"Me-naaaa!" He drew the name out, exasperated. "These things of life-love between two people, the quickening of new beings-they don't stop when events ask them to. They are life, much more so than the wars we make, the monsters we slay."
Tugging his hair, she cut in, "Listen. I will swear an oath to you. My promise to you and to the Giver. When the Numrek and the Auldek are dealt with, we'll make a child together. I swear it. But, Melio, I can't not fight if we are to have war. It's the only gift I really have to offer. It's what I'm good at. I'm Maeben on earth. I can't pretend otherwise."
"It's not the only thing you have to offer," Melio began, but did not explain further. He considered her skeptically for a moment. "Make children together. Not just one. We have years of delay to make up for."
"Yes, that's right." She pulled him closer and pressed her cheek against his collarbone. He let her stay like that a moment, but then pulled back.
"Look me in the eyes," he said. "Do you swear by Maeben as well?"
"Yes." And saying so she realized she did mean it. She was going to fight like she never had before. She was going to give everything she had, because the dream she had conjured of a peaceful life remained a thing to fight for. Just one more war. Just one, and surely the Giver would let her rest. "You are my Vaharinda," she said. "You will give me many children, enough to people the world."
He finally released the wonder that was his smile. All the components of his face shifted into joyful arrangement. "Okay, Mena," he said, "I just hope you get to keep this promise."
So do I, she thought, moving her mouth to meet his. So do I.
C HAPTER
A fine morning a week after all the chaos with the Numrek, Delivegu walked past the Marah guarding the entrance to the queen's compound, his chin raised, haughty and disdainful of their fixed stares. He quite enjoyed it. How quickly the talented rise. When he reached Rhrenna's offices in the anteroom, however, he made himself more personable. "Secretary," he said, showing his perfect teeth, "I have need of an audience with the queen."
"I know," Rhrenna said. "You told me as much. That's why I gave permission for you to come this far. I'll need to know why you wish to speak to her before you go any farther."
Why indeed, Delivegu thought, smiling. Why indeed? "Oh, it's a small thing, but I think she'd like to know it."
Delivegu's recent capture of Barad the Lesser had won him more than a few privileges. He now, officially, had a post in Rialus Neptos's staff. It would have annoyed him if Neptos-ratlike creature that he was-had actually been around, but he was away indefinitely, if not dead. Corinn kept her plans so close to her lovely chest that very little came through the offices of the councillor. What little did, the upper-level staff seemed intent on keeping from him. The first days in his post he took to calling himself-privately, of course-"Acting Chancellor Delivegu Lemardine." Time would remove the "Acting," and then, finally, all would be right in the world. Perhaps he would eventually achieve "Chancellor and Queen's Consort Delivegu Lemardine, he of the mighty erection." That last part was true, of course, and the rest… Well, one could always dream.
In keeping with his new role, he was granted office space in one of the outer buildings of the palace's governmental wings-not the most distinguished sector of the grounds. Documents brought to him from the councillor's office had to travel from those rarified regions down several staircases, along a back alley, through a few underpasses, and up a ramp most often trafficked by laborers and their animals. The stink of the beasts drifted through his open window. He would have kept it closed, except the room, shadowed as it was for much of the day behind a high archway, was damp almost to the point of being chilly.
Something similar could be said about the secretary who came with the office. She was not exactly disfigured-nobody who worked within the palace displayed any of the physical ailments one might see regularly among the common people-but there was something unnervingly masculine about her: shoulders wider than normal, hips narrower. Her jaw was square as any Aushenian dockworker's, her voice just as gruff. He was being unkind, perhaps. She filled her position efficiently enough, with barely a wasted word or action. He would rather have employed a dim-witted, pretty girl that he could have slathered across his desk when the spirit moved him. The fact that this woman did not entice him seemed a personal affront. Even worse, he had dreamed about her several times, dreams of a sexual nature that left him squirming when he awoke. He tried to avoid looking at her, not an easy task in a small office space.
Though the palace was abuzz, he did not have much official business arrive at his desk. Fortunately, wearing the badge of his new rank allowed him free rein to wander much of the palace. The queen's office wing remained barred to him, as did the Akaran family's private quarters, that small city unto itself. Those he needed special permission to access. No matter. Strolling along the upper courtyard gardens, chatting with the guards who seemed a fixture at each gateway, watching the gape-mouthed fish hunt minnows in the pools, striding through corridors past senators and league officials and rich merchants kept him entertained. They all wore such grave faces. Concern hung about their shoulders, worry over the fate of the empire. Delivegu viewed the turmoil as an opportunity, but not one that should spoil his appreciation of his sudden rise in stature.
He flirted with noblewomen when opportunities arose. He did his best to orchestrate chance encounters, especially as one particular girl from Manil positively entranced him, such a small bud of mouth on her, and young enough that he knew, just knew, he would amaze her with his carnal knowledge. Even climbing all the way up to old Edifus's ancient ruins amused him. Good exercise for the legs and lungs and, by the Giver, what a view! The Inner Sea all around, glistening like colored glass lit from below. The tales said the first king was a suspicious, paranoid man. That was why he perched here so high above the sea, with views in all directions. Delivegu doubted that contained all his character. Surely, a man could not choose a spot in the world such as this without an eye for the splendor of it. Edifus, he was sure, had an eye for beauty.
Still, though, the nation faced a crisis. A grave threat. A new enemy and all that. Considering this, he sequestered himself in his offices for at least a few hours each day. He did his best to keep apprised of the workings in the higher reaches of the councillor's offices, sending frequent missives to them, cajoling information out of their tight fists. For his efforts he soon found himself deluged with documents that he was expected-no-not to consider and offer his sage opinion on, but to sort, to stack, to arrange, as if he were a lower order of office employee. He suspected the crates of dusty paper were actually long meant for disposal. He nearly made the mistake of storming into Rialus's office and accosting the staff, but then realized that was likely what they had wanted him to do. Make a fool of himself. Prove that he was not one of the elite, become a laughingstock. Clearly, his promotion did not sit well with some of his new peers. He held his tongue, and perused the piles for something helpful to his advancement.
Late one afternoon Delivegu came across some sort of diagram or architectural survey. He would have tossed it, if his eyes had not touched upon a few words written at the top corner. He recognized the handwriting immediately: Rialus Neptos's. He would have known the crimped writing anywhere. He thought it indicative of the character of the man, which was why Delivegu himself always wrote with bold, strong strokes meant to own the page.