The Testimony of the Right Honorable Erich of Frostbane, Ta’al of Volparnu and Grand Vizier of the Skarsian Matriarchy
I was not at all happy. Danak was away, Lilith – well, etch – was away, the Archon was still comatose, the Matriarch missing…that left the Domha’vei pretty much in the hands of Battlequeen Escharton and myself, and the battlequeen was almost useless.
But there was Lady Lorma, who, while seeming to be a doting old biddy – well, much less so of late – is actually a wily old buzzard. She was probably more capable of handling the situation on Dolparessa than any of the others in the inner circle – crazy Elma, the pompous old Archbishop, the fanatical Abbot Deverre, tender-hearted Sir Kaman. Leadership of the Cu’enashti had been left to Claris – strong-headed but flighty and temperamental – and Raoul, constant, diplomatic, but weak-willed. The more I considered it, the more I realized that Lilith was right – Elma’ashra’s disappearance could constitute a huge problem if Hellborne emanated, and Windsong was an unknown quantity.
If there was another crisis, it would be up to me and Lady Lorma.
There was another crisis.
Wyrd Elma barged into my office. I expected it to be about Elma’ashra, but instead, she said, “Nan-Zee is gone.”
I had no idea who this person was. Elma explained. “My protégé. The one who we rescued from CenGov. She left a message saying that even though we couldn’t see through the leaves, a new tree was growing, and if I was smart, I’d seek shelter under its boughs.”
It sounded ominous. It sounded like a thinly veiled threat. “What the hell does that mean?” I demanded.
“I wish I knew. She’s disappeared from my sight, though. That means she is involved with Cu’endhari somehow. Gyre visions can’t detect the movement of nul-energy.”
And then Battlequeen Escharton barged into my office. “The Matriarchal Detention Dungeon is under attack.”
It seemed pointless after the removal of Molly, and I said so. “They’re not after Molly,” Escharton replied. “They’re after Christolea. And we’re losing. The guards have gone soft from lack of real action, and the attacking party seems well-trained. Very well-trained, like combat professionals.”
“Trained, perhaps, by former Admiral Payter Almiss?”
“Or maybe his daughter,” said Escharton. “Venahalee challenged the Matriarch for the title of Battlequeen of Kyrae, and was humiliatingly defeated. It could be a grudge match.”
“Disturbing, but what can she do? The Staff of the Matriarch is in security at Court Emmere, and even if she had it, she’d need an Archon.”
“A new tree is growing,” said Elma.
It seemed far-fetched. “We’re allowing paranoia to get the better of us,” I decided. “An ordinary Cu’enashti, or even an Arya, couldn’t replace Atlas, let alone the entire grove. It would be burnt to a matchstick by the energy flow if it tried. But let’s nip this in the bud anyway. I’m dispatching General Lemkht to handle it.”
“Are you nuts?” Escharton protested. “Volparnian soldiers on Skarsian soil? The local aristocracy will go into revolt.”
She was right. The old bad feeling still lingers in some quarters – it’s as though the War of the Sexes never ended. I counted to ten, taking a deep breath. “All right, how about a crack team of SSOps agents?”
“It’s probably the best we can do,” Escharton agreed. “Send in the thugs.”