Page 117 of Traitor Son

“That’s what Sir Huber said.” She gave a wobbly smile. “Before he left.”

“Huber was always sensible. Don’t look so serious,” he added lightly, and she was quick-witted enough to understand the warning. “Tell me more about these Daitian hats.”

“Daitian hats?” Rem asked, appearing at the end of the stable, and Miche was happy to explain the fundamentals while Ophele curried the donkey within an inch of his life.

* * *

Remin had a few memories of what life had been like, before.

The memory of Tressin was as vague and lovely as a dream. It was an old land, a beautiful land, peaceful and sedate. His father had been very proud of their well-ordered duchy, and from the windows of his nursery, Remin could see the forest to the east and the acres and acres of wheat fields to the west. That was his best memory of the land: the golden wheat waving under the summer sun, and a deep blue sky.

The sheaf and the sword were the sigil of his House. Remin’s father always said that one could not exist without the other.

His father was Duke Benetot, lord of a House whose name it was treason to speak. He married Sidonie of House Roye when she was eighteen and he was twenty-one. It was probably a political marriage, butRemin remembered them being happy. In the evenings they always went for a walk in the garden after supper, and his parents spoke easily together, and laughed often.

His father was a very important man. Everyone bowed when he passed and saidYour Grace,and though he looked like a stern and terrifying giant, he made a happy fool of himself playing with his son, chasing him up and down the stairs, flipping him upside down, throwing him up in the air and onto various soft objects.

“Benetot,” Remin’s mother admonished, covering her eyes with her hands as if nothing bad could happen so long as she didn’t look. “Be careful, what if he falls?”

“He’ll get up again,” his father had replied. Benetot was convinced that rough play made strong boys, and Remin was going to be a knight, just like his father.

His mother was always worried because Remin didn’t have any brothers and sisters. Over and over she said she was going to have a baby, but then she would get sick and the baby would go away, and another small stone would be added to the family memorial in the woods.

“I’m here, Mama,” Remin had tried to reassure her, when she was sad after she had been sick again.

“So you are,” she had said, pulling him into the bed beside her. He still remembered how her voice had tickled his ear as she hugged him. “My heart’s greatest treasure.”

As a daughter of House Roye, his mother knew better than most that treasures could be stolen or lost. Multiple children were a hedge against cruel chance.

And he remembered the night when Duke Ereguil had come for him, only minutes ahead of the Imperial Guard. His mother’s parting kiss on his forehead, the feel of her tears on his cheek. There had been no farewell from his father. Benetot had gone to Starfall and never came back again. There had been no final words to remember, no parting benediction. Only his mother’s choking sob as she whispered,good-bye, my treasure.

“You’re sure about this, Rem?”

In the closet of an office above the storehouse, Edemir eyed him as he set his own seal and signature to several packets of documents, allthick, heavy parchment with Remin’s instructions painstakingly detailed. These were not mere lists. These were the formal orders of the Duke of Andelin, written in triplicate, witnessed and signed, with all the formal ribbons, toggles, and wax seals required to prove their authenticity.

“You’ve been nagging me to do it for a year, do you want me to tear it up now?” Remin asked absently, scrawling his sharp, slashing signature in all the appropriate places. Edemir was not required to know the contents of these documents. Indeed, in this case, Remin was requiring him and Tounot to sign without having read a single word, attesting that Remin himself had provided these documents and signed and sealed them in their presence.

Remin was entirely within his rights to do so. Especially if the documents might concern Edemir and Tounot themselves, which these did.

And given the tide of people surging to the valley, it only made sense that Remin would get his affairs in order. Soon enough, the first ships would go skating across the Brede, carrying goods and passengers, and Remin was already looking long at the new arrivals, wondering. He had been careful and lucky for a long time, but if one of the Emperor’s assassins made it through the gauntlet of precautions, it was best to be prepared.

He was not wrong to worry. It would be many months before he learned that there were now two traitors in Tresingale.

“I never thought I’d see the day when I came to bless the Andelin devils,” said Tounot, affixing his own seal and signature as second witness. “It’s a lot easier to watch the riverbank when we only have to do it from inside the walls. If anyone manages to survive the devils outside, I’m inclined to shake their hands and give them my blessing.”

“You can make that the policy in Tounot Town.”

“Not everything has to be alliterative, Rem.”

“Makes it easier to remember.” Remin signed the last page and set down his quill, his fingers cramping. He felt better, having it done. The sheer complexity of his instructions was a kind of testament to what he had built, and with the east wall finally complete, he could rest knowing that he had done his best to defend his people.

They had been finished only yesterday, with a little ceremony as Master Guisse and Master Misler had laid the final stones at either endof the wall. Remin had gone so far as to don one of his better jerkins for the event, playing Lord of Tresingale to mark this significant milestone.

“Five miles of wall in six months,” he had called, when the watchers demanded a speech. “It would be an achievement to boast anywhere in the world. You dug to bedrock, cut and shaped the stone, and laid every block with care. I can only hope that the rest of my city will be built so well. And when the devils come tonight, the night watch is going to stand on this side of the pit and salute the filthy buggers.”

That brought a burst of cheers, savage and triumphant. The east gatehouse was yet only a hole in the ground, but so deep and wide that it was nearly as an effective barrier as the wall itself. And there among all the shouting, laughing men, there was Ophele, a solitary spot of color in her new pink gown. She had endured as much as any of them to see that this day would come, but there was no sign of hardship in her face. Her smile was swift and bright as sunrise when he looked at her, as if there had never been a hard word between them at all.

Before, he would have suspected it for a lie. But now he knew that was just her, so swift to bloom with only a little encouragement. Ophele did not hold grudges.

---