corson found the new arrangement much to her liking. She was once again personal bodyguard to a Rhaicime-a position of some prestige for a mercenary, and one which she could at last boast of openly. Nyctasia made no secret of her rank and station now but rather made every effort to enhance her own dignity and authority. She had a company of guards about her, as well as an entourage of servants-a steward, maids, pages, scribes, cooks, scullions and other menials, and people whom Corson classed vaguely as “courtiers,” whose duties were a mystery to her, although they always seemed to be extremely busy.
And the cream of it was that, with Nyctasia in Chiastelm, Corson could watch over her by day and then spend her nights at the Hare, while sentries patrolled the Smugglers’ House, and Greymantle defended his mistress’s chamber.
Nyctasia’s days were spent in a series of meetings with the lords and ladies who arrived from Rhostshyl to confer with her-meetings which took the form of furious disputes more often than not. Corson stood by, keeping a wary eye on these confrontations. It was plain to see that some of Nyctasia’s fellow nobles would have liked to kill her there and then, and even some of those she counted as allies condemned her plans as mad and foolish. And all were afraid of her, Corson thought, and trusted her no more than she trusted them.
“You’ll beggar the city, do you understand that?” one nobleman or another shouted at her, pacing angrily about Nyctasia’s audience-chamber, while Corson watched his every move and kept her hand to her sword-hilt. Greymantle lay with his nose on his paws and looked on with disapproval, occasionally uttering a warning growl.
But Nyctasia merely reclined in a cushioned chair and said slowly, never raising her voice, “The city is already beggared, from all report. What you mean to say is that I’ll beggar the nobility-and so I shall, for the present, so I shall. We are responsible for the condition the city is in. Would you have it said that we do not pay our debts?”
Corson did not give much heed to what was said, but even so she gathered that Nyctasia meant to expend most of her personal fortune, and that of her House, to buy grain to feed the hungry of Rhostshyl-and she expected the other noble families of the city to do the same. The countryside around Rhostshyl had been nearly as ravaged by the war as the city itself, fields and granaries put to the torch, the harvest all but lost. Foodstuffs would have to be brought in from neighboring municipalities, perhaps shipped up the coast from the fertile lands to the south, at a cost which the City Treasury alone could not begin to meet.
Nyctasia had already sent out emissaries to nearby courts to ask for terms, and she had seen to it that rumors of her plans were spread through Rhostshyl to folk of every degree. There was more of an outcry than ever for her return, and prophecies arose that the Witch of Rhostshyl would work her magic to save the city. If Nyctasia’s proposals failed to find favor with her peers, yet they had support enough among her people.
But it was not only her designs upon the wealth of the city that outraged her friends and foes alike. Even more contention was caused by her insistence that she would declare a general pardon when she assumed power-a pardon which was to include the enemies of the House of Edonaris.
“You’re mad, sister, to consider such a thing,” cried the Lady Tiambria, Nyctasia’s younger sister. She and her twin, the Lord Erikasten, spoke up boldly enough to Nyctasia, but Corson thought that they had the air of angry, frightened children, who wanted to be told what to do. The sight of them had startled her at first, for they looked much like Raphe and ’Deisha, though years younger. Not yet twenty. Corson judged them.
“’Tasia, if we don’t put an end to this rivalry now, our victory, and our losses, will have been in vain,” argued Tiambria. “You’ve not seen the destruction in the city-”
“I have seen it,” said Nyctasia softly. “And I tell you that all such victory is in vain. If we allow ourselves to profit from it, how are we to learn not to let it happen again? Perhaps we could destroy the rest of the Teiryn, and their followers, but in time another house would arise to challenge us. No, you need not repeat Mhairestri’s arguments to me. You may tell her that I shall give her views a respectful hearing when I return to court, at any time she may consent to receive me.”
The twins looked at each other, mantling, shifting their shoulders uncomfortably. Corson half expected them to break into tears. “We may repeat the matriarch’s words, ’Tasia, but she didn’t send us,” Tiambria said at last.
“She forbade us to come,” Erikasten put in wretchedly.
Nyctasia regarded the pair thoughtfully, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise.
“Could it be that you two are finally growing up?” she asked, almost smiling.
Nyctasia was playing a new role, one that was unfamiliar to Corson, though she had seen Nyctasia in many guises and many humors. Was she at last seeing Nyctasia as she really was-an autocratic ruler, responsible and duty-bound, unyielding in her resolve, wielding her authority as readily as Corson wielded her sword? If so, Corson did not find it an improvement in her character. She was rarely alone with Nyctasia now, and when she was, Nyctasia hardly seemed aware of her presence. But Corson was not the sort to put up with that for long.
“I’m leaving now,” she announced one evening. “Do you hear, Nyc?”
It was much earlier than Corson usually left for the night, but Nyctasia only nodded, without looking up from the document she was studying. It had been delivered by messenger that morning, but she’d had no time for it all day. “Tell Ioras to post another guard at the door, then,” she said absently, frowning at the papers.
“No,” said Corson.
That drew Nyctasia’s attention.
“You won’t need another guard,” Corson explained, “because you’re coming with me to the Hare.”
“I haven’t the time for an outing now, I’m afraid.”
“You’ll find time. You’ve not set foot out of this cursed house in a fortnight.
The place is haunted, right enough, and you’re the ghost.”
Nyctasia drew a sharp breath and remained silent for a time, but then said,
“Corson, no doubt you mean well, but-”
Corson paid no attention. “You can have a decent meal at the Hare, at least, and not fear that it’s poisoned. You don’t eat enough to nourish a gnat, when you remember to take a meal at all. You look like a half-starved beggar-brat, and you act like a queen, and I’ve had my fill of it!”
In spite of herself. Nyctasia started to laugh, and Corson knew that she’d won.
“But, Corson, I daren’t go there-what of that jealous giant of yours? He’ll tear me to pieces.”
Corson grinned triumphantly. “He’ll be most pleased to make you welcome.
Steifann’s no fool-he’s thought of the distinction it would bring his place to have the patronage of a Rhaicime. He never ceases to plague me about it. And Walden wants a chance to cook for the nobility, too, and Annin wants a better look at you, and Trask’s simply in love with you. I’ll have no peace till I’ve presented you to them.”
“Well, I should hate to disappoint them. Perhaps another time.”
“Now,” said Corson firmly. “Nyc, do you remember when we were in Yth Forest, and you all but changed into an Ythling yourself?” Giving Nyctasia no chance to answer, she continued. “Well, you’re even stranger now than you were then. It’ll do you good to get away from here. Here’s your cloak.” She whistled for Greymantle, who trotted to the door at once and looked back at Nyctasia expectantly.
“Are you coming?” said Corson, “or must I throw you over my shoulder and carry you off?”
“Greymantle wouldn’t let you lay hands on me.”
“Oh, wouldn’t he though? Did he go for Raphe’s throat every time he and ’Deisha got to swatting each other? We’ll just see.” She started toward Nyctasia.
Nyctasia hastily rose and grabbed her cloak. “Very well, we’ll go! Perhaps you’re right.” When Corson insisted on having her way, she was usually right, as Nyctasia had discovered-and it was always less trouble to give in to her.
Nyctasia’s second visit to The Jugged Hare was less eventful, but more successful, than her first, and it was by no means to be her last. She found it a relief to escape her retinue for a while, and be again Nyc of the roads, the harper and minstrel. Her harp was the first thing she’d had sent to her from Rhostshyl, and she often brought it to the tavern and sang for the entertainment of the house. Had Steifann not known who and what she was, he’d have offered her a job singing for her supper. She soon became something of a favorite at the Hare, once Steifann and the others had lost their awe of her lofty rank and title. Surely no one who was on such familiar terms with Corson could hold herself very high, they felt.
Steifann forgave Nyctasia for everything once she told him that Corson had never ceased talking about him, the whole while they were journeying together. And it was thanks to Nyctasia, after all, that Corson’s work kept her in Chiastelm with him. He was disappointed that Nyctasia did not arrive in state, and that she usually ate in the kitchen, out of sight of his other customers, but she assured him that he could tell whom he liked that she frequented The Hare-after she’d returned to Rhostshyl.
Annin too was well disposed toward Nyctasia because she had promised to lodge an appeal with the Maritime Alliance on Destiver’s behalf. As a mark of her particular favor, she took to scolding Nyctasia as freely as she did the others.
Destiver had been more heartened by this news than by anything she’d heard since Annin had brought her word of Hrawn brenn Thespaon’s murder. If she was grateful for Nyctasia’s help, however, her appreciation did not manifest itself in any noticeable way, “Who would have thought that bothersome little chit was a Rhaicime?” she remarked. “I should have charged her more.”
Trask was enthralled at the unheard-of opportunity to ingratiate himself with a personage of such undoubted influence and eminence. He made even more of a nuisance of himself than usual, pestering Nyctasia to take him to court, where he declared he really belonged, among people of polish and breeding. Everyone had other suggestions as to where Trask really belonged, from a barn to a brothel, from the gutter to the gibbet, but Trask was not easily discouraged.
Nyctasia was of the opinion that there was indeed a place for him at court-a deep dungeon far below the palace, which she offered to make available for him at any time.
Walden also approved of Corson’s new friend, on the whole. She praised his cooking with obvious sincerity, and ate like a growing child whenever she came to the Hare, which was a sure way to Walden’s good graces. “Only those who eat heartily can be trusted” was his motto, and it had never failed him yet.
Nyctasia was too skinny, true, but no doubt she hadn’t been properly fed. And she might be a Rhaicime, but that was probably not her fault. He did not hesitate to swat her with a wooden spoon when he caught her stealing raisins from the barrel in the kitchen.
All in all, Corson was well satisfied with the way matters stood, and it came as a bitter disappointment when Nyctasia told her that she’d soon be returning to Rhostshyl.
“Is it safe for you to go there yet?” Corson asked.
“Not at all. But it’s time, you see. I’ve done all I can here-the nobility dare not defy me openly, now. I’ve seen to that. They fear uprisings in the city if it’s known that they oppose my plans. They’ll conspire against me, though.” She gave a sudden cheerless laugh. “And they’ve not heard the worst of it yet! When they find out what more I have in mind, the screams of rage will be heard all the way to Tierelon. Oh, no, it’s not safe.”
“I suppose you expect me to go with you, then.”
Nyctasia appeared to hesitate. “Well, no, I think you needn’t. Ioras can serve as my bodyguard at court.”
“Ioras! I could worst him with one hand, and my right hand at that.”
“I don’t doubt it, Corson, I’m well aware that I’d be better protected by you, but, after all, do you want to call me ‘my lady,’ bow to me, walk a pace behind me, stand while I sit…”
“I’m cursed if I will!”
“Well, there we are.” Nyctasia smiled, but her voice was serious. “I must command the respect of those around me, Corson, if I’m to work my will, in the days to come. You must see that I can’t have a bodyguard who undermines my authority by speaking insolently to me before others, Folk will say, ‘How is she to govern the city, when she can’t even govern her own servants?’ It would make me appear weak, and I cannot afford that. My people may not be your equal with a sword, but they know what behavior is expected of them at court.”
“Do you think you’re the first noble I’ve served? I know how to conduct myself in any household in the land-I’m not just out of the army! I can bow and grovel as well as another, when I choose.”
Nyctasia looked doubtful. “Perhaps… but if you attend the ruler of the city, there’s no choice about it. Formalities must be observed.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll remember my place,” Corson snapped. “I’ll stay till you have matters in hand there, at least. You’d only get yourself killed, without me.”
“Very likely,” Nyctasia admitted. In fact, she had never had any intention of returning to Rhostshyl without Corson, but, noticing her reluctance, she had immediately resorted to the surest way to make Corson do anything-which was to suggest that she couldn’t do it. “Well, if you insist on accompanying me, I don’t suppose I can stop you,” she said resignedly. “But you won’t like it.”
“I know,” said Corson. Steifann wouldn’t like it either, but at least Rhostshyl was within two days’ ride of Chiastelm. Corson privately resolved that she’d make Nyctasia pay dearly for every humble bow and dutiful show of deference.