The only choice he had was whose mercy he would beg.
***
Year 827 of the Divine House of Agnephus
To Her Grace Liliet, Duchess of Ereguil, at the estate of Mimosa in Segoile, from Duchess Ophele Andelin at Tresingale Manor in the duchy of Andelin:
This must be the last letter before we depart for the city, so when next we speak, it will be in person. I cannot thank you enough for meeting us there, and please pass my gratitude to Duke Ereguil as well. You may say it is nothing, but as I watch all the preparations for our own journey, I can see very wellhow much work it must have been. You are both so good to come all that way, and offer us refuge.
Some of my gowns were sent ahead, so I have taken a page from your book and sent a few gifts with them, as thanks for the lovely presents you gave us when we moved into the house. We haven’t many shops in Tresingale yet, but we do have skilled craftsmen. I am certain you will receive the box before this letter, so I am spoiling no surprises when I tell you the two vases were made by our own Master Peltier, who is apparentlyfamous!
Now, let me tell you what Remin did to me. All these months I have been chattering away to Master Peltier like he was justanyone,and asking him questions, and no doubt making a nuisance of myself, and I even invited him to luncheon so he and the brick-makers could argue about kilns, never dreaming that he is one of the Empire’s Great Masters!
I only found out because Master Didion—another Great Master—happened by when we were talking about dishes for the house and told me that Duke Berebet promised Master Peltier the moon, trying to get him to stay in Oleron. But Remin bribed him with exclusive rights to our Brede River pink clay, and so here he is, and I might have died right there when I realized we had someone so important in the valley. Why, I even shouted at him once, when he was ill and wouldn’t take his medicine.
Isn’t that just too mean, for Remin not to tell me?
But I see what you mean, about placating our artisans, for I would be ashamed to lose Master Peltier now that we have him, and I will be on the lookout for any other craftsmen we might acquire. I don’t know how everyone can bear to do this every year, leaving their folk at home to go to the capital for months and months. I have so many lists, and yet I am sure to forget something.
Mionet says it will only make it sweeter when we come back, for then there will be birthday parties and festivals and blessings for the new babies to come, for there are a few ladies expecting. We will have a harvest festival this autumn, and then some other ritual before we depart to bless the fields for planting.
Do you have such rituals in Ereguil? Oh, I wish you and I might have some time to talk before we leave the capital! Everyone acts as if I should know what blessing the fields is, and I find such customs fascinating. And the stars know I could spend days and days while you told me all your stories about Remin.
I really do not know what is the matter with him; I cannot even scold him, because it isn’t that he is intentionally keeping secrets as that it just doesn’t occur to him that there are things I might like to know. There was the matter with Master Peltier, after which I made him tell me if he had any other great secrets, and he said not really, except that I should probably know that he has the crown jewels of the King of Valleth hidden away, in case we ever need to crack the whip over them.
Have you everheardof such a man?
I heard about the Regalia of Valleth before. I thought it was a legend. But Remin says he acquired it at the end of the war and has been holding it over their heads ever since, and the Vallethi mind him now like lambs. As if the only possible and logical solution to any war is to steal his enemy’s sacred bauble and bury it in the back garden.
Does he have a great many secrets like that? I will tell you all my secrets, but please, you must tell me all of his! For surely otherwise I will be old and gray and Remin will still be confessing that he also has the Seven Jewels of Thala hidden away somewhere, along with the Daitian Ark of Shadows. Thestars only know what horrors our descendants may turn up, a hundred years hence.
Yours in great exasperation,
Ophele
***
“My lord? My lady?”
In the very early morning, Remin woke to the sound of Cruce Adelan’s voice calling from the door, and a sense that there was something important he was supposed to do.
“Ophele,” he mumbled, sitting up and raking his fingers through his hair. “Wife, wake up.”
All the preparations had already been made. He steered his semiconscious wife to her dressing room, where Lady Verr and the maids waited to dress her in the ritual clothing: floating layers of unbleached linen, raw fabric sanctified by Brother Oleare. Magne waited with similar clothes for Remin, scratchy and thoroughly inadequate to the weather. In warmer parts of the Empire, they would have gone barefoot.
In March in Tresingale, they were lucky most of the snow had melted.
They emerged in the forecourt in the uncanny dark before dawn, a dreamy world of uncertain light and wavering silhouettes. A small crowd stood at the foot of the steps, all of the household’s knights and servants gathered to partake in the blessing, yawning and solemn.
“I don’t believe it’s dangerously cold, my lord, but we will have bonfires awaiting your return at the gate,” said Juste, who had horses saddled and waiting. He, Miche, Leonin, and Davi were armed and armored and hoping neither would be necessary.
“Any word from the night watch?” Remin asked, swinging atop Lancer and holding out a hand to Ophele. The cold had driven the fog from her eyes.
“Yes, my lord, Tounot sent a runner. No devils reported, and they’ve set up a perimeter with torches.”
“Good.”
It would have been very early for the devils to arrive in Tresingale, but Remin was taking no chances. Half the Third Company had spent the night combing the woods and fields north of the town to ensure nothing bigger than a mouse might threaten them. Remin wrapped his cloak around Ophele and clucked to Lancer, leading the way into town.
