“Isn’t the marquis rather full of himself?” asked Briony. “Even when he’s trying to be unctuous, he can’t quite do it.”
“He’s a good man, Princess.” Eneas sounded offended. “He is my right arm at the court—a place I avoid when I can, and where I desperately need men I can trust.”
“Certainly, I didn’t mean ...” She turned back to the letter.
“Numerous strange reports have come from Hierosol, and not just from the refugees that clutter our cities along the southern border. Equally surprising rumors are coming from the garrison commanders and even some of the nobles, survivors of the old gentry, who are mostly now in hiding or out of Hierosol. Their stories often conflict, and in many cases are filled with unsupported speculation, but one thing almost all seem to agree on: the autarch is no longer in Hierosol. Neither is he back in his capital of Xis—travelers in the south agree that one of his lackeys, a man named Muziren Chah, still holds the viceregal throne. So the question becomes, where is the autarch?
“Some of the speculation is that he became ill and rushed back to Xis in secret, in order not to give comfort to his enemies or diminish the bravery of his troops. Other tales suggest more sinister reasons—that he has been assassinated by rivals or his heir, a sickly creature called Prusus, and that the new ruler is keeping it secret until he can take Xis back from the dead autarch’s caretaker.
I have also heard from other sources (although none of them witnesses) that the autarch and a small army of Xixians attacked King Hesper of Jellon and killed him and many of his subjects, then sailed away again. I have even heard a rumor that he is kidnapping children all across Eion to make some sacrifice to his heathen gods, asking Nushassos and the rest to give him total victory over the north, but I think the source of that one must be the breath of war and fear of the unknown instead of anything based on true events.
“Thus, I do not know what to advise you, Highness. I find it hard to believe that the autarch would leave his siege of Hierosol except to return to Xis—monarchs too long gone from their homes sometimes begin to fear what they have left behind. But almost all the tales agree that he has left, and almost as many say that no sign of him has been seen in his own kingdom. At the same time, the Xixians’ attempt to break the last resistance in Hierosol has not flagged. If that devil Sulepis has lost interest in conquering that great old city, I can see no sign of it.
“I have little else to tell you, except that your father’s health is unimproved. The great pains still come upon him without warning, and his mood suffers because of it. The physicians attend him, and I have sent for…”
“That’s enough,” said Eneas suddenly. “The rest is only meant for me—small matters of my household. Jino and a few others keep an eye on things for me when I am away from home.”
“Your father is ill… ?”
Eneas shook his head, a little too hard. “A distress of the stomach. My uncle has sent a famous Kracian physician to treat him, the best of his kind. My father will be well soon.”
Briony suddenly felt she understood some of what was going on, or at least the cause of Eneas’ brittle mood.
“You are worried, dear Eneas,” she said. “No, don’t say anything. Of course you are. Worse, you fear that something might happen to your father while you are away.” She wanted to say, “And you fear that Lady Ananka and her supporters at court may try to take control of the throne in your absence,” but she knew he would feel obligated to disagree. Sometimes, Eneas’ sense of honor forced him through a tiring series of responses that he and everyone else knew were not his true feelings, but simply what he felt as obligations. Instead, Briony continued with, “And you are caught between your oath to me and your loyalty and worry for your father and your country.”
He glanced up at her, startled. Lord Helkis and some of the other nobles in the great tent were beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. Eneas sent them away, keeping only the young pages as defense of Briony’s modesty.
“You presume much when you presume to know my mind, Princess,” he said when they were more or less alone.
“I’m sorry, Highness, but I believe what I say is true.”
He gave her a stern look. “Still, even if so—and I do not concede it—it is not to be talked about in front of all and sundry.”
“What—you mean Miron? Lord Helkis? He is your best friend and a relative. As are all your other captains friends and relations. Don’t you think they have thought the same thing? Don’t you think they have wondered why you are riding north into unknown dangers and someone else’s war when you have the danger of the autarch at your own country’s southern doorstep and a royal father who is in poor health?”
“It is nothing. My father eats rich food every night. That woman encourages it.” For a moment something of his true feelings about Ananka showed on his face, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. “But that is not the issue here. Even if what you said were true, I have sworn to accompany you home. That is not something that can be undone. ...”
For a moment Briony’s admiration for him soured into something else—frustration, perhaps even anger. Why were men so caught up with their honor, their solemn word, their promises? Half the time the promises were never asked of them in the first place! And yet the wars that were fought over such things, the hearts broken and the lands ruined… !
“Very well.” She held up her hand. “Then know this, Eneas. I hereby release you from your promise, if I ever truly held you. I do not think I did. You offered me a great favor from the kindness of your heart. Now I release you from it. You must do as your heart thinks best… but do not let a single promise, uttered in haste and in a kind attempt to atone for the rest of your family’s bad treatment of me, force you to do something you think is foolish. If your family needs you—if your country needs you—go. I of all people will understand.”
Again she seemed to have caught him by surprise, as if he had not thought her capable of thinking and acting this way. For long moments he could only stare at her as though seeing something new and strange.
“You are… a brave woman, Briony Eddon. And in truth I do feel a pull to go home, as any son would—as any heir would. But things are not so simple. Give me this evening to think. Tomorrow morning we will speak again, you and I.”
She thanked him and went out. Their parting was oddly formal, but for the moment Briony would have had it no other way.
She did not sleep well. Lisiya’s bird-skull amulet clutched in her hand did not bring her dreams of the demigoddess or any other immortal, only a series of escapes from and near-captures by shadowy things she could not quite see, things that muttered in angry voices as they followed her through tangled woods and over marshy ground where she had to fight to stay upright. When she woke, she was as tired as if she had spent the entire night doing what she had dreamed.
Still, she could not bear to sit around waiting for Eneas to summon her, so she bundled up warmly in her hooded travel cloak and went to walk along the edge of the encampment in the first blue light of the morning. The Temple Dogs had selected a small box canyon a short distance off the Royal Highway where the hills were as comfortably close and enfolding as her cloak. Briony walked to the top of the nearest one without ever losing sight of the sentry post, then sat and watched the sun clamber into the sky.