nyctasia made a ceremonial entry into Rhostshyl not long afterward, riding at the head of a cortege of her followers, surrounded by a troupe of guards. She had sent heralds ahead to proclaim her coming, and to make known that a distribution of meal and flour would take place at mid-day in the city square.
Word spread quickly that well-guarded wagonloads of grain followed the procession, and cheers of welcome greeted Nyctasia on all sides. She was flanked by her brother and sister-in grim defiance of the matriarch-and Corson was not far behind.
The rest were dressed with splendor, as for a celebration, but Nyctasia wore mourning, her chain of office the only brightness about her. She sat straight, almost stiff, but she did not look proud to be returning to her city in triumph.
Somber and unsmiling, she was every inch the earnest, careworn ruler. Even Corson was impressed with her regal dignity.
She did not ride straight to the palace of the Edonaris, but insisted on making her way through every part of the city, to learn for herself what Rhostshyl and its people had suffered. The destruction was perhaps less extensive than she had feared, but it was nonetheless pitiful to see, and to one who loved the city as Nyctasia did, it was nothing less than heartbreak. The poorer sections of the city had fared the worst, of course, but fire had not shown mercy to the more prosperous districts either. Nyctasia was met by throngs of the hungry and homeless, some holding out their ailing children to be healed by her magic. The guards kept back the crowds, but Nyctasia would not spare herself the sight of her needy subjects. She looked into the eyes of those she passed, and held out her hands toward them in a Vahnite gesture of benediction. Tales of miraculous cures would soon begin to spread through the city, she knew, not because she had any such power, but because folk wished to believe that she did. They themselves would work the sorcery, by means of a powerful and mysterious Influence that no mage or philosopher truly understood. To Nyctasia it was but another deception, to be numbered among many. By the time she had turned toward the aristocratic quarter of the city, she felt far older than her years, and deeply shamed.
She had dreamed that the city’s great palaces lay in ruins, but now she found that they had in fact suffered least, being the best defended, and built of stone. Some roofs still gaped where wooden beams had fallen to fire, though the mansions of the victors had of course been set to rights. But Nyctasia was not comforted to see that the palace of the Edonaris stood whole again, in all its grandeur. She understood now that the fallen walls she had envisioned were emblematic of a more profound destruction, a loss that could not be repaired with timber and mortar. Her family’s honor was in ruins, the proud heritage of the Edonaris, and she doubted that it could ever be restored.
With a heart burdened by such thoughts as these, Nyctasia ar’n Edonaris returned to her ancestral home.
Corson decided to speak to Nyctasia about her guards. They were not alert enough to suit her. They watched Nyctasia attentively, yes, but what was the good of that? Nyctasia wasn’t a prisoner; it was not she who ought to be watched but those around her, any one of whom might be a deadly enemy. Corson looked everywhere, searching the crowd for any sign of danger, noticing every threatening glint of steel. Though she was satisfied that no one could approach Nyctasia, she also knew that she herself had never been prevented by mere distance from felling her intended prey. It was wisest to assume that anyone stalking Nyctasia was equally skillful, and Corson was not in the least surprised when she caught sight of a man crouching beside a chimney, with a knife poised to throw. She had pushed past Erikasten and caught the blade neatly on her shield before Nyctasia or her retinue realized what was happening. It was Corson who pointed out the culprit, who ordered the house surrounded before he could reach the ground and make an escape-and though she had no authority to give such commands, she was obeyed.
Nyctasia did not wait to see the capture. “A partisan of the Teiryn, no doubt,” she said indifferently, adding in a lower tone, “It doesn’t look like Mhairestri’s work. Not at all subtle.” Turning to Corson, she announced,
“Henceforth the palace garrison will be answerable to you in all particulars.”
Corson bowed, “As Your Ladyship wishes,” she replied.
Nyctasia dismissed everyone but Corson, and barred the door behind them.
Greymantle-who was groomed to a gleam and now wore a jeweled collar-she kept with her as a matter of course, having ignored all suggestions that he be sent to the kennels. She crossed to the balcony, but Corson made her wait while she pulled back the curtains and searched behind the tapestried arras for intruders.
Then, leaving Greymantle to guard his mistress, she went through the rest of Nyctasia’s apartments to see that all was secure. She had never been in rooms so spacious and splendid, lit by great traceried windows, bright with mirrors and crystal candelabra. Ornamental tiles adorned the fireplaces, and their pillars and mantles were carved with vine-leaves and faces and intricate scrollwork. The floors were carpeted, the walls hung with rich draperies, and even the ceilings plastered and painted with elaborate designs. Corson decided that she could best carry out her duties as the Rhaicime’s bodyguard if she shared her quarters, instead of withdrawing to the warders’ barracks at night. She now had the final word on all matters regarding Nyctasia’s safety, after all. She only regretted that she couldn’t show Steifann her magnificent lodgings.
“Gods! I’ve never seen such a bed,” she said gleefully, when she returned to the first room. “It’s as big as a hayfield. You’ve room for…” She stopped, but Nyctasia took no notice.
She still stood at the window, just as Corson had left her, gazing out at the ravaged city. To Corson she looked as white and rigid as a figure of marble.
Greymantle pawed at her hand and whined.
“Nyc…?” said Corson uneasily. “Eh, Your Nycship, do you hear me?”
And Nyctasia turned to her at last, her eyes as grey as stone, the color of a leaden, sunless sky. “The walls are still standing,” she said dully. “Why did I come back here?”
“Asye knows,” said Corson, though she saw that Nyctasia did not expect an answer. “Nothing you do makes a rutting bit of sense to me. Maegor said you’d think it your duty to come back.”
“My duty as an Edonaris and a Vahnite, yes. But a true Edonaris would not have gone, and a true Vahnite would not have returned… I told Maegor I’d no right to call myself a Vahnite, and now I find I’ve no desire to call myself an Edonaris. What am I then?”
“You’re a maundering half-wit!” Corson shook her, and the gold chain slipped off and struck the floor, where Greymantle sniffed it without interest.
Nyctasia let it lie. “Did you know that the chain of office signifies that the ruler is slave to the people? And that is fitting, for in Rhostshyl only the criminal are bound in service to the city.”
“You’re mistress of the city, fool-what does the rest matter? Stop carrying on like a stranded fish, I don’t like talking to a half-dead hake.”
Corson had thought to make her laugh, but instead she suddenly, helplessly, broke into tears. Her throat was torn with harsh, hoarse sobs, as if she did not know how to cry, and found it painful. Corson was bewildered, but relieved as well. She knew that Nyctasia rarely wept, but if she was grieved for her city, why shouldn’t she cry, as anyone else would do? It was better than that deathly calm of hers. “At least I know you’re alive,” she said. “Only the living weep.”
Startled, Nyctasia looked up at her through her tears. “What… what do you mean by that, Corson?”
“Asye, I don’t know! I’m even beginning to sound like you now. Come along and rest-you’re tired out, that’s all that ails you. You’re half-asleep on your feet.” She picked Nyctasia up as if she were a child, and carried her into the bedchamber. “What you need’s a nursemaid, not a bodyguard.”
Nyctasia did not object. “I’d forgotten how exhausting it is to cry, rather like spellcasting,” she sighed. “No wonder the Discipline forbids it.” When Corson dropped her onto the high, wide bed, she gestured vaguely and mumbled, “boots,” then fell at once into a deep, dreamless slumber.
“So now I’m to be your lady’s maid as well, am I?” Corson said indignantly, but Nyctasia made no reply. She hardly stirred when Corson pulled off her boots for her, nor even when Greymantle scrambled up onto the bed and lay across her legs.
Corson took advantage of the opportunity to examine the rooms again, this time to satisfy her curiosity. She handled delicate ivory carvings, and toyed with a gameboard with pieces cut from jade and agate. She marveled at a gilded harp half as tall as Nyctasia. She opened chests and coffers and lidded bowls, discovering now clothes, now books, rings or brooches, small clay bottles or just fragrant dried flower petals. She tried on all the jewelry she could find, and draped herself with silk scarves and brocaded sashes. Then for a time she admired herself in a tall mirror, its wooden frame supported between two slender twin pillars like young trees.
This kept her amused for an hour, but finally, growing bored, she left everything strewn about for a chambermaid to tidy away later, and went to the door to summon a servant. “Her Ladyship’s not to be disturbed,” she ordered,
“but you can bring me something to eat and drink.” She spoke confidently, but she half-expected to be refused, and she was prepared for an argument. (“I’m not to leave the Rhaicime-do you expect her to eat in the kitchen with me? Do as you’re told!”)
But instead the man only bowed and said, “Will that be all, mistress?”
Corson considered. Apparently, as Nyctasia’s bodyguard, she had privileges, and she meant to take full advantage of them. “I’ll have a bath now too,” she decided. “Hot water, and plenty of it.” After all, if she was to attend the ruler of the city, she had to be presentable. And besides, someone else would have to fetch in the water.
When Nyctasia woke, she observed the disarray of the room, yawned, and said, “I see you’ve been enjoying yourself. Or possibly a herd of wild swine strayed through here while I was asleep…?”
Corson grinned. “I think I could learn to like it here. The servants are obliging, and the food’s not bad at all.”
“I’m glad you approve of my domestic arrangements. Tell them I want a bath now, if you would.”
“I’ve already ordered a bath for you, Lady Indolence. Hurry up, or you’ll be late for dinner.”
“I can’t be late,” said Nyctasia, stretching. “They can’t start dinner without me, you see. Let them wait-they’ll not go hungry.”
She lingered over her bath, and dressed in somber mourning-clothes hardly more formal than those she’d worn to receive the Saetarrin. After some searching, she discovered her chain of office around Greymantle’s neck, where Corson had put it for safekeeping. By the time she went down to dinner, with Corson and Greymantle at her heels, she was as composed and aloof as if there were nothing whatsoever to distress her in all the city.
The company was indeed waiting for her, milling impatiently about the great hall, where tables had been readied along three walls. Only when Nyctasia took her place at the head of the highest table did the others move to their seats, murmuring greetings which she acknowledged with a nod. Corson stood behind her chair, satisfied that from this vantage point she could see everyone in the hall and watch for any suspicious movement. It was unlikely that an attack would be made on Nyctasia before all these people, but among her many enemies there might well be those crazy enough to try it.
Food was now set before them-platters of small roasted birds, joints of meat, whole baked fish brought live from the coast in barrels of brine-but Nyctasia’s relations and guests touched nothing, still waiting for her to begin. She was testing them, Corson realized, deliberately flaunting her power, to remind them that she meant to use it as she chose. Now she only leaned back in her chair and regarded the choice viands with evident distaste, “We are well fed for people of a starving city,” she said finally, to no one in particular.
The nobles stirred uneasily, some looking angry, some merely worried. Corson took note especially of those who exchanged furtive words or glances. “This banquet is laid in your honor, cousin,” one of the men said, reprovingly,
“therefore it behooves you to show the company more courtesy.”
Nyctasia smiled graciously, “Forgive me, all, but after what I’ve seen in the streets of our fair city this day, I’ve little appetite for a feast. But in the name of courtesy, of course, let the meal commence.”
She picked up one of the roast birds and tossed it to Greymantle, then sipped from a goblet of water, but took nothing else. If she had told the company to their faces that she considered them no better than animals, the insult could not have been more plain. There was a tense silence, but then a few of Nyctasia’s followers began to eat, and the rest soon joined them.
“She has the whip-hand of them now,” Corson thought, “and they all know it.”
Lord Therisain turned to Nyctasia with a look of triumph. “It is for you to propose the first toast,” he reminded her.
“Surely,” said Nyctasia. “But it is yet too soon. We are not all assembled.”
Again an uncomfortable hush fell on the table. “The Lady Mhairestri did not feel equal to such an occasion,” someone offered hesitantly. “She has been unwell of late.”
“Oh. I hardly expected the matriarch to honor us,” Nyctasia said smoothly. “No doubt she sent her regrets. But what of Anseldon, and Lhejadis? Are they indisposed as well?”
“I believe they are bearing Mhairestri company,” murmured Erikasten.
“How kind of them. But why do I not see my sister Rehal at table?” Nyctasia persisted.
Tiambria answered stiffly, “Rehal is confined to her apartments, under guard.
She tried to leave the city secretly with her children.”
“I was not aware,” Nyctasia said, frowning, “that that was a crime.”
“Rehal may go where she pleases, of course,” an older woman said sharply. “But you know very well, Nyctasia, that she cannot be allowed to take Emeryc’s heir with her.”
Nyctasia sipped at her water again. “Not, perhaps, while he lived, Elissa,” she agreed. “But once he was killed, his son was surely the next marked for death. I think it showed excellent judgment on her part to seek safely for him. And after all, a city at war is no place for children.”
Tiambria shook her head. “No, it was only a fortnight ago that she tried to flee. We held the city, and the children were well protected. It was not our enemies but ourselves that she sought to escape.”
“That, above all, shows her good sense,” said Nyctasia drily. “Why have I not been told of this?”
“A fortnight ago, we first had certain news of your return-it is you Rehal fears,” said Lady Elissa. Someone tried to silence her, but she continued in a furious whisper. “Rehal knows that the child will threaten your power one day, and you know it as well.”
Nyctasia looked around the table at the faces of her kin, but most would not meet her eyes. “Oho,” she said softly, “and so you have waited to know my wishes? I’m to be a child-killer now…! Perhaps I could sacrifice young Leirven to demons, and so achieve two ends at once. Really, you begin to believe your own fancies about me. Why, if anyone’s to murder the boy, look to ’Kasten here. He would stand to inherit Emeryc’s title if Leirven were removed from the succession.”
Erikasten turned on her with an oath. “You think that I’d-”
“Have you not thought the same of me?” said Nyctasia coldly. She turned to Tiambria. “But if I were to kill someone, surely it would be you, sister. In only a few years Lehannie’s title will come to you, and you’ll be in a position to challenge my authority. You pose a much more immediate threat to me than Emeryc’s heir does.”
“I have thought upon that,” Tiambria said evenly.
Nyctasia suddenly laughed. “Then you have wronged me, upon my honor. I have other plans for you-not death, but something you’ll like far less.” Though she sounded amused, Corson did not think she was joking. “And I have plans for my niece and nephew as well,” she continued, addressing all of them, but looking at Lady Elissa. “Plans which I shall discuss first with their mother.” She stood.
“I must go to her at once and attempt to reassure her. She is not to be kept under guard, nor is her son to be forfeit to my ambition. I trust that that is now understood.” She made a formal bow to the company, “Friends, family, a good appetite to all.”
Corson followed a pace behind her until they were out of sight and hearing of the rest, then fell into step beside her. “Nyc, I thought you had only the one sister,” she said, puzzled.
“Yes, Rehal is my brother’s widow, my sister by marriage.”
“Oh. Well, why hasn’t she the right to take her children where she likes?”
Nyctasia sighed. “She has no rights in this household, Corson. She’s a commoner, you see. She was only a laborer on one of our estates before Emeryc took a fancy to her.”
“Do you mean to say that a brother of yours married a peasant woman!”
“He insisted upon it, in order to legitimize his children by her. She’d been his mistress for some years, but when she bore him a son who could succeed to his title, he wanted to make the boy his heir by law.”
“And your family let him?”
“On the contrary, they forbade it. But Emeryc was of age, and willful, as we all are. Mhairestri gave way when she saw how determined he was, lest she lose her influence over him by thwarting him in this. And she wanted the children too. We Edonaris aren’t as prolific as we once were-folk say that if we didn’t bear twins so often, our enemies would soon outnumber us. Mhairestri worries that the dynasty will come to an end within a few generations. She didn’t want Rehal, of course, but she reasoned that a mere farm woman could be easily set aside when the time came to establish an advantageous marriage-alliance for Emeryc. It would have been different if he’d sought to make an unsuitable match with a girl of good family, whose kin could demand that her rights be respected…”
Nyctasia’s voice grew bitter, and Corson knew that she was thinking of her own bond with Erystalben ar’n Shiastred, a bond her family had succeeded in breaking.
“Rehal didn’t want the marriage either,” Nyctasia continued, “She’s no fool-she knew she’d never be accepted at court. But she agreed for her children’s sake, so that they could be raised as nobles.”
She fell silent as they approached the guarded passage to the widow Rehal’s chambers, and Corson dropped behind her again, the patient, impassive bodyguard.
Dismissing the sentry, Nyctasia unlocked the door and pushed it open herself.
Rehal was coaxing her little boy to eat his dinner, but at the sight of Nyctasia and Corson she gasped and caught the child up in her arms-“Deirdras, go into the other room, quickly,” she whispered to the older child, a girl of perhaps nine years, but her daughter made no move to obey her. Quietly setting down her spoon, she only sat and glared at Nyctasia as if daring her to come farther into the room. Her little brother, alarmed by his mother’s fear, began to whimper and wriggle.
“My lady, have mercy,” pleaded Rehal. “They’re only children! I’ll take them away-they will forget that they are Edonaris.” Though she spoke to Nyctasia, she stared in terror at Corson, sure that she was there to carry out the sentence of death.
“Corson, wait for me outside,” Nyctasia said calmly. “You alarm the Lady Rehal to no purpose. I shan’t need you.” Corson bowed and withdrew.
Nyctasia shook her head in gentle reproof. “Rehal, sister, you should know me better. I mean no harm to you or your children. You are under my protection here.”
Still clutching her son, Rehal sank to her knees, and Grey-mantle-taking this for an invitation-joined them, wagging his tail and snuffling curiously at Leirven. “Don’t be afraid, he won’t bite the boy,” said Nyctasia, smiling, “and neither shall I, you’ll find.”
Leirven, having forgotten his fright, was trying to escape his mother’s arms and embrace Grey mantle. “Want to play,” he insisted, crowing with delight as the dog licked his face thoroughly, washing off a good deal of the dinner which he had managed to smear over himself.
Nyctasia approached Rehal, offering her hand, to help her to her feet. “I’ve told you before, my dear, that you’re not to kneel to me.”
But at this, the other child suddenly shrieked, “Liar! Don’t touch him! Don’t touch my brother, or I’ll kill you!” She seized one of the table knives and threw herself between Nyctasia and the others, holding the knife high, ready to attack.
Nyctasia fell back a pace. “Well! I see I dismissed my bodyguard too soon,” she said mildly.
“Deirdras, stop that!” cried Rehal. “The Lady Nyctasia will help us-”
“You don’t understand. Mother. You’re not an Edonaris,” said the child scornfully, “She’s come to kill Raven, and me too. I know all about her.”
“Don’t speak to your mother in that way,” Nyctasia reprimanded her, “and don’t speak of me in that way either, bratling. You know nothing. Why should I kill Leirven? I’d only have Erikasten to deal with then-and he’ll come of age much sooner than your brother.”
“’Kasten’s weak,” Deirdras said promptly. “You think you’ll be able to control him.”
Nyctasia was taken aback. “I see…! And why should I kill you, then? You’re not important.”
As if repeating a lesson, Deirdras responded, “Because you know I’d avenge my brother. And you’re afraid of me-if you died, I’d be Rhaicime!”
“Sweet vahn, the child is a true Edonaris,” sighed Nyctasia. “Come, we’ll declare a truce, shall we? Lay down your arms and I shall do the same.” She loosed her sword-belt and let her weapons slide from it to the floor, but Deirdras only gripped her knife tighter as Nyctasia took a step toward her.
“Very well,” said Nyctasia, “look to your guard, then.” As she spoke, she flicked the belt toward the girl’s face.
Startled, Deirdras struck out wildly, and Nyctasia seized her by the wrist, forcing the knife from her hand. “Let me go!” she shouted, outraged at the trick, but Nyctasia picked her up and kissed her, in spite of her struggles.
“This is no way to greet your aunt,” she laughed, holding her close. “I swear I don’t want to kill you, Derry, but I might give you a good beating if you don’t mend your manners in the future. A lady is always respectful to her elders.” She set the girl on her feet again, holding her firmly by the shoulders. “And you don’t know how to wield a knife, either. Always hold it low and strike upward.
I’ll teach you one day.”
Deirdras tried to break free, beating at her with small, fierce fists. “You hate me,” she shrilled. “You were my father’s enemy, and you’re my enemy-Mhairestri told me-”
Nyctasia’s face darkened. “I thought as much. The matriarch has taught you well.
You’ve learned to hate the Teiryn, haven’t you? And to fear me, and to disdain your mother. Hate and bitterness and pride are all that Mhairestri has learned in her long life, and all that she has to teach.” She gripped Deirdras more tightly. “Do you want a life like that for yourself, child? Do you want to be like her? Do you?”
Deirdras stared at her, wide-eyed, but to such a question as this she had no answer ready. Her chin began to tremble, and she seemed to grow limp in Nyctasia’s grasp.
“I’m sorry,” Nyctasia said gently. “I’m not angry with you. You’re brave and strong, Derry, and I’m proud of you. I shall rely on you to protect your family, remember.” She let the girl go, and Deirdras ran to her mother’s lap, sobbing in confusion.
Rehal gathered both children to her, and led them back to the table. “Finish your dinner now,” she said, “and let me talk to Her Ladyship. Deirdras, watch your brother.”
Deirdras began to eat her soup slowly, watching her aunt more than her brother.
Leirven was too excited to eat, but he enjoyed feeding most of his dinner to Greymantle.
Nyctasia dropped onto a couch and gestured for Rehal to join her. “I remember now,” she said, taking Rehal’s hand, “I never could persuade you to address me by name. Rehal, it was Mhairestri who told you I’d have the children killed, was it not?”
Rehal dropped her eyes, “My lady… Nyctasia… I…”
“And warned you not to say so, of course. She saw to it that you were frightened enough to flee, then had you watched and caught when you fled. Oh yes, you may be sure that your capture was her doing. She only needed some such reason to convince the others that the children shouldn’t be left to your care. She has no intention of letting them forget that they are Edonaris, I assure you.”
The bewildered Rehal had no way of knowing whom to trust. Her husband had been of the matriarch’s faction, but she knew that Mhairestri had opposed the marriage-while Nyctasia had been one of the few people at court to show her much kindness. Most had simply taken no notice of her and she had thought to continue being safely ignored, but after Emeryc’s death she had learned that she had enemies. She was not afraid for herself, but how could she possibly protect her children? “We should never have come here,” she said helplessly. “Please-I only want to take them away. Let us go.”
“But that is just what I want you to do, my dear. There is danger for them here-not from me or my followers, but from the enemies of the Edonaris. There are still those at large who will seek to destroy them because they are of Edonaris blood, and will one day be among the rightful rulers of Rhostshyl.
Until there is true reconciliation in the city, I want the children kept out of harm’s way. You’re to take them into the Midlands, to an estate in the valley, where I have friends who’ll make you welcome.” She rose and began to pace back and forth, laying her plans. “It will be best if you tell no one of this, lest you be followed, but I’ll send my most trusted people to safeguard you on the way. Will you do this, Rehal?”
For all that Rehal knew, Nyctasia might be sending them to their deaths, but she had no choice save to obey, and both women knew it. “If you think it best, Rhaicime.”
“I would do the same if they were my own,” Nyctasia said seriously. “I know you mistrust me, and the vahn knows I cannot blame you, but think on this, Rehal
… You and your children are in my power. If I wished them harm, I could just give my orders and have done with it-there is no one to stop me. Why then should I take the trouble to tell you lies? I’ve no need to deceive you, and nothing to gain by it, do you see? Their death is no part of my design. They are vital to my plans.” She broke off to look over at Deirdras, who was staring solemnly at her over a cup of milk. “Their lives are as precious to me as if they were in truth my own children. I care only for the future of this city, and they are the future of this House. I need them. Why, Deirdras is my heir.”
Rehal wanted desperately to believe her. Much of what Nyctasia said made sense, but she ventured to ask a question, feeling that she had to know the worst. “You may have children yourself one day, my lady-what then?”
Nyctasia had made sacrifices of which she rarely spoke. Now she said only, “You forget that I’m a witch, Rehal. My brother’s daughter will inherit the Rhaicimate from me.” She retrieved her sword and dagger, and put them on, then kissed Rehal and said, “I’ll leave you now. You are not under guard, but if you wish to leave the palace, take an escort with you, for the vahn’s sake. The city’s not safe, believe me.”
She called to Greymantle, and Leirven clambered down from his stool and followed, dismayed at the prospect of losing his new friend. “Doggie,” he explained earnestly to his mother and the lady with the shiny gold chain in her hair, “he likes him.”
“He means that the dog likes him,” Deirdras translated shyly. She stood a little to one side, now, watching Nyctasia warily lest she should suddenly decide to stab Leirven. When Nyctasia picked him up, she started forward, alarmed, but the bloodthirsty Rhaicime only set her little brother astride the great dog, much to the boy’s delight.
Nyctasia winked at Deirdras. “You seem quite agreeable when you’re not threatening one with cutlery,” she remarked, then asked Leirven, “Would you like to live in the country, and learn to swim, and have a whelp of your own?”
The child considered this seriously. “Big one?” he asked hopefully.
“The pick of the litter,” said Nyctasia.
Leirven gave a yell and kicked his heels into Greymantle’s sides. “Derdis, look at me,” he demanded. Greymantle, who was a patient animal, and used to children, simply settled back on his haunches and let his rider slide to the floor.
Deirdras caught him.
“I wish I could keep them with me,” Nyctasia said to Rehal, her voice filled with longing. “Not long ago, I asked myself why I had come back to this vahn-forsaken city, but when I look upon them, I remember.” She knelt and kissed Leirven. “Goodnight, little one. Time you were abed.”
Deirdras submitted stiffly to her embrace. “Daughter,” said Nyctasia, “this family has another matriarch, and you shall meet her soon, if all goes well.
Learn what you can from her.” She kissed Deirdras quickly and hurried away.
Nyctasia always claimed in later years that she had known, when she sent her brother’s widow to the Edonaris of Vale, that she was sending them a bride for Raphistain. But if she knew, she said nothing about it at the time.