Heirs of the Blade_ Shadows of the Apt_ Book Seven - Adiran Tchaikovsky [150]
‘And the Monarch will recognize your efforts, Princess?’ Lowre Cean asked sardonically. ‘And what has Felipe Shah to say about this?’
‘I have sent to him for aid,’ Elass returned, quite calmly. ‘Our prince has written to me: he declines to come. He will not support us, for all our cause is plainly a righteous one.’
‘And does he give any reason?’
Elass considered the terse missive she had received back from her liege, the Prince-Major. ‘None,’ she said, which was both true and false. Suffice to say that half of Felipe Shah’s reasons had been incomprehensible, the other half anathema.
There was a pause, into which Lowre was clearly being invited to add something more, but he held his peace.
Elass nodded. ‘Our southern border is heavily wooded, and the brigands take advantage of this to more easily cross into and out of our lands. Already four villages have suffered their depredations. That is where we must meet them: we must scout them even as they venture forth to raid. We must follow them back to their dens. We must drive them from the trees and ever southwards. We must capture their leaders, kill any that follow them. We will deliver the Monarch’s justice that these wretches believe is sleeping.’ Again she glanced at Lowre Cean. ‘Does our strategist have any wise counsel? Your victories against the Wasps are well remembered.’
‘I am not your strategist,’ Lowre said tiredly. ‘Make your own plans.’
Elass’s mouth tightened into a thin line. ‘My son will fly for the border, taking with him a band of our best, to deliver a message to these criminals that they will clearly understand. He will make a severe example of whoever he can catch. By the time our main force has joined him, the bandits shall no doubt have lost their stomach for the fight. And I believe, Prince Cean, there is one amongst your household who wishes to accompany Alain.’
Lowre Cean’s face was stony, but he said nothing.
‘Maker Tynise,’ Elass named the girl, ‘you see here beside me my champion.’ A nod towards Isendter, who had knelt motionless throughout. ‘My son will lead the attack on these villains. Will you be his huntress, his champion, when he does so?’
She could see the Lowlander wanting to glance at Lowre for his reaction, but she had said ‘Yes,’ already, her response following eagerly and inevitably after Elass’s question. Lamplight glittered, caught on the badge that she wore.
Elass smiled pleasantly at her, saving the razored edge of her expression for the old man opposite her. Oh, I know, my Prince. Felipe Shah had apparently sent a personal request to his old friend Cean, to look after this girl. Elass had no idea why the Lowlander was so important, whether she might be some great dignitary whose death would tarnish Shah’s honour, or whether this represented just one more inexplicable fragment of sentiment from the prince. But it is enough that I have taken her from them. Let them fret, and now let her live or die by her skills.
Staring across the room at Lowre Cean, Elass knew the old man could read all of these thoughts in her face. She revealed them there clearly, just for him. I will turn you to my purpose, my Prince, she reflected. When I asked you on to my lands I sought a hero, not this senile wreck of a man I see before me. You shall either recover your earlier glories or I shall strip you of all you have. And as for Felipe Shah . . .
The girl, Tynisa, had first arrived at her door with news of her son, Salme Dien. As always, the foreigners did not understand how life was amongst a civilized people. She had no such son, nor had she