“But if you’ve taken the place of the servants and staff here—where did the people go?” asked Beltran, utterly oblivious of where his lord’s mind was going. Which was just as well, really.
“Specialists and chefs remain.” Star paused a moment, as if listening to a distant voice. “The Master of Records says with few exceptions, the humans and all pets were sent to the war front. Dolls are impractical in any use but backline support. Scribes, pages, any other male human that could wield a weapon, were conscripted to the Imperial forces as combatants. The females were conscripted as menials or entertainment. The pets have likely all been eaten by now.”
Beltran looked pale. Kordas rubbed at the Ducal Crest, holding his breath.
We have to get away from the Empire before it’s our turn. But that would still leave the Dolls, the—vrondi to, inevitably, be—
An impulse arose in him. A stupid impulse. Possibly a suicidal impulse. A generous impulse to be sure, but that didn’t make it less stupid.
On the other hand—if he didn’t act on it, he wouldn’t be worthy of the name of Valdemar.
“Star,” he said, looking directly into the creature’s blue, unwinking eyes. “My people and I are in the process of escaping from this part of the world, and intend to travel far beyond the reach of the Emperor. Would you and the rest of the Dolls like to come with us, if I can manage it? I can’t promise it will happen, but I can promise that I will die trying, if need be. My people are largely innocents, and they could be—better off with you than with me.”
Star did freeze; went so rigid that only now was Kordas aware that until this moment it actually had been making minute movements, probably continuously adjusting its weight and balance. He was not sure whether he had insulted it, whether or not it believed him, whether it might be compelled to report what he had just said to its masters. He held his breath, waiting for the answer—
—or a troupe of the Emperor’s guards to burst in.
But finally, Star spoke, in tones of such mingled hope and anguish that his heart almost broke.
“Oh yes!” Star cried softly. “Please.”
10
With Kordas gone, implementing the Plan had taken on more urgency. Delia didn’t know why Isla wasn’t absolutely frantic with worry over the fact that he’d been “invited” to the Imperial Capital, but—
Well, maybe she is. She’s just really good at hiding it. She and Kordas must have been working on the Plan for half of their lives, after all, and they were all too well aware that at any moment the Emperor’s people could step in and do something that could threaten it. The Empire had killed the older brother she had never known. Kordas had spent five years as a “foster” in the Imperial Palace. And it occurred to her in that moment that she had led an incredibly sheltered life. She’d never been a hostage to the Emperor. She’d never had to deal with politics of any sort, much less Imperial politics. In fact, the only time the reality of the Empire had intruded on her life had been when the Emperor gave her home away at the time of her father’s death.
She had a lot to think about the morning that Kordas left, but most of it so overwhelmed her with worry and even fear that she sought refuge in the company of her little foal, able for a little while to shove all that concern aside in the simple pleasure of working with her charge.
As she carefully schooled little Daystar in the manners that a horse meant to grow into a companion and friend should have, the presence of the horses around her felt oddly comforting. And Arial seemed to approve of both the schooling and Delia’s presence.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that Delia always brought a treat for the mare; a carrot, an apple, a piece of sweet bread. She had cleared this beforehand with Grim, of course. Everything to do with the horses needed to be cleared with Grim first.
Today, they were out in the paddock. Daystar had taken to the halter surprisingly well, and was learning to answer to gentle, persistent pressure on it. Of course, the fact that when the foal did what Delia asked her to she was immediately rewarded with a soft brushing or scratch to her neck certainly helped with that.
It was in the paddock that Isla found her, just as she was thinking of her sister, wondering if Isla had any way of communicating with her husband, and when she looked up to see Isla at the fence, she wondered if Isla’s Mindspeaking ability had alerted her to the fact that Delia had Isla on her mind.
“Are you done with your little beauty for this morning?” Isla called, resting her right hand on the top of the paddock fence. “I could use your help.”
“I am,” she said, and took the halter off Daystar. An older horse could wear a halter day and night to make it easier to catch them, but a foal this young could not be trusted not to stick her silly nose where it didn’t belong, get a halter-strap caught on something, and—
Well, at the least, she’d panic and then be afraid of the halter. At the worst she could break a leg or strangle herself.
Daystar trotted—it was more like a bounce—a few lengths away, then frisked, kicked, and bounded over to play with some of the other foals.
I wish I was a foal. Their lives are full of nothing but joy.
Delia patted Arial, then joined her sister, climbing over the fence.
“I need you to start taking messages to our people and bringing their concerns back to the manor, as Kordas has done,” Isla said. “I can’t spare the time. First of all, they need to know he’s been called to the Capital and we don’t know when he’ll be back, and second, we like to keep on top of what our people need at all times. So you’ll have to be his surrogate. I’ll loan you my mare Sundrop. She knows you, and everyone will recognize your authority if you are mounted on a Valdemar Gold.”
Delia easily read between the lines of this bland statement. She was to tell the people that Kordas trusted that the first Gate had been established, and it was time to start moving people through it.
The thought actually made her insides feel weak for a moment. This wasn’t just a fantasy, or a “maybe someday.” It was happening, and not even (or perhaps especially) was Kordas’s absence going to slow or stop it. In fact, it might just make things more urgent.
“Now?” she asked. Isla nodded.
“I need you to ride out to Squire Lesley and Count Endicrag today. I’ve gotten one of the scribes to copy a map for you to follow, and they’re the nearest. Come snatch some luncheon while Grim has Sundrop saddled for you.”
She blinked her eyes in surprise. Count Endicrag? That made sense. He was one of the eight ranking landholders in Valdemar. But Squire Lesley?
“The pig farmer?” she said incredulously.
“He’s anything but just a pig farmer,” her sister replied in a note of gentle rebuke. “He serves as the local magistrate. He knows everyone in his corner of Valdemar, and everyone knows him. Lord Merrin might think he is the one in charge of those lands, but everyone in that County looks first to Lesley for guidance, because Merrin knows nothing about them, and cares less. Kordas knows this, and knows that asking Merrin about things will yield no useful information, but Lesley will know all the blessings and ills, and likely how to fix the latter.”