Rien's Rebellion: Redemption & Revolution

By C. Z. Edwards

However badly Savrin governs Galantier, he is the last of Galene’s line and Galantier’s Prava lacks the will to challenge him. As the kingdom loses its direction and purpose, Rien and Laarens build the army to restore the legacy and administer the promise their ancestors made to Galantier’s refugee founders and a new generation of asylum-seekers.
Rien barely survived the fire at Watable, but with Comitae assistance, she and Laarens have come to understand some of the damage done to them in childhood was not merely abuse, but intentional malice. Quin must reconcile his own history with his father’s decisions, and Bran must rebuild his sense of self to encompass his awakening Ingeniae. As they gather their army of outcasts and exiles, can they build the tools to preserve Galantier, though war will tear them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Z. Edwards
• Release date: Dec 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732710849

C. Z. Edwards

C. Z. is a writer in Boulder, Colorado. She can often be found on Twitter, snarking about fashion, posting kitty pics, and word counts. She is a fan of the Oxford comma, epic fantasy, The West Wing, and cinnamon.

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Back Matter

However badly Savrin governs Galantier, he is the last of Galene’s line and Galantier’s Prava lacks the will to challenge him. As the kingdom loses its direction and purpose, Rien and Laarens build the army to restore the legacy and administer the promise their ancestors made to Galantier’s refugee founders and a new generation of asylum-seekers.

Rien barely survived the fire at Watable, but with Comitae assistance, she and Laarens have come to understand some of the damage done to them in childhood was not merely abuse, but intentional malice.  Quin must reconcile his own history with his father’s decisions, and Bran must rebuild his sense of self to encompass his awakening Ingeniae. As they gather their army of outcasts and exiles, can they build the tools to preserve Galantier, though war will tear them apart? 

Author’s Note

This book begins immediately after the events of Rien’s Rebellion IV: Wisdom’s Fire . Please read that first. If this is your first exposure to this series, the first book is available for free at czedwards.com .

This series allows the reader to choose how to navigate intertwined stories. Reading sequentially, as presented, is the primary recommended reading order for a first read. However, on subsequent readings or at certain events, the reader may choose to follow the navigational tags at the end of each chapter. Remember to add your own bookmark if you choose to alter the adventure. You will want to come back. Chapter headings indicate time and perspective. You will also find Galantieran words are linked to a glossary .

Winter, 1140 — Rien

We grew through that cool, dry winter. Seventy-four when Cedri and Kya bound themselves together for the thirty day Archilian marriage rite, and ninety-three when I was permitted to climb the western tree rather than use the undignified pulley or the slightly less humiliating ladder and harness. By then, we’d all become accustomed to the ladder; it stayed in place. One hundred fourteen on the night Ced and Kya unbound, bonded in Archilian marriage. Unbreakable by human agency, and what Quin and I would make, before we marched for Cimenarum . Neither of us were exclusively Archilian — Quin never had been; his father’s Sardani and his mother, both Archilian and Cresarian . I wasn’t religious at all anymore, in the strictest sense. We’d claim the long rite because it couldn’t be broken, save by the highest Archilian clerics. To my knowledge, they’ve never done so. We’d choose unbreakable marriage to prevent the Prava from asking me to set Quin aside, when the day finally came. If it came. And because we wanted to confirm the numinous bond we had shared though all the long years apart with recognition of its permanence.

Tactical problems occupied me that winter, but I kept the strategic goal always in mind — redeeming Galantier from Savrin’s disastrous rule. Conditions worsened. We learned that Savrin preached from the Karsai battlements. Expected, as were the resulting riots and unrest. The other points of the triangle, Mathes and Reginal Tiwendar, kept to themselves, but I saw their hands when they raised taxes from one-fifteenth part of the harvest and trade to one-tenth. Galantier couldn’t afford that long. They didn’t raise the body levy, to my relief; they couldn’t afford more people who’d eat and need to be equipped and skim profits. The Western border simmered, cooled by the winter freeze.

Very little of that touched us. With the winter came a shift in the glacier, and we had to use our small boat to get around it, so the expeditionary force I feared would be called didn’t appear, but I expected them any time. We distracted or sent to various Conversatories and friendly langreves another twenty who were willing to fight, brave and loyal, but unfit. Winter took a heavy toll on many Galantierans, as it usually does.

Laarens taught me to be a General , and we played battle games, usually with painted twigs on the ground, but occasionally with our living army, on the practice ground, with padded pikes and corked arrows. We all enjoyed those days.

We built a score of lodges, expanded our clearing, and kept upwards of a hundred strong, determined people focused on one goal. I needed every bit of authority, devoir, and adjudication I’d ever learned that winter. We never broke into warring factions, because Laarens, Quin, and I had constructed our army well. When the Pike divisions grew too large for a single command, they broke into halves, and between Marli and Nekane, they maintained a friendly rivalry between the peers. Nekane commanded the First division; Marli the Second. Daval, under Marli — he said I’d appreciate the pun, but I never inquired — took the Fourth and Argrid the Third, under Nekane. When they weren’t drilling, hunting or on perimeter duty, they played tosca . The Archers were similar; Bran, Karse and Cotter held hunting competitions, but never allowed factionalism. We brought new members into the Foot. Between Laarens, Cedri and me, we instilled the virtues we needed: cooperation, dedication and camaraderie above other distinctions.

We grew crowded, especially the treehouses. When Ced and Kya were fully married I realized we’d grow, and my unpartnered commanders would be, eventually.

We need another treehouse, I told Quin after the unbinding. Can we build in the north tree before spring?

Why? The tree just south of the east is better, but we don’t need it. It’s much faster to build on the ground and those lodges are portable.

I eyed him skeptically. Has he taken an intellect-shattering blow I missed? I prefer my council close, and my leaders within these walls. Our discussions should stay here.

We needn’t expand for that, Quin said. We’re settled in.

For now. Bran, and Laarens must marry —

Now he looked amused. "If they can work it out. Bran wants an Archilian ceremony and Laarens a Comitae ."

I blinked, truly shocked. I had no words. Laarens isn’t — turned about.

Busy with the brazier, Quin said absently, Above halfway. He looked up. How’ve you missed this? It’s hardly uncommon, especially in the Army, and Laarens was there most of his adult life. They’re of age, and it’s not a secret. They’re happy.

I never asked, I said slowly. When we were young, Laarens was often in... well... dubious female company. Telia, amongst others.

Laarens chooses pulse, heart and mind well above form, he said.

I couldn’t encompass it. We wrote reams of letters, talked about everything — except our affections. He never once mentioned that he found lads at least as interesting as girls. Twenty-seven years, and it never entered our conversation? That’s not accidental . It scared me. That he’d withheld such a vital subject meant I’d probably missed others. And Savrin. Of course Savrin knew. Savrin and Laarens had regularly jaunted about Cimenarum; they weren’t overprotected. I felt myself grow spiky with tension, trying to outthink Savrin. How will he use this information?

Moments later, Laarens tapped at the door. You’re projecting. Dwelling on the dead past. He dropped to the floor beside me and Bran hunkered down before me. What took you so long to figure us out?

I tried to smile, but it felt ghastly. My just deserts for not prying into your head.

What bothers you about Laarens and me? Bran asked.

I remade my defenses and closed myself inside my head to ponder his question. I don’t care with whom Laarens or Bran finds happiness; if they’re happy together — I inhaled the scents of their characters and Odifera told me they were. New notes of basil, for contentment, geranium for loving devotion, and vervain for passionate constancy. Even without their scents, I couldn’t think of two people better suited. They balanced each other perfectly. Bran softens Laarens’ temper and Laarens encourages a lightness of spirit in Bran I never saw before Laarens joined us. No, their pairing doesn’t worry me. Only the politics. Does Savrin know? I breathed.

No, Laarens said. "Seven years ago, I’d just started to realize that being equipped one way didn’t confine me to those equipped opposite. Then I opened the hells on us, and Sav’s never been the same. If he’s spoken a thousand words to me since then, I’ll eat your cooking. He’s surrounded by Lethians , so I kept myself quite to myself. They’re as tetchy as Teandrians about turnabouts."

Why didn’t you tell me? I demanded. I should —

Black my eye. Laarens nodded. I deserve it. Caria, I never found anyone worth telling you about. Which isn’t true. You met Paval Bruckides. And he’s better off with Mikos. I was an idiot. I’m sorry. He took one of my balled fists, and stroked my knuckles until I relaxed. I have my own protective streak —

Some wheat fields are narrower than your protective streak, Bran said dryly.

Agreed, Laarens said. "You didn’t need another worry. After all, my nature would’ve encouraged Uncle to marry us to each other. I couldn’t complain when you and your Captain of the Guard — who couldn’t be as handsome as me, and if he was, I’d steal him from you — kindled the children I’d claim. Knew you didn’t want that, brat."

"You couldn’t have told me... how long have you been together?"

Bran cocked an eyebrow and thought for a second. Second day, when I showed him the perimeters. That’s when it started. He smiled at Laarens. Lecher seduced me, right —

Enough information, thanks! I interrupted. It’s not personal, Bran. I’ve never wanted to know about Laarens’ affections.

As long as you’re not going Teandrian on us, Laarens said. I should’ve told you immediately.

Don’t be silly. I smiled at him. I’ve plenty to worry about without including your affections. You weren’t protecting me this time?

Bran laughed. Oi, no! I thought everyone knew; I’m surprised you didn’t notice. We’re not exactly subtle.

The cupboard walls are thick and apparently, I said ruefully, I’m blind.

No, Bran said and took Laarens’ free hand. I have seen that a thousand times and never noticed, because Ced and Fanik and Daval and Quin and Bran never hid their affections. You may be the busiest person alive right now. All the details you keep in your head, I’m surprised you two find time. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Weddings make me affectionate, so we’ll excuse ourselves.

Early spring brought the first real snow of the winter. Our two weatherwitches said snow had fallen, but on the glaciers. Galantier would have water come summer, but the Foreti would be perilously dry. Yet we cursed the snow; we’d grown accustomed to dry, cool weather. I spent those snowy days convincing people to visit other lodges so winter jitters wouldn’t make them restive, and fletching. I was working on my fourth thousand arrows for the coming war when Quin came through the hatch after his rounds to check on our sentries.

Fanik nudged me and raised his eyebrows as Quin went directly to our room and returned with my cloak, an extra tunic, my hat and gloves. He also had my plated coat.

What is it, gallant?

He looked puzzled, felt anxious, as he handed me garments. There’s a... visitor? Yes... that’s the right word. Will you be warm enough? It’s a walk.

I cast about until I felt someone at the very edge of my new Observing range. Familiar, but... distantly so. Not precisely dangerous, but odd. That must be wrong; everyone I know is here and that’s not Lin, Cel, Jon, certainly not Emma. I know this. Almost. My puzzlement mirrored Quin’s.

So she told Miria. May we, clove?

Nonetheless, I fetched sword and bow before I followed Quin downstairs.

I’d recovered as much as possible until the cold abated. I had strength, endurance and wind. I still lacked fat, and felt the cold keenly, but shivering was the price I paid for my life. I, like almost everyone, maintained a polite fiction that I’d been ill and never truly endangered.

Quin refused his role. He treated me like spun glass — when he could convince me to cooperate. Not often. Our single unresolvable argument centered on pace. He thought an amble most appropriate; I disagreed. Speed warmed me. When I knew our destination, I abandoned my slothful lover until he decided to keep up, and when I didn’t, I pulled him along.

We walked south for three hours, then four, and talked politics. Lists of supporters, of opposition. What to do with those in the mushy middle. How to raid, and without being too obvious. When to declare war. What we’d do with the Prava , and how we’d handle what they’d do with us. Every possible stratagem and tactic. We took our cue from Galene, who’d established a nation with few hands and fewer resources, by considering potential problems well in advance.

We quieted when we picked up the boat and took to the water, and remained silent when we set foot on Silvalt land. We sometimes met recruits there; more rarely, found a strange gift with no provenance but the sense that it came from a sympathizer. No roads led in, though small carts could pass with difficulty. We maintained that. In the middle of the clearing stood a Gorthanian vaden , a rolling trader’s house, and two stout ponies to pull it.

Do you recognize it? Quin asked by Evocata .

No. I’ve never met a Gorthanian trader.

She’s not Gorthanian, and probably not a trader. She’s Benem’s age, greying, dark coloring and Curia diction, he said.

Strange... I know her... but I don’t. I watched, but nothing more. Perceptio might cue a Tracker .

We kept our weapons ready.

Eventually, the woman emerged to feed the ponies. They’re stout because she’s overfeeding them. I grinned and shook my head. Her dogs had been rolly little beasts, and the cats who roamed my rooms were plump from the fish and dove Ethene gave them from our table. She’ll feed anything that’ll eat. Of course neither she nor the wagon seem familiar. She’d never owned such a thing when I knew her, and my sense of a person had altered under Benem’s training; I doubted I’d recognize my father’s ingeniae signature.

I pushed through the scrub. Ethene, why are you here? I took her by the shoulders and tried not to smile. I was pleased to see her, but my father’s gently reared, elegant companion didn’t belong in the Foreti. She hated camping, the wild outdoors, and considered a privy brutal punishment. If I must be harsh to convince her to go to Archilavast or Resarn, so be it.

There you are! Ethene scolded, her tone no different from the thousands of other times she found me in eccentric places. I’m forever six for Ethene.

What’s brought you?

I’m here to serve. I’ve been harassed beyond endurance since you died. You’re so thin!

I laughed. I’m perfectly healthy for a corpse. Never mind, I’m fine. How did you know to come here?

"My dear, I have my own methods, though you seem to have subverted some of them. Six tenday s ago, I received a message from my Comitae Communicator. ‘If you seek kittens, they likely scratch in the forest.’ Utter nonsense, but I was told it came from Laarens. I suppose this means I’m trusted now, so I finished my task and —"

I’ll sew his lips together, I muttered. What task?

Placing an improbable pair of ears, she said.

I heard the lie as she said it. This wasn’t new; every responsible adult lied to the child in their care from time to time. Sometimes the truth was too complex, or too dangerous. I started to force the matter, then stopped myself as she turned to Quin. If Ben and Vaish and I can’t figure out what she was really doing, we need to hang up our ingeniae anyway. We need the spycraft practice. But the dishonesty bothered me. In the years between reaching adulthood and leaving Cimenarum, she had prevaricated with me, but rarely lied. This one had been smooth, practiced, and without a trace of honesty.

You must be Reginal’s son. You look so like your mother it’s positively eerie, she said.

He bowed over her hand, as if we were in the Presentation Hall. She turned to me. "I disbelieved Pols when he said you were with this young man. You complained about Pronator Tiwendar for a tenday."

You did? Quin eyed me sidelong.

You annoyed me, I retorted.

I hope you’re his scion only in name, Ethene said.

Not even that, Quin said seriously. I keep my name for my people, not him.

You wish to stay? I repeated to return to the immediate subject.

To serve, Rien. I’m no use on the safe end of a sword but I’ll sew, cook, bind wounds, offer bribes, and administer as needed. To my knowledge, armies still require such.

True, but in her mind, I’m either a child in need of protective lies, or the subject of an intelligence operation. However, Laarens trusted her enough to bring her into his cover a half-year ago, and to bring her in now without warning me. If he assumed I wouldn’t mind, the parental problem was more probable. Or he, in his duty as spymaster, needed my corroboration of something he couldn’t or wouldn’t articulate. Too much suspicion is worse than too little, I reminded myself, and set a mental bell to remind me to have Vaish listen to Ethene’s thoughts. Ethene, you hate this. I won’t say I can’t use a pair of hands who understand a needle better than a sword, but we have nothing like what you’re used to.

"I shan’t be a burden. I brought my own supplies and shelter, as well as what I thought would help... this wagon, a trader’s pavilion, a brazier and food; cloth, needles, medicines. Do you need more, Rien? After Vohan died, I... well, the Exchequer won’t be happy with me and I’ve got it secured."

I studied her. She’s aged — grey and thin, new worry lines in her face. Her back’s as straight as ever, but she has the same air Laarens had when we first found him. The sense of being on a fool’s errand, and not quite believing it wasn’t half-witted. Are you a ghost? If too many of my allies appear to die, Mathes might get suspicious.

Certainly not, she said with asperity. "I’ve gone traveling the world to soothe my broken heart. Have you any idea the extent of the false paper trade in Heidlsarn and Selapol? You must see to that, Rien. Smuggling anything into Galantier is practically trivial thanks to forgers we should be hiring. They’re artists , but the security hole they present!"

One problem at a time, if you don’t mind, I said.

May I stay?

Has it been so bad? I asked gently.

It could’ve been worse. It’s over, she said firmly. Savrin’s been harassing me. Items apparently went missing when you went to Celestan. I packed your rooms; I don’t know how it happened. She smiled, her face full of artificial innocence. You’d think Jehar and I stole the Galene circlet the way he behaved.

Oi, a mystery solved. That’s how I got my diadem and sword. Still, she must know what she’s requesting. "Ethene, you’ll find our existence tiresome. A Conversatory’s more comfortable. You’ll be imperiled even off the battlefield. It might come to us. However, I’ll happily make use of you if you’re convinced you belong here. The choice is yours."

My dear, I have served Galantier for most of my life. I’m not likely to stop now. Besides, she said ruefully, I’m lost. You’ve acquired a fixture.

I should have been more pleased, especially when I saw how happy Laarens was to see Ethene, and how genuinely she and Bran greeted one another. But that lie bothered me. If she was placing unlikely ears, why not tell me? But that, she most certainly had not done. Which meant that whatever she had done, she didn’t want me to know, either because it was an action against me, or because she thought she needed to cloak me in ignorance. Neither of which boded well.

Until midnight, I stared at the roof while Quin slept. Wake him and figure this out, I told myself, but I knew I can be unreasonably suspicious of minor foibles. It was an artifact of growing up in a Curia , where everyone had ulterior motives, and of too many years in the legal trenches. I needed untainted reflections of Ethene. Quin didn’t know her at all, and Laarens trusted her enough to bring her in. Unless he’s had a prompt to bring her under closer observation. Though he would have told me that, wouldn’t he?

Not necessarily, if he was feeling nebulous uncertainty, too. His Providias can be remarkably unreliable and cryptic, but he trusted the forebodings and hints it gave him. Let’s treat it like an investigation. Were she a suspect in a crime, we’d hire an investigator to follow her, or get a warrant for a Perceptive inquiry. I have an investigator and another Perceptive who have no prior ties.

I let my mind wander over the community, tried to ignore those who were wakeful and partnered, and hoped the two I wanted were not deeply asleep. Aisah sol Benem, my Comitae Ingeniae specialist, I found wide awake but somewhat tipsy, with Rosa, one of our Comitae Communicators. From their Luminara lights, I knew they weren’t building towards a romantic conclusion, but I still tapped politely. Am I interrupting?

Nothing urgent, he said genially. My daughter is married to Rosa’s brother, and they’ve just born their second son and first daughter. Healthy twins and all are well. We’re sharing family images, chatting and celebrating their naming with family. For this, the Communicators wait until traffic is calm, so middle of night.

That was new to me. Many congratulations. I didn’t know the node could share images, and with those not in the node.

Not all, and brandy helps. You wanted something?

Tomorrow, may I disrupt your planned duties? I’ve a project I’m investigating.

Certainly. I have never passed opportunity to not go fishing.

I let him return to his family, then turned to the other mind. I found Vaish sune Saren, my one-eyed former Army spy and Metropolita investigator, reading, and his roommate, Vornan, disgruntled. You’re about to be doused with the water bucket, I warned my thought-sniffer, who should have known Vornan’s irritation.

Ah, no. He’s considering putting out my remaining eye. There’s no malice in him. Besides, he and Mirina kept me out in the cold and wet until just an hour ago.

We might not need another treehouse, but we certainly needed more lodges. Vaish has been patient with his lodgemates and was apparently easy to share with, but his mates keep pairing off with others, and there are only so many times one can ask a roommate to wait until after the lovemaking ends. Are you reading to extract revenge?

No, Magisteria, he replied. Finishing this tenday’s correspondence. Your wishes, ma’am?

I’m borrowing you tomorrow. I’ve a task.

He hesitated for long enough that I wondered if he had raised his defenses. Because Her Grace seems to lack an internal monologue?

I took my time responding. You cannot hear Lady Ethene’s thoughts? More to the point, do you make a habit of listening to everyone?

Everyone new, ma’am, he said. If I know their normal, I can better ignore them day to day, and note an alteration quicker. No, I can’t hear Ethene, or more precisely, I can hear her internal voice, but not its words. It seems to... hum rather than speak or sing.

My every muscle tensed, but I made myself not stir. I should not rouse Quin. He would sense my anxiety, and now, more than ever, I needed to not infect him with suspicion. Have you encountered this before?

Rarely, yes. I call it Discretia, a variation on a minor Perceptio , I believe. It feels similar to Advocate’s Privacy . That’s a poor description of her, ma’am. I can hear thoughts from her, but not what she’s actually thinking at the moment. When people converse, I must listen to either their words or their thoughts, because their speech is usually a near instant echo of what they’ve just thought. I was sniffing while she was chatting with Laarens earlier and she wasn’t matching. That’s when I noticed the hum. They were talking about her militiae unit, I think... but she was thinking tailoring and watercolors.

That couldn’t be good, but it explained why I perceived her lies. I believed my Perception of lies was a near instant matching of thought and words, one so subtle I had no understanding of its mechanics.

Since the militiae were mostly in Laarens’ keeping, Ethene and her Comitae Communicator reported to Laarens, not me. Will you accept the task?

Certainly, ma’am. Are you sure you want me to accept it? I don’t think she’s a threat to us, and she’s nearly your marriage-mother, was practically your mother. I’m confident she’s loyal to you. You know that I don’t soften what I find. You may not want to know what I discover.

I know, Vaish. But there’s a difference between loyalty to me, and to Galantier, and to Galantier as it has been all of her life, and our goals. I may be chasing a dead lead. Those aren’t new to us. How is your knee? No forced marches if you’re hurting.

I felt him mentally shrug. I prefer an ache to sea-sickness, and that’s our other option for privacy.

The three of us set out early, before the morning tumult at the assignment book. I hadn’t explained in my change notes why I delegated command of the other Swords to Reya. I expected I’d hear an inquiry from Quin before the morning grew old. Nor was I disappointed.

Do you think someone’s out on the west perimeter? he asked. Is that what you were looking for late last night?

Sorry I woke you, I said. I’m not sure, and yes, I’ve got all three Perceptives out here. I promise, if we scout someone, someone not us can make the initial contact. May we concentrate, my gallant?

He sent a wordless feeling of both concern and affection, then a verse of one of my more explicit songs. Perhaps, if nothing’s out there, we can take our own walk towards Salt Spring this afternoon? he suggested with a lascivious undertone.

We had had little time to ourselves since Watable. Even if we only vanished for a quarter day, those hours would be both precious and entirely necessary. I sent him off to his own work with a promise to meet him, then checked that we three were beyond the hearing of anyone else. We ambled and I explained my vague suspicions to Ben and Vaish until we reached one of the minor hot springs, where we had built an emergency weather shelter. We crowded into the little hut.

They had both been quiet, letting me lay out my case, such as it was, without interruption.

Perhaps shadows of nothing, Rien? Ben said doubtfully. I am guilty of telling my children untruths. Every parent is. He stopped himself. I admit I do not entirely yet understand Galantieran minds, but I cannot convince myself that your shadow of doubt is unreasonable. Your Lady Ethene is more than she seems, yes?

I nodded. What did you notice in the last half-day?

First, one question. Can you not just talk to her? I see clear that she deeply loves both you and Laarens. You are her children in all ways that matter.

I don’t think so, I said. "She’s a Curia creature, and more importantly, she’s spent most of her life at the height of our political world, even if unacknowledged. Diplomacy and protocol require a level of discretion and manipulation, of slanting the truth. It becomes habit. I think I’d be better able to get confirmations than answers to questions."

That’s mostly what I noticed, Ben said. Your Ethene is... artful. She masks her cleverness in courtesy and charm. Her conversation is light, but she leaves a conversation knowing more than the other intended to reveal. I think she is adept at getting others to do as she wishes, but they think her wishes are their idea?

Ayuh, Vaish said, that’s the nobility’s blessing and great sin. You’d have to assume the worst of the entire upper class if that was the criteria. He shrugged. Though betting on the nobility’s worst nature is always a money-spinner. Ma’am, nothing you’ve said and nothing I’ve noticed would warrant the sort of observation I think you’re requesting.

Not in the civil bench, I said, but within intelligence, suspicion is sometimes the only warning before betrayal.

I think you are asking Vaish and me to stand as your second eyes and ears, but Rien, I do not know Galantier so well, and neither of us know your Ethene as you do, Ben said. I do not want to say no, but I don’t know if I can accomplish what you ask.

Vaish nodded. And you know my methods, ma’am. To succeed, you’ll have to tell me everything you know, everything you think you know, all of your suspicions. With anyone else, that’s merely embarrassing. My discretion has never been in doubt. You, however, will reveal state secrets. Are you certain you wish me to try?

That thought had kept me awake longer than the decision to inquire into Ethene. What had finally decided me was the knowledge that one day, I would have people tasked to just this. I’ve worked with Vaish for years, and I always trusted his discretion with clients. Ben mended my naked mind. Nothing I could say or think could be worse than things these men already knew about me. Where shall I start?

With your oldest memories, and work forward, Ben said. No, even before. Tell everything you know of Ethene’s history, too. Start there.

Ethene was born in Cimenarum, forty-three years ago. She was the youngest of her father’s children, by his second wife, who died having her. He never remarried, and he was elderly when she was born. She has five sisters and I think six brothers, but at least three died in battle in the west, or at sea. She speaks Natavian and Farazine fluently. When she was fifteen, she joined the Farenze treaty delegation, specifically to be translator and tutor to my mother, but her official position was odd. She was an official supernumerary because Farenze would not recognize any woman as a delegate, and she had to be officially attached to someone’s household. I remember hearing that she was designated Laarens’ companion, and social secretary, and something else between the time their ship departed and they returned.

Laarens’ companion? Vaish asked. Was he on that trip? He must have been barely crawling. Why did they send an infant on a diplomatic mission?

I let myself smile. Because my father essentially kidnapped him.  My grandfather commanded custody of Laarens at birth since Mathes made such a mess of marrying. My father grew attached to him. Laarens was two when the delegation went, so toddling, not crawling, and Da knew Aunt Bella would be the de facto regent. She would have had no attention for Laarens, and she grew short-tempered when tired or overwhelmed. He didn’t want to add a small child to her duties. Mathes, then seventeen, had no experience of parenting, and assuming my father and aunt weren’t just slandering him, spent most of his time either drunk, smoking hemp, or dueling. Da slipped an assignment of custody into the paperwork, my grandfather signed it without noticing, and Da took Laarens.

I find myself astonished at times that the House of Galene produced one with your ethics, Vaish said. I recall your grandfather and his flexible sense of the law. Your father was better, but they treated politics and law as bloodsports. He didn’t sound entirely disapproving. May I surmise that Ethene’s primary duties in Farenze were more... covert than educational?

I think so, I said. "I can’t confirm, but I believe she was my father’s eyes inside the arram. Women’s sole power in Farenze exists entirely in the arram. The senior wife is often quite the power-player, either by promoting or demoting the junior wives, or by promoting the interests of her sons. Since their power is so tenuous, it tends towards vicious. However, Ethene did teach and interpret for my mother, not that my mother ever became entirely comfortable with Galantieran. Mumma is why I speak Farazine, which is better than my father, who had no talent for languages at all. That he learned enough Porsirian to correspond with the other monarchs was an achievement."

Not a happy marriage, your parents, Ben said. "Had your mother any ingeniae ?"

Farenze doesn’t encourage ingeniae, I said, "especially not in women. That she be assessed was a requirement for marriage, and yes, Mumma had potential. She would have been a moderate Incendiary and Evocator had she been trained. She and Ethene developed a friendship over the next year and a half. Mumma and Da married at the end of 1111, completed the treaty in the spring of 1112, and came home that autumn. Ethene married... I paused, searching deep in Advocate’s Memory for what I’d been told or what I’d compiled in the research for Lin Silvalt’s succession case. Avah and I spent days in the genealogies and I couldn’t find any notation on Ethene. For some reason, I also had two names for her husband, Willan tret Paxular and Beren quan Salvastri, but neither could be right. A tret Paxular would have been two years older than my former employer, Mandar quan Paxular, since I’d met his next older sister several times. A third son at that time would not have been assigned to foreign service unless severely disabled, since the whole reason for the Farazine treaty was to secure reinforcements and resources to shore up our defenses against Spagna. I wasn’t sure a quan Salvastri existed in their generation. I recalled seeing a note on a tret Salvastri, born in 1100. A fourth son would have been Laarens’ near peer, not Ethene’s, and certainly not on a diplomatic trip in 1110. But I could be missing another designator or just misremembering the name. Ethene married around the same time my parents did, to another delegate. I think it was political, both ours and the mission. Probably because of her status as a woman without visible protection. It didn’t last long, though she did kindle. When the delegation returned home, her husband went to the border, where his unit was overrun. He died before she gave birth that winter."

Vaish cocked an eyebrow. When exactly did the delegation arrive home?

I examined my mental calendar. It must have been on the fifth or sixth day of Faculatis, since my grandfather died on the last day of Storis and Da was crowned on the tenth of Faculatis.

Odd, that, then, he said. Even back then, the raids were usually over by the end of Storis, and getting a troop of reinforcements from Cimenarum or Julianasport to the front line takes a good two tendays. Whoever the fellow was, he got off the ship, got himself out there, and got killed. Bad luck, that.

"Or a supper story , Ben said. You didn’t say his name. Because you never knew it, or because you doubt yourself?"

Both, I said. I will have someone research it.

Why did Galantier treat with Farenze? Ben asked. I was young then. Some of my friends were sent to fight for punishment, but I do not recall that time being especially bloody.

It was for us, I said. We didn’t have the garrisons then. Our entire defense consisted of skirmish and retreat and staying in the field. We didn’t have the people to take away from skirmishing to build defenses. Farenze wanted our neutrality against Gorthania, our engineering knowledge, and hard currency in exchange for their raw materials. We needed a market for our manufactured goods.

And bodies, Vaish prompted. There were still a few left when I joined.

Yes, I said. My mother’s dowry was twenty thousand slaves over three years, ones the Al-Sadi deemed too rebellious to keep in Farenze. They were granted freedom when they arrived, and full citizenship when they were discharged from service, but three-quarters didn’t last the full five years. They couldn’t defend themselves, or they were too aggressive. After the first year, Da put as many as possible in noncombat roles, and they built the garrisons and the roads... but they thought of themselves as expendable. We can free someone legally, but we can’t free their minds. Their sacrifice bought us time, let us build our defenses and force the war onto our terms so we could keep it at stalemate, but at too high a price. In that, we were no better than Spagna.

No nation is perfect, Ben said. Neither you, personally, nor Galantier as a nation were responsible for evil done before they came to you. You did not repeat that evil?

No, Vaish said. And on the border, there’s not a man who doesn’t thank their souls at least once a tenday. I remember hearing the oldtimers, from when a unit lost ten or twelve every season. There are no old, bold soldiers, but back then, there weren’t old soldiers at all.

Not much consolation, Ben said. Ethene bore her child in the winter, then you were born.

I nodded. "Alglidis was cold and wet that year. Snow after snow after snow. Cimenarum was frozen solid and the small streets were packed twelve feet deep, so I’ve been told. The Karsai was on extremely limited staff, the Prava recessed. Ethene had her son on the twenty-seventh of Alglidis and Mumma had me five days later. Ethene’s Meridian only lived three days; I was told he was born blue, with a swishing heart. Mumma’s labor with me was difficult, and she was disappointed that I was a girl. For a Farazine woman, a girl is a wasted effort and not to be coddled. In the lower classes, many girls just aren’t fed, but in the arram , there is always a low-ranked wife or concubine who spends her entire life as the girls’ wetnurse. Mumma wouldn’t have nursed me even if her milk had come in, and given the storms, the only woman with milk in the Karsai was Ethene. She nursed me until the weather broke, then stayed anyway until I was weaned."

Vaish stared into a middle distance, deep in thought. "1113. Ayuh, very bad winter, that. My last year of school before heading to the War College. I spent most of Alglidis and Glacilis stranded in the Renaran temple. At least you know that part’s true."

You hear a false story? I asked him.

Mostly convenient. Two women, both pregnant at the same time, in a building with few servitors, during the worst weather in a generation, with the entire country in official mourning for your grandfather. Not that many of us mourned. He’d become a mean, crazy bastard in his last years, but the Curia was quiet. Were I a suspicious man, I would presume that Ethene was there as assurance, just in case Alnora’s baby didn’t live.

Have you met my mother, Vaish? I asked.

He nodded. Presented to her at your naming. You look most like your father, but the Farenze in you shows. You’ve her mouth and eyebrows and some of her shape. You’re not quite the knitting stick that your aunt was. I didn’t say it happened, just that your father had a wide streak of cunning in him.

Does Mathes believe, Ben asked, you are not your mother’s child? Or perhaps not even your father’s?

Vaish laughed. Rien is Vohan’s, no doubt. When she’s armored and wearing specs, I look twice every time.

I don’t know what Mathes thinks, I said, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

You were born, named, a normal baby, Ben said. And Ethene stayed.

I walked and talked, I said. I think there ends what can be called a normal childhood. And yes, Ethene stayed. My aunt kindled Savrin when I was an infant, I think at my father’s request — yes, more insurance, Vaish — and by then, Ethene and Bella were friends, which was a rarity for my aunt. She was... cool, detached. I don’t think she liked people much, so the few she could tolerate, she valued. Also, my father believed that children need the stability of familiar faces, and Ethene had been part of Laarens’ life for two years by then.

But your parents had no more children, Ben said.

"They tried. Mumma kindled easily, and her second would have been less than a year younger than me, but she lost that baby a quarter-year in. And the next one a half-year later. The third and fourth when I was two, and the fifth when I was three. By then, she was losing her mind. Grief and not having her arram and whatever else causes madness. I’m sure the lack of language contributed — the only person she could truly speak to was Ethene, and I think there was friction there, over me. Just because Mumma would have preferred a son doesn’t mean she didn’t want me, but if I was like most babies, the woman who nursed me was more important. I don’t know. I’ve always been told my mother loves me, and I think she tried as much as she could, but in my earliest memories, I only recall her weeping, or running from me. As I grew older, she withdrew more. When I did see her, she was kind, but distant."

And your early memories of Ethene? Ben prompted.

We played games every afternoon, I said. Word games and with the wood soldiers. Laarens, too. She and Da shared meals with us, Da usually at breakfast and Ethene at midday or supper. Most mornings, Ethene dressed me. She was our administrator, oversaw our staff and tutors, but she wasn’t there every hour.

Vaish snorted and scowled. Because the most important duty the Monarch has — to raise a competent successor — can so easily be delegated. He peered at me with the look that I know means he’s probing for prevarication. Abusive governesses? Tutors?

No, I said certainly. "The only abuse came from within the family. Mathes grew worse while they were in Farenze — he grew a poppy habit to go with the hemp and brandy. Da gave him one last chance and with the Hermachians’ help, Mathes did seem to reform himself. He stopped using, stopped dueling, stopped drinking. He told Da he had only a single mistress, who was helping him become a better man, and that he wanted to try to be a father to Laarens. Da believed him."

Mistress? Vaish asked. Laarens’ mother. Where was she?

At Picarem, I said. She contracted red fever after Laarens was born. Heart damage. Even if they’d had more than lust and adolescent impulsivity, which they didn’t, she was ill and weak. She never recovered and died before I was born. Laarens doesn’t even remember her.

"I’ve heard you say that your father was a strong Perceptive , Ben said. He believed your uncle?"

Just because we’re Perceptive doesn’t mean we can’t deceive ourselves, I said. Da wanted to believe Mathes, and most of what Mathes said was true then. Or Mathes could have been deceiving himself that he could be a better man. In retrospect, I think Mathes tried, but he was a bad father. Impatient, easily bored with a child. A bully. Far too young. He was only nineteen, then. Laarens was no easier a child than me, and when Laarens misbehaved, Mathes followed his father’s example and used his fists. About the same time, I think Mathes realized that his route to power was a combination of graft and power-brokering, and started the Reformists. Laarens became just another battleground.

What did Mathes do to Laarens? Ben asked.

"Laarens says that the beatings were all for the first two years after they came back from Farenze, and not every time, but they became more frequent, as if Mathes was constructing reasons to hit. Then, when Laarens was six, Mathes caught Laarens and some of the other boys in a bathry during a gathering. The boys were showing each other their prongs and jewels. I understand that’s perfectly normal at that age. After everyone left, Laarens said he exploded in rage. Laarens doesn’t recall most of it, but we think Mathes began raping Laarens as a means of ensuring that Laarens would not be turnabout — make the experience so painful that the child will never seek it again. It lasted for a couple of years, until Mathes went too far. He beat Laarens with a strap instead of his hands. My father noticed the lash marks and assigned Laarens a guard. Within a few tendays, Da adopted Laarens fully, and Mathes never again saw Laarens alone. Laarens didn’t tell about the rape for at least a year after it ended because he didn’t know that he should. A prosecution never would have been easy, but after that much time, it would have been near-impossible without many Perceptives. I’m told that Da, Aunt Bella and Ethene decided that, in Laarens’ best interest, they would keep it out of the Judicatura ."

Such a stupid, malicious man, Vaish muttered. Tell me, is Mathes Perceptive, too?

I don’t know, I said. "He is not an Advocate , nor did he study to be one. I’ve never sensed Perceptio from him, but until recently, my assessment of other ingeniae has been sketchy at best. I don’t even know if my father and aunt knew his ingeniae. Da and Bella were four and three years older, and Mathes’ mother didn’t like her marriage-children. Da and Bella spent their childhood in the east wing of the Karsai until they were sent to the Archilians when they were seven and six. They came home when they were thirteen and twelve, but Salvia banished them to the east again. She spent much of her time away and took Mathes with her when he wasn’t at school himself — he was with the Hermachians . I don’t think that Da, Bella and Mathes shared a household until Mathes was fourteen, by which time he should have learned enough defenses to shield his mind. And I don’t think they cared enough to know. Why do you ask?"

Because I can sense a turnabout child. Most Perceptives can — you probably can, if you look for the markers.

It is a difference without a consequence, Ben agreed. Like left handedness. Their thoughts are not carnal, but their attentions will differ. Among the Comitae, we consider it only because we are all precious to each other, and our descendants are our life. Turnabout children must be carefully reared so that they understand that their marriages must be four or six cornered instead of two or three or four.

Vaish looked at Ben skeptically. I thought you Comitae partnered up like the rest of us.

Ben shrugged. Often, yes. But there have been times when we have lost too many women to slavers, or too many men to persecution. We do not marry outside ourselves, but if we are out of balance, we waste the lives of those who cannot find partners. Just as we share out all food when we are hungry, we share ourselves when we are diminished in hopes of being richer later. When we are poor, which has been often, a family survives better if four or six adults share a roof, food, and children. There is no sin but to hurt another, so if four people share a roof and table, why not love and pleasure? We welcome all children. He sighed. What do you remember of that time, when you were four and Laarens eight?

I thought back to those years when our rooms adjoined and the three of us shared a household within the Karsai . Lessons, usually just a tutor and me. We shared breakfast every day, usually with Da and Aunt Bella and sometimes Ethene. Supper usually with one of them, sometimes two, rarely three. Da most often. Laarens and I shared some tutors, but not all. Savrin was younger, slower and his emphasis was maths, not law. Laarens had nightmares. He would come to my room and crawl into bed with me most nights. Riding in the cavalry ring, then. In fine weather, we played tosca on the upper galleries. In the winter, we raced dolly carts in the under-cellar corridors.

What is a dolly-cart? Ben asked.

A flat platform with wheels at each corner, used for moving heavy objects, I said. We stood on them and kicked until we built up speed, then steered by shifting our weight.

It’s a wonder you three never killed yourselves, Vaish said. Gods, we did that in the streets, where at least we didn’t have stone walls every few feet. You could have splattered your brains out.

I nodded. Those races had gotten faster and more vicious as we aged. "We certainly tried. We also climbed on the roofs and sledded down the stairs, and if you soak a wad of linen rag in fuel oil and wrap a wet rawhide lace around it, you can dance with a fireball. I’d demonstrate, except I don’t want to burn the Foreti down. But mostly, we studied with our tutors. That describes my life from three to sixteen, Ben. Each summer, Da stole us away to Monserrat. I saw Mumma for a day or so, then we hiked and slept in a tent and played in the river."

Always your father? Ben asked. Your aunt? Ethene?

Never Ethene, I said. She dislikes the outdoors, which is another reason I’m surprised she’s here. And I think Aunt Bella appreciated the time alone. She would sometimes come for a tenday, but rarely more.

Tell me I have heard this correctly, Ben said. From your earliest memory, you studied. You children were in the care of tutors for most of your days. You saw your father, your aunt, and Ethene for at most an hour or two a day, your mother for a day or two a year. Where was Laarens’ mother’s family? Where was Savrin’s father and his family? Did not your mother bring anyone from Farenze with her? What about the other noble children? Quin and Laarens are nearly the same age. Did they share lessons?

"Laarens’ mother’s family are the Bastiaris. My grandfather made it clear to them that they were to blame for how Mathes and Arina married. They weren’t quite banished from Cimenarum, but close. My father did what he could to mend that, but Laarens’ education was as rigorous as mine, and after the abuse, Da grew more protective of us. The Bastiaris send Laarens a token at Midwinter and on his naming day. That’s the extent of their contact.

"My aunt did not willingly marry Savrin’s father. My grandfather commanded her, and she hated Wulvan. Once my grandfather was dead and my father Razin , she kindled Savrin, then she banished Wulvan from her life and home. He was killed within a year in the west. She refused to have the Pinuvars in her presence; she felt she had been sold to them, so Sav never had contact with them, though he inherited his father’s portion when he came to majority. My mother did not bring ladies with her, because her ladies in Farenze were her sisters and half-sisters, and they are the property of the Al-Sadi. Occasionally, we would have a few of the other children for a fondal party or a game, but I assume they had their schooling. Quin specifically was in school near Tiwendar."

And you never thought that strange? Vaish asked. My mother was disinherited, but I had lessons with my cousins in my grandfather’s house, then at school. I can’t think of a single noble or half-noble brat who didn’t go to school in a mob of other noble brats. There’s a whole pack of you about the same age — Kurzon’s got a couple, a half-dozen Haelens, both of the Silvalts, Jon Watable, Celadane’s sisters, the Selenar girls. A score or so of my cousins, half-nieces and nephews. At least. Who were your friends, Rien?

I hesitated. Vaish always took care with what he called me, because we have a long professional relationship. Usually, I was Majesteria , for my judicial title, or Ducia, for my rank as leader of this army, or ma’am. Rarely, he used Advocate. He only called me Rien when he needed to remind me that he was also my friend and peer. Laarens, I said finally. Until I hired Avah to be my assistant. And still, it took me forever to trust her. Years ago, I would have said that Savrin was also my friend, but I doubt that was ever true.

And to who did you give your fears? Your secrets? Ben asked. With who did you giggle? Or swoon over a guard?

The emergency hut seemed too small then, and too crowded, and too warm. My eyes burned from the minerals in the spring water, or just the sudden, hot tears that the memory of isolation brought. I stood, pulled open the door and took a few steps and breaths to clear my head. I expected to return to my intelligencers, but they followed me. Instead, we walked and when I could speak evenly, I said, Nobody. After a few hundred steps, I could elaborate. With Laarens, we just knew what the other was thinking and needed. The advantage of both being somewhat Perceptive is that we needn’t talk. I don’t know when I realized that telling Sav a secret meant he’d use it against me eventually, but I did and I stopped, probably before I was eight or nine. I wasn’t a girl who had many fancies, Ben. I never had any expectation of romance.

I see, Ben said carefully. What about... when you needed comfort? When you fought with Laarens? To who did you go?

It’s to whom in Galantieran, I corrected. Sorry. I find solace in pedantry. Da, sometimes.

Not your aunt? Or Ethene? Forgive me, but I have a daughter. When her blooding came, her mother was already gone. Terai did not come to me. She went to my sister because she needed a woman. And you?

I let myself blush, then reminded myself that I’d promised them the truth. "It came late, when I was almost fifteen. I’d heard that somewhere around a million teanders had been wagered on it. Humiliating, that. I’d been well prepared so I didn’t tell anyone for almost a half-year. It wasn’t their interest and I’d be damned if I was going to contribute to the satisfaction of made and broken fortunes. Perhaps the hallyer who cleaned my bathry knew, but every bathry in the Karsai had the necessary supplies. I’d pocket a few sponges from other bathries and keep them in my desks, where nobody but me had the key. I sent the used ones down the pipes. My father was Perceptive enough that he probably knew from the first, but he allowed me that privacy. I eventually told the Healer and the midwife who cared for me."

Why not Ethene? Ben asked, his tone too flat and neutral.

Because I’d stopped trusting her, I admitted. I couldn’t articulate it then, but the lies were there and I knew it. Da never lied to me. When I asked something I wasn’t cleared to know, he would tell me.

Who knows that you can hear lies? Vaish asked.

The exact nature and extent of my ingeniae are a state secret. That’s true of all members of the House of Galene. Each tutor knew the relevant information about each aspect, but no tutor knew them all. I know my father had my early assessment and would have received reports on my progress. If Da knew, Aunt Bella probably did. I think Ethene knew which types and some of my limits, but I don’t know if she knew more. Laarens knew, because that was something we did talk about, and since we’re both Perceptive in similar ways. We have complimentary senses of veracity, so we figured out how to check each other.

If your tutor was anything like mine, Vaish said, he probably told you to keep hearing lies to yourself, because hearing how the lie gets told tells you as much as what the lie is.

Exactly, I said. And Advocacy sharpened that skill. We hear them all, twice.

His mouth twisted into a grim moue of agreement. When did Ethene stop lying to you?

Never, really. They turned into prevarications as I got older, especially once I began practicing. She’s not fool enough to think she could lie to an Advocate and I’d learned that privacy and propriety admit prevarication and omission. I think that’s why yesterday’s blatant lie was so disturbing.

"What’s her scent tell you?" Ben asked.

Galantier’s in there, I said. "Poppy smoke, for charm, clover for discretion. Violets for intelligence and musk for cunning. Nothing I didn’t know, and nothing I don’t expect. And that worries me, too. Everyone has a note in their characters that I can’t predict. Ben, you have sulphur, for deviousness. And your anger, Vaish. I knew it’s there, but not how consuming it can be. I couldn’t understand why Cedri has so much rock oil and rain