Keles had also become aware that Jasai would willingly accept him into her bed to forge their alliance more tightly. The differences between what she was willing to do and what Inyr wanted were vast, however. Jasai would be acting of her own free will and clearly doing what was in her best interest. Since her interest was tied so closely with his, it would be to his benefit as well. Inyr, on the other hand, was an agent of the state, and what she did would only be of benefit to the state. There his interests and hers diverged sharply, which was more than sufficient reason for him to stay away from her.
But though the Princess would have made herself available to him, Keles did not avail himself of her charms. Her pregnancy didn’t concern him-his mother had explained the mysteries of pregnancy to all of her children in sufficient detail that they knew what was safe and what was not. As a skilled botanist, she also concocted many potions and tinctures to prevent or enhance fertility, or even to rid someone of its consequences.
He’d found one of Jasai’s thorns when he’d commented that it would be easy enough for her to lose Pyrust’s child if she hated him so. She’d turned on him, icy blue eyes ablaze, and fought to keep her voice down. “This child is not just his, it is mine as well. He wants an heir with a claim to the Dog Throne, and now I have an heir with a claim to the Hawk Throne. Just because I hate him, it does not mean I hate my child. If love and hate are but faces on the same coin, then the hate goes to him, and the love to my child. You will not speak of this again, Master Anturasi.”
He had apologized and she had accepted it, but things had remained icy for a couple of days. She never apologized for her reaction, and he knew she never would. She had, however, realized his comment had not been a malicious one, just something innocently helpful. He did take care after that, however, to hold his tongue until he had worked through the various ramifications of what he was going to say.
“If you look here, Highness, I have laid out a new pattern for the garden. While I am a cartographer, my mother worked with flowers and plants, so I appreciate her art. Each bed would represent one of the nine, and the flowers would blossom in the national colors.”
“Yes, but it would be a bad omen were one nation or another to become overgrown with weeds, would it not?” She squeezed his shoulder, then whispered to him, “I believe the Desei are going to attack Helosunde, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. Even if the Council of Ministers knew it was coming, I doubt there is anything they could or even would do to stop it.”
“The ministers?” Keles frowned. “They are functionaries, nothing more.”
She laughed lightly. “You are lucky if you can believe that, Keles. Because of your grandfather and the power he wielded, the bureaucracy could do very little to interfere with your life.
“In my nation, however, the ministers were able to take power. While they have done things like elect my brother as the Prince, they chose him because he was weak. When the last prince died, the nation passed to their stewardship, and they had grown tired of being the power behind the throne. Instead of hiding behind a prince, they cloak themselves in patriotic pieties and claim what they do is for the benefit of Helosunde. And, yet, nothing they have done has won back a single inch of Helosunde.”
“They would have done better to elect you, Princess.”
She nodded, her blonde hair a shower of gold over her shoulders. “They dared not, for I would have been too strong for them.”
Keles looked up at her and smiled. He had no doubt she was right about the ministers. She’s strong-willed enough to be a match for my grandfather!
“You know, if we try to escape and fail, they will kill us.”
She nodded. “There is no guarantee they won’t kill us at any time my husband desires, or his Mother of Shadows decides we have outlived our usefulness.” Jasai ran a hand over her stomach. “My child will be born in the month of the Rat. After that, my life is worthless.”
Keles grinned ruefully. “I don’t think I’ve got even that long.”
“And our chances to escape end even sooner. Once I begin to show, my ability to escape dwindles.”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking.” He tapped his plans of the city. “The Black River will flood sometime in the next six weeks. We make it out of here by then, or we’re never getting away.”
Chapter Thirty
21st day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat
10th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
The Plains before Moryne
(Helosunde) Deseirion
Clad in black armor, with a golden hawk emblazoned on his breastplate, standing on a hill and flanked by two banners that proclaimed his presence, Prince Pyrust watched the battle unfold on the plains below. To the southwest, far in the distance, he could see the grey smudge that marked Moryne-the city that had once been Helosunde’s capital. The cream of Helosundian martial glory-save those troops in service to the Naleni throne-had arrayed themselves in a formation across his line of march and advanced.
Their intent, it seemed, was to drive his line’s center backward until they could overrun his hill, taking him, his banners, and freeing themselves from the Desei yoke forever. He had no doubt many of them dreamed of pushing further, taking Felarati and making Deseirion their plaything. If he lost this battle, he would die. His country would die and his people would suffer.
And that cannot be allowed to happen.
A casual glance at the battlefield, however, would have suggested that that was exactly what would happen. Until four days previous, his Fire Hawk battalion had been the garrison in Moryne. Following his orders, they gathered up all the grain they could find transport for and began a retreat toward Meleswin. Helosundian rebels, having long since learned of the horrible harvest in Deseirion, accepted the rumors that food riots were the reason for recalling the troops and bringing their rice north. They decided they could strike a fierce blow against their conqueror by attacking the Fire Hawks and preventing the rice from leaving Helosunde.
Pyrust had expected a lot of opposition, but the number of troops arrayed against him had surprised him. He’d been able to move two entire regiments southwest from Meleswin-including the Fire Hawks, though he kept the Iron Hawks and Silver Hawks in reserve behind the hill. For all intents and purposes it looked as if he had just under a thousand troops at his command.
The rebels had amassed a force roughly three times that size. Pyrust recognized a number of banners in the rabble-primarily because the originals were displayed in Felarati. The reconstituted units might have laid claim to Helosundian tradition, but many of the soldiers had clearly come to battle with little training and weaponry more suited to agriculture than warfare. One whole battalion held in reserve appeared to be unarmed, but by the time they came to the fight, there would be ample arms to be recovered from the battlefield.
He had no idea who commanded the enemy force, and the absence of a clear command post buoyed his spirits. It appeared as if the Helosundians had been roughly divided into three parts-right, left, and center-each under its own commander. The center, which was set to engage his best troops, had more of the seasoned warriors. Despite their inexperience, the wings could easily encircle his force and, once it had done that, turn his flanks and win the day.
He shook his head. He hoped it was one of the Council of Ministers that sought to fight the battle against him. Bureaucrats repeatedly governed their actions in accord with Urmyr’s Books of Wisdom, but they seemed to have forgotten he’d once been a general for Emperor Taichun. He’d written another treatise based on his experiences on the battlefield titled The Dance of War, and Pyrust found his teachings of great comfort.