There’ll be food enough, anyway.”

“Good.” He raised her hand to his lips, drawing her gaze. “Walk with me?”

They left the kitchen and walked slowly along the lower corridor, as soldiers hurried past them in either direction.

“Where are the children?” he asked after some time.

“In the cloister. Tas wants to fight, but I’ve told him that he has to wait another year. And of course Laytsa says that if her brother can raise a sword, she can as well.”

Tebeo gave a small laugh, but it gave way instantly to a deep frown. “Everyone is so eager to fight this war. Is there something wrong with me that I’m not?”

“Tas is a year shy of his Fating, Tebeo. And Laytsa’s just past her Determining. They don’t know any better.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I realize that. But to hear Evanthya and Bausef speak of what’s coming, you’d think that our victory was assured. I should be able to speak of it the same way.”

“You’re not a warrior,” she said, slipping her arm through his. “You never have been. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“Dantrielle needs a warrior right now.” He knew this was true, and it made him feel old and weak. Bausef seemed ready to raise his sword against the entire Solkaran army. And Evanthya was so eager for blood that she had already tried to take on the conspiracy by herself. I hired a blade. .

“No,” Pelgia said. “Dantrielle needs a duke, a man with wisdom and compassion and strength. And you possess all those in abundance.”

Fearing that he might weep, the duke halted and kissed her deeply, heedless of the men who continued to step past them.

When at last he pulled away, she smiled, though there was a troubled look in her eyes. “You’re frightened,” she whispered.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“I think you should take to heart the confidence of your first minister and master of arms. If they thought that we were about to be destroyed, they’d tell you to find some path to peace. Your army and your people are strong, my lord. And though you doubt it now, you are as well.”

He gazed at her in wonder. “I believe you may be strong enough for us both.”

“One doesn’t endure four labors and the loss of a babe without finding some strength.”

He nodded, stroking her cheek with a finger. “When it begins, I want you in the cloister as well. The tower is farthest from where much of the fighting will be, and it will be well defended. I’ll see to that.”

“The kitchenmaster will need my help, Tebeo. And so will the healers. A duchess doesn’t hide from war.”

“Even when her husband commands it?”

She grinned, dark eyes sparkling in the torchlight. “Especially then.”

He had to laugh, despite the terror gripping his heart. If you’re hurt or lost to me, I’ll kill the regent myself. “Very well,” he said. “But the next time Laytsa defies you, you’ll have no sympathy from me.”

“And when have I ever had it before?”

He laughed again. She had always been able to make him smile, even in the darkest times.

“I should return to the towers,” he said, reluctant to leave her.

“When was the last time you slept?”

He frowned. “You sound like Evanthya.”

“You should sleep now, while you can.”

He kissed her once more and started away. “If I could sleep I would.”

Concern creased her brow, but she nodded, giving his hand a quick squeeze before releasing it.

Suddenly he was anxious to be on the ramparts again, watching for Numar and his army. Instead, Tebeo made his way to the cloister. Having seen Pelgia, he wished to hold his children once more as well. Reaching the entrance to the abbey, however, he heard laughter coming from within: Senaon, his youngest. A moment later he also heard Laytsa. He could almost picture Tas smiling with the others. His oldest boy had always been the quiet one. They were happy, unafraid. Even knowing that the siege was coming-he had spoken of it with them just two days before-they managed to find humor and joy in one another. Who was he to interfere, to bring the shadow of war to their play?

He merely stood near the door, listening to them. After several moments, the prelate emerged from his sanctum. Seeing the duke, he stopped and opened his mouth to speak.

Tebeo raised a finger to his lips and shook his head.

Another peal of laughter echoed through the cloister, and the prelate smiled, walking to where the duke stood.

“They forget the war, my lord,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Just as they should.”

“Thank you, Father Prelate.”

“Of course, my lord. You know they’re welcome here as long as you wish them to stay. And should the battle come to these walls, I’ll guard them myself.” His grin broadened at what he saw on Tebeo’s face. “You think it an idle boast. I was quite a swordsman as a youth, and I daresay I can still fight if pressed to do so.”

Tebeo had always remained partial to the sanctuaries, even as Pelgia turned increasingly to the cloisters and the New Faith. He liked this prelate, though, and had since the prelacy passed to him nine years ago.

“I have no doubt that you can, Father Prelate. It will ease my mind knowing that our children are under your care.”

“You honor me, my lord.”

“The cloister has all it needs in the event of a siege?”

“It does, my lord. The duchess has seen to that. She’s a most extraordinary woman.”

“Indeed, she is. But she’s also headstrong and she speaks of helping the healers and the kitchenmaster.” He hesitated, but only for an instant. “If the walls are breached-”

“They’ll hold, my lord.”

“But if they don’t, I want you to find her and get her into the cloister.”

“You ask a great deal, my lord. I’m not afraid of the Solkarans, but the duchess is another matter.”

Tebeo had to smile. The gods had favored his house with so many fine people. “Do your best, Father Prelate. I can’t ask more than that.”

“You know I will, my lord.” He looked like he might say more, but at that moment, bells began to toll throughout the city.

Let it be Brall. But as quickly as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. Even if his friend and the Orvinti army had already begun their march they would have to cross two rivers to reach Dantrielle, and that would slow them considerably. Perhaps the duke of Tounstrel had come, or the duke of Noltierre. Most likely, it was the regent with the Solkaran army.

“Ean guard you, my lord,” the prelate said. “And may Orlagh guide your blade.”

Tebeo turned and hurried toward the tower stairs. “A strange blessing coming from a man of the cloisters,” he said over his shoulder.

“At times like these, I believe it best to have as many gods and goddesses on one’s side as possible.”

An instant later Tebeo was in the tower, taking its stairs two at a time. Once on the wall, he hurried around to where Evanthya and Bausef stood, their eyes fixed on the lands to the north.

Following the line of their gazes, he felt his stomach heave. A grand army was approaching from the northeast, marching under two flags: the yellow and red banner of Aneira, and the red, gold, and black of Solkara. Glancing quickly overhead, the duke saw that Bausef had already managed to have Aneiran banners raised above all eight towers.

As the pealing of the bells continued to reverberate through the castle, ward fires were lit atop the towers, and archers emerged from the stairways, spreading out along the walls as if they had repelled sieges a thousand times before.

“Your men are well prepared, armsmaster.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

The three of them fell silent, all of them marking the army’s progress toward the walls of Dantrielle. It seemed a far larger force than Tebeo had expected, and the duke had to remind himself that Numar would have brought laborers to build his siege engines. Still, in order to make the journey, all of them would have to be able-bodied. And once their axes were done cutting trees, they could be used as weapons.

“I would have thought that they would burn the villages in your countryside,” Evanthya said. “But I see no smoke.”

“The regent has declared the duke a traitor,” Bausef answered before Tebeo could say anything. “He wishes to win the hearts and minds of Dantrielle’s subjects. He’ll destroy the city and fortress if he can, but he’ll do nothing to anger those outside our walls. Unless of course they join the fight on our behalf.”

Tebeo heard a voice cry out, and looking at the Solkarans once more, he saw one of the few mounted men raise a hand. Numar. The army halted well beyond the range of Dantrielle’s bowmen. A moment later, far sooner than the duke would have thought possible, he heard the faint ringing of steel on wood as they began their assault on the Great Forest.

“It will take them some time to build their engines.” The armsmaster’s voice was calm, as if he were speaking of the plantings. “Days perhaps, and even when they’re ready to start, I’d imagine they’ll wait until darkness falls. I don’t expect the siege to begin in earnest until tomorrow night, or perhaps the night after that. Tonight, I would expect them to test the defenses of the city walls. That’s where our men should be for now.”

Tebeo just stared at the regent’s army, once again regretting that he hadn’t taken more time in his youth to study tactics. “Can you tell if the archminister is with them, First Minister?”

“No, my lord, I can’t.”

“I would expect that he is. Do you know what powers he possesses?”

“Not with any certainty, my lord. I remember hearing once that he was a shaper and that he also had the magic of mists and winds. But this was little more than rumor. Qirsi rarely reveal what powers they possess, and the archminister and I have never been close.”

He knew that she was understating the case quite a bit. As he understood it, the two disliked and distrusted each other.

“We should assume that he has both powers, my lord,” said the master of arms. “One shaper against so many bowmen shouldn’t be too great a problem, but his mists will make it more difficult for us.”

“I’ve mists and winds as well,” Evanthya said. “Perhaps I can raise a gale against his mist.”

Tebeo nodded, but said nothing. Already several trees had fallen and other laborers were scrambling over them, cutting away the branches and notching the wood so that the trunks could be used as rams, or in the building of a snare.

“Shall I move some of the men to the city walls, my lord?”

“Yes, Bausef. Make certain they understand, however, that they’re not to loose any arrows until they’ve been fired upon.”

“My lord?”

“We’re not traitors, armsmaster. The regent brings this war to us, and I will not have Dantrielle spilling the first blood.”

“Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but that’s madness. This is a siege. If we wait to loose our arrows until the Solkarans have drawn first blood, our archers will be of no use to us. We must fire first. It’s our only hope of keeping the regent’s soldiers from our gates and our walls.”

He was right, of course. Tebeo could see the logic of his point. Yet, still the duke hesitated. “This war is their doing, not ours. The history of this siege should reflect that.”

Even as he spoke the words, though, he remembered an old warrior’s adage. “Orlagh chooses the hand that will write each battle’s tale,” it was said. “History is but another spoil of war.”

Evanthya gazed at the duke, her expression pained. “I have to agree with Bausef, my lord.”

The bells had stopped ringing, and the only sounds Tebeo could hear were made by the banners rising and falling overhead, and the Solkaran axes ravaging his forest.

“My lord?”

Before he could say anything, the bells began to ring again, beginning this time at the eastern end of the city. Tebeo ran along the wall, to the other side of the castle, followed closely by Evanthya and the swordsman. He hadn’t yet reached the far tower when he heard a cheer go up from Numar’s men. When he gained the tower, he scanned the woods, searching for some sign of what the enemy had seen.

“There!” Evanthya cried, pointing to a gap in the forest, due east of the castle.

Tebeo saw it as well. A second army was approaching the city, this one marching under a green and white banner. Rassor.

It wasn’t as large a force as Numar’s, but then again, it didn’t have to be.

“The siege might begin this night after all,” Evanthya muttered.

Bausef faced him, looking far more somber than he had a few moments before. “Your orders, my lord?”

Where was Brall? Where were Ansis and Vistaan and Bertin the Younger?

“See to the city walls, armsmaster,” Tebeo said, his mouth so dry he could barely speak. “Tell your men to loose their arrows at the enemy’s first approach.”