For a moment, that thought cheered Hajjaj. Then he frowned. What would happen to these hills if someone unleashed on them the appalling sorcery the Kuusamans and Lagoans had used against Gyorvar? Nothing good: Hajjaj was sure of that. The more he heard about that spell, the more it frightened him. He’d thought the first reports to come in to Bishah no more than frightened exaggerations, but they’d proved less than the dreadful reality. He’d never before known rumor to fall behind truth.
He’d heard Minister Horthy’s aides had had to keep watch on the Gyongyosian minister day and night, to make sure he didn’t slay himself. Hajjaj didn’t know whether that was true; he did know Horthy hadn’t been seen in public since Gyongyos surrendered to the islanders and to Unkerlant.
He sighed. So many things that had once seemed as changeless as these hills looked different, doubtful, dangerous, in the aftermath of the Derlavaian War. For as long as he’d been alive, Algarve had been the pivotal kingdom in the east, the one around which events revolved, the one toward which her neighbors looked with awe and dread. That had remained so even after she lost the Six Years’ War.
No more. Hajjaj was sure of that. It wasn’t just that Mezentio’s kingdom had been shattered, with one king in Algarve propped up by the islanders, the other by Swemmel of Unkerlant. But Algarve had shattered herself morally as well. No one could look toward her now without disgust. That marked a great change in the world.
Would everyone turn to Unkerlant, then? Swemmel surely ruled the most powerful kingdom on the mainland of Derlavai. Would Yaninans and Forthwe-gians and Zuwayzin and even Algarvians start shouting, “Efficiency!” at the top of their lungs? The notion made Hajjaj queasy, but where else would folk look?
Kuusamo, maybe, he thought. Kuusamo and Lagoas were the only kingdoms that could hope to hold any sort of balance against Unkerlant. Kuusamo isn’t even a kingdom, not really, Hajjaj reminded himself. How does it hold together under seven princes? Somehow it managed, and more than managed. Its soldiers had done more than the Lagoans to beat Algarve in the east, and it had also beaten Gyongyos even without the final sorcery. Aye, Kuusamo was a place to watch.
Hard to have a vicious tyranny like Unkerlant’s with seven lords in place of one, Hajjaj thought. And anything else, he was sure, made a better choice than Swemmel of Unkerlant.
Twenty
Here, Vanai.” Elfryth held out a platter. “Would you like another slice of mutton?”
“No, thank you,” Vanai said. “I’m full.”
Her mother-in-law frowned. “Are you sure? Powers above, you haven’t even finished what you’ve got there. Now that we have enough food again, you really ought to eat.”
“I’m full,” Vanai repeated. She meant it, too. In fact, what she’d already eaten was sitting none too comfortably in her belly.
“I’ll have some more mutton,” Ealstan said. “And pass the porridge, too, please. Garlic and mushrooms and almonds.. ” He grinned and smacked his lips.
Hestan picked up the bowl and handed it to Vanai. “Pass this to your husband.”
“All right,” she said, and did. She’d had a helping of porridge herself, and liked it. But the odor of garlic wafting up from it now made her insides churn. “Here,” she told Ealstan. Then, gulping, she left the table in a hurry.
When she came back, she’d got rid of what was bothering her-got rid of it most literally. She took a cautious sip of wine to kill the nasty taste in her mouth. She swallowed it even more cautiously, wondering if her stomach would rebel again. But the wine gave her no trouble.
“Mama!” Saxburh said from her high chair. Vanai gave her a wan smile. The baby looked to be wearing more porridge than she’d eaten.
“Are you all right, dear?” Elfryth asked.
“I’m fine-now,” Vanai said.
Something in her tone made her mother-in-law’s eyes widen. “Oh,” she said, and then, ‘‘If I’m wrong, you’ll tell me, but… is Saxburh going to have a little brother or sister?”
So much for keeping it a secret a while longer, Vanai thought. Of course, bolting from the table in the middle of a good meal had a way of killing a secret dead. Vanai made herself nod. “Aye, I think she will.”
And maybe it hadn’t been such a secret after all. Hestan nodded and said, “You’ve been falling asleep pretty early lately. That’s always a sign.”
Ealstan said, “I thought so, too. I wasn’t going to ask you for another little while, though. So we’ll have a two-year-old and a baby in the house at the same time, will we?” He looked from his father to his mother. “How did you two manage?”
“It’s simple enough,” Hestan answered. “You go mad. Most of the time, though, you’re too busy to notice you’ve done it.” Elfryth nodded emphatically.
Saxburh plucked the spoon from her bowl of porridge and flung it on the floor. “Done!” she announced. Vanai grabbed the bowl before it followed.
Ealstan surveyed his daughter. “Before we turn her loose, I think we ought to take her to the public baths. They might have enough water to get her properly clean.”
“She’s not so bad as that,” Vanai said. “A wet rag will do the job just fine.” And so it did, though Saxburh liked getting washed no better than usual. Sometimes washing her face wasn’t much different from wrestling.
“Another grandchild.” Hestan smiled. “I like that.”
“So do I,” Elfryth said. “We can enjoy them, but Vanai and Ealstan have to do most of the work. What’s not to like about an arrangement like that?”
“Ha,” Ealstan said in a hollow voice. “Ha, ha, ha.”
“What makes you think your mother was joking?” Hestan asked, sounding as serious as he did most of the time.
No matter how serious he sounded, Vanai knew better than to take him seriously. “You-both of you-have given us lots of help with Saxburh. I know you’ll help some with the new baby, too. Of course we’ll do more-it’s our child, after all.”
“You married a sensible woman, son,” Hestan said to Ealstan. “My only question is, if she’s as sensible as she seems, why did she marry you?”
In a lot of families, a question like that would have been the opening blaze in a row. Here, Ealstan didn’t even blink. “I fooled her. I told her I was rich and I came from a good family. She hadn’t met you yet, of course, so she didn’t know what a liar I was.”
“Well! I like that!” Elfryth said. But her eyes twinkled, too.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Ealstan said. “I guess I’m only half a liar.”
“Oh, stop, all of you,” Vanai said. She’d seen how Ealstan and his family teased one another without angering or hurting anybody. She’d seen it, aye, but she didn’t understand it or fully believe it. Had she and her own grandfather made cracks like that, the air around the two of them would have frozen for days. Brivibas appreciated a certain sort of dry wit, but he’d had no sense of humor to speak of. And I always meant everything I told him, too, Vanai thought. Looking back, some of the things she’d said didn’t make her proud, but her grandfather had always had the knack for infuriating her.
Saxburh banged both little fists down on the high chair’s tray, interrupting her mother’s gloomy reflections. “Out!” she said.
“She’s talking very well,” Elfryth said as Vanai turned the baby loose. “She’s going to be smart.” She shook her head. “No, she’s already smart.”
“Must take after her mother,” Hestan remarked.
“No doubt,” Ealstan agreed. “Do you suppose I’m an idiot because I got it from you, or just because you raised me?”
“Both, I’d say,” Hestan answered placidly. He turned to Vanai and shifted from Forthwegian to classical Kaunian: “When do you intend to teach the baby this language along with ours?”
“My father-in-law, I didn’t do it before because of the occupation,” Vanai said in the same language. “If she’d spoken the wrong tongue while we were sorcerously disguised, that could have been. . very bad.”