Zaidra stared at the fire.

“Congratulations, matron,” Gishna said, “on the birth of your third child.”

Zaidra gave a single nod and tugged the tie of her elaborate robe. It was a pious heap of heavy silk, gleaming with goddess-light in the Dark. The belly was certainly gone, but whether the child had survived the winter was another matter.

“I thank you, matron,” Zaidra replied.

“Will your consort be joining us?”

Rythaen could prove an ally to Gishna. He seemed amenable to Saugraen, though he seemed at odds with Maunyn over how her consort ran Isilmyr.

“Will yours?” Zaidra asked.

He has business in the east valley, Gishna wanted to say. More important business. Her lips tightened, and she swallowed a prideful grunt.

And that was it for the formalities. Gishna propped herself up, with a considerable effort, and leaned forward. A single acknowledgment was all she needed for her plan to consort Saugraen into Ilor'Vakayne, the slightest sign they were considering him.

Just then, the tap of spears at the far end of the tunnel sounded. The Ilor'Zauhune matron had a way of disturbing her plans.

She might ask for a private audience with Zaidra, but that would look too much like begging. It would be so much easier here, where they sat as equals.

The soft patter of Joumina's steps in the tunnel gave Gishna no choice but to wait. She certainly didn't want Joumina knowing a thing about her plans for the eldest Vakayne girl. No doubt she would seek a union for her champion who now bore the Kiseyl spear. A fine specimen, that one. He was another choice, one that the seer had never raised. Her brow furrowed. What mischief was that green-eyed magister up to?

Joumina entered alone, a rustling and tinkling of silk and gems. She wore a pious veil, and it framed her face in a thick band of crushed opals. She couldn't see them yet. The blue fire sputtered and roared in tiny bursts, changing light into something only arcane Mornae could make use of.

Gishna tilted her head and observed how little Dark there was in the high matron of the second high house. Joumina acted like she could see, but Gishna saw more than she knew. Little swirls, eddies of power, rippled haphazardly around her slippers. To Gishna's secret eye she lit up like a living constellation, the imbued threads, the gems, all enchanted, wrapping a frame which reluctantly accepted their power. Yet Joumina looked different from the last time Gishna had seen her. Joumina seemed more trusting of the power that tried to purge her of the ordinary way of being.

Yes, there was a change in Joumina.

Gishna cleared her throat as softly as she could. The fluids built up so quickly and she needed the seer's brew.

“Another meeting, so soon?” Zaidra asked. “This is becoming a habit, Joumina.”

Joumina blinked. Still blinded. The Dark whirled about her lazily. Gishna felt the urge to taste her life. So much power in the hands of an incompetent begged for challenge. And yet Joumina served her house. It sat firmly at second and had no sign of the taint.

It could be a merciless act of war to send her unwanted boys into Zauhune. An amusing action that would not serve her agenda. The boys of those unions would find their way back to her city, and then what? Still, her eyes narrowed, and she relished the secret joy it would cause her to see them suffer the same fate. How quickly might Zauhune fall with such a malady? And if it fell, would Hosmyr have the strength to rise from third to second?

Joumina sat more dignified this time, less bothered by Zaidra's verbal lashings. “I thought it only right to share with you, in person, the bounty of our endeavor,” she said.

She meant her latest victory at court—this time as bloody as they came. Three dead knights, all Roturra's vassals. The last one, Mertrin, was a prize Gishna would have gladly grafted onto one of her trees. In her mind, she saw the various scrolls pinned to the walls of the scriptorium. The third Roturra champion, Mertrin Lor'Xaldan, would have sat nicely on the tree by the second sconce. Mentally, she mixed and matched the names. The seer would be proud to see how well she understood it all.

“Your endeavor, you mean,” Zaidra said. “I only concurred it could be of use… to you.”

Joumina huffed under her breath, the tinkling of gems annoyingly loud. She looked to Gishna for support, but Gishna had already assumed her stance of decrepitude, watching, and listening.

Annoyed but not dissuaded, Joumina continued, “Still, we've landed the first blow. The first assault. My champion has acquitted himself well.”

“That doesn't explain why you breach protocol by calling another meeting,” Zaidra said.

Joumina's eyes widened like she'd just remembered something, and adeptly swept aside Zaidra's valid complaint.

“I forgot to offer congratulations, Zaidra.” Joumina smiled mirthfully. “The girl is healthy I hope.”

Zaidra had been pregnant at the last secret meeting and was now in confinement with the baby. If she had lived. She stared at Joumina like she was only an ant, yet Gishna's secret vision told her that Zaidra was not much better off than Joumina. What's worse, she had never been better. Zaidra had been an enigma to Gishna all along. Old, yes, in this age when so few matrons reached their first cycle. Zaidra might surpass the cycle, but the trajectory of her bloodline was not good. Gishna doubted Zaidra had even completed her priestess trial in the traditional way. How then could she produce such exquisite daughters? Zaidra was a sharp edge. She knew how to wield the power of that tradition, and she commanded knights of Isilayne. There were so many illusions these days. So many lies. She chuckled to herself. Joumina cocked her head, thinking the chuckle directed at her.

“So yes, I know this is unexpected,” Joumina said, triumphant at sharing gossip about Zaidra's new child. Most Mornae were betting against that rumor. It was simply too far-fetched that this matron had produced another girl. “Even so, I wished to share the spoils with my allies. The victory is yours as well.” She turned to Gishna. “The Son of Hosmyr's light spear turned the tide, achieved a great victory. A sure foothold in the south valley. Fifty acres' worth of foothold.”

Fifty acres of fertile ground was a fortune, but Gishna was more interested in who would occupy it. Which house would settle it? Zauhune, or one of its branches? Joumina surely wouldn't let the plaintiff keep it. Or maybe she would. Gishna's mind whirred through the case, remembering the names, placing them in their respective bloodlines.

Joumina turned to Zaidra. “The final victory, so honored by the goddess. A blue goddess.”

“The commoners seem to think so,” Zaidra said. “Farmers and fieldhands.”

Joumina offered a tight smile. “And Matron Lor'Lauxyn, a beauty worthy of Blessed Savra.” Zaidra cut and sliced the second high matron down with each strike, but now Joumina had a weapon of her own. “It has earned us two small estates, fine with vines and other valuable assets.”

“And what of it?” Zaidra snapped. “More chits for you and yours. It's not like you intend to offer us something of real value.”

Joumina's eyes narrowed. That was the final thrust. The truth was Joumina had lost the most valuable things she had: the knight was now in his mother's house, oathed to Zauhune for a year at a time, and the owner of the priceless Kiseyl spear.

“I had intended to share this bounty with you, Zaidra. Surely you see the value in it.”

Zaidra shook her head. “Did you draw me out of confinement for some gossip?”

“Nothing of the sort. As I said, my intention was to share the goddess's favor. Vakayne won us the ultimate victory.”

“That was Lauxyn's doing.”

“And how does that matter? The Son of Kiseyl sat in judgment. And if I recall, a son of Vakayne also watched, along with a Zashtrin. It would seem your house supported the cause.”

“That so-called son is of Kiseyl. None there acted for Vakayne.”

Gishna winced at Zaidra's clear irritation. That son she hated. Everyone knew it, but Joumina could be so tactless when pressed. Her irritation betrayed a growing lack of control over her house.

“If you thought us allies,” Zaidra said, still and stiff on her seat, “you would have thought to return to Kiseyl what is theirs. By right, by power.”

There it was. The ancient wound. Two cycles in the making and still raw. Still a problem.

“I could return it with the knight who wields it. What would you remark, then?”

The tension increased between them all. If the rumor was correct, Zaidra had three answers to the question, three perfect responses. A knight who could clearly wield the Kiseyl spear, commanded the Dark, for one of her precious daughters. Gishna stirred. Had she been their age, she might have risen to her feet and made plain Hosmyr's demand. The eldest Vakayne daughter was for Saugraen. She ground her teeth until her jaw ached.

“You have no say in who he consorts,” Zaidra said, as if pointing out a simple truth to a child.

Joumina's eyes flickered in the blue-light.

“He is now Lor'Vanarik,” Gishna said. “Interesting house name, isn't it, Zaidra?”

Her seer had no samples yet to make any link between Nothrin and Lor'Xaeltrin, a supposedly defunct house. Did Zaidra see the connection? Had she memorized the names of Isilayne's masters as a girl, as Gishna had? It was a learning exercise used by ancient diviners. Xaeltrin, too, was a prize beyond measure. Once the Valmasin returned, that defunct house could come out of the shadows. She thought of Julissa with that young man. She'd dominate him, certainly, but he'd be a force like Maunyn. The fact was she knew less and less about her consort as time went on.