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\hypertarget{chapter-55-renewal}{%
\chapter{Renewal}\label{chapter-55-renewal}}



\epigraph{``It is said that when his Chancellor told him the scheme to
release a culling plague would cause rebellion, Dread Emperor Vile
thoughtfully replied that should this be the case he could always
release a second one.''}{Introduction to `Thirteen and One' by Hakim of Kahtan, the Haunted
Scholar}



I woke up knowing two things: were more than halfway to dusk and that my
leg \emph{hurt}.

Gods, the throbbing was atrocious. Like someone was taking a hammer to
my knee with every breath. I was tempted to reach for the Night before
I'd even opened my eyes, to weave it so that coolness would sink into
fevered flesh and the pain would recede to a dull and distant beat.
Instead I forced myself to unclench my teeth and breathed in and out
slowly, soothingly. I'd already pushed my limits last night more than
was wise, cheating my body's due once more would only worsen the
eventual settling of the debts. No, best to feel the harrowing pulse now
when I had yet to see demands made of my time rather than putting it off
until the cup tipped regardless of what I wanted. I let out a shuddering
breath and opened my eyes, taking in the dim lighting within the tent.
I'd settled onto a padded armchair to sleep instead of a bed, which no
doubt would have made things even worse with my leg if someone hadn't
propped both of them up on footrest while I slept. As usual, I was left
to wonder about who it was that'd struck a devil's bargain in my name to
arrange my meeting Hakram. In truth it was coincidence, I thought,
though perhaps of that pointed kind that some might call fate. And it
wasn't like that relationship had been made of thin air, willed into
existence -- it had taken time and trust and understanding. But how many
people in Creation went through their lives without ever encountering
someone who understood them even half as well as he and I did? It might
not be providence, but it would be a lie to say that villains did not
get golden luck of their own sometimes.

I let a few breaths pass, two sensations warring over mastery of my
body. The loud and strident call of pain in my leg and the sort of
earthly satisfaction one got from much needed sleep. The pleasant
lethargy that lingered until you stretched, telling you a need had been
seen to. I embraced the former to drown out the latter and sought
further distraction by taking in the tent. The reason I'd ended sprawled
in an armchair instead of a bed was but a few feet away: Masego still
lay still on his cot, hands folded over his chest as it slowly rose and
lowered. Indrani had fallen asleep on him when seated on his bedside,
forehead on his side as she lightly snored. And, by the looks of the
sheet beneath her mouth, drooled. Well, we'd all had a long night. The
folding chair she was still seated on was precariously balanced on its
two front feet, anchored only by her weight and leaning against the cot.
I resisted the urge to suddenly shout just to see her stumble on the
ground, though it was a close-run thing. To my surprise, there was
another within the admittedly cramped tent. In another armchair, curled
up like sleeping cat, Vivienne was clutching at a blanket and sleeping
so heavily she might as well be dead. I wasn't the only one who was a
fragile little mortal these days, it was true, and her hours of waking
had been almost as troublesome as mine. While I would not hesitate a
moment to ruin Archer's sleep, Vivienne at least should get to keep her
slumber for a while yet.

There were two layers over me, my cloak and a thicker blanket above it,
so I softly dropped the latter on the ground and with a muted grunt
pulled the former around me. Gods, even with the brazier in the corner
the air was cool and I'd shrugged off quite a few of my clothes for
comfort. Barefoot, I slid onto the footrest and back into my discarded
boots, tightening the straps. Pain in leg spiked, which did not bode
well for walking out of here. I reached out blindly and without fought,
but my fingers closed around my staff. I almost started, eyes narrowing
as I turned to look at the dead wood. Had I remembered where I'd propped
it up last night, somewhere in the back of my mind? Or had it just been
where it needed to be? Didn't matter, I ultimately decided. It was meant
only to help me walk, not to serve as a weapon or a tool of power. It
could not fail me in an hour of need if I never relied on it for more
than what any stick could provide. I pushed myself up, swallowing a moan
of pain, and took a few hobbling steps. It got better after a bit,
though never less than unpleasant. Finding myself close to Indrani and
Masego's sleeping forms I allowed myself to take them in for a moment,
Masego most of the two. It'd been near a year now, hadn't it? How
strange, that someone who'd been nothing to be for most my life could
come to be missed to sorely when we were now parted. It wasn't even that
Zeze was the one among my friends I saw the most. That'd always been
Hakram. But there'd always been a manner of comfort in knowing that
Masego was close by, even if he'd disappeared into a tome or an
experiment for a few days. From the moment we'd met he'd so rarely been
afar, even if not together. Until he'd left for Thalassina. I could
sense a discreet working of Night on him, woven to keep another
appraised of his health, and that served as fresh reminder of what our
third time in Liesse had personally cost him.

When he woke, it would not be pretty. There'd be many among my fresh
allies howling for punishment, and the loss of his sorcery would not
necessarily be enough to appease. They weren't even wrong, I thought,
for though he'd done it in grief and while manipulated by the Dead King
he \emph{had} come within an hour of killing hundreds of thousands.
More, even. If the realm that'd become the Twilight Ways had crashed
into Iserre, it would have taken more than this battlefield with it. How
many more thousands lived in the principality's cities, its towns and
countryside? No small number, and most of that civilians. Penance would
have to be found, I thought, though delicately doled out. Already
returning to lucidity would make him behold in full the truth that his
fathers were gone, but that anguish would be paired with his sorcery
being taken. That would\ldots{} take time to accept, I suspected. I
would not pretend to truly understand every part of the complex
relationship Masego had with magic, but I suspected it would not be too
different from losing a dear friend or a spouse for him. \emph{But we're
back}, I thought, looking at the sleeping pair. Vivienne was not far,
and though Hakram would already be busying himself with one of the
thousand little hidden things that kept my world spinning he was close
as well. After months in the dark and split across the face of Calernia
to seek our own truths, we were finally together again. Grim as the days
to come were, the Woe had found each other once more.

Whatever doom lay approaching behind the horizon, it would find us
waiting and bearing sharp knives.

Swallowing a wince as I leaned down, I picked up my blanket and softly
laid it on Archer's shoulders. I brushed back a lock of hair that'd
tumbled over her ear, fingers lingering as I acknowledged that there
would be need to settle matters personal as well eventually. Though
Indrani has spoken it nonchalantly enough as we chased victory in
Liesse, the admission that she loved the sleeping man she was drooling
on was no small thing. Out in the open it was no longer as a butterfly's
wingbeat, easily ignored or taken for illusion. Most of what would have
to be settled in there would have to be seen to by the pair of them, and
I had no place in it, but only most. I'd been sharing a bed with Indrani
regularly since that first time in the Everdark, but it might be for the
best for that to cease until boundaries had been clearly drawn for them
both. Or disappointments had, if it was to be that. Masego was in no way
mandated with returning that affection, after all. And someday I
wondered if he even could. That he had no interest in bedplay was
well-worn knowledge, but he'd displayed disinterest in more than that.
There were many ways to love someone, and not all involved skin or
pining sighs. They'd find their balance, I knew. Or make peace with the
way they could not. We were all too tightly bound for such a small thing
to wound.

Being a good friend when the mood struck me, I slid a few small firewood
logs under the lifted feet of Archer's chair so she'd not topple when
she inevitably woke. I limped out quietly, feeling filthy with sweat and
soot and blood. The thought of a warm bath or even a basin of hot water
ferociously attractive, but I'd not eaten in too long and drunk quite a
bit over the last day and night. Best get breakfast before that came
back to haunt me. The thought was enough to work an appetite, and as it
happened there was an open campfire not far. The two silhouettes by it I
knew well, and was greeted by amused smiles when I leaned over the fire
to smell at the iron pot being heated.

``Tea?'' I said, surprised.

``One of Aisha's blends,'' Hakram replied. ``It ought to help with the
leg, if only a little.''

Adjutant knew well my reluctance to cheat the discomfort for too long,
so it wouldn't be an herb meant to kill the pain. Maybe one of those
Wasteland herbs that helped with the flow of blood? Eh, I'd ask later.
Instead I made Akua move further down the old stone and sat myself with
a grunt, hands rising to accept the mug of tea the orc had just poured.
I sniffed once more, but though the smell was vaguely familiar I
couldn't quite put the finger on what had gone in it. I blew out the
mist that wafted up, ignoring the increasing number of eyes I could feel
on me. This part of the camp would be restricted, I thought, but there'd
still be soldiers. It wouldn't be long before word spread I'd woken. The
prominence of Lower Miezan in both Callow and Praes meant that gossip
still flew with swift wings no matter who ended up joining the ranks of
my armies.

``I'm guessing that clever little Night-weave on Masego is your work,''
I said to Akua.

She inclined her head.

``His health remains within my expectations,'' she said. ``Though it may
be some time still until he fully recovers.''

My brow rose.

``Losing the magic didn't knock him out,'' I pointed out. ``I did.''

``You only pre-empted the natural course,'' she told me. ``You may think
of it as Lord Hierophant having recently gone under a chirurgeon's
knife.''

``Like when I lost an aspect,'' I murmured.

``That was a metaphysical wound,'' Akua disagreed. ``This is physical.
The body must acclimate itself to the absence of magic.''

``And typically how does that go?'' I frowned.

``It is not a phenomenon I am much familiar with, for in the Wasteland
is it exceedingly rare for one to lose sorcery without death ensuing,''
she admitted. ``And I no longer have a storied library to expand my
learning, much as I would like to.''

The Sisters might know, I thought. Or Roland, considering part of his
Name apparently involved the `confiscation' of magic.

``I see no reason to worry,'' Akua assured me. ``Though he should remain
weakened for a span, he should wake much sooner. It is exhaustion, not
forced torpor.''

I slowly nodded. Still, I'd not gamble with Masego's health if I could
help it. Behind me the sound of eggs on a pan caught my attention:
Hakram had cracked three, as I usually took, and was frying them on the
open fire.

``I'll get you a conversation with the Rogue Sorcerer,'' I told Akua.
``You should be able to get use out of that.''

She inclined her head in agreement. I claimed a bowl myself, as Hakram's
sole hand was already occupied, and watched with mild bemusement as Akua
Sahelian heeded his instructions and got out a small pot of salt before
sprinkling a few touched of it on my eggs. He deftly turned them
afterward, using only his wrist. There was still half a cookpot's worth
left of stew -- horse, since we were starting to run low on other fresh
meats, and I ended up digging hungrily into a bowl filled with both. The
tea took me longer to get through, for it tasted bitterer than I
preferred, but I was not drinking it purely for pleasure. It was a
pleasant meal, my two companions keeping the conversation going on
matters of no great import while I only occasionally interjected a grunt
of agreement or the opposite. Apparently the heartlands of Procer used a
great deal more salt in their meals than I was used to back home, since
it could be brought in cheap from the great salt pans on the western
coast of Neustria and Brus. I stretched a bit afterwards, pleasantly
full in a way that I'd never truly known how badly I missed until I
could be again.

``Right,'' I finally sighed. ``Lay it on me, then. What did I miss while
I slept?''

``In truth, nothing particularly pressing,'' Hakram said, to my
surprise. ``Arnaud Brogloise has sent messenger to request an audience
when it is convenient for you. He'll be approaching you in the name of
the First Prince, since the powers she granted him have yet to expire.
I'd consider what he has to say more representative of the situation in
Salia than what Princess Rozala will speak to.''

I hummed.

``But it's not pressing,'' I said. ``Why?''

``I expect he's still going through the partial text of the Accords I
passed to him,'' Hakram said.

I didn't reply immediately, though I almost chastised him. We'd
discussed passing that along to the Procerans in advance of the
conference that would most likely be held in Salia -- I couldn't see
Hasenbach leaving the city at the moment, she'd be leaving the Highest
Assembly to its own devices -- but I'd been more inclined to Princess
Rozala, or even the now-former Princess Sophie Louvroy. The latter was
one of Hasenbach's loyalists, the one sent to keep an eye on the army,
which implied a degree of trust. On the other hand, Arnaud Brogloise had
turned out to be her spy and empowered envoy. He was, objectively, the
better pick: not only was it assured that whatever he saw would end up
in Cordelia's ear, he had the authority to speak on her behalf before we
got to Salia. And though dear old Arnaud obviously had very few
compunctions with killing, he'd been able to play some highly perceptive
Proceran royals for fools. For \emph{years}. Malanza was more general
than steward, by my reckoning, and to my knowledge not a particularly
skilled intriguer. No, Brogloise was the right choice. In some aspects,
anyway. I'd rather have the Princess of Aequitan at my side than on the
other one, when the time came to push for the Accords, and that couldn't
be done if she was kept in the dark about them.

``Have another one prepared,'' I said, then thought more of it. ``No,
two.''

``Pilgrim,'' he said. ``And Princess Rozala, I'd assume. Is that wise?''

I cocked my head to the side. There couldn't be many reasons he'd
expected me to keep one of the two most powerful women in Procer in the
dark until the last moment.

``You're afraid they might use the Accords to draw lines in the
Assembly,'' I said. ``For and against, every sitter to gather behind one
or the other.''

``The First Prince remains unpopular,'' Hakram pointed out. ``These are
times of war and she is not a general while her seat of power -- the
Lycaonese north and its support -- has been uprooted. Of course, with
the fighting up north toppling Procer's ruler would attract a great deal
of scorn. Unless it was reluctantly done to avoid some great mistake.''

``She's fought the dead, Hakram,'' I said. ``And you saw her on the
hill. She's not going to make a grab for the throne halfway through the
end of the world.''

``She might,'' Akua disagreed. ``If she believed Cordelia Hasenbach to
be unable to fight this war the way it needs to be fought.''

``If we don't tell her now,'' I said, ``she'll take that as the insult
it is.''

``Agreed,'' Akua easily said. ``Arlesites are notoriously prickly over
such matters. I also rather disagree with Lord Adjutant's notion that
discussion of the Accords will be used in the Highest Assembly. Your
support is much too precious a commodity at the moment for one of them
to discard it offhand.''

``My support,'' I skeptically said. ``Wouldn't my backing in any of
their private squabbles be a kiss of death? It's both a villain and
foreigner intervening in Proceran affairs.''

``Ah,'' Hakram suddenly breathed out.

An elaboration would have been more helpful, as far as I was concerned.

``You have a series of victories to hand out, my heart,'' Akua smiled
under the veil. ``End of the dwarven ban on armament sales. Assurances
of truce with the Firstborn and the support of their armies against
Keter. Access to Callowan grain markets come next harvest. The secrets
of the Twilight Ways for Proceran armies to use. And, of course, the
great achievement of having turned the dreaded Black Queen into a tame
tiger unleashed on the dead.''

My fingers clenched and unclenched as I considered that. I'd considered
most of those a given the moment bargains were struck, but I could see
their point. If all those things were presented as the victories of
either Hasenbach or Malanza, they'd come out looking like the person
getting things done. The kind you wanted in charge, when someone like
the Dead King was at the gate. The First Prince already had the throne,
true, but the Princess of Aequitan was fresh off what could be
considered a success here in Iserre. And I knew better than most than
when the days got dark people liked to have a soldier wearing the crown.

``If Malanza tries to seize the reins, then they'll both try to use the
Accords as meat to barter for anything I could provide them,'' I said.
``So if we don't send her the text we're essentially tipping the scales
in Hasenbach's favour. She'll have had time to prepare, and she's too
skilled a hand not to turn that into a significantly better position.''

``The decision must be carefully considered, in my eyes,'' Akua said.
``For the twin truth of what you said is that, in apprising Princess
Rozala of your intent, we tacitly allow her to present a challenge to
the First Prince in Salia.''

Which I doubted Cordelia would take all that kindly to, all things
considered.

``I would be surprised, in truth, if Cordelia Hasenbach's unseating was
the intent,'' Akua continued. ``By the procedures of the Assembly such a
thing would be difficult to accomplish -- and embitter the Lycaonese for
\emph{generations} if carried out. Assuming they did not outright rebel.
More sensibly, with the right maneuvering it would not be impossible for
Rozala Malanza to become the true power in Procer no matter who rules in
name.''

If this was just about curtailing how much hostility I'd be earning by
my decision, I suspected sending the simplified Accords to the Princess
of Aequitan would make for much less personal a grudge than keeping the
same woman in the dark until we reached Salia. On the other hand,
approaching the matter that way was a fine way to make a mistake: wading
into a melee before knowing who you wanted to thump was a good way to
end up eating dirt.

``There's no guarantee they'll turn on each other,'' I finally said.

``The Principate is on the precipice of change,'' Akua disagreed. ``And
only one may hold the reins if their nation is survive the war, they
both know this: divided, squabbling, Procer can only break. The lesser
crowns cannot look to two mistresses for orders, and so one of them must
submit to the other before the Highest Assembly for uncertainty to end.
She who remains standing will rule the Procer that is to come, should
she survive the war.''

``We lose little from allowing Princess Rozala a challenge,'' Hakram
noted. ``If anything with two bidders concessions ought to be easier to
secure. If the First Prince had been more willing to negotiate with us
in the past I'd advise against it, but there's hardly any good will
there to spoil.''

``I believe that Cordelia Hasenbach remains the superior candidate to
ensure lasting peace,'' Akua told him. ``And if decision is made to back
her from the start, being owed a favour can be worth more than auctioned
support -- and would \emph{create} good will. A knife hand stayed is
worth more than promises.''

I shook my head.

``You're selling both of them short,'' I said. ``And I don't mean there
won't be tensions, because that ship rather left the dock when Hasenbach
made Malanza's mother drink poison after their civil war. But they'll
remain cordial while the Dead King is at the gate, because neither will
be willing to roll the dice when snake eyes might mean the end of the
Principate.''

I thought back to a conversation that felt so long ago, Hasenbach and I
alone in the depths of my since-devoured domain. \emph{You miss the
central tenet of the Principate}, she'd chided me as we spoke of
tyranny. \emph{It is, unlike Praes, a nation built on consensus.} She'd
sent Prince Amadis and his cabal into my hands to be savaged, I'd
retorted back then, her opposition in that Assembly she so touted. Yet
she's believed in her words, back then, even as she struggled with
realities that were flawed. Did she still, I wondered?

``No, if Procer is to decide its own fate then let it be in the open,''
I said. ``Cordelia Hasenbach cannot grudge me her own principles
observed. Malanza gets the Accords, same as the Pilgrim.''

Although, in truth, this entire matter should have been debated with
Vivienne awake. Which they would know, I thought. Yet they'd spoken of
it anyway. I would not count that a coincidence.

``You're not telling me something,'' I said.

``I thought you'd come to the conclusion yourself without prompting,''
Akua said, sounding fascinated. ``It truly is a glaring blind spot.''

``We've named boons you can offer that would win princes to either
cause,'' Hakram gravelled. ``Yet there's prize that would win the people
as well. In these parts for certain and others as well. It is a matter
of pride, in the end.''

My heart clenched.

``Black,'' I said. ``They'll want Black's head on pike.''

The shade dipped her head in agreement.

``And you pushed this not because you want me to make a decision,'' I
said, ``but because he's awake.''

``Before seeing him you should know what may still lie ahead,'' Hakram
said. ``Make no mistake, Catherine, they will hound you for him. Their
people will riot otherwise, after what he's done. The Legions themselves
may be spared, but the Carrion Lord? They cannot afford to simply let
him go.''

``They can't afford to fuck with me either,'' I sharply replied.

Akua looked at me, and for a moment under the veil I believed she might
have looked sad.

``There will be a choice,'' she said, ``between what the woman wants and
what the queen requires.''

I grit my teeth, rising to my feet.

``Catherine,'' Hakram called out.

I turned a glare on him.

``I handed him the full Accords,'' he said.

\emph{Why}, I almost asked, but already knew the answer. Either my
father would sign the damned thing, or he'd be sold so that everyone
else did.

I stalked off, furious at no one in particular, to find Amadeus of the
Green Stretch.