38 Calay

In private, Queen Anjine pondered how to be the best leader possible. Tierra demanded it, her father's memory demanded it, and she demanded it of herself. She would make the challenging and painful decisions that Korastine had often avoided. He had been a kind man, a ruler bred for times of peace. Anjine had not thought of him as weak, merely compassionate. But these difficult times had little place for compassion.

Anjine spent her days in a small writing room that had been one of her father's favorite places in which to mull over decisions, read decrees, and meet with representatives. Tycho, a fixture in the castle for many years, loved to find a patch of sun here and sprawl out while she did her work. She would often read documents aloud to him, practicing the language of her written responses, talking through her own thoughts and pretending that the cat listened or cared.

Despite her natural reluctance to accept the change, castle carpenters had furnished Anjine's rooms as the primary royal bedchambers. She had refused to move into the suite her father had occupied, first with her mother, then with his beloved Ilrida, and finally alone.

The work of the kingdom, however, demanded that she spend many hours attending to business, and she settled into the well-lit withdrawing room Korastine had used as his office. Piles of documents and unsigned replies still haunted his desk. Unfinished business. Toward the end, just before the sailing of the Dyscovera, Korastine had ignored all but the most urgent matters… and his definition of “urgent” had grown more and more restrictive over the years.

Anjine lifted each paper and scanned the writings, reading aloud to Tycho. “Acting as destrar of the river clans, Sazar has asked for a relaxation of his heavy obligations in carrying war supplies from the outer reaches.” She gave a quick snort, looking down at the cat. “What do you think? He claims that his riverboats no longer have any room for commercial goods, and so the clans can't make a living. At the same time, Comdar Rief requests more riverboats to deliver food and raw materials that the army vitally needs. One way or another, someone is going to be unhappy.”

Tycho stretched, closed his eyes, and rolled onto his back.

Anjine knew the needs of her army and would not reduce the flow of vital materiel despite the river clans' complaints. However, in a gesture that would mean a great deal to Sazar, while costing Tierra nothing, Anjine wrote a proclamation that officially acknowledged the big man's title as destrar.

“We'll grant him rank and standing, as well as jurisdiction over the flowing rivers and all of his boats. Any boaters not part of the river clan will have a right of free passage, so other Tierrans won't notice a difference in their daily lives. But Sazar will certainly appreciate being acknowledged, and the responsibility implicit in his new title should outweigh any reluctance to keep shipping military supplies.” She petted Tycho, then wrote and signed the brief document, pleased with the solution.

In another missive, Destrar Shenro suggested that since a large share of Alamont's cropland was devoted to growing food for the army, and since his prisoner-of-war camps provided all the labor for such efforts, his taxes be adjusted accordingly. “Quite reasonable,” Anjine said. “He makes a good case.”

The cat signified his agreement by yawning.

Mateo sent her a note from a distant military camp, describing his successful testing of young soldiers to root out ra'virs. Though his tone was formal and businesslike, she read the letter with avid interest, smiling at subtle hints she found between the lines.

Because Mateo had given her the little kitten years ago, she read the letter to Tycho. “ ‘It's getting more and more difficult to keep this task secret, Majesty. In all the camps, we have caught fourteen of the traitors so far. The method developed by our new ally has been quite successful, but she has been so long away from the other ra'virs that she is not familiar with their current numbers or training techniques.

“ ‘Ra'virs generally operate independently, each one brainwashed and sent to Tierra with the intent of causing harm to all followers of Aiden. But most of the hidden traitors must have realized what we are doing, and thus are not so easily fooled. We may have to devise another way.

“ ‘I wish I could be there to report in person. When you and I pretended to be Tycho and Tolli, we took those identities as a game—but this is no game. I've questioned the young ra'virs, using all the interrogation skills I know—including some that I am ashamed of—but the captives reveal little. They have a consistent dread of someone they call “the Teacher,” whom they obviously fear more than any torture. I just don't understand them. Living in Tierra again, how can they not see the goodness of our ways? Why don't we have more turncoat allies, like Tira? And how do we find them? I do not doubt that you and I could figure it out together, Tolli, if I were there.'”

She read the letter twice more to herself, smiling as she thought of Mateo writing it. Even though his news gave little reason for hope or optimism, she knew she could count on him. If only she had more subjects like Mateo… if only she could spend more time with him.

But that was not in her role as queen.

As she settled into her work, Anjine became engrossed in the papers until finally, like tripping over a rut on a path, she found a set of documents that her father had compiled: a list of potential husband candidates for her.

She stared at them, stung. Korastine had so desperately wanted her to marry, to have a happy family, to bear heirs. Anjine had always thought there would be plenty of time. Though she was older than a typical unwed woman, she had never felt the urgent pull of the matter. And now her father was gone.

She did not daydream about finding a dashing and handsome young husband, as her handmaidens did. She had always seen herself as a future leader, not a giggly romantic, but she had watched Enifir fall in love with Guard-Marshall Vorannen. Soon, the handmaiden would have her baby, and all the other women would coo and praise the infant, just for being an infant.

And Korastine had certainly adored Ilrida. Because Ilrida had given him so much happiness in the years they were together, Anjine could see the power and joy of a genuine love. But she hadn't allowed herself to believe that it could happen to her. Queens were obligated to marry and have heirs, but she did not expect more than that.

Even Mateo had often had trysts over the years, a succession of girlfriends, none of them serious. Oddly, Anjine had felt a pang of jealousy each time she heard of a new woman who had caught Mateo's eye (though he rarely spoke of them to her, apparently embarrassed to mention it). The jealousy was surprising and inappropriate, and it made her wonder whether she could experience the same sort of romance as any other person….

Anjine stared at the papers for a long time, feeling like a helpless child. She wanted her father there so she could ask him more about these men he offered as suitable husbands. What were they like? Which was most compatible with her own personality? Now she'd have to make the decision herself.

With a sigh she looked at the names and notes written in Korastine's familiar spidery hand. Having studied the merits of the candidates, playing upon his friendship and compatibility with the Eriettan destrar, the king had made his recommendation. He very much wanted Anjine to marry Jenirod.

She wished she hadn't been so resistant to marriage while her father was still alive. Regardless of the glow Ilrida had shone on Korastine's life for the few years they'd had together, such things were hardly important, especially now. In choosing a husband, she would use only dynastic and political merits as selection criteria.

She would not second-guess her father's wishes. If he had studied the options and chosen Jenirod, then she would accept that. Perhaps she and Jenirod would truly fall in love, as her father and Ilrida had. Perhaps not. It made no difference to her. Anjine's greatest regret was that she hadn't agreed years ago, because that would have made Korastine so happy.

Determined now, Anjine took out a blank sheet of paper, opened the inkpot, and mixed a small amount of ink. She sharpened the tip of the pen and began to write a letter to the Erietta destrar, announcing that she wished to accept his eldest son as her future husband.

“Assuming this is acceptable to you,” she wrote, “my party will come in three weeks' time, so that Jenirod and I can formally meet.” She paused, pondering what to write next. “I do this to strengthen Tierra. If you and your son are amenable, I suggest that the wedding take place within the year. In these troubling times, we should not delay.”

She signed with finality, before she could lose her nerve. After applying her seal, she rolled the document, tied it with ribbon, and called for a fast courier to take it to Destrar Unsul. If Mateo were here, she would have had him deliver the letter, since she knew she could count on him, although she might have felt an odd reluctance to tell him what she had decided. A husband…

Rushing in response to her summons, the guard looked concerned. “Dire news, Majesty?”

“Not at all. Good news, very good news.” She forced a smile. “And please send Tomas to me. I have a special job for him.”

When she told her brother that she had decided to marry, he beamed. He'd studied Tierran history and loved to hear legends of brave rulers. She felt a pang when he said, “It's been a long time since we've had a king and a queen.”

“I never thought of it that way, Tomas.”

“We have to tell everybody in Tierra!” The boy found the black-and-white cat sprawled on a window-bench and sat down to pet him; Tycho endured the attentions as his due.

Anjine sat beside her brother in the window-bench, and they stroked the cat in mutual silence for a few minutes. “You can help me spread the word. You're old enough now. It's time that you take on more of your duties as prince.”

The ten-year-old's eyes shone. “Father always said I would grow into a fine prince. What should I do?”

“Be my very own emissary. Take the royal cog and sail up and down the coast, stop at villages, and make the announcement. Guard-Marshall Obertas will go along as your personal guard.”

Tomas threw his arms around his sister's neck. She hugged him tightly. “I know it's not as good as joining the crew of the Dyscovera, but I need your help, and I can't think of anyone better to send.”