A Dream of the Heaven

Chapter 12 (Part 2 of 2)

“There’s not as much to tell, I’m afraid,” said Vaiannan as he poured two goblets of wine.  “I’ve been getting very few letters from Emmares.”

“Few enough to be unusual?” said Isendrin.

“Yes.  I think my name has been added to the lists at the border.  Do you know, it’s strangely thrilling to think of myself as a supposed conspirator.”

“Supposed?”

Vaiannan smiled, handing Isendrin a goblet and sitting in the adjacent chair.  “If talking were conspiracy, there wouldn’t be an innocent man in the world.”

“True enough.”  Isendrin took a sip.  “Oh, that’s good wine.”

“Don’t tell Lontine, eh?  No drinking before supper for me.”

“Not a word.”

Isendrin often visited the Jewelcutters house of the exiled Earl and his Illedorian wife, partly to discuss news of Emmares but more for the idle talk of the day.  He could not engage in these conversations when amongst the lords and merchants of the city, largely because they always seemed to concern himself, his dealings, and his duel with Aventine, even two months on.  When he found himself in Vaiannan’s study, however, he managed to muster some enthusiasm, particularly when there was a goblet of wine in his hand.

The room was similar in size to Isendrin’s study, but full of objects and curiosities, from the many little paintings of ships and coastlines to the collection of heraldic shields on parchment, carvings and scraps of fabric.  A tall window usually flooded the room with light, but the weather had turned sour and fat raindrops were pummelling the glass.  It wasn’t cold, but Vaiannan had called for extra fuel for the fire regardless and the logs blazed in the hearth.

“I have had some word, though,” said Vaiannan.  “About the Fifth, too.  Hyrenic’s been ousted.”

Isendrin raised his eyebrows.  “Has he?”

“Yes.  The Roethennan officers insisted on having a native as legate, and General Tibius gave in to them.  Hyrenic’s not a big trophy, but Agostes won’t take it well.  He’ll never manage to purge the Fifth now.”

“That might make Casa Flow a little less restive, even with all these refugee ships from the west,” said Isendrin.

“And if the Fifth settles, we’ll likely see a new Lord General before midwinter.”

“Still no word on the vote?”

“None.  Orduald must be enjoying doing the work of two Lord Generals.”

Orduald Gristling, Isendrin knew, would be doing no such thing.  The Lord General of the East would be too busy staring at Crassathy from his lofty perch in Drummerswatch rather than behind him at the rest of Emmares, but that had kept the border safe from attack for the last seventeen years.  Isendrin had hoped, with relative youth on his side, that he would outlast the old Bear of the Dales as a Lord General.

“Aside from that, I haven’t heard much else,” continued Vaiannan.  “Oh, Agostes is still fortifying his holdings in the Blueway, with what money I don’t know.”

“A new tax on ships up the Tysus,” said Isendrin, “The Phoronacians have been complaining of it down at the docks, apparently the levy is more for ships bound for Monruath.”

“I should pay more attention to Monruath, it seems,” said Vaiannan, a hint of laughter in his features.  The Earl was always knowledgeable and not at all naive, but there was an innocence in his looks that sometimes appealed to Isendrin.  Other times it angered him, until his reason reminded him of how capable Vaiannan was.  The Roethennans had taken to him as legate of the Fifth, the wealthy of Monruath all seemed to speak well him, and he’d married a beauty from the Lakeland.  Even his departure from Emmares had been on reasonable terms, as he still received a portion of income from the estates he had held.  Charting the turbulent fortunes of life seemed to come too easily to him.