Page 306 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

He could not even summon a croak. His body was a nerveless thing, unmoving and cold.

“I suppose you must be confused.” Her lips were red as apples. “I am sorry to have brought you so far, but you were very close to dying. I find the loss of life distasteful.” She laid a glacial hand on his head. “Let me explain. I am of the Firstblood, like Neporo, whose story you read in Komoridu. I ate of the hawthorn tree when Inys had no queen.”

Even if Niclays had been able to speak in more than whimpers, he would not have known what to say in the presence of this being. Laya held him tighter, shivering.

“I suppose you know where you are. I imagine it frightens you, but this is a safe place. I have been preparing it, you see. For spring.” Kalyba teased a wisp of hair back from his eyes. “The Nameless One came here after Cleolind wounded him. He bid me find an artist to paint the story, to show how it was on that day in Lasia. So he might always remember.”

Niclays might have thought her mad, had he not felt mad himself. All this had to be a nightmare.

“Immortality is my gift,” Kalyba whispered. “Unlike Neporo, I learned to share it. Even restore the dead to life.”

Jannart.

Her breath was the chill of high winter. Niclays gazed at her, mesmerized by her eyes.

“I know you are an alchemist. Let me share the gift with you. Show you how to unknit the seams of age. I could teach you how to build a man from the ashes of his bones.”

Her face began to change. The green in her eyes drained to gray, and her hair turned red as blood.

“All I need,” said Jannart, “is one small favor in return.”

It was the first time in many decades that the House of Berethnet had received the rulers of the South. Ead was on Sabran’s right, watching them.

Jantar Taumargam, who was called the Splendid, was as much of a presence as his epithet implied. He was not imposing in the physical sense; he was fine-boned, slim as a feather, almost delicate at first glance—but his eyes were dungeons. Once he had you in his gaze, you were his until he let it go. He wore a brocaded sapphire robe with a high collar, closed with a gold belt. His queen, Saiyma, was already on her way to Brygstad.

Beside him was the High Ruler of Lasia.

At five and twenty, Kagudo Onjenyu was the youngest monarch in the known world, but her bearing made it clear that those who took her lightly would pay a heavy toll. Her skin was a deep brown. Cowry shells encircled her neck and wrists, and each of her fingers gleamed with gold. A shawl of sea silk, knitted in the Kumenga fashion, draped her shoulders. Four sisters of the Priory had been assigned to defend her since the day she was born.

Not that Kagudo needed much defending. Rumor had it she was as great a warrior as Cleolind had been.

“As you know, the Mentish land army is small,” Sabran was saying. “The wolfcoats of Hróth will be a great help, as will their navy on my side of this battle, but more soldiers are needed.” She paused to breathe. Combe gave her a concerned look. “You both have soldiers and weapons at your disposal, strong enough to damage Sigoso’s armies.”

There were dark circles under her eyes. She had insisted on rising to greet the Southern rulers, but Ead knew her skin was still on fire.

Tané was bed bound with her own fever. She had eaten of the fruit. Sabran had wanted the Easterner present, but it was best that she slept. She would need her strength for the task ahead.

“The Ersyr does not hold with conflict,” Jantar said. “The Dawnsinger spoke against war. But if the rumors spreading across my country are true, it seems we have no choice but to take up arms.”

The Southern monarchs had arrived under cover of night. Next they would join Saiyma in Brygstad to confer with High Princess Ermuna. It was too much of a risk to discuss strategy by letter.

None of the rulers wore their crowns. At this table, they faced each other as equals.

“Cárscaro has never been taken,” Kagudo commented. There was a richness to her voice that made everyone sit up a little straighter. “The Vetalda built it in the mountains with good reason. An approach across the volcanic plain would be madness.”

“I agree.” Jantar leaned forward to study the map. “The Spindles are riddled with wyrms.” He tapped a finger on it. “Yscalin has natural defenses on all sides but one. Its border with Lasia.”

Kagudo looked at the map without changing her expression.

“Lord Arteloth Beck was in the Palace of Salvation in the summer,” Sabran said. “He learned that the people of Cárscaro are not willing servants of the Nameless One. If we can remove King Sigoso, Cárscaro will fall from within, perhaps bloodlessly.” She pointed to the city on the map. “There is a siege passage that runs underneath the palace. The Donmata Marosa is apparently an ally, and she may be able to help from inside. If a small group of soldiers could fight their way to the passage and enter the palace before the main assault begins, you could put an end to Sigoso.”

“That will not kill the wyrms that defend Cárscaro,” Kagudo said.

A servant came to pour them all more wine. Ead declined. She needed a clear head.

“You should know, Sabran,” Kagudo continued, “that I would not affix my seal to this siege were it not crucial to Lasia. Frankly, the idea that we should sacrifice our soldiers to a grand diversion while you face the Nameless One is questionable. You have decided that we will fight the kittens, and you the cat, though he would come for me just as quickly as you.”

“The diversion was my suggestion, Majesty,” Ead said.

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