MIRRI

  "Do you trust her to have your back, or would you prefer the smaller group?"

  Dovin had welcomed Mirri back into her mother's office with a brusque question aimed at resolving the duty roster she could see in his claws.

  Her mother was conveniently busy winding down the storm, sending the remaining rains westward to help soften the fields, but that was only the appearance of fairness.

  This wasn't a privilege any other priestess less than a year past their Proving would receive. Mirri had a duty to measure her words, and speak only the truth with the power she had been given.

  So she did.

  "In a fight against monsters, yes. Elsewise?" Mirri snorted. "I trust she'll do her best to help herself. The sycophancy started the moment I drew a line about her behavior. I don't think that's something that will help us, and she's already endangered both of them trying to curry my favor."

  Sutai might have gotten away with the appalling conduct because of other, more important circumstances, but making a habit of endangering the Arrivals would eventually put Mirri in a position where she needed to pick sides.

  That didn't matter so much as the fact that letting the problem arise at all would be a failure. One Mirri could prevent entirely, here and now.

  Emma might be genuine in her repeated expressions of gratitude now that the humans were safe behind fortress walls and guest-right, but betting against the foreign royalty ever regaining influence would be a poor decision. Millions of their people had only just come down, there was no telling how the world might shift in the coming months or years.

  Endangering Calen and Emma without cause might create long-term problems at a time where Tenashki could ill afford an extra enemy. Or cause their parents to hold a grudge once they were found, gods forbid. If the humans from Earth rallied in any capacity, better it be under rulers who had fond views of the valley.

  The prickly Waster had already complicated the initial introductions enough.

  Dovin gave Mirri an approving nod, and turned away to mark at the clay, folding the wooden casing around it afterwards.

  Conveniently, her mother had just finished tending the storm, pacing back inside with her robes perfectly dry.

  "Dovin will fold her in with the regulars until she settles, then," The Warden set down her staff against the wall and cocked her head thoughtfully. "Or perhaps she'll make her own exit. Did she seem the type?"

  With the roster settled, there was no more need for professionalism.

  The threat to family was a more personal one. Her cousin had no one else left to defend him while he learned to guard himself, and distractions would be lethal in the long run. His odds were already so slim, every scaleswidth Mirri could buy him counted.

  "No," Mirri said firmly. "She's going to try to make inroads with Viran. Aggressively. He's not used to that kind of attention, unless things changed over the winter."

  Her mother gave a noncommittal hum.

  "I kept him too preoccupied to notice, when he wasn't busy brining himself in the sea," Isha said. "He'll realize it sometime, but I agree. Now is a delicate time, and his heart is vulnerable to influence while he mends. Dovin?"

  The pale-scaled mercenary's nostrils flared silently as he chewed on his stylus. The tic was a sure sign he had just given himself a headache mentally rearranging the duty roster over the next week.

  "We're short on fighters with the garrison captured. That means we need irregulars up from Second Bend, and stone mages to rebuild the watchtower. Three days is the soonest we can afford to move the prisoners without leaving Eastwatch visibly weakened. She'll go with us then," Dovin declared, turning to Mirri. "Can you keep her from handling him for that long?"

  The minor pang of disappointment in Mirri's gut at learning they wouldn't be assigned under Dovin was overridden by the short time span.

  A week might have been a bit much, but three days, with the help of the schedule keeping them apart?

  Mirri could run interference for three days.

  "If we're all training on the plateau, yes," She qualified her answer. "With the right Ranger in charge."

  There would be little Mirri could do if the Waster showed up to run drills with the Arrivals and 'volunteered' to stick around for Viran's manaworking lessons. Sutai had specifically demonstrated some aptitude today, granted with another element, but there would be nothing Mirri could do if the officer overseeing training invited her along.

  But she had missed something, and Dovin didn't wait for her to make a suggestion before he corrected her misunderstanding.

  "It's going to be me for three days, and then you're in charge of them if they take the Wardship," He said. "That's how long they have to decide on the Steel, if Sariel isn't delayed."

  The idea that the Arrivals might reject their Bestowals stung Mirri's sensibilities a little less every time it was repeated, but this time it was buried under the much more personal implications of what Dovin had said.

  "A command?" Mirri avoided stuttering. "I've barely—"

  "There's no one else suitable to wrangle so many Young Immortals. Anyone else is available is vulnerable to leverage," Dovin snorted. "Or otherwise unsuited. You know the stakes, you're qualified, and frankly, putting you anywhere else after today would undermine someone's authority."

  Her mother's snout was conveniently buried in a book when Mirri glanced about for help.

  "How?" Mirri floundered.

  And why not tell her before now? She had wintered in Second Bend specifically to give the impression that she would be joining the ranks of regulars when she took up duty again, creating distance from her mother so that more experienced officers could feel comfortable commanding her.

  This upended almost everything she had worked for, sending her flying over the queue and into a position of authority she wasn't ready for.

  "You just emerged from hibernation and stared down the new Lord of the Wastes with nothing but the mana in your clawtips in front of the entire garrison. And lived," Dovin made the single silver lining in the clouds of the day sound like an accusation. "I've had four glory-hounds 'offer' to be assigned under you in the last hour. If you're going to have authority, it's going to be formal, so that other officers know how to treat you."

  "I... I had lost my spear." Mirri protested weakly.

  She did not mention that she had dropped it during her headlong dive off the northern cliffs when she made the excuse. It would have sounded like boasting, and she did not deserve praise for her performance today, much less a promotion.

  Dovin seemed unconvinced, but another thought occurred to Mirri. One that might just get her out of this.

  "And I don't qualify to command a Venatrix. Or a Venator. It wouldn't be appropriate." She said, raising her chin.

  Confidence was key, here. She wasn't dodging authority, it was just a matter of hierarchy.

  Parchment clapped, and the Warden looked up, finally taking an interest now that the conversation was properly treading in her territory.

  "That would be a concern if they were full-fledged fighters from Sanctum like Mahira, not so much for Arrivals that Sariel has instructed me to train if they want it," Isha dismissed, setting the tome down on her desk for later. "There's no precedent, so they'll have to take a Wardship and all the training that comes with it if they want to stay. You'll outrank them until they outgrow the Wardship and are no longer under your command. Simple."

  The twinkle in her mother's eye told Mirri that this had been the plan all along. Perhaps before the wagon had even trundled out of the pass.

  Dovin's wry grin seemed to agree, before he turned more serious.

  "They also aren't the only Arrivals we need to deal with," He said. "Or the only ones in this fortress who need a little help understanding the politics of their situation. They wouldn't benefit from her tutelage yet even if your mother was going to have the time, so they're joining Viran's manaworking lessons. If they want whatever measure of former power they had, they'll also need to understand the politics of the Long Roads, not just how mana works and how to hold a spear."

  And that pushed Mirri's candidature to the forefront, given her long-term survival essentially relied on a political education.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She forcibly let the tension out of her shoulders. There was no winning this, then. Mirri truly was the best pick for the specific needs of all three of her new charges, and that required she hold authority.

  At least her influence would be limited, as the most junior officer at Eastwatch. She could happily fall in line during combined patrols or watches, negotiate things with Viran, and the Arrivals wouldn't be able to begrudge her informing them of how things worked.

  At least, until they decided to be a little more honest about their stations and ambitions. Which would take earning their trust regardless, if Calen's loud insistence that they weren't even nobility was anything to judge by.

  With her duty to Eastwatch and to Viran taken care of, Mirri felt her wings itch, and suppressed the urge to glance at the door.

  Unfortunately, she was here for one more thing.

  She needed to know if she would be allowed to stay her intended course, after today.

  "That would be easier if they weren't hiding their heritage, but I suppose it will be good practice for flying formation with other royalty," Mirri started, before her tongue got bold and ran away from her. "To everyone's benefit."

  There was no crackle in the air or slip in her mother's expression, but at Mirri's twisting of the Warden's favorite aphorism, Dovin made to flee anyway.

  "I'll... leave you two to it," He said impassively. "I'm sure there are a half dozen rumors that need strangling before they escape the mess hall."

  Isha was busy pouring rainwater out of her offering-bowl, scouring it dry to set back in front of a stubby candle while she replied.

  "Be sure to let a few fly free," She sighed. "Some battles aren't worth fighting right now, but a little uncertainty may have the wolves hesitating."

  That wasn't a denial. Or even an attempt to address what Mirri had said.

  It wasn't a dismissal either, but her mother had only pulled one wine goblet from a drawer as Dovin shut the door behind him.

  Mirri made to follow, leaving her mother to fill the offering bowl first as the fruity scent of alcohol began to drift over the desk. The idea of imbibing anything that would make her light-headed or sleepy with two strange humans in the Perch made her nauseous anyway.

  "Wait," Isha called, without turning away from her shrine as Mirri reached for the handle. "You'll need scribing tools."

  The bottle was corked and disappeared back into a drawer after just a splash made it into the cup itself. The desk stretched wide enough that there was no risk to the tome next to Mirri, even in the event of a spill.

  Another drawer opened, then shut, so her mother was looking for an object she used uncommonly. Or two objects, judging by the unfamiliar key she had pinched between two knuckles while she searched.

  Mirri's eyes wandered while she waited, trying to keep her face from burning. The book was a centuries-old treatise on the settlement patterns and successes of Arrival communities.

  Her mother hadn't wasted a single minute, her mind aimed at the future before the Venatrix's pyre was even constructed.

  Finally, a thick, lacquered wood tablet with a clasp on the side slid across the immense gulf between them, with the key riding atop it.

  "This locks," Her mother stated the obvious as Mirri's suspicious gaze fell on the object. "See the quartermaster for soft clay when you replace your spear. Before tonight, you'll be busy early tomorrow."

  So that was the trap. Limited time, and a tool that wasn't hers, in exchange for privacy from everyone.

  Everyone except her mother.

  "When do I need to have it back by?" Mirri took the safety for what it was.

  A real investment in protecting her thoughts, at least until the letter left.

  The privacy from other sniffing snouts was worth the price, and she had no illusions that her mother's oversight in this matter was optional. She was sharing the Spire with two very curious strangers who would be learning to read soon, along with a cousin who might miss the finer points of anything she had written.

  Like the timescale of a potential departure.

  She had had to sneak away in the night to return to Second Bend instead of touring the westlands with them last autumn. Mercy knew how Viran would react if she mentioned leaving the continent with anything less than perfect care about when she would return. A partial glance at a draft of her work would be the worst possible way for him to get the wrong impression.

  "Their spring fleet will be leaving harbors tomorrow," Her mother confirmed, having already made the calculations Mirri was doing now. "Early merchants carrying letters back will spend at least a week in port, so we have three weeks. Have it ready to send in two, so that it arrives in the city in time."

  It was a perfectly reasonable frame of time, calculated to ensure that there was plenty to spare in case of unexpected delay, with information her mother could have only gotten in the city.

  Information she would have had to acquire before things had turned to disaster this afternoon.

  "You planned this for me." Mirri accused.

  A sly half-smile while her mother sipped at the wine confirmed it.

  "It will be a summer for sea monsters," Isha paced around the back of the desk to tap a claw on the leather bindings of the book she had been paging through. "There may not be a second chance this season, if the oceans roil too badly for captains to depart. Something similar happened about a millennia and a half ago, after a bad landing."

  The sudden diversion to talk about the Arrivals tossed Mirri away from her frustrations. It hadn't occurred to her that digging through centuries-old records would be serving a dual purpose today, but then, she wasn't the Immortal in the room.

  "A bad landing? You mean sapients in the waves?" Mirri's mind caught up to the implications. She had heard the expression 'drowned comet' before, but hadn't realized it was linked to historical events. Or godly failures. "I... I understand this year, scattered as they are, but why would the gods do something like that when things are normal?"

  The last of the wine disappeared past a grimace, and the goblet came to rest on the desk while her mother clasped her claws together.

  "The rest of the gods do their best, but The Maw claims its due immediately sometimes. Shipping lanes were closed or bloody for a year and a half before the Aequitians got the last of the Leviathans," The Warden's eyes narrowed. "Or claimed to, anyway."

  Which brought them back to Mirri's predicament. And gave reason to her mother's unexpected help with an endeavor she had never demonstrated serious tolerance for.

  "So if correspondence stops flowing, it will be several seasons before we know if I even have a chance." Mirri surmised, mostly keeping the bitterness out of her voice.

  At least if trade ground to a halt, the arenas would quiet. With nothing to fight over, there would be no need for her to step onto the sands. Viran's Proving might even pass without incident, with belts tightened.

  It was a slim hope, but anything was possible.

  "Likely until next spring," her mother agreed. "They won't countenance a princeling crossing silver seas after a single letter. The immediate challenges we face should be your focus, while we wait to see how this gambit of yours plays out in the long run."

  Mirri's frustrations flared at what the phrasing implied. She clutched at the casing in her arms anyway, as if it could shield her from the truth.

  "You're helping me with scheduling, but wouldn't release me at an invitation?" She hissed the question.

  The idea of capturing a heart across the sea was a popular romantic fancy, but Mirri's research had led her to believe it was just that, a fancy for plays. Real records showed the vast majority of Aequitian pairings outside the bloodline came from those who had actually crossed the seas.

  "Your new duties will keep you far too busy to travel for now, and you will make that clear in your first draft we review at the end of the week. And Mercy spare me, but being a petitioner at the doorstep is the first trap." Isha dismissed her concerns, paging further through the tome in front of them. "It puts you on display to be picked apart before there's even a chance of connection."

  Mirri took great care to avoid scorching the wood clasped in her claws, her body and mana both aching to connect with a target she could strike freely.

  The quartermaster was one ride on the lift away, but the lift would be for cargo on the way back up. It would practically be dark by the time she reached the plateau again.

  "Trying to cultivate connection by letter is—" Mirri failed to keep the heat out of her voice.

  The tome slammed shut again, and Mirri found herself targeted by two familiar golden eyes. The utter lack of mana in the air was the only reason she was certain her mother was not about to fry a particularly bothersome insect with crackling prejudice.

  "You are still insistent on this, and I can no more delay it than I can deny you the chance, so you will have all of the help I can give you, lest the courts tear your ambitions to ribbons," The Warden's nostrils flared. "Lesson one, you're an Immortal in your own right, with responsibilities in a prosperous land, seeking an opportunity for partnership with a peer. You will court him like an equal, not a supplicant."

  The air dried the moment Isha's outburst began, sending prickles of static over Mirri's scales where the wind swept through the room.

  Finally, a break in her mother's facade, but with it came an outpouring that threatened to wash away any hope of progress, not the victory or admission that she might be right Mirri had hoped for.

  The idea of simply calling foreign royalty to her doorstep flew in the face of propriety. Boldly attempting to bypass all of the systems the Aequitians used to keep control of the Serpent's Line was sure to make her enemies. She would be approaching the pre-eminent power of the seas as if she were an equal, instead of...

  Mirri's eyes widened.

  Instead of a desperate nobody looking to lift her tail for favors, sure to be dismissed in a crowd of supplicants. It would set her apart instantly, as a prize to be pursued instead of selected. Her flaws and scars alike could be cast as exotic flair, instead of ruinous imperfections laid bare next to courtly grace, if only they faded in time.

  Mirri had read all the old romances, dismissing them as entertaining works designed to pluck at the heart and written for crowds, but what was more desirable to a prince who had everything than something they might have to labor for? Something more interesting than endless shades of indigo and seafoam scales?

  And her mother had known that all along, only informing her now, when it would be a dizzying reversal.

  The fire in her chest went out, leaving her with just one question.

  "Would you have stopped me?" She asked. "If I had tried to push ahead otherwise?"

  "Of course, but I wouldn't have had to," Isha's eyes softened. "The Aequitian Councils are already going to make things difficult enough for you. They don't want me one regicide away from being queen grandmother in a century, so you'll know for certain he's interested if he makes the journey anyway."

  Isha's eyes re-hardened for a moment.

  "I, also, do not want to be a grandmother in a century," Her mother warned. "No matter how urgent our situation seems to you now. I've not even finished raising you yet."

  The scales on Mirri's jaw burned fit to ignite the alcohol in her mother's offering-bowl from across the room.

  "Of course not." She squeaked, avoiding a stutter.

  Her life was just beginning. A mere century would be far too soon. She would think about it in a millennia. Maybe.

  If she survived the year.

  Isha pressed Mirri's face to her robes again, a softer embrace rather than the desperate clutching that had preceded their meeting with the Arrivals.

  "Good," Isha said over a knock at the door. "Focus on the now. I'm going to see Leria, and ask what they've found. If either of our guests needs help, I'll be back in an hour, two if something needs my attention."

  "That's Viran." Mirri mumbled past the silks in her snout. "He needs something."

  One soft knock to announce himself, then two harder ones as he committed. She wasn't even sure if he did it on purpose, but the pattern was there.

  "There's always something." Isha said, releasing her.

  Viran waved when the door opened, and Mirri quietly snuck out after a wave of her own, locked casing in hand, while he politely explained that he did not, in fact, fit on the guest bed from last summer anymore, and didn't want to break it trying.

  Mentally tabulating that the Arrivals had the only suitable bedframe for her cousin's newfound bulk, Mirri decided to walk down the stairs, in order to skip the sounds of dragging furniture that would no doubt ensue when they all figured out what needed to happen.

  She had other tools to collect, before she was ready to face the Arrivals. And lessons to plan.

  Chapar Kaneh was a postal system established in 559 B.C.E. by Cyrus the Great, servicing the Achaemenid Empire through the height of its power, when it spanned over 5.5 million square kilometers. Letter which would have taken 90 days of travel to reach their destination by foot could be delivered in 9.

  cursus publicus, with both systems employing riders stations precisely one day's travel by horse apart, to allow messengers to resupply with fresh horses, food, and water to minimize risk and maximize travel speed, though it was only open to members of government and those with the proper permits, serving for military communications, tax collection, and intelligence gathering.