Daughter of Regals by Stephen R. Donaldson

the distance a small, yellow flicker of light—a traveler’s
lamp, perhaps, or a campfire.
    “I see it,” I murmured
stiffly.
    Moonlight caught the
sweat on his bald head as he nodded. Without a word, he began walking once
more.
    Within ten paces he
halted again, pointed—and again I saw a yellow flickering among the nearby
hills.
    Down the next stretch of
the parapet, he showed me three more glimpses of light, and along the following
section, two more—barely visible bits of flame at once as prosaic as torches
and as suggestive as chimera. When we had completed a circuit of the manor, I
had seen that we were surrounded at significant intervals by these uncertain
lights.
    Around me, the chill of
the dark seemed to deepen. I knew from many strolls at night upon the parapets
that the few villages among the hills were hidden in valleys, invisible. And in
all truth these lights did not appear to be the lamps of travelers. I had not
seen them moving— and in any case none of them lay on the roads which led to
the manor.
    Yet Ryzel did not speak.
Hugging his Scepter to his chest, he stared in silence into the heart of the
wide dark.
    I had resolved patience;
but at last I could endure no more. “I have seen, Mage,” I breathed tightly. “What
have I seen?”
    “Carelessness, my lady.”
His tone was distant and low. “Count Thornden is shrewd in his way, but not
meticulous. You have seen the ill-muffled lights of his armies.”
    I held myself still and
listened, though his words made my blood labor fearfully in my temples.
    “He cannot believe that
a woman will prove Regal, and so he lacks one fear which constrains both King
Thone and Queen Damia. It was his intent to besiege the manor this night—to put
it to the torch if necessary—in order to rid himself of all opposition at one
stroke. You know that we have no defense; I was hard-pressed to persuade him to
hold back his hand, at least until after midnight. Only the promise of my
support brought him to hear me at all, and only my offer of an opportunity with
you—or against you—caused him to agree that he would first allow me chance to
give him the rule, before grasping it himself with bloodshed.”
    Therefore my lies about
Cashon had turned Thornden aside from my harm. Only the Fire which Cashon might
cast could hope to protect the manor from the forces of Nabal.
    That I understood. I
understood many things; my thoughts were as clear as the cold night. And yet
inwardly I was stricken with treachery and loss, scarcely able to hold up my
head. The presence of those armies surpassed me.
    “You knew this,” I
whispered like weeping. So many men could not have moved among the hills to
surround the manor without the knowledge of Ryzel’s spies. “You knew this—and
did not tell me.”
    The sense of betrayed
hope filled my throat. Only dismay restrained me from shouting. “There was no
need to. fear these armies. Cashon would easily have been persuaded to aid us,
if I had known to ask him Thornden would not have dared his forces against Fire—not
if he had known that you were able to silence Brodwick’s Wind. All this could
have been forestalled. If you had told me.”
    But now the chance was
lost. Proud of my-victory over King Thone—and ignorant—I had in effect sent
Cashon from the manor, thus unbalancing the powers arrayed against me, tilting
the scales in Thornden’s favor. Now I could only pray that Queen Damia would be
able to counter him.
    That thought was gall to
me.. I grew sick from the mere suggestion of it.
    Ryzel’s presence at my
side had become insufferable. Gripping my voice between my teeth, I said, “Leave
me, Mage.”
    “My lady—” he began—and
faltered. He was old and no longer knew how to reply to his own regret.
    “Leave me,” I repeated,
as cold as the night. “I do not desire your company in my despair.”
    After a moment, he went.
The door opened light across the parapet, then closed it away again. I was
alone in the