After a while, each resting place held an intangible gift, too: a Craft puzzle piece, one small aspect of a spell. Gradually the pieces began to make a whole and he learned the basics of the Black Widows' Craft, learned how to build simple webs, learned how to be what he was.
So he rested and treasured her little gifts and puzzles.
And he climbed to where she had promised to be waiting.
PART V
Chapter Fifteen
"The first part of our plan is coming along nicely," Hekatah said. "Little Terreille is, at last, justly represented in the Dark Council."
Lord Jorval smiled tightly. Since slightly more than half of the Council members now came from Little Terreille, he could agree that the Territory that had always felt wary of the rest of the Shadow Realm was, at last, "justly" represented. "With all the injuries and illnesses that have caused members to resign in the past two years, the Blood in Little Terreille were the only ones willing to accept such a heavy responsibility for the good of the Realm." He sighed, but his eyes glittered with malicious approval. "We've been accused of favoritism because so many voices come from the same Territory, but when the other men and women who were judged worthy of the task refused to accept, what were we to do? The Council seats must be filled."
"So they must," Hekatah agreed. "And since so many of those new members, who owe their current rise in status to your supporting their appointment to the Council, wouldn't want to find themselves distressed because they didn't heed your wisdom when it came time to vote, it's time to implement the second part of our plan."
"And that is?" Jorval wished she would take off that deep-hooded cloak. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her before. And why had she chosen to meet in a seedy little inn in Goth's slums?
"To broaden Little Terreille's influence in the Shadow Realm. You're going to have to convince the Council to be more lenient in their immigration requirements. There are plenty of Blood aristos here already. You need to let in the lesser Blood—workers, craftsmen, farmers, hearth-witches, servants, lighter-Jeweled warriors. Stop deciding who can come in by whether or not they can pay the bribes."
"If the Terreillean Queens and the aristo males want servants, let them use the landens," Jorval said in a sulky voice. The bribes, as she well knew, had become an important source of income for a number of Blood aristos in Goth, Little Terreille's capital.
"Landens are demon fodder," Hekatah snapped. "Landens have no magic. Landens have no Craft. Landens are about as useful as Jhin—" She paused. She tugged her hood forward. "Accept Terreillean landens for immigration, too. Promise them privileges and a settlement after service. But bring in the lesser Terreillean Blood as well."
Jorval spread his hands. "And what are we supposed to do with all these immigrants? At the twice-yearly immigration fairs, the other Territories altogether only take a couple dozen people, if that. The courts in Little Terreille are already swelled and there are complaints about the Terreillean aristos always whining about serving in the lower Circles and not having land to rule like they expected. And none of the ones already here have fulfilled their immigration requirement."
"They will have land to rule. They'll establish small, new territories on behalf of the Queens they're serving. That will increase the influence the Queens in Little Terreille have in Kaeleer as well as providing them with an additional source of income. Some of that land is obscenely rich in precious metals and precious gems. In a few years, Little Terreille's Queens will be the strongest force in the Realm, and the other Territories will have to submit to their dominance."
"What land?" Jorval said, failing to hide his exasperation.
"The unclaimed land, of course," Hekatah replied sharply. She called in a map of Kaeleer, unrolled it, and used Craft to keep it flat. One bony finger brushed against large areas of the map.
"That's not unclaimed land," Jorval protested. "Those are closed Territories. The so-called kindred Territories."
"Exactly, Lord Jorval," Hekatah said, tapping the map. "The so-called kindred Territories."
Jorval looked at the map and sat up straighter. "But the kindred are supposed to be Blood. Aren't they?"
"Are they?" Hekatah countered with venomous sweetness.
"What about the human Territories, like Dharo and Nharkhava and Scelt? Their Queens might file a protest on the kindred's behalf."
"They can't. Their lands aren't being interfered with. By Blood Law, Territory Queens can't interfere outside their own borders."
"The High Lord . . ."
Hekatah waved a hand dismissively. "He has always lived by a strict code of honor. He'll viciously defend his own Territory, but he won't step one toe outside of it. If anything, he'll stand against those other Territories if they step outside the Law."
Jorval rubbed his lower lip. "So the Queens of Little Terreille would eventually rule all of Kaeleer."
"And those Queens would be consolidated under one wise, experienced individual who would be able to guide them properly."
Jorval preened.
"Not you, idiot," Hekatah hissed. "A male can't rule a Territory."
"The High Lord does!"
The silence went on so long Jorval began to sweat.
"Don't forget who he is or what he is, Lord Jorval. Don't forget about his particular code of honor. You're the wrong gender. If you tried to stand against him, he would tear you apart. I will rule Kaeleer." Her voice sweetened. "You will be my Steward, and as my trusted right hand and most valued adviser, you will be so influential there won't be a woman in the Realm who would dare refuse you."
Heat filled Jorval's groin as he thought of Jaenelle Angelline.
The map rolled up with a snap, startling him.
"I think we've postponed the amenities long enough, don't you?" Hekatah pushed back the cloak's hood.
Jorval let out a faint scream. Leaping up, he knocked over his chair, then tripped over it when he turned to get away from the table.
As Hekatah slowly walked around the table, Jorval scrambled to his feet. He kept backing away until he ended up pressed against the wall.
"Just a sip," Hekatah said as she unbuttoned his shirt. "Just a taste. And maybe next time you'll remember to provide refreshments."
Jorval felt his bowels turn to water.
She'd changed in the last two years. Before, she'd looked like an attractive woman past her prime. Now she looked like someone had squeezed all the juice out of her flesh.
And the liberally applied perfume didn't mask the smell of decay.
"There's one other very important reason why I'm going to rule Kaeleer," Hekatah murmured as her lips brushed his throat. "Something you shouldn't forget."
"Yes, P-Priestess?" Jorval clenched his hands.
"With me ruling, the Realm of Terreille will support our efforts."
"It will?" Jorval said faintly, trying to take shallow breaths.
"I guarantee it," Hekatah replied just before her teeth sank into his throat.
The new two-wheeled buggy rolled smartly down the middle of the wide dirt road that ran northeast out of the village of Maghre.
Saetan tried—again—to tell Daffodil that he should keep the buggy on the right-hand side of the road. And Daffodil replied—again—that if he did that, Yaslana and Sundance wouldn't be able to trot alongside. He would move over if another wagon came down the road. He knew how to pull a buggy. The High Lord worried too much.