Page 13 of Engines of Reason

Even so, had the world left her alone to rule, perhaps Daimlesse would not have become the regent she now was. But the story—the four daughters and their dutiful acceptance of their roles—was already unravelling as she took the throne.

The youngest always has a license to err. Lynesse Fourth Daughter had gone on quests, fought demons, called forth wizards from their towers. Yet somehow that had not been the stone beneath the wheels of Lannesite’s progress, to set everything rocking. Lyn’s transmutation from hellion child to wizard-in-training had made barely a ripple at court. The betrayal had come from Melinesse. Melinesse Second Daughter as was. Melinesse First Sister, as she became. The Regent’s strong right hand. Strong and ambitious.

Some years before, Melinesse had married the heir of Aenterland, a modest state on Lannesite’s border. Strong enough to make the alliance worthwhile but never a threat. On Daimlesse’s accession, it turned out that Aenterland Urban had always resented its neighbour’s pre-eminence, which resentment was passed to Melinesse like a gift at her wedding. Within a year of Daimlesse’s coronation, Melinesse made a bid to unify the two polities under her own rule. Goaded by her husband and his court, supported by everyone whom Daimlesse had not sufficiently pleased, she threw both nations into a war.

Lyn remembered. She had not fought, but found and reactivated an ancient aerial drone and gave scouting reports to her eldest sister, annoying and impressing Nyr in equal measure. And Melinesse had less support, and Aenterland less strength, than they had supposed. And the heir of Aenterland had been killed and Melinesse exiled, and that should have been that.

It was the betrayal, Lyn knew. When Daimlesse had been so painstakingly made into the shape of their mother, she’d been worked of something brittle, where the exemplar had been flexible. Having her own sister turn against her had cracked her. She saw enemies everywhere, afterwards. If her own eldest sister could turn on her, who might not?

Cantiresse—now First Sister, promoted—really was that perfect supportive sibling, the one the story mandated, but by the time she assumed the role of steward the damage was done. The state that she administered for her Regent-sister was one determined to control every border, eliminate or dominate every doubtful neighbour. Lannesite had awoken, and it woke raging.

A dozen small polities on its borders turned into tributaries. Others, that would not come to Lannesite’s terms, had been crushed, under the pretence they might become the pawns of others. The Coast-people, who had always plied the rivers freely without heed of lines on a map, were stopped at the borders. Lannesite feared enemies and, because of that, the list of its enemies mounted as it acted to secure itself. All this Lyn saw, and argued with her sister over behind closed doors. Made some headway, even, as sister and wizard’s apprentice. Then her own foolishness came to light, her husband whose schemes and swindles and affairs could no longer be hidden. So Lyn’s own currency at court was found to be adulterated. Her moderating influence on her sister was lost. And Cantiresse, the sister who had just stayed by the Regent’s side and played her part, had no agenda of her own, was content to simply find ways to make the Regent’s desires a political and fiscal reality.

In her imagination, any homecoming would be overshadowed with some sort of reckoning with Nyr. Some ritual acknowledgement of her own poor judgment. Probably something similar with her sister, too. The feckless Third Sister, only more valuable than the treacherous Melinesse because her failings were of negligence and not of malice.

Not fair. Not true. She’d taken the gorget of office, patched up small wounds around the outskirts of the body politic. Investigated rumours of the uncanny. Yet here she was, back in the palace at Lannesite Urban, feeling small and guilty. Recognising, at last, that these were just the feelings of her child-self, put on like clothes that should have been far too small, but somehow still fit.

And no showdown with Nyr. His turn to absent himself. The Regent? There would be a summons, and Lyn did not relish the prospect. She had opinions, concerning Daimlesse’s foreign policy, that it would be politic to keep to herself. Faced with her eldest sister’s imperious manner, she wasn’t sure she could.

Instead, what she received was a visit from Cantiresse in her rooms—hers from before the collapse of her marriage. She was listening to Sara read. Magic books, Nyr’s language. The child had already outstripped her in it. Concepts Lyn still wrestled with seemed to have just found a natural fit within Sara’s mind, the flexibility of the young.

Cantiresse hadn’t changed. Lyn would be prepared to bet that every hair on her head followed an identical placement to a year before. Neat in presentation and in mind. An inherent criticism of Lyn, the roamer.

“Does my sister wish to know when I’m leaving again?” Lyn asked, then saw Sara’s head jerk up, the daggers in her daughter’s eyes. More guilt, then. Like Nyr’s beast of misery, a wizard’s companion.

“Daimlesse Regent is delighted you’ve returned to the life of the court.” Cantiresse took a seat, her skirts sweeping, every movement a study in precision. She sits like an old woman with a bad back, Lyn wanted to say, but honestly, if Lyn ever reached old age and moved as gracefully as that, she’d be profoundly thankful.

“I haven’t, Cass,” she said. “I’m just … here.”

Cantiresse’s smooth smile didn’t waver. “Of course our wayward sister has returned to be of service.”

“She hasn’t.”

“To play her part in preserving our mother’s legacy. Lannesite is beset by enemies.”

“Lannesite is beset by former allies.” Because Lyn could never resist being drawn into an argument. “If they are enemies, we’ve made them so.”

Sara made a small squeak. Lyn was sure nobody here at court had dared voice the accusation in her earshot. But here the words lay, spoken.

“Let the causes be as they may, your duty remains,” Cantiresse said remorselessly. “Your sister requires—”

“I have put out fires, along the border,” Lyn said. “I have done small good acts. I have blunted the blade of my sister and Regent, where cutting deeper would only do harm. Let that be enough.”

“A duty that you alone—”

“Let it be enough!” Lyn clenched her fists. “Cass, I am with my daughter. Soon I will be gone. Give me this time.” Sara’s hand on her knee, recalling the child’s demands. Take me with you. But understanding better than Lyn the value of a united front between them.

Cantiresse sighed. “Lyn, you think my role here an easy one?”

“I think our sister makes it as difficult as humanly possible. And thankless.”

“A fair assessment,” Cantiresse said. “Daimlesse Regent cannot know the host of annoyances kept at arm’s length from the throne by my intervention. The things she is happier not knowing.”

“Then let me spend my time here and leave. You need not even tell her I’ve arrived, if you prefer.”

“Shall I tell her of what happened to Meli?” Cass said lightly. Lyn froze.

“Aunt Meli?” Sara whispered, because it was too great a thing to keep bottled up. The traitor sister, the conspirator, the exile.