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‘Vivesha!’ Lyn snapped.
‘Would anyone mind,’ Agenor said, his deep voice unaffected but just a fraction louder than usual, ‘if I answered the question Freydur posed before we started murdering each other on the empire’s behalf? You’ll never be more useless than when you’re dead.’
Freydur and Vivesha abruptly fell silent, glowering at each other like squabbling children pulled apart. More than a few others deflated and sunk back in their chairs. Lyn sent Agenor a look of gratitude and tartly said, ‘Thank you. Do I need to remind anyone of the semantics of the wordalliance, or can we all behave like adults by ourselves?’
I wasn’t sure what was more amusing: to hear those words from the mouth of a seven-year-old or to see several alves wince a little at the sting. Next to me, the tremble of Creon’s lips betrayed the first hint of emotion he’d shown since the meeting had started.
Agenor patiently adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, then, when no one else interrupted, looked back up again, still the epitome of dignified politeness. ‘Much obliged.’
‘So you’re saying you have a plan?’ Freydur said brusquely.
‘Not a plan, necessarily. Thoughts, more accurately.’ The modest lightness in his words fully ignored the fact that even his most jumbled collection of thoughts would be closer to a plan than anything the average alf would come up with after a week of ruminating. ‘I wouldn’t dare call it a plan until I’d heard your opinions on it.’
Leave it to my father to be perfectly diplomatic about his schemes and strategies. I strongly suspected they would all end up following his proposals to the letter, even if none of them would fully realise it themselves.
‘Well, tell us your thoughts, then,’ Helenka said impatiently.
‘I would recommend we aim to improve our range, first of all.’ There was something hypnotic about that low voice of his, twelve centuries of battlefield experience spinning themselves into those self-assured, reassuring words. ‘Our opponents may be mages, but very few of them can work magic effectively over a distance of thirty feet or more. Any arrows, fire-bombs, or other projectiles we can fling at them will do damage before they are able to use the advantage of their magic.’
‘We have several hundred trained archers,’ Khailan said – the first time he’d opened his mouth all night. ‘They are at your disposal, of course.’
It was all I could do not to rub my fingers over the bargain mark at my wrist, an aching blemish on my skin.Of course.
It was worse that he believed those two words himself.
‘How about alf steel?’ one of the vampire kings suggested, gesturing at the row of alves with a hand gloved in black leather. ‘If we can create any sort of weapon that launches, say, sharp little fragments of alf steel, we could limit their magic even if we don’t manage to take them down completely.’
That suggestion was welcomed with a handful of enthusiastic nods and murmurs of agreement. Vivesha shook her green-and-copper curls over her lithe shoulders and said, with more thana hint of spiteful triumph in her voice, ‘We would be happy to contribute by producing poisons for archers and other long-range weapons. That happens to be one of thetree tricksfor which we do not need magic at all.’
‘Excellent,’ Lyn hastily said, because it was clear that Freydur was ready to retaliate, and five others with him. ‘Thank you, Vivesha. And Tilmur, if your tinkerers could look into the alf steel idea, I’m sure we can find you the projectiles to use.’
‘Our alf steel supplies are shrinking by the day,’ the wolf-tattooed alf said gruffly before the vampire king in question could reply. ‘We may not have much left to waste on experimental methods.’
‘Then we’ll make sure the method is no longer experimental by the time we’re going into battle,’ Lyn retorted, waving that objection aside. ‘This is hardly the moment to let conservatism get in our way. Other suggestions, anyone?’
‘Didn’t you use something interesting at the battle of the Golden Court this summer?’ the vampire with the missing fingers said, cocking his head at Agenor. ‘I’ve heard rumours of some explosive substance you used to hold back the Mother’s army that day.’
My heart skipped a beat.
‘Etele’s blood.’ Agenor sounded suddenly breathless. ‘Gods and demons, I’d forgotten about it. I suppose if we can find a way to launch some of it at the court, we could—’
My stomach rolled without warning.
‘No!’ It burst from my lips before I even fully knew where the objection was coming from, the memory of that pulsating, syrupy fluid filling me with a dread far greater than good sense should have allowed. Gazes shot back to me. Surprise, scepticism, annoyance, and still I found myself fumbling on. ‘No, we shouldn’t be using that blood. We … we …’
‘Em?’ Lyn said, amber eyes round with worry. ‘What is the matter?’
What in hell was the matter?
I parted my lips, wavering – unsure for a moment why my stomach rebelled so violently at the thought of that smothering hot day at the Golden Court, the way a little bottle of Etele’s cursed blood had annihilated half a battalion. Was it mere squeamishness? An ill-timed sense of religious devotion? The memory of Zera’s face when she’d told me she did not know whether her sister was alive at all?
But Iwasn’tsqueamish or overly devout or even so very sentimental. And yet, the vision of that golden poison slamming into the Mother’s island, seeping deep into the sun-burned earth …
Oh.
Oh, gods.
‘It’s divine magic,’ I managed to choke out, and suddenly I understood, my thoughts stepping back in line only as the words on my lips forced them to. ‘The destructive powers of Etele’s blood, I mean. Which means they’re dual in nature – that they may destroy everything at first, but they’ll nourish other things at the same time. Agenor, didn’t you tell us you found worms as large as arms in the soil where our attacks hit at the Golden Court?’
