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\hypertarget{chapter-43-conclusions}{%
\chapter{Conclusions}\label{chapter-43-conclusions}}



\epigraph{``I have been assured that my enemies lie behind every shadow,
which is why they will henceforth be illegal.''}{Dread Empress Sinistra III}



During one of the first conversations I'd ever had with Black, he'd told
me that he did not believe rule through fear alone could be sustainable.
I found it one of those lovely little ironies of life that my first
teacher had arrived by cold pragmatism to share that belief with
Cordelia Hasenbach, who'd gotten there largely on account of being a
halfway decent person. Whatever the reason, in practice it'd ended up
meaning that while we could have bullied Mercantis into withdrawing with
nothing to show for its efforts they'd instead been thrown red meat. Not
in the quantity or quality they'd wanted, but enough that they'd have
something to chew on besides their pride.

In the event of a lapsed debt by princes, Hasenbach committed the office
of First Prince to taking up the debt in their name and repaying it from
diverted taxes at a fixed rate. She also guaranteed payment in goods if
coin was not forthcoming, for up to a third of the worth of debts and
offered that both commitments she'd just made would be guaranteed by a
treaty under the aegis Grand Alliance. To sate the hungriest of the
merchant lords, she even sold a handful of monopolies as well: only for
a duration of ten years, however, and they would solely be enforced in
Proceran lands.

Mostly it was monopolies on goods in which Mercantis already dominated
trade -- perfume, cloth, dyes and enchanted luxuries -- that were sold,
which would essentially serve as a ten-year stay on competition in those
goods whether or not the monopoly was enforced in Callow. My kingdom had
neither the skilled artisans to begin trading in such goods nor the gold
to sink into building the workshops necessary for their creation. In
time we might, but the merchant lords would have quite the head start by
then and no competition from the greatest realm on the surface of
Calernia while they took it. My people lost nothing with this and might
yet gain, though. The audience ended coolly but not with hostility, and
the matter was considered settled.

For now.

The following days went by quickly, the last stretches of haggling over
how the Hainaut campaign was to be raised and waged -- Malanza was still
trying to trade back some of the drow sigils for Arlesite foot and
horse, the Iron Prince wanted fewer prongs on the attack than Juniper's
suggested three -- occupying my hours along with regular meetings with
the White Knight to discuss which Named should be assigned to the
campaign. So far it was skewing a little heavily favour of heroes for my
tastes, but we were starting to figure out what a functional roster
would look like. A haze of anticipation hung in the air of the Arsenal,
as all awaited the arrival of the envoys from the Titanomachy.

They were the last loose end left to tie up, and when they were tied
we'd return to the business of war.

---

When the Gigantes did arrive, they startled me with their swiftness.

We had less than a day to prepare between the first warning that the
three giants had reached Iserre and their unexpected arrival in the
Arsenal. The fortress in Iserre where they'd appeared was used to cross
into the Twilight Ways but wasn't actually one of the translation
points, just a shortcut to head towards one in southeastern Salia. Which
made it all the more of a surprise when the three giants emerged in the
translation room of the outer gatehouse to the Arsenal most of a day
later. Neither the swiftness of the march nor the direct crossing into
the first level of Arsenal defences were something any of our people
would have been able to replicate, Hierophant privately admitted to me.

I got the message the Gigantes were sending, as I expected the Procerans
and Levantines did as well: there were mysteries at their disposal we
could only dream of, and we should not get too cocksure even after all
we'd managed to build.

The hastily arranged welcoming party for the envoys ended up being a
headache to wrangle. The Titanomachy still did not have any formal
diplomatic relations with the Principate, and while it was dubious
they'd attack the First Prince if she stood before them that did not
mean they would be willing to speak with her. Which meant Hasenbach
couldn't come, and if Procer couldn't have someone in attendance then to
save face it would be best if the Grand Alliance simply `elected to send
a single representative'. I voted for Lord Yannu Marave to handle it,
given the Dominion's cordial if distant relations with the Titanomachy,
but he voted for me and the First Prince abstained.

A round of bickering later, I ended up sent out when the whole matter
was settled by our being notified that Hanno intended on going to greet
the Gigantes himself. If the heroic representative went so must the one
for villains, while Lord Yannu and I could not \emph{both} go -- it'd
make Hasenbach's absence all the more glaring. Masego tried to be there
as well, rather transparently so he could have a look at the Gigantes
from close with his magical eyes, but I turned him away. He could try
his hand at that later, when the diplomatic claptrap was over with. And
so I found myself standing once more atop the stairs leading down to the
stone floor where the translation ritual would take place.

At least I wouldn't have to go down the damned stairs again, so there
was that.

I wore formal clothing in black and silver, a crown set on my brow and
the Mantle of Woe on my back as a pointed reminder of the two offices I
was standing for here. The White Knight was in plate with a sword at his
hip, though he'd chosen not to wear a helmet. We'd exchanged a few
courtesies after I arrived, a dozen attendants from the Arsenal staff
standing behind us, but while there'd been no brusqueness from either
part we'd quickly lapsed into silence anyway. Neither of us were in much
of a talking mood. There was a little more to it than that, of course.
Since our conversation over the fate of the Red Axe, we had not once
shared words save in our official capacities.

There was a price to everything, I'd learned that lesson early -- and
never forgotten it since, as fate went out of its was to refresh my
memory every few years. My thoughts did not get to linger on the
subject, as a shiver of power in the room warned that the Gigantes were
soon to be among us. Leaning against my staff, I had a look over the
edge from the high vantage point.

Immediately it became clear that this was not the usual ritual. The
gates in and out of the half-realm that served as the funnel into the
Arsenal had a particular look to them, like a cut into the fabric of
Creation that rippled outwards, but the large gate beginning to open was
nothing alike. A broad and tall rectangle bordered in shining glyphs
came into being at once, with a muted blast of air, and along the inner
side of the border there was a small tremor. The filling of the
rectangle wavered, and I realized it had been almost like a cut as the
layer between the Arsenal and the travellers crumpled and shrivelled
into nothing. Slower than our own method, I noted, but it looked more
stable and their gate was perfectly aligned with the ground on both
layers of reality.

I wasn't sure that was actually \emph{possible} under the laws of
Trismegistan sorcery.

The Gigantes came in without fanfare, or for that matter human mages
guiding their translation. I'd not been sure what to expect, as I'd
never seen any member of their race before and illustrations in books
tended to vary wildly. Their height was impossible to miss, of course.
The tallest must have been thirty feet tall, and the others but a few
feet shorter, which had them standing taller than the ledge I've been
using to overlook the platform. Though there was some variation between
them, their skin was a deep brown and looked rather coarse. Though
shaped not unlike humans in much greater proportions, there were easy
differences to pick out: they had long, powerful legs and their necks
were noticeable shorter.

Their clothing was light, eerily beautiful white cloth which had no
stitches but instead complicated folds that revealed a triangle of brown
flesh beneath the neck and went down in a tunic that covered down to the
lower legs. It was belted with flashing bronze, fashioned as a hundred
little cards of the metal interlinked, and the short-sleeved cloth
revealed arms covered by winding, curling patterns of flowing gold. It
was the same with the parts of their legs bared, and their sandals were
polished stone bound by sinuous copper strings. Two had beards, of the
same dark brown as their skin, which were without a moustache and went
down to their chest in luxuriant curls -- to the side they went up to
where ears would have been on a human, though on the giants there was
only smooth skin and a small cartilage-like ridge.

All of them had shaved their heads in part, though the one without a
beard instead had a long stripe of hair beginning near his -- -- her?
Hard to tell, I saw no difference in body shape -- brow and going all
the way down to the back. Their eyes were startlingly human-like,
though, I found. Perhaps a little pale for our kind, but otherwise much
the same as ours and similarly topped by eyebrows.

The gate collapsed into the ground behind the giants without a sound,
and there was not a trace of it in the heartbeat that followed. They
took slow steps forward, careful of the arched ceiling above, and the
tallest of the three -- he had a beard, and unsettlingly luminous blue
eyes -- subtly moved his head and arms while his body otherwise remained
eerily rigid. Hanno moved, at my side, the way his own head moved to the
side displaying what I believed to be friendliness and deference. The
Gigantes shot me a cursory look, which I returned with a face like a
blank mask.

``I am Ykines Silver-on-Clouds,'' the giant said, his Lower Miezan only
slightly accented. ``Amphore for the Hushed Absence, envoy of the
Titanomachy. I greet you, Queen of Callow.''

I'd not expected him to recognize me, to be honest. It unsettled me
some, even though I could reason it away at the cloak and crown being
rather distinctive. \emph{Amphore} wasn't the title Hanno had called
this one by, I thought with a frown, when we'd last spoken of the
Gigantes. It'd been \emph{skope}, I was certain. From context I'd
gathered that \emph{amphore} was a higher title, though I was uncertain
as to what it entailed. Before I could answer the greeting, the envoy
turned towards the White Knight. They moved their bodies in ways that
were too quick and slight for me to really catch any of the nuances.

``I greet you, Guest of the Nine Peaks,'' Ykines said.

``I welcome you in peace,'' Hanno replied.

``Indeed,'' I said, forcing myself not to cock my head to the side.
``You are all welcomed to the Arsenal, as guests of the Grand
Alliance.''

``We receive your hospitality,'' Ykines Silver-on-Clouds said. ``Slumber
will be required for some hours. After, the Titanomachy can be heard and
hear in turn.''

Blunt, though I didn't particularly mind. I didn't hound the envoys with
small talk, instead passing them to the awaiting attendants. Most of the
hallways of the Arsenal were too low even if the giants bent their
bodies, so it would be a specific itinerary they had to follow. Their
rooms would be fitted for them, at least, though they'd be lodged in the
Repository instead of the Alcazar. Their `quarters' were a repurposed
warehouse, though it'd been decorated richly enough I wouldn't have
believed it if told. Following through exactly on their word, the
Gigantes disappeared into their quarters and did not stir in the
following hours. Knocks on the doors were not answered.

It'd been early morning, and it was only mid afternoon that they
emerged. Lord Yannu's presence was requested, as was the White Knight's,
and for a few more hours the doors closed. They broke only for a
communal meal -- Gigantes apparently did not eat much meat, to my
surprise -- and then cloistered themselves away for one last hour. The
two humans left after that, and I was not entirely surprised to receive
a messenger from Hanno soon afterwards. I agreed to meet without delay
and limped my way to one of the Alcazar halls not too far away.

He'd changed out of his armour, I noticed, and settled into his usual
grey tunic. A few papers and scrolls took up part of the table where
he'd sat, as well as a quill and inkwell, but it looked a light
workload. The White Knight duly rose to his feet when I entered, which I
dismissed with a grunt as I took a seat on the other side of the table.
Hanno had asked for the meeting, so as I sipped at the glass of water
he'd poured for me I waited for him to speak.

``The Myrmidon has volunteered to participate to the Hainaut campaign,''
he told me. ``Since the Grey Pilgrim will be participating as well and
the Mirror Knight will be with him, the Anchorite must stay in Cleves.
The principality grows too lightly defended otherwise.''

My brow rose. Not the conversation I'd expected, though it wasn't
unimportant either. Cleves was admittedly getting low on Named, since
both the Exalted Poet and the Maddened Keeper had come from that front
and they wouldn't exactly be coming back.

``I can leave the Red Knight there, if you're worried,'' I said.
``Though not the Headhunter, that tracking trick is much too useful.''

The Red Knight was one of the finest killing Named on my side, but she
was also deeply unpleasant in a lot of ways. There were only so many
times you could be told that the weak should die and the strong take
what they wanted before it became more than slightly grating. No, given
the difficulties inherent in juggling a coalition of Named it might be
wiser to leave her regardless -- I could even cite Named running thin in
Cleves as the reason why when she inevitably complained about being left
out of the offensive.

``That would be appreciated,'' he nodded. ``I also intend to reassign
the Stained Sister from Twilight's Pass to the Cleves theatre, unless
you have a major objection.''

My brow rose.

``She's been doing well there, last I heard,'' I said.

Hard old girl, the Stained Sister, and her affinity with Light made her
very useful against the massive necromantic constructs that the Dead
King used as siege engines up north.

``I need someone to take up leadership in Cleves,'' the White Knight
admitted. ``With the Mirror Knight gone, the eldest hero in the region
is the Anchorite and they are\ldots{} not a good fit.''

Yeah, spending forty years in exile in the mountains did not tend to do
wonders for one's social skills. The Myrmidon was probably second in the
heroic pecking order there, right now, but while an impressive fighter
all her languages except some obscure Penthesian dialect were a little
shaky. She also despised the Red Knight, a feeling violently returned,
which made her even worse a fit. The Knight wasn't exactly a leader of
villains -- I'd assigned mostly Named with an independent streak in
Cleves partly as a way to prevent her from gathering a power base -- but
she was the strongest of my lot in the region, which carried some
weight.

``You need someone good with Light assigned to the Pass,'' I said.
``We're already pulling out the Forsworn Healer, they're starting to
look a little bare up there.''

Of the three villains in Lycaonese lands -- the Bitter Blacksmith, the
Affable Burglar and the Skinchanger -- only the last was truly fighting
fit in my opinion. From Above's lot the Daring Pyromancer had proved
worth twenty times his weight in gold since he'd come from the Free
Cities and the Bloody Sword's appearance as the first Lycaonese hero of
the war had been a massive morale boost for his countrymen, but for all
their skill neither of them could smash a \emph{beorn} the way a
Light-wielder could.

``The Stalwart Apostle will be heading there, the Astrologer has agreed
to take charge of her,'' he countered.

Ugh, that Ashuran lunatic. I didn't care how often she'd predicted
storms, what she did was just specialized scrying and not some sort of
unearthly discipline. Still, she was older and not prone to getting
herself killed. There were worse mentors to have. Like the Skinchanger,
who the Lycaonese would probably have gone wild over as their first
Named in at least half a century if she'd not also been a shapeshifting
cannibal. That, uh, tended to put a damper on things.

``The Unravellers are proving effective, so I'll make my peace with
it,'' I sighed. ``You hear back from the Swaggering Duellist?''

``He still considers his honour sworn to the protection of the First
Prince until next winter solstice,'' Hanno replied, ``even if she
personally orders him north. We'll be without him.''

Shame, the man might be next to useless in an actual battle but he'd be
a right headache thrown at Revenants.

``The roster's taking shape,'' I mused. ``Archer is leaning towards
releasing what's left of her old band, right now. If she does, I take it
you want the Paladin for up north?''

``His presence would neatly fill the niches left empty by the departure
of the Stained Sister and the Forsworn Healer, when combined with the
Stalwart Healer's assignment,'' he agreed.

Replacing strong hands with weaker ones, but then if we wanted our
finest fighters in Hainaut we couldn't then complain they weren't
elsewhere. I sipped at my water, and a moment of silence I offered as an
opportunity to speak up ensued. We were done with Named, then. Good.

``How'd the talks with the Titanomachy go?'' I bluntly asked.

``Fruitfully,'' he replied. ``A formal proposition will be made to the
Grand Alliance this evening.''

My brow rose.

``Good news,'' I said. ``What are they offering?''

He met my eyes calmly and did not reply. I knew instinctively, from the
start, that this wasn't the silence of someone choosing his words. I
still waited.

``So it's going to be like that,'' I eventually said, voice gone quiet.

``You cannot have it both ways, Catherine,'' Hanno simply replied.
``Lord Marave will soon attempt to arrange a formal meeting of the Grand
Alliance, during which he and I will present the offer made by the
envoys of the Titanomachy. That is all I have to say on this matter.''

It was on the tip of my tongue to correct him, to say that he should be
calling me \emph{Queen Catherine} then, but I mastered my temper. I
would not further salt these fields out of petty spite. I breathed out,
studying him. I felt, I'd admit it, a tinge of sadness over this. We'd
been friends, in our own way. It had been a friendship with many
boundaries, but a friendship nonetheless. Perhaps we might be that
again, someday, but even if we were it wouldn't be the same. I looked
for an echo of the same thing in him but found only a tranquillity that
now seemed\ldots{} cool. Distant.

Perhaps it always had been, I thought, and I'd just been too busy
staring at my reflection in the pond to notice.

``Then we're done talking,'' I said. ``I will see you when the proposal
is made, White Knight.''

For a moment I thought he might speak, but instead he nodded.

I had neither the words nor the right to change his mind, and so I
simply left.

---

The message came within moment of my having returned to my quarters, and
I wasted no time agreeing to the time suggested -- a little after
supper, this very night. A note from Vivienne was awaiting me also, as
it happened. Her people in the Arsenal staff had seen Lord Yannu and the
First Prince having a private meeting that began not long after my own
with Hanno. The Levantine lord made no such effort with me, I could not
help but note, and somehow I doubted it was because he'd expected the
White Knight would fill me in. Hanno had, after all, taken pains to make
it understood that he would not meddle in the political affairs of the
Grand Alliance.

Was Marave showing goodwill to the First Prince, to make up for the
times we'd made common front to leverage her? Callow had common
interests with the Dominion, it was true, but my kingdom was far and
Procer was close. \emph{Careful Yannu} might simply be living up to his
name once more, hedging the Dominion's bets when it came to its
alliances. It was unpleasant to be the one left out of the loop this
time, but I would take it as a helpful reminder that my influence within
the Grand Alliance was not something everyone enjoyed. I'd concentrated
a lot of power in my hands by virtue of being both Queen of Callow and
representative for villains, and while no one was trying to replace me
that didn't mean no measures would ever be taken to check me.

The council came quickly, and after an afternoon's worth of anticipation
I found the proceedings rather anticlimactic. The White Knight standing
as witness, Lord Yannu brought out written transcriptions of the
proposal made by Ykines Silver-on-Clouds on behalf of the Titanomachy.
The goods offered were well worth a second look, I silently admitted to
myself. Two hundred wardstones, around a hundred artefacts suited for
fighting and the temporary services of ten artisans from the Reticent
Fidelity -- a Chorus whose preoccupation was such artefacts, and whose
members were some of the most frequent traders of their kind with Levant
-- to adjust them before they were used, as well as lend their expertise
on the fronts so long as it did not involve combat.

In `exchange', the Gigantes required two of their spellsingers -- whose
identity had yet to be determined -- to have full access to the Arsenal,
its resources and all its public projects. They also wanted formal
recognition by the Grand Alliance of their people's right to use the
Twilight Ways.

Tempting as the artefacts were, I was honestly inclined to hold out for
better terms given what was being asked of us. The Arsenal had cost a
fortune to make and carried the research of some of the finest minds on
Calernia: we ought to ask for more than trinkets if we were to share it
with the Titanomachy. Then Lord Yannu put the final part of the offer on
the table, and I was glad to have held my tongue.

``The Titanomachy acknowledges the threat of the Dead King's rising,''
Lord Marave said, ``and though they will not make war at the side of
Procer, they offer instead a gift: a great warding, raised along the
shores of the Tomb, that will turn away the dead.''

I saw the hunger in Hasenbach's eyes at the words and knew the giants
had us. I set aside the strategic implications of such a gift, instead
wondering that the Gigantes knew to make it at all. It was not yet
common knowledge that we were to have an offensive in Hainaut. I eyed
the White Knight and the Lord of Alava, wondering how much they'd told
the giants, before admitting to myself it didn't matter. The Gigantes
might have made the offer meaning to begin the work in Cleves, were the
shores were somewhat secure, and going east along the water with our
armies in support. Besides, even if it turned out these two had been
overly chatty the results they brought more than justified it.

It was tempting. Gods, but it was damned tempting. If we took back
Hainaut all the way to the shore and behind that wave the Gigantes came
in to raise wards rivalling the quality of those beneath the Red Snake
Wall, the nature of this war would change. The heavily fortified
Lycaonese lands would become the main path of invasion for Keter, and
the lakeside fronts would stabilize almost overnight. Enough that it
might be possible for us to take a stab at the Crown of the Dead itself,
should Masego come through with Quartered Seasons.

``Gigantes do not bargain,'' the White Knight told us. ``This is the
only offer there will be, and I ask you consider it seriously.''

Hasenbach thanked him, and it was agreed that we would reconvene
tomorrow after having `considered' matters, but everyone in the room
knew how this was going to end. It was just a matter of how long we'd
delay before accepting so we wouldn't be looking too desperate.

---

There were still a few days left to my stay in the Arsenal, but it was
swiftly coming to an end.

As soon as the treaty was the Gigantes was wrapped up and my own few
affairs settled, I'd be returning to Hainaut to begin arranging the
campaign from there. Indrani would be coming with me, and perhaps
eventually Masego as well -- it depended on how the Quartered Seasons
project was looking -- but there were others I would be leaving behind.
I was looking at one that'd sting the most, once more settled in the
same old infirmary seat that'd become as a second bed for me. The only
sign that Hakram was healing was that the healing mages had removed the
breathing spell, trusting his lungs to carry him without the help now.
Otherwise, his sleeping form had not changed.

``I'm going to have leave you behind,'' I quietly said. ``'Drani's
right. I could stretch out my stay by doing some planning from here, but
it'd just be delaying the inevitable.''

It still sickened me to think that I'd be abandoning him to this little
bed in this little room, when the only reason he was wounded at all was
that he'd fought for me. A knock on the door jolted me out of my
thoughts, though it also irked me more than a little. I'd instructed my
people not to disturb me.

``Come in,'' I said, tone forcefully even.

I'd give whoever had the come the benefit of the doubt, if they were
willing to interrupt against my clear instructions. It was not some
nervous messenger who came in, though, but Vivienne Dartwick. I
immediately bit down on the sharp words already on the tip of my tongue.
Vivienne did not look nervous, not exactly. It'd take more than our
current disagreements to make a woman who'd faced down a Princess of
Summer feel nervous. But she did look\ldots{} cautious. Hesitant. And
she'd noticeably dressed down.

In Salia she'd gotten into the habit of wearer nice dresses. Nothing
extravagant -- she was Callowan, and we were at war -- but there'd been
a distinct noble tinge to it. It made sense. Her father had been a
noble, if one stripped of his lands after the Conquest, and she must
have worn clothes not unlike those when she'd been younger. I'd never
occurred to me how different it made her look until just now, when I saw
her for the first time in ages in something closer to the leathers she'd
worn as the Thief. There were still skirts and leggings beneath the long
shirt, but this was a notable departure from usual.

``Cat,'' she greeted me. ``Do you have a moment?''

She had a bottle in hand, I noted. The glass was of poor quality, so it
was probably Callowan. Vale summer wine? She'd come prepared. Or trying
to bribe me, like I was a drunk that could be bought with a favourite
poison.

``I asked for-'' I began, and saw something in her face close.

I bit down on the sentence. The hesitance, the dressing down, the wine.
Gods but she was trying, wasn't she? When it wasn't even her fault. And
there was something about the change clothes that left me a sour taste
in the mouth. It felt a little like abasement, and I did not like what
it said about either of us that she'd thought it might work. Poor timing
was no reason to bite her head off.

``Never mind,'' I said. ``Come in, close the door behind you.''

She nodded, but the wariness did not leave. She looked a little at a
loss as to what she should say, even as she sat down at my side in the
same chair Indrani usually did.

``I was saying my goodbyes,'' I told her. ``Or maybe warning him they
were coming, I suppose.''

I wasn't going to leave tomorrow, after all, even if the date was not
far in the future either.

``I still can't believe he was wounded this badly,'' she admitted. ``He
was never our finest fighter, but he always seemed so\ldots{} solid.''

I grunted in agreement.

``Nobody's solid against demons,'' I said. ``At least the Mirror Knight
cut him before the taint could spread.''

Otherwise\ldots{} I thought of Nephele's pleading eyes, and my staff
coming down. I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed steadily, in and
out, until the cold fear that'd seized me ebbed low. Gods. Even just the
\emph{thought} of having to do the same to Hakram\ldots{}

``It's been a long few years, hasn't it?'' Vivienne said, tone almost
thoughtful.

She was looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. My jaw
clenched in embarrassment.

``For everyone,'' I said.

``For you more than me,'' she said. ``We're both tired, Cat, but it's a
different kind of tired.''

``A hollow excuse,'' I said.

The heights where I now stood had been reached through a pile of
corpses. I would not spit on those deaths by moaning about the
\emph{burdens of authority}. Vivienne said nothing for some time. It did
not mind, though the silence was not exactly comfortable.

``I have been putting together a census of Callow,'' she suddenly said.

My brow rose in surprise. I'd not actually heard about that.

``The Fairfaxes only held them infrequently and by unreliable methods,
but under the Carrion Lord the Empire gathered a great deal of
trustworthy information,'' Vivienne continued.

Black had probably been most interested in population numbers and what
the local trades were, I thought, since that information would allow him
to follow the flow of coin. Lack of gold where there should be plenty
would have told him which nobles were trying to raise troops to rebel.

``What do you intend to do with it?'' I asked.

``I want to fund workshops and guilds to foster certain trades,'' she
said. ``We have the materials to make dyes and the manners of cloths
that have enriched Mercantis. Royal coin could help our people enter the
trade. And we could organize much, through guilds: the lumber from
Holden and what was once Liesse would be worth a fortune out east, where
they so sorely lack it. Trading cattle with the Clans upriver for amber
and fur would not only enrich us, it would give the orcs a reason never
to resume raiding.''

``You need peace for that,'' I gently reminded her.

For there to be any trade with the east, to have the coin to make any of
this at all.

``I know,'' she assured me. ``I really do. I understand that the war
with the Dead King is what matters right now.''

She met my eyes, the blue-grey of them grown pale under the glow of the
magelights.

``But I need you to know that I won't be a\ldots{} parasite,'' she said.
``I won't just coast to the throne on your reputation and then do
\emph{nothing} with this. You put trust in me, Cat. And I know some of
it is because I learned to see what you see -- how much more we could
be, if we stop seeing greenskins as the enemy -- but I want to believe
you saw in me the makings of a good queen.''

Her voice had grown raw. I held my breath, somehow afraid it would be
enough to interrupt.

``I want to live up to it,'' Vivienne said, eyes gone hard as stone. ``I
\emph{will} live up to it.''

Slowly, I breathed out. She did not speak a word more, only searching my
face with something like desperation.

``I know,'' I quietly said. ``I never saw you as a\ldots{}''

I did not stay \emph{parasite}, though the word echoed in the silence
anyway. I passed a hand through my hair, mulling over my words. However
inarticulate my first words had been, I saw on Vivienne's face they had
at least taken the edge off of the apprehension. With clumsy hands I
ended up reaching for my pipe, that old gift from Masego that had become
so dear to me, and filled it. Moments later, a touch of Night was enough
for me to breathe out a long stream of wakeleaf. Vivienne had been
patient, and so I talked.

``I believe you'll be a good queen,'' I said. ``I genuinely do. And
while I have been an able warlord, I don't think the talents that helped
me there would suit peace times.''

I'd grown too used to having my orders obeyed without questioning. I'd
grown too used to resorting to violence to get my way, to schemes and
assassinations and all the bastard ways to see your will done. Those
methods had their place for any queen, but they'd come to be just a
little too close to my hand. Too easily grasped. I liked to think I had
done the best I could for my people, but I would not deny I had done it
as a tyrant. Vivienne was not weak, but even as a heroine she'd disliked
killing. It would not be her first resort. And the plans she was already
making only reinforced my belief I'd made the right choice of successor.

``That's part of what makes me angry, I think,'' I admitted. ``I know my
name will make it onto the pages of history books, Vivienne. But back
home, I can't help but suspect I'll be remembered as the dark days
before you took up the crown.''

I smiled, a tad bitterly.

``Necessary days, most will agree,'' I murmured. ``They were savage
times and so Callow required a savage queen. But we were well rid of
them and her, afterwards, so that a more enlightened era might take
their place.''

That enlightened era, I thought, was sitting next to me with something
like grief on her face.

``It won't be like that,'' Vivienne fiercely said. ``You know I wouldn't
let them\ldots{}''

I took her hand for a moment, clenched it in a gesture too hard to be
gratitude but too grateful to be anger.

``I can already see the current,'' I gently told her. ``And its
inevitable end.''

It wasn't without reason it was happening. This had not sprouted from
thin air as if by divine intervention. Deciding to keep Akua in my
service had cost me much esteem among even my most loyal, and back home
sending Callowans to die on foreign fields against the Dead King had
become increasingly unpopular as the soldiers stayed abroad and the
taxes stayed high. I wouldn't face revolt over this, I suspected at
least in part because anyone who might feasibly lead one was either dead
or part of my armies. But I'd turned Callow into a cradle of armies, and
only that. My only legacy among my people would be the victories and
defeat I had led my soldiers through.

It was not an enjoyable thought.

``Archer chewed me out,'' I admitted, ``in that way she does when she
pretends it's not what she's doing.''

``Because Indrani is much too tough and aloof to care about it when her
friends quarrel, naturally,'' Vivienne amusedly said. ``It would be
beneath her to ever meddle in such things.''

I grinned, though it faded after a moment.

``She was right, though,'' I said, ``when she castigated me for
clutching to my pride when I like to claim I have none. I've said for
years I was ready to abdicate, Vivienne, and I thought I meant it. But
then I had to deal with genuinely sharing power -- not just delegating
it -- and it got stuck in my throat. It matters more to me than I like
to admit, the authority.''

``It's all right, you know,'' she said. ``To be hurt that after all
you've sacrificed, the gratitude passed so quickly.''

I breathed in sharply. That was perhaps, I thought, the closest anyone
had come to actually reading me right when it came to this.

``Maybe it is,'' I said. ``But all these years, I've always told myself
I was taking that next step because it needed to be done. That I'd
surrender it all the moment I was no longer necessary. And maybe that's
half a lie, always was.''

The words came out in a stumble, perhaps more honest than I would have
liked.

``But I'd like to live up to it, Vivienne,'' I softly said. ``I'd like
to be the kind of woman who genuinely believes that.''

I gathered myself, after a moment.

``I'm sorry I took it out on you,'' I said. ``It's not your fault, and
it was ill-done of me.''

``I'm sorry too,'' Vivienne replied. ``For what this will do to you,
before it's all over.''

A knot I'd not known was in my shoulders loosened. I smiled, and she
smiled back. Sometimes, I thought, the things that mattered could still
be fixed. Sometimes you got to them in time. A hoarse breath sounded,
which I realized a heartbeat later that was neither mine nor Vivienne's.
I hurriedly rose to my feet, wincing in pain at my bad knee, and arrived
just in time to see Hakram's eyes flutter open.

``Cat?'' he groaned.

``I'm here,'' I told him.

It'd been a hard few years, there was no denying that.

But sometimes, just sometimes, we got lucky.