“What of it?” Defensiveness made her drop her manners. I made my tone more conciliatory.
“While you were there, did someone else come to see you?”
She sniffed, indelicately wiping her nose. “I don’t … Oh, yes. Credo Javesto found me when I was looking over the theater. It was something silly, I can’t remember.… No, that’s right. His niece was desperate for a part in one of the autumn plays, and he was trying to get me to talk to the producer.” She tossed back her hair. “I told him no, naturally. You can’t interfere with the artistic vision.”
“Of course,” I murmured. So Javesto had indeed sought her out, but not about anything urgent. He could have made an appointment at the Guildhall, or asked her at the lunch, without needing to get into the Manor.
“What does it matter? What has Javesto’s niece got to do with anything, and since when is my Guild your business? You work for Budua, don’t you?”
Her confidence was back, but the rudeness remained. The arrogant curl of her pretty bow mouth and the tilt of her jaw grated like sand in my shoes. “Of course,” I said, ducking my head and allowing myself to look younger, embarrassed. “It’s only that the Chancellor is thinking of releasing Lord Ectar, you know, the Talafan? That unfortunate animal … It was probably an accident, but he’s trying to be sure. And I don’t want to spread rumors,” I dropped my voice conspiratorially, “but we had heard Credo Javesto is awfully invested in trade with the Empire.”
Varina considered me, her face still. “I see.”
“It’s probably nothing, but we were just trying to account for the Credo’s movements that day. Just to be certain. We lost a Chancellor and now this siege.…”
“We have a new Chancellor, and he must be protected, I agree,” Varina said.
“Please don’t say anything to anyone.” I tried to sound a little breathless. Easy for me, since it was my natural state half the time. “It would be most indelicate.”
“Of course, dear.” She settled back in her chair, relaxed again. I dropped from her concern as easily as that.
And just like that it annoyed me, so I pushed a little more. “You know I’m really an admirer of yours, Credola Varina. The productions this summer were some of the best shows I’ve seen. Oh, I meant to ask. Is that Doranite servant of Credo Lazar’s an actor? Jov noticed you talking at a lunch a few days ago and thought he looked rather familiar.”
“Just an aspiring one,” Varina said, all poise. “Don’t you think we have more important things to concentrate on right now?”
The smoothness of her response rang falser than her earlier hesitation. I’d surprised her before; this one she’d been ready for.
“Of course. Thank you for your help. I’ll leave you to your work.”
Varina sniffed again, and didn’t look at me as I left.
* * *
Another night of relative safety. No alarm bells or other emergencies. Jovan had already left without waking me; I tried not to feel annoyed about it, but failed. He had come in too late to disturb me last night, too. I suddenly wondered if he had come home at all. I had wanted to show him my sewing efforts from last night, but it would have to wait.
I visited our sector first. It already seemed more organized than yesterday, though I despaired at how young many of the wide-eyed men and women seemed. Too young for their lives to be in jeopardy, not that there was ever an ideal time for that. Chen, our assigned Order Guard, showed me the camp through a spyglass, pointing out their tents and fires.
“We think they’re getting supplies carted in,” she told me. “See those wagons, there? They arrived overnight. Looks like swords and bows to me.”
“From what direction?”
“The west road, least it looks that way.”
They were being supplied from somewhere. So much for any hope that this was a hasty and unsupported rebellion. And did this mean West Dortal—the smallest and least defensible of the three border cities—had fallen, if supplies could be so easily brought in? I made my way to the Manor slowly, in deference to my aching joints.
* * *
Argo let me through to the private wing; it felt odd walking through unescorted by servants, but all nonessential staff had been assigned other duties. Only those trained to protect Tain remained. My brother let me into Tain’s chambers and offered me tea. The playing pieces from a Muse board and other assorted ornaments were set up in formations on a large paper map on the floor, like a great game. Tain, kneeling beside it, looked up and smiled his slow smile. Even in the worst of situations, the force of his warmth turned on me was like the sun on a cold winter day. I smiled back.
“Did you get any sleep, Lini?”
I’d had a little, but not enough to satisfy my brother; I shrugged and changed the subject. “I called by our sector on my way here.”
“I’d prefer you stayed away from the walls,” Jovan said, frowning.
My breath came out and my frustration rose. I was stronger now than ever before, but my brother couldn’t see that, or didn’t want to. I started to respond, then took a sip of tea instead. Now wasn’t the time to pick a fight.
Instead, I told them what I’d learned about supplies from the west.
Tain pushed a few of the stones representing the army around with one finger. “Do you think it means anything?”
“It means they’re being supplied externally. And that they could get weapons in through our borders in quantity.” Our neighbors were marked on the paper: Doran to the south, the Talafar Empire to the north, and an assortment of smaller nations past the wetlands to the west: Tocatica, Perest-Avana, Maru, and Costkat, some bordering us and some not. Though we had almost exclusively peaceful relations with our neighbors, Silasta’s wealth and trade dominance made us a potential target. The Doranites were a hard, aggressive people, fractious and bound together only loosely by the man who called himself king. Their lack of genuine centralized leadership made it difficult to secure meaningful peace—hence the occasional raid or dispute over resources in the mountains—but likewise it was hard to imagine them staging a siege of an advanced city. Talafar had the resources and organization to plan an attack, but we’d had longstanding and mutually beneficial treaties in place for over a century. I followed Tain’s gaze to the west. Doubtless any of the small nations comprising the great western wetlands, who had once shared the trade routes north and south—albeit in a fragmented and inefficient manner—coveted our secure, fast route for themselves. Perhaps they’d put aside eons of conflict and decided to act collectively for once.
Had they seized on grievances from our people that we had failed to notice? Or had the rebellion sought its own supplies from a neighbor who supported the downfall of Sjona’s rich capital? We needed to know the causes of this rebellion or we would find no way to undo it.
“Has the intelligence master reported?” Silasta’s official spy networks were run by cooperation between the Warrior Guild and my own Administrative Guild. I had no such official role; as far as my Guild knew, my training in diplomacy was never intended to be anything more than that. Etan had only ever wanted me as a private source of information to serve our family’s duty and protect the Chancellor. I didn’t even know the identity of the intelligence master.