She lay awake a long time after, thinking of what was to come. She waited the full three hours, then stripped and pressed herself close to him, stroking him and kissing his neck.
When he responded, she pushed open his robe and crawled onto him, taking him into her and finding a rhythm that could sustain them both.
He clung to her but did not make a sound, even at the end. After, he fell into a deep sleep clutching tightly to her.
But Jin Li Tam did not sleep. Instead, she thought about the new certainty she had found when she first saw Rudolfo in his grief, and she knew that she had transcended her father’s will.
This child is not for you, she told her father deep in the places of her heart where she was afraid to go. This child is never for you.
She rolled over and faced Rudolfo, feeling the heat of his breath against her neck as he moved in his sleep to embrace her.
“For you,” she said. “Only you.”
As if answering, Rudolfo mumbled.
Jin Li Tam pulled him close and kissed his cheek.
And finally, sleep chased her down into her restless dreams.
Petronus
The men gathered around Petronus in the galley tent, and he looked up with raised eyebrows. Everywhere he went now, magicked scouts moved around him. Meirov’s personal Border Rangers formed his private escort. Someone had even dug up a fancy white and blue and purple robe-from the smell of it, a relic from an attic. Petronus had accepted the gift, but knew he’d not wear it. All he’d brought himself to wear so far was the ring.
“Excellency,” the group’s leader said with a brisk bow. “We beg audience with you.”
Petronus chuckled. “You need not start begging now, Garver. Regardless of recent events, I am still myself.”
Garver looked around at his companions, twisting his knit cap in his hands. “Yes, Excellency.”
Petronus sighed. Everything had changed, and part of him resented the boy, Neb, for his place in that, though he knew it was a road he would’ve walked with or without the boy. And the Marsh King’s role in this was also something he couldn’t afford to forget. Why were the Marshers suddenly supporting the Order? Or were they simply supportive of Rudolfo?
He looked up at the men, and lowered his spoon back into the bowl of cooked oats. They’d tried to give him a bigger tent and better meals to go with his fancy robe, but he’d refused those, insisting that he be treated as every other worker. He’d continued to make his rounds, though now under escort, and even stopped to help dig the bones from the frozen ground.
“What can I do for you, Garver?” he finally asked.
The man was clearly uncomfortable now. Before the proclamation he’d had no difficulty speaking his mind to Petronus, and the sudden shift reminded Petronus that this role he now played honored a lie he did not believe in. That somehow his station in the Order set him apart in some way.
Petronus looked across to Neb. The boy sat quietly, looking from Petronus to the group.
Petronus sighed again. “You had no trouble speaking plainly when the latrines needed redigging or when the supply wagon came up short on flour and salt.” He offered the best smile he could. “Nothing has changed.”
Everything has changed.
Finally, Garver spoke up. “Excellency, we know how important this work is to you, and we’ve come up with a plan to finish by early spring if the winter is as mild as the past three. We can rotate men and women into the camp just as we’ve been doing. The new supplies are coming in well, and the workers are overwhelmed by the Order’s generous wage.”
Petronus nodded. “Excellent.” But the look on Garver’s face told him that he’d not gotten to a point he was afraid of raising. “And the problem is…?” He let the words trail off.
“I don’t know how to say this, Excellency,” Garver said, looking around to his companions for moral support. Petronus followed his gaze. He’d brought the best of the lot with him, the smartest and most able.
“Say it plainly, Garver, like you did four nights past in the council tents when we talked about curtailing the hunting because of the armies.”
Garver nodded. “Very well, Excellency. We don’t need you here anymore.” He flushed. “Not to say we don’t want you. You’ve done right by us and by your kin. But we don’t think it proper for our Pope and King to dig graves in the snow.”
“And I think it’s quite proper,” Petronus said, feeling the anger rise quickly in him.
Garver swallowed, eyes shifting to the left and right again. “You mistake my meaning, Lord, but it’s from my poor choice of words. Any of us here can work a shovel or wheelbarrow. But only one of us can be the Pope.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “The world just lost a Pope and does not need to lose another. The fighting has stepped up. You will be safer elsewhere and able to focus on your work.”
Petronus studied the faces of each man around him, including the rangers. None of them looked surprised or uncertain. None of them looked as if they were ready to disagree. And if he were honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he could disagree with that wisdom either.
“What would you propose?”
Garver released his held breath. “Appoint someone to lead this effort in your stead. Work with them by the bird if you must, but don’t overlook your other responsibilities. The Named Lands need their Pope.”
Petronus sighed. “Very well. I’ll think on it and we’ll discuss it at council tomorrow. Is that reasonable?”
Garver nodded. “Thank you, Excellency.”
“Thank you.”
After they left, he looked across to Neb. “What do you think?”
Neb chewed a piece of bread, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think they’re right, Excellency.”
Petronus rolled his eyes. “Not you, too.”
Neb grinned but the grin faded quickly. “I think Sethbert’s men will come for you here at some point. Or try to. There is no dispute for the ring and the scepter if you are not alive. But more than that, I’m certain you’re going to need to convene a Council of Bishops under Holy Unction. There is much work to do beyond digging these graves.”
Petronus leaned back, realizing for the first time how much the boy had grown these past few months. Well-spoken and wise, firmly rooted in a classical Androfrancine education and yet so young. “And who do you think I should put in charge of this operation?”
He shrugged. “Rudolfo is in charge, by proxy, as the Guardian. He or one his officers can provide the military support and council we need. You could appoint Garver or one of the others to oversee the gravedigging and the day-to-day logistics of running the camp.”
Petronus shook his head. “I’d want someone from the Order for that.”
Neb shrugged. “I don’t know then. Most of the Androfrancines went to the Summer Papal Palace. There are a few left, but I don’t know them.”
Petronus smiled. “How strongly do you concur with Garver’s recommendation?”
Neb scowled, his brow creasing. “I think you can do more away from here, in a safer place. Regardless of what we believe, there is another Pope competing for authority and attention, and the only way to prevail is to be a better, stronger Pope than he.” He paused, and his face softened as he shrugged again. “I concur strongly, I guess.”
Petronus stood. “Then you’d best find new robes, Neb.”
Neb looked at him, confusion clouding his face.
“I’ve just made you my aide. Your first assignment is the completion of the work here. Afterwards, you will join me in the Ninefold Forest to assist with the restoration of the Great Library.”
The boy was still sputtering and red-faced when Petronus left the galley, chuckling. He hoped he was making a good decision. He’d always been impeccably good at picking out the shephereouted-ds from the sheep, but this shepherd was terribly young and these sheep were a motley herd.