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Bronwyn nods, still not looking happy, but at least she appears to be trying to be civil.
Continuing, I say, “We still have a few mages left with Aspects of water or air, which would be useful in putting out fires. We can send them to the southern towns to help in the event of more fires. They will be spread thin, however, and that’s only a stop-gap measure besides. What we really need is to ascertain where the arsonist, or arsonists, will strike next. We need to intercept them.”
One of the men shakes his head. “We tried that. The fires are too random.”
“Show me on the map.” I gesture to the Council Table, where a map of Adrik is carved into the wood.
Bronwyn steps forward, studying the map and she points. “There. The first fires were in Aquilar, just after refugees started going home. We then had more in Kingsbury and Grimblton, right when people were returning there as well. Then here, here, and here. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern.”
“Hmm,” I say, looking at where she is pointing. “You are right. I don’t see a pattern either. Unfortunately, there may have to be more fires before we can find out their purpose.”
“Their purpose is to hurt the commonfolk,” returns Bronwyn. “We need to stop them before we have hundreds, if not thousands, of starving homeless this winter.”
“That will not happen,” says Verrick. “I will send word to Orik and they will send the Builders Guild. We can get the villages rebuilt before the first snows.”
“Not if they keep burning them down.” I point out. “We must find them and put pain to their plot.”
“And hang them as a warning to those that would hurt so many,” Bronwyn agrees grimly.
“We need to send scouts to every town and village in the south, along with the mages. Trained warriors who can see suspicious signs. The only way to stop them is to find them.”
“It will leave the forces at the capital strained, but it can be done,” Verrick affirms.
“The people won’t like it if you send orcs,” says Quill. “Most of them still think it’s orcs doing it.”
“They will just have to get used to it,” I say with a smile. “We are a protectorate of Orik now and the Horde is even taking mates from our own people. Orcs will soon be commonplace.”
“But they aren’t now,” insists Bronwyn. “Everyone knows about the orc artifacts. It will just seem that you are sending more orcs to burn down their homes. I’m not even sure we’ll be able to calm the crowd in that case.”
“What you say is true,” Verrick replies evenly. “But there are hardly any human forces left. Even those who survived the war and were released as prisoners are weakened, many through injury. It would take time that we do not have for them to heal completely and regain their strength. If you want the culprits to be caught soon, you will need those who are strong and fast and that would be orcs.”
“Perhaps,” I say, “you might tell the people that we showed you evidence the artifacts were fake? Or that if it is orcs, they are not of Warchief Verrick’s clan? Convince them we want to help.”
“You’re asking for a lot,” Bronwyn says, sighing, “but at the very least you have convinced me. I’ll try to do what you ask.”
“That is the only way anything will get done,” my lips say with a smile, even as I’m slightly annoyed at the common woman’s condescending tone. She is haughty for a commoner. “We can reconvene tomorrow to discuss progress and will get the warriors and mages sent to the south in the morning at the latest.”
Standing up straight, I give a nod to the guards that escorted the peasant contingent in. “Escort Mistress Cooper and her associates out of the castle. If there’s nothing else, I will excuse myself to my chambers. It has been a long day.”
Bronwyn executes a clumsy curtsey. “Thank you, Regent Santir, for listening to us. I’ll admit that I doubted you would.”
“And I’ll admit in the old regime it is likely no one would have,” I say kindly. “But it is a new day and that is largely thanks to the orcs. You’d do well to remember that.”
With that, I sweep from the room, my skirts rustling against the floor. I check over my shoulder and see that Verrick iswatching me leave.Excellent. I toss an extra swish into my hips before rounding the corner, out of sight.
Give him something to miss, I muse. I’ll have him in bed before the month is out.
I enter my rooms, what was once the queen’s chambers, and stop. The door swings shut behind me and I look warily around the room. Nothing is out of place, but something feels wrong. I’ve been trained since I was a child to sense approaching assassins and that feeling of danger is alerted in me now.
I am about to back out towards the door, my right hand reaching for the hidden blade I always carry, when a voice startles me. “Don’t scream.”
I whirl around but see no one. Did I imagine it? But no, the voice comes again. “Good. You are as obedient as Yorian said you were.”
Yorian? What are they talking about? “Who are you?” I demand. “Where are you?”
“Don’t worry about that. We can talk more comfortably from here,” the voice says easily. “And I am someone that would like to get revenge on behalf of your dead lover. Isn’t that something that you want?”
The Cabal. The group that was formed by Yorian and is still secretly working against Adalind. It must be. After all this time of searching, they have come out of the shadows themselves, just to contact me? And they think I am sympathetic to them? They must believe that I had feelings for Yorian, that our affair was mutual. They are wrong, of course. But I must play this right. Agree, but not seem too eager. Try to ascertain their plan.
