Queen of Fire полностью

Reva tensed in anticipation of the response to her next words, feeling a great temptation to leave it until the next morning but knowing the reaction would be even worse if she did. “Tomorrow I will call a general assembly in the square, where I will read out the queen’s Edict of Conscription.”

Veliss’s hand withdrew from her hair, her eyes wary. “Conscription?”

“The queen builds an even greater army, and a fleet to carry it to Volarian shores.”

Veliss rose from the couch, moving to the fireplace, her hand gripping the mantel. “This war is won.”

“No, it is not.”

“Am I to take it, my Lady Governess, that you will sail with the queen and her mighty fleet?”

Reva resisted the urge to reach out to her, seeing the whiteness of her knuckles on the mantel. “Yes.”

Veliss shook her head. “This is madness. Her father, for all his myriad schemes, would never have dreamt of such folly.”

“We need to stop them coming back. This is the only way.”

“Lord Al Sorna’s words, or yours?”

“We are of the same mind.”

“Or are you just hungry for another war? I can see it, you know. The way you chafe with impatience to be gone when you’re here, how bored you are by this place, by me.”

Though the words were softly spoken they held enough truth to make Reva flinch. “I will never be bored by you. If I seem impatient it’s because I’m not made for governance. And believe me or no, I have seen enough of war. But this has to be done, and I require your help to see it done right.”

“What’s conscription?”

Reva turned to find Ellese standing at the library door, wrapped in a blanket and rubbing her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep?”

The girl nodded and Reva patted the couch next to her, Ellese trotting over to sit beside her. “I had a dream,” she said. “Father was alive again, looking for me in our house.”

“Just a dream,” Reva told her, smoothing back the now-unmatted hair from her forehead. “Dreams can’t hurt you.”

Ellese’s gaze moved to Veliss, still standing at the fireplace, back stiff and eyes averted. “What’s conscription?”

Veliss’s shoulders slumped and she gave the girl a weary smile. “The worst of things, love. A hard sell.”

• • •

“All men of sound health between the ages of seventeen and forty-five are to report to Alltor by the last day of the month of Interlasur, bringing with them any bows or other weapons in their possession. Any childless woman of the same age may also volunteer her service. All who serve will be paid at the same rate as the Realm Guard and will receive a pension for the rest of their lives at the conclusion of the war, this pension to be paid to the widow or surviving children of any who sacrifice their lives in this cause.”

Reva fell silent, handing the scroll to Veliss and trying not to make her scrutiny of the crowd too obvious. Veliss had placed a wooden crate on the topmost of the Cathedral steps, giving her a complete view of the throng, some five thousand people in the square itself with more crowding the ruins beyond. There was some murmuring, clear surprise showing amidst the sea of faces before her, but for the most part they were silent, the predominant expression one of expectation. They await the Blessed Lady’s word, she thought, keeping the sour grimace from her face.

“We have suffered much,” she told them. “Our trials have been many and our struggle long. I wish I came before you with news of peace, I wish I came to tell you our battles are over and we can at last rest, but that would make me a liar. You trusted my word when the enemy was at our walls and I beg you to trust me again now.” She paused, gathering strength, her own words loud in her head . . . that would make me a liar . . .

“And trust that I have heard the Father’s voice.” She put all the force she could muster into the words, hearing them echo from the walls of this wasted city. “And he will permit no turning from this path. Many of you will have heard of the so-called Eleventh Book. I tell you now that book is a lie, worthy only of your scorn. But the Father has ordained there will be a new book, the Book of Justice, written by the Father’s own hand with us as his mighty instrument!”

It wasn’t a cheer, more a roar, instant and savage, rising from the throat of every soul present. There was hate on their faces now, every head no doubt filled with ugly memories of fallen loved ones and burning homes, a hatred permitted free rein by the Blessed Lady who spoke with the Father’s voice. We drowned in their blood, Reva thought as the sound washed over her. And still it wasn’t enough.

She stepped down from the crate, pausing at the sight of Ellese burying her head in Veliss’s skirts, small face tensed with fearful tears as she tried to hide from the crowd’s roar. Reva knelt beside her and wiped the wetness from her face. “It’s all right,” she said. “They’re just happy to see me.”

• • •