Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [212]
“Not at the moment,” Burek said, lifting his arm slightly in its sling. “But some of it, yes.”
“I would rather go back to minding the wine production,” Meddthal said. “But my father needs me here, so here I am.”
“I don’t want war,” Burek said. “What little I saw of Siniava’s War … no one sane wants that. But I do think wars come, want them or no—”
“Someone wants them, or they wouldn’t—”
“True enough. Alured does, I think. Some demon drives men like him and Siniava. But there will always be brigands, even without a war, and someone must protect the farmers and merchants from them.”
Chaya, Lyonya
Kieri woke with a start, as if someone had touched him with a coal. A vision of fire glittering on dark water, ships of fire … and the taig, roiled with fear.
He was out of bed before he knew it, sword in hand, feet planted firmly on the carpet. The sword steadied him, even as its jewel flared brightly in the dark room. Where? Where was the menace? It must be the Pargunese coming across the Honnorgat, but upstream or down?
And had the Pargunese king betrayed him? Or been overthrown? He reached out to the taig as he had done before, this time to steady it.
I am here. Your king is with you.
A knock on the door.
“Come,” he said aloud.
“Sir King, I felt something—” It was Berne, one of the half-elven Squires.
“And I,” Kieri said. “North—the Pargunese are across the river, bringing fire.”
“What will you do?”
“Dress,” Kieri said. “I can’t do much like this—” He glanced down at his winter bed gown and his bare feet and gave Berne a rueful grin. As he’d hoped, Berne chuckled, a bit nervously. “It’s not my first war,” Kieri said. “Send to the kitchen—we’ll need hot food as soon as possible—and to the stable—we’ll need horses prepared for couriers. Also Garris: he has the Squire roster. I’ll be dressed and down by the time you’re done.”
As he lit the candles—by this time he had enough control of his powers to do that by magery alone—he wondered what prompted an attack now, at this moment. Had the Pargunese king turned against him? Unlikely, he thought. Had he been killed by his wicked brother? Possibly … though the reports he’d had regularly from the king had indicated he felt he was making some headway and wasn’t in flight for his life.
Reports days old. Much could have happened, including the king’s brother making an attack out of panic. Kieri reached out to the taig again, this time to call the Lady. She would have felt the disturbance, he was sure, and in this crisis he must ignore the anger he still felt against her. But he could feel nothing—had she, in her anger, locked herself away from him completely? Surely she would come, with the taig in danger.
He dressed quickly, mail under his outer garments, shirt, doublet, and capelet all in the royal colors, boots, and the day-crown he usually wore only for semiformal audiences. His people needed to see their king looking calm and regal … but martial, too. When he opened his door again, the Squires posted there looked worried. He smiled at them.
“Whoever ordered the attack cannot know how quickly word reached us,” he said to them. “Remember, even the king of Pargun does not know about our taig-sense, or all the details of our deployments. I do not think this is his treachery, which means the attackers know almost nothing. They will think they can gain a foothold before we even hear about it.”
“But what will we do?” Berne asked.
“Eat breakfast,” Kieri said. “Never fight a war on an empty stomach.”
Downstairs, servants scurried about; all seemed a confused bustle. Garris, his face blurry with sleep, at least had his uniform on straight as he came out of his office. “Is it war, Sir King?”
“I believe so, yes,” Kieri said. “It seems someone in Pargun still seeks to burn us out.”
“You’ll want to send for Aliam Halveric, then—”
“Indeed. It is a shame to wrest him from a home still under repair, but I need him and his troops. And we’ll need the rangers from the southern borders—and the west as well—but