Eddis shook her head. “Your father thinks not, and I agree with him. The islands have moved from empire to empire too many times to be considered a dependable possession by anyone. If we remain allied with Sounis, he is going to want those cannon. If we give him the cannon, she’ll march her army back up the pass.” She sighed. “I’d hoped to wipe out a large enough portion of her army that she’d have no chance of taking the pass with what was left—even if we did give this year’s cannon production to Sounis. Sounis is pressing hard. I want to talk to your father about it without having the entire council looking on.”

She leaned forward and dragged her chair closer to the fire. “We may as well fetch the magus out of hiding,” she said. “Will you come with me?”

“On a horse?”

“You can ride in a carriage if you like. I’ll have to go on horseback so people can see me.”

He could hardly be so rude as to ride in a closed coach if his queen was riding outside it. He’d have to go on a horse and let everyone have a good look at him, too.

“If you like.” He sighed inwardly.

CHAPTER NINE

THE HUNTING RETREAT WAS A summer home for the rulers of Eddis. It was shaped like a stone megaron, with a broad, high porch across the front, supported on four pillars, but the pillars, like the rest of the building, were wood. There was a separate structure for the cooking, lest a runaway fire burn down the entire residence. The food was carried on a dirt path from the kitchen to the dining room. The second story held small dark bedrooms with unglazed windows that looked out across the overgrown meadow to the surrounding forests. In the winter the windows were covered with shutters and the building was uninhabited.

It was not the palace of the wealthier lowlanders, but it held happy memories for Eddis. She dropped off her horse and strode up the steps and across the porch to the door. Inside was an atrium with stairs to the second floor. Her Thief followed more slowly, stiff from the ride.

Eddis stood in the atrium, talking to a man on the balcony above her. When the Thief came in behind her, Eddis turned.

“Elon says the magus isn’t here. He’s out digging up weeds.”

“Oh? Any particular weeds?” Eugenides asked the valet, cocking his head back to address the man.

“I’m sure I couldn’t say that he has a preference. We’ve had them all, with roots and dirt, so he can draw pictures of them.” The valet’s tone was replete with grievance.

“I didn’t know he was a botanist,” Eddis said quietly to Eugenides.

“Neither did I,” answered her Thief. “He’s probably trying to develop a new poison to use on us both. When will he be back?” he called to Elon.

The valet shrugged eloquently.

“Not what I had foreseen,” Eddis said wryly, “though I shouldn’t have expected him to be here repining. I should have started a day later and sent a messenger ahead. Surely he is not followed around by a cohort of guards?” she asked the guard commander who had appeared at the door.

The commander explained that one guard had been assigned to follow the magus to be sure he didn’t wander so far that he escaped back to Sounis. That guard was changed every day as the task of hiking after the magus was not an enviable one. The rest of the guards passed their days gambling with dice or hunting to fill the cook’s pot.

“Well, I hope the pot is full,” Eddis said. “Have a cook pack a picnic and provisions for the men, and we will ride out again once the magus has returned.” The trumpeter was sent out to blow recall. The queen looked back to the valet. “You had better pack his things.”

The valet nodded. “And the weeds?” he asked.

“I think we’ll leave the weeds. We’ll show him some nicer ones when we stop to eat.”

When the magus appeared, trailed by a footsore guard, the queen asked if they should delay to give the magus time to rest. “We mustn’t overtax a gentleman of your years,” she said, teasing gently.

“I believe I am stout enough to be at your disposal, Your Majesty,” the magus replied gravely, “though otherwise old and very feeble.”

With a reputation as a soldier only just overweighed by his reputation as a scholar, he was surrounded by armed men who judged him neither old nor feeble and watched him very carefully. He was in the presence of their queen, and the relaxed camaraderie they’d shared with the magus during his stay at the summer residence was gone.

Led by the queen, the party started back through the coastal hills. They left their path to ride up a sloping meadow to the lip of a small valley, no more than a shallow cup between two rises. “A picnic for us, I think,” said the queen. “The magus and Eugenides and I will eat in the clearing.”

The valley before them was filled from side to side with a heavy carpet of vines. The few trees still standing had been engulfed. Their dead branches poked through the lush greenery of the suffocating creepers. A narrow dirt path led to a small clearing where a flat green patch of grass grew. There was room for the three to sit, but they would have to leave their horses.

“Your Majesty, please,” the commander of her guard pleaded in an urgent undertone. The queen only smiled.

“I’m sure you will find a comfortable place around the rim of the valley,” she said. The commander sighed and bowed his head to inevitability.

“As you wish,” he said.

The magus carried the saddlebag with their meal in it down to the clearing, which turned out to be a fine carpet of moss, not grass. In places where the moss was thin, paving stones showed through. The tiny open space, entirely surrounded by vines, had once been a terrace or forecourt to a building. After he’d lowered the saddlebag to the ground, the magus went to look more closely at the vines. They had smooth stems and dark matte leaves. Their bright red blossoms were tissue-thin, the five petals crumpled around the stamen and pistils.

“Don’t pick them,” the queen warned. “Here they are sacred to the memory of Hespira, though they are dragged out as weeds anywhere else.”

The magus straightened. “Hespira?” he said, puzzled. “I don’t know Hespira. Is she the goddess of the temple?” He had seen under the vines the shattered ruins of a temple.

Eddis shook her head. Eugenides had stretched out on his back and closed his eyes. “Hespira’s mother planted the vines that destroyed the temple,” said Eddis.

“A rival goddess?” the magus asked.

“A mortal woman,” Eddis answered as she settled herself on the moss and opened the saddlebag. “The goddess Meridite abducted her daughter.”

“Is there a story that goes with this?”

“Oh, yes,” said Eddis.

The magus glanced over at Eugenides, who opened his eyes long enough to say flatly, “Don’t look at me. I’ve retired from storytelling.”

“Eugenides, sit up and eat, and don’t be cross,” said Eddis.

“Am I cross?” Eugenides asked.

“Yes,” said Eddis. “Magus, don’t sit there. Sit on this side.” She pointed to a place on the moss, and the magus sat, seeing no difference between it and the place he had chosen himself.