The Queen waited until the doors shut behind him before she spoke.“As if I am going to go through that again anytime soon,” her lip curled.
Avice raised an eyebrow.“It is traditional,” she started, but Satia shrugged her off.
“Yes, yes, I know, but it can wait for a while, at least until the ceremony is completed.”Satia said.“There are more important concerns.”Her eyes narrowed.“Debasing the coinage is a good start.So is requiring generous birthing gifts from the merchants and the people of Edenrich.”
Avice and Caris both nodded.
Satia arranged her skirts, smoothing the fabric.Caris could almost feel her thinking.
Plotting.
“I think perhaps it’s time to let Guildmaster Forterran know what we know about the treasonous actions of a member of his guild,” Satia said softly.“I am sure, quite sure, that he will be willing to work closely with us to avenge that offense.To both our Crown and his Guild.”
Avice gave a slight nod.
“As to the Black Hills,” Satia looked down at the tiny slip of paper in her hand, which she’d plucked from Xyrath’s fingers before he left.“Send for our listening friend,” she said.“I have some planning to do.”
Surrounded by thewomen of the house, working at sewing, Leeda stared at the large bowl of oak galls and groaned.
Nothing happened.She huffed a breath of frustration.
“An apprentice scribe makes ink.”Ritathan was seated next to her, stringing mushrooms for drying.“This is where you start.Take the morter and pestle and crush those.All of them.”
Well, that wasn’t the real lesson.The real lesson was to use the power to crush them, in the presence of others, using naught but her will.If she couldn’t, then she was to use the mortar and pestle.No fancy gestures, no visible strain.
Halithe glared at the galls, then glanced at her master.
Ritithan raised an eyebrow.
“Ouch,” Dayva jerked and put her finger in her mouth.
“And you, focus on your sewing,” Amari said.
“There has to be an easier way,” Halithe grumbled.
“There is,” Ritathan said, picking up and onion and studying it.“But that ink is not as high quality, and fades faster.”
“I thought scribing was writing, and words and numbers.”Dayva wrinkled her nose as she checked her finger for blood.“I mean, I don’t know how to make a needle.”
“Pity,” Ritathan said.“However, a skilled scribe must be one with the ink.”
Dayva gave him a dubious look.
The sound of boots caught their attention.Captain Roth poked his head in.
“What,” Ritathan barked.“We are at lessons.”
“Lessons are done,” Roth said.“The kids are going to show Orval and Aramal the salt pans east of here.They’re going to bring back a load.”Roth rolled his eyes.“Hisself has already started to lecture on the history of salt.Seems it’s an entire stanza in theEpic of Xyson.Taking his copy with him so he can read it to them.”Roth crossed his arms.“Perfect time for her,” nodding at Halithe, “to start training.”
“You haven’t had fighting lessons?”Dayva looked at her, eyes wide in astonishment.“But everyone has to learn—”
A loud, angry squall from the next room.“That will be Lara,” Amari sighed.
“I’ll see to her,” Dayva set her sewing aside in a jumble and trotted off, already talking to the kids.
Halithe waited; Amari had kept them all busy since the Solstice and her master had consistently fended off Roth’s attempts to teach her.
Amari nodded.“Dayva and I will see to the babes,” she said.“Rosalind-”
