Chapter Fifteen Thera
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thera
At first, Thera assumed the young fisherman unused to speaking to those of high status. But, as he stammered his way through an explanation of his ability, she realised that he was unused to speaking at all.
“It’s like it… sings to me,” Teryk faltered, darting glances at his two brothers. “The sea, the currents, the wind. Their songs… show me the way.”
“My queen,” Ahlgrun, the eldest brother, reminded him in a harsh mutter.
“My queen,” Teryk added hastily, bobbing his head lower.
Thera chose to meet them at the docks, having Ragnalt cordon off one of the few surviving warehouses for a private audience.
That morning she had watched the Ohlnir and the Chainbreaker bear the Spear Maiden away, leaving this trio of brothers behind.
They had been members of the Spear Maiden’s personal guard and Thera could tell they resented having been denied the chance to join her mission to find the traitor queen.
Still, they exhibited mostly nervous obedience upon finding themselves in Thera’s presence and a glance at Lynnea confirmed no signs of dishonesty.
“And from where does it come?” Thera asked Teryk. “Do you know?”
He shook his head. “Dunno… my queen. Just always been there.”
“I’m told you and your brothers sailed deeper into the Styrnspeld than most fishermen of the isles. Have you ever sailed as far as the Fire Islands?”
“Seen ’em. Only from a distance, though. Less fish to catch the closer you get to them fire mountains.”
Ahlgrun growled another reminder of Thera’s honorific, but she waved him to silence. “The Spear Maiden also informed me that you plotted a course through thick fog, slipping by the enemy fleet without being noticed.”
Teryk shrugged. “Fog’s easy. The song it sings is… clearer than most. Storms are harder, cos the song changes so much.”
“And the Fire Isles? What song do they sing?”
“An old one, that’s for sure. Though I only heard it from far off.”
“If you were closer, would you hear it better?”
After a pause for thought, the fisherman nodded. “S’pose so.”
“We know there is at least one passage through the Fire Isles. Our enemy found it, and now, Teryk of the Aiken Geld, you will do the same for me. I name you the Queen’s Navigator, Teryk Johtenleyl, the Wind Song.
Your brothers I name as your protectors.
If any of you are minded to refuse these honours, you may do so now without disfavour or punishment. ”
She paused, watching the three of them exchange glances.
None appeared particularly honoured and she suspected they would happily have traded her favour for leave to return to their island home.
Yet, after some wordless nodding, the oldest spoke up again.
“Accepted with gratitude, my queen.” He coughed and swallowed before speaking on.
“But to carry out this task, we require a ship.”
“The Silver Hawk, famed vessel of Skahlvyr Estrynlud himself, awaits you in the harbour. You will sail for the Fire Isles with the next tide. Scout them from end to end and find me a safe passage to the realm of our enemy. Once you have done so, you will find me at Iselda’s Nail come the turn of the seasons. ”
“When…” Teryk began, daring to look Thera directly in the eye for the first time. “When do I get to go home… my queen?”
“When the war is done, Navigator,” Thera told him, slapping a hand to his shoulder. “Then we’ll all get to go home.”
In the weeks that followed, she issued instructions to all the Veilwalds and senior captains in her fleet to return to their gelds.
They were to gather any warriors and ships not yet incorporated into her menda and rendezvous with the queen’s fleet off Iselda’s Nail come the spring.
Those from regions worst affected by Nihlvarian raids were provided with generous stipends of silver and food supplies drawn from the Verungyr’s vaults.
None had questioned her stated intention of visiting justice upon the realm of their enemy.
Many, like Ossgrym, were keen for the expedition to begin as soon as possible.
But Thera was not willing to assemble what would surely be the largest fleet in Ascarlian history only to risk it crossing the Styrnspeld in winter.
Sending the immensely skilled and experienced Skahlvyr Estrynlud to scout the Fire Isles was one thing, but attempting the voyage with such a huge and disparate array of vessels invited only disaster.
She also sent emissaries to those gelds that had so far taken no part in the war.
The queen’s missives made it clear, in polite but unambiguous terms, that continued neutrality, or passivity, were no longer acceptable.
As the weeks passed, her messengers returned bearing uniformly warm and effusive expressions of loyalty from various Veilwalds, as well as explanations for their idleness during the recent crisis.
Some were more convincing than others, but Thera resisted her ingrained tendency towards justice.
Tempting as it was to levy fines or even dismissal upon cravens and liars, she was tasked with the twin burdens of pursuing the war and holding this realm in unity.
She did resolve not to be so forgiving of further weakness, however.
A marginal improvement in the weather brought an inevitable visitor to the Verungyr.
Thera had known it was only a matter of time before the Dowager Princess of Albermaine, acting, of course, in the name of her son and king, would send an ambassador to the newly crowned queen of the Ascarls.
However, the noble personage chosen to deliver the first exchange of diplomatic greetings proved unexpected.
Duchess Ayin Lambertain of the Cordwain was imposing in neither size nor dress.
Her garb was certainly finely made but lacking the sometimes garish, at least to Ascarlian eyes, embellishments and decoration common to the nobility of her homeland.
Her head barely came level with Thera’s shoulder and it seemed a hefty gust of wind might carry the duchess’s slender frame into Skar Magnol harbour.
Yet, when Thera met her gaze, she saw undeniable strength in those steady eyes.
They also possessed a piercing quality that bespoke keen insight as well as considerable experience.
Her beauty was also deceptive, conveying a sense of youth only partially belied by the faint lines to her temples and forehead.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive my manners, Queen Thera,” Duchess Ayin said, bending her knees while also lowering her head. “I was not raised to courtly etiquette, so apologise in advance if my absence of grace causes offence.”
Thera’s ear was well enough attuned to Alberic to discern the fact that, while this woman’s speech was clear and precise, it also possessed a few coarse vowels.
Not born to finery, Thera concluded. Perhaps that’s why she shuns it.
“Such things have scant meaning in my realm, my lady,” Thera assured her.
“Nor are you required to bow to me, any more than I am to you. Come.” She turned, gesturing to the looming towers of the Verungyr.
“I shall escort you to your quarters. I’m afraid the climb is fairly taxing. ”
“I’ve walked further,” the duchess said. “And climbed higher.”
She certainly exhibited no excessive strain as they scaled the track to the Verungyr’s gate.
Duchess Ayin was accompanied by a small coterie of servants and guards.
To Thera’s judgement, both contingents occupied much the same role.
Her coterie of ladies consisted of half a dozen sturdy young women who wouldn’t stray more than six feet from their duchess and spent the climb scouring the surroundings with keen intensity.
They appeared unarmed, but Thera was practised in seeking out the telltale bulges and bunches that told of concealed weaponry.
“Tell me, my lady,” she ventured when they had covered about half the distance to the holdfast. “Is the Cordwain a particularly dangerous duchy?”
“No more than elsewhere in Albermaine,” Ayin replied.
“In fact, I would say our roads are safer to travel than most.” She paused, affording Thera a faint smile.
“You wonder why my ladies carry weapons. A reasonable concern, Majesty, but I assure you they mean no ill intent. If you wish them to surrender their arms, it shall be done.”
Truth. Lynnea’s conclusion chimed in Thera’s head, albeit tinged with suspicion.
In order to avoid attracting undue notice, the Tielwald had placed herself in the midst of Thera’s own entourage.
She would rather have avoided bringing Lynnea to this meeting at all, but parsing truth from lies spoken by the emissary of the Albermaine court was crucial.
She’s not lying about having them give up their weapons, Lynnea added.
Or about their being no threat to you. But I do sense deception here.
Hardly surprising, Thera thought back. Was there ever an ambassador who didn’t lie about something?
“If you have need of their protection,” Thera told the duchess, “I wouldn’t dream of denying it to you. However, please know that here in my realm, your safety will be fully guaranteed.”
Ayin inclined her head in thanks. “In truth, they are here at my husband’s insistence. He has always worried over me more than he should. He sends his sincerest apologies for not joining me in this endeavour, but the needs of our duchy are many and pressing.”
Lie, Lynnea reported. Spoken with a good deal of hidden grief. I sense her love for her husband clear as day, but also deep sorrow. My guess is that he’s sick, and the illness is not minor. She wouldn’t have come here unless compelled to it.