"I was not on this soil then, but as a child I heared a elder shrine keeper given it name. The mark of hexer."

"Hexer?"

"I believe ye'd call such 'sorcerer' nowadays. Valerian was never of the oak. Bad times are a-coming, Fritillary Reedling. He can track ye now, through that mark. Ye must prepare your sanctuary so he know not where you hide. Ye must also hide the oaks... Keep them safe."

She felt overwhelming despair. "How?"

Akrana gestured her deeper inside the shrine. "Ask the unseen guardians. Perhaps... perhaps they know. I do not."

13.

Obviation

"I don't understand, Lady Friselda."

Mathilda glanced down the room to where her gaggle of ladies-in-waiting were all gathered at the other end near the warmth of the fire, then fixed her most imperious stare on the old lady seated next to her in the window embrasure of the Regala's retiring room. It was a look that intimidated most people, but it never had much effect on the wretched woman who was her ward's-dame. Lady Friselda was far too entrenched in her privileged position as cousin to the Regal to be intimidated, and her power at court was real; she appointed all Mathilda's Lowmian ladies-in-waiting.

"Moreover, surely it is my decision," she added with as much acid as she could inject into the words, "to decide Aureen's future?"

"Oh, nonsense, my dear! Why would the disposition of a mere chambermaid be any concern of a Regala?"

"Because she came here as part of my retinue and she is the only remaining member of it!"

"Sweet child, why would you possibly care?" The old lady raised a single eyebrow in ridicule. "An uneducated under-servant is of no import to anyone, least of all you. If the Regal wishes her to be returned to Ardrone, as a symbol of your absorption into our Lowmian court and the cutting of your final tie to Ardrone, then of course she must go home."

Pox on you, you condescending bitch! She smiled sweetly. "Well, of course, if it is the Regal's wish, then so be it. I shall speak to him concerning the matter."

"Do that, my dear," Friselda said equably. "I believe His Grace has been influenced by the continued inquiry into that saucy light-fingered female you brought to court as your handmaiden. His Grace's agents, you see, are convinced that Aureen must know something she is not saying about the theft of his valuable fan. After all, put two lower-class Ardronese servants togetherof course they must have been in each other's confidence. A disgrace that they were ever introduced to this court! I cannot imagine the upbringing that you must have endured in Throssel, my dear. I blame the early demise of your mother. How else can you have come under the influence of such baseborn ser vants?"

She tried not to grit her teeth. "So kind of you to be concerned. But I assure you, I have never been under their influence. And I consider the insinuation insulting."

"Oh, dear, my apologies for disturbing your sensitivities. Anyway, 'tis no further concern of yours. I believe dear Vilmar's agents will deal with Aureen before she is sent home, just to make sure they have all the information they can get."

"Agents?" She swallowed convulsively. Va above. Not the Dire Sweepers.

"His Grace has many agents to take care of the dishonest and the traitorous. Nothing you need worry your pretty head about, my dear."

Oh, how she itched to put her hands around that scrawny woman's neck and choke the life out of her, but her anger warred with dread. If the Dire Sweepers seized Aureen the moment she left the protection of the court, she would never reach Ardrone. They'd torture herand they weren't interested in the theft of a fan. They wanted to know about the baby Sorrel was carrying...

"Thank you, Lady Friselda. I will talk to the Regal about this matter. And I will inform Aureen myself. I am sure she is innocent of all wrongdoing." Not trusting herself to say another word, she turned and left the room, leaving her startled ladies-in-waiting to follow or not as they pleased.

That evening, when they were seated together at supper and other guests were diverted by the entertainment, Mathilda raised the subject with Vilmar. As soon as she mentioned Aureen's name, she saw the furrow between his greying eyebrows twitch and deepen. Her heart sank; she knew that sign. He was displeased with her in a way that no cajoling would dissipate. He'd made up his mind.

"My lady," he said, his glower matching the sharpness of his tone, "you foolishly involve yourself in matters beyond your ability to comprehend. Do not mistake my motives here. I am indifferent to the fate of servants. One of your women, that handmaiden with the Shenat name, was evidently involved in a sorcerous attempt to influence my decisions through an unnatural artefact from the Va-forsaken Hemisphere."

He reached out to take her by the wrist with his long, bony fingers. As he continued to speak, his hold tightened. "I need to know the truth of this matter, and I will go to any lengths to find it. It is the opinion of my informants that your maid, this Aureen, may know more than she has admitted. She shall be dealt with accordingly. Do not attempt to interfere, or I shall doubt your loyalty." His hold was like a vice, bruising her skin and paining her to the bone. "I have not dismissed the possibility that this was a plot on the part of your father, Edwayn."

That had to be a silly attempt at bluff. "It was not my father who gave you the plumes you now so fear." She could have pointed out the obvious, that it was his own Lowmian trading partner, Uthen Kesleer, but there was no point. Instead, she said, "If it was indeed Sorrel Redwing who stole the plumesand there is no proof whatever that she was ever in your solar, let alone that she knew or cared about the plumesthen surely she did you a favour!"

They glared at each other and she wondered if they'd just moved into a new phase of their pointless marriage. He had his full faculties back, but perhaps he would never forgive her for having seen him at his most vulnerable.

"True." He lessened his grip slightly. "Which is the only reason I have not taken this any further before now. But my informants press me on this matter, so I will see your maid questioned. After that she will be sent on her way to Throssel."

"As you wish," she said tonelessly and he let go of her. "Why have you not arrested Uthen Kesleer?"

"He says he had no idea of what the plumes could do."

And perhaps he didn't... but the real truth is that some men are too powerful and too rich to throw into a dungeon. And you never did tell the Dire Sweepers or anyone else the whole truth about the plumes, did you?

And then she had another thought. None of that worried Regal Vilmar half as much as not knowing who had the plumes now, and what they intended to do with them.

Saker had said he had them, which presumably meant they were now in the hands of the Pontificate, because she couldn't imagine he'd risk stealing them for anyone else. If ever she was in dire trouble herself, perhaps she could use that information to bargain her way out.

The Lord Chancellor stepped up then, with his tiresome wife, and the evening dragged on. She said all the right things, smiled at the right times, but the thoughts inside her head circled, and always they came to the same conclusions.

Aureen had been petrified of the men who had questioned her. Hours afterwards, her face had still been unnaturally white; her hands had still trembled. Her eyes had begged for reassurance, for a promise that she would be safe under Mathilda's protection.

I can't give her that promise.

And they will come for her.

"Ouch! Do be careful, Aureen. I do believe you pulled some of my hair out then."

"Oh, forgive me, milady." Aureen, looking suitably contrite, untangled the hairbrush and resumed her brushing.

Mathilda hid a sigh. Her worries had niggled at her all day, like burrs in her stockings, and it was pointless to take it out on Aureen. The truth was that she was still trying to decide what to do.

"Is there something the matter, milady?" Aureen asked. "You seem to have the megrims tonight."

She didn't answer.

"Oh, milady, I'm ever so sorry. I shouldn't pry. But I know Ustgrind is so... dismal, and folk here are sometimes solemn enough to sour a jug of beer! And milady's been missing Sorrel. But you have the Prince-regal, the little sweetling. I'd wish I could see more of him, but Lady Friselda says it's not 'propriate for a maid like me to have anything to do with a royal heir, for all that I brought him into the world, the darling wee mite."

"You did not bring him into the world! I did. Indeed, Lady Friselda is right. It's not your place, Aureen."

"Of course not, milady." She hung her head. "I do forget me place summat terrible. If Your Grace will forgive me impudence, has milady had word from Mistress Sorrel?"

"No," she snapped, and was immediately contrite. "No, I haven't. It is a worry, but nothing you need concern yourself with. In fact, I have news for yougood news, I hope. You are going to return to Ardrone."

"Oh, milady!" She dropped the brush in her surprise, and there was no mistaking the expression of delight on her face. "I dream about it sometimes."

Mathilda stared at her. She was happyhappy to leave, knowing she'd be leaving her princess alone, the only Ardronese at court. She thought viciously, She has no loyalty to me! None! Why should I worry about her?

Aureen glimpsed her expression then, and hung her head, biting her lip. "Forgive me, milady. I didn't mean that. I'd never leave you, truly. You're me mistress and I'll serve you as long as I'm needed. Here's me place now."

This time Mathilda gave her a long hard stare. How could she trust the woman not to betray her? If the Dire Sweepers beat her, or worse, she'd talk, of course she would! And what, she wondered, would the woman do if she did return safely to Ardrone? Once she was back with friends and family around her, would she think twice about betraying Mathilda by speaking of things that should never be mentioned?

Aureen continued to brush her hair, gently now, with soothing strokes of the brush, but Mathilda's thoughts were dark. She made up her mind, aware she was about to take the first step on a terrible journey. "Oh!" she squealed. "Look, a rat!"

Aureen whirled around to look. "Where?"

"It ran under the cupboard. Oh, I knew we had rats! You saw where they chewed my slipper last week." She shuddered.

"I'll call in the rat catchers tomorrow-"

"Ugh! No." She pulled a face in disgust at the thought. "I don't want dirty and smelly ratters in my solar. Go down to the apothecary tomorrow in the bailey. What's her name? Frynster Anna?"

"Frynster Annusel."

"That's right. Ask her for some poison baits. You can lay them in all the corners. But until they are all gone, I want you to sleep on the truckle next to me. Just in case they climb on my bed!"

"Yes, milady. And never fear, I'll tuck in your bed hangings real proper, so not even a midge can enter."

As Mathilda lay in her bed that night, as securely tucked in as Aureen had promised, sleep was still a long time coming.

Abandoned, she thought. Everyone has abandoned me. Even Sorrel failed me, just like Saker.

So much time had passed since Sorrel had left with Prince-regal Karel's sister in her arms. In all that time, she'd heard nothing. Nothing of the baby, nothing from Sorrel, nothing from the Pontifect, no word of guidance.

Perhaps Sorrel and the baby had never arrived in Vavala. Perhaps they'd died.

Perhaps it would be better if they had.

No, she mustn't think that. But, oh, it would make things less complicated. Although... Maybe not. She needed to know if Karel was a devil-kin or not.

She'd trusted Sorrel, and the woman had let her down. Her tears welled up, and the lump in her throat grew large and painful.

Even Aureen would like to abandon me... I'm sure I can't trust her, either.

Well, I'll show them. I'll show them all.

Regal Vilmar called Mathilda to his private retiring room mid-afternoon of the next day, which was unusual. When the servant delivered a message telling her she was to present herself to the Regal in his private chambers, she feared it was to tell her to deliver Aureen to his "agents".

Her one hold over him, her ability to pleasure him, was tenuous at best. She wasn't foolish enough to confuse his delight at her youthful body with love. Vilmar didn't love people; he used them. She must never forget that. Even his pride in his son was not enough to give her real power. He may have been her husband, and she was the mother of his heir, but she still addressed him as "Your Grace" and, tellingly, he'd never requested that she do otherwise.

She hurried downstairs to his solar, to find him alone, which was odd. He was sitting in the most comfortable chair in his retiring room and he indicated the hard straight-backed chair next to him. "Sit here, my dear."

She curtsied deeply, smiled prettily, seated herself and touched his hand where it rested on the arm of the chair in a gesture of fond affection. In truth, she hated the feel of his dry skin, creped with criss-crossed lines, loosely wrinkled over the bones of his knuckles, but nothing of that ever showed on her face.

Saker, I'm glad I have the memory of that night...

"I have spoken with the Privy Council," Vilmar said, his dry, quavery tones a match to his desiccated skin, "about procedures to be followed were I to die before Prince-regal Karel reaches his majority."

Relief flooded through her, and she did her best to stop it showing on her face. "Your Grace demonstrates to all that your wisdom and courage is unmatched."

"They have agreed that the Council will make all the decisions, but you will be the one to sign them into law on the behalf of the Prince-regal. He will be proclaimed Regal-apparent by the Privy Council on the day of my death. You follow that so far?"

I'm not a child, you toadspotted, fusty old stick. "Yes, Your Grace."

"On the same day, you will be declared the non-legislative regent. This means you can have no say in law-making, but if you refuse to sign something, it will not become law. That way, you will be able to annul anything that impinges on the integrity of the work of the Dire Sweepers, or anything which would be antithetical to Bengorth's Law. If such a situation were to arise, I suggest you tell the Council you will not sign because Regal Vilmar would not have wanted it. And, of course, you must not let them press you to do otherwise."

"No, Your Grace." She put on her most earnest face. "If this unhappy state of affairs should ever come to pass, I shall continue to serve you and the cause of the Vollendorns, for our son. You can be certain of that." Without allowing her grave expression to slip, she revelled in her internal wave of joy. The muckle-headed man was so sure women were idiots and that she in particular was a ninnyhead, he was giving her a way to paralyse the Privy Council if she cared to do sonever dreaming she would use that power to further her own ends.

He continued, "Each member of the Council has sworn before Va and Prime Mulhafen to uphold this decision and they signed a declaration to that effect. There were some protests, men who felt I should not give such power to any Regala, and least of all one born an Ardronese princess, but they were outvoted. Most were pleased that it would be the Privy Council that governed, and not just the Lord Chancellor, the Lord Treasurer and the Secretary of State, as they had expected."

He gave a self-satisfied smile, and she knew he had played them skilfully, tricking them into voting the way he wanted without them ever realising they'd been cozened.

"When those few protested, I allowed them to make an exception of any laws pertaining to matters of Lowmian relations with other lands." He snorted in contempt. "I reassured them that all that concerns you is the welfare of our son, and this will be all that you wish to protect. In other respects, you will of course be guided by them. In fact, if truth be known, you will never have to challenge them and all will be well."

She nodded and held his hand between hers. "Indeed. I have no wish to involve myself in tiresome affairs of state! Let us pray for Va's grace to grant that you live long enough to see Karel not only grown, but the father of many sons himself, and for me to be spared such matters." She allowed a slight frown to crease her brow. "Although perhaps you ought to tell me which councillors were less than... obliging. Just so I know who to be watchful of in the future. What do you think?"

Later, when she returned to her own solar, her mind was seething with plans. She knew now which councillors had not wanted her as regent, but that knowledge was not enough. Growing up in the Ardronese court had taught her much about how power was wielded, and she knew that here she was as weak as a kitten.

I have to know more about the court; I have to know who has secrets, and what those secrets are. The women: I must make more friends among the court ladies. I must have the Lady Friselda on my side.

Inwardly she sighed, knowing that she would have to appear more compliant and sweet-natured to impress the wards-dame.

But for power? Yes, she would do anything, and she had been far too lax up until now. That, she decided, was about to change.

One day I will rule this court and then they'll know that an Ardronese princess is not to be dismissed so lightly.

"I haven't seen no signs of the rat," Aureen said to the maid, Klara, as the two women were folding the Regala's clean linen to put away in the cupboard later that afternoon.

"Did you get the poison baits from Frynster Annusel?"

"Yes. I just put some at the back of the linen chest, under the cupboard likewise, and along the wainscoting, but there's no sign of droppings anywhere. Nary a one."

"I've not smelt them nowhere, neither."

"Just as well, I reckon. Her Grace can be real particular."

Klara smoothed out the petticoat she was holding and began to fold it neatly. "Reckon you're right. She's a snippy one, the Regala."

"And you're an impudent one," Aureen snapped. "Not for us to use language like that when talking about royal folk. Not wise neither. You could find yourself without a place here, nor nowhere."

"Well, you was the one who said she was particular! An' it's true! All this 'bout wanting you to sleep in the truckle bed now? 'Tain't right. If anyone is supposed to sleep in their mistress's chamber, it's the maid. We're supposed to wait on 'em hand and foot, and chambermaids is supposed to look after the bedroom and the bedding and the cleaning and chamber pots and such. And now she tells me I'm to sleep with them kitchen girls, while you have the truckle? What's all that about then?"