“Kohorrian cannot possibly be planning to march troops across that bridge!” the captain of the royal guardsmen was—not quite shouting, Tan decided, but very nearly. “Earth and iron, man, you’ll have Her Majesty in fits to suit your own silly humors! Are you a guard captain or a little girl, to be afraid of moving shadows in the night?”
Geroen simply stood with his head down and his eyes half shut, in much the same attitude he might have shown in a storm. He seemed otherwise unmoved by the other’s vehemence. Next to Temnan’s polished courtier’s grace, Geroen looked decidedly lower-class, mulishly stubborn, and even rather brutish. But he also looked like the very last man to be moved by tight nerves and silly humors.
“I’m not entirely certain we can be perfectly confident of what the old Fox may and may not do,” Tan put in smoothly, in a tone of polite deference. “And, after all, though the move must naturally prove unnecessary, I’m certain the city guard will profit from a little exercise.”
“What is Her Majesty’s opinion?” Mienthe asked.
“The queen has long since retired for the night,” Temnan said stiffly, by which Tan understood that he was not so confident of his own position that he wanted to risk the queen’s overriding him. Not that Tan was in the least interested in the queen’s opinion, personally. He glanced sidelong at Mienthe, wondering how to convey a suggestion that, at least tonight, they might best take any warnings very seriously.
Mienthe did not seem to need to hear this advice from anyone. She kept her gaze on the royal captain’s face, lifted her chin and said, “Well, though I should be glad of Her Majesty’s opinion, in the Delta my cousin’s opinion is foremost.”
“I’ve sent after His Majesty and Lord Bertaud—”
Mienthe continued as though the captain had not spoken, “And since my cousin is not here, I will decide what we will do.” Tan, standing close behind her, was aware that the young woman’s hands were trembling. She had closed them into loose fists to hide the fact. From Temnan’s stuffed expression, he did not realize Mienthe was nervous—but he did know that she was right about where authority rested in the Delta, and that he’d been in the wrong to try to overrule Tiefenauer’s own captain.
Mienthe turned deliberately to Geroen and said, “Do as you see fit to guard the Delta and the city and this house. We will say it was a practice drill, if nothing comes of it. Do as you think best in all matters, Captain Geroen, and then come and explain to me what kind of activity it is that you think you’ve seen on the other side of the river and what you think it means.”
The captain gave her a firm, satisfied nod. “Lady.”
“Very well.” Mienthe looked around once, uncertainly, as though hoping to see good advice carved into the walls or the ceiling. She said, “I wish—” but cut that thought off uncompleted. She looked at Tan instead. He gave her an encouraging nod and no suggestions at all, because she was already doing exactly as he’d have advised her. She looked faintly surprised, as though she’d expected argument or advice and was a little taken aback to receive only approving silence.
Mariddeier Kohorrian, the Fox of Linularinum, might or might not have desired soldiers bearing his badge and wearing his colors to march across the bridge, but someone—Istierinan Hamoddian, or someone he was advising—had indeed pulled together a surprisingly strong muster and pointed it toward the Delta. Geroen brought Mienthe that news almost before they’d gone—not back to Mienthe’s rooms to wait, but to the solar, the one room in the entire great house that offered the best view of the city.
It should have been a quiet view, a peaceful night in the city. But there were lanterns everywhere, and torches and bonfires down by the river. Men moving in the streets, some with aimless confusion, but many quickly and with purpose.
Geroen brought descriptions of what he’d done with the city guardsmen, how he’d arranged them—along with a grim assurance that the eastern half of the bridge had been successfully undecked and bowmen placed on the rooftops to be sure the Linularinan troops could not easily redeck it from their side.
“But they want to,” the captain told Mienthe, without any satisfaction at being proved right. “They’ve tried twice, under shields.”
Mienthe said, voicing the common shock, “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they’re really trying this. How can they dare? Are you sure?” Then she waved this away, embarrassed. “Of course you are, of course—I can’t believe it, but I believe you.”