Page 95 of Confounding Oaths
“Maybe,” Captain James conceded, rather begrudgingly. “But we didn’t come for no answer either.”
A half smile played across Amenirdis’s lips. “The army has not taught you patience, Orestes James.”
“Wasn’t really meant to,” the captain replied. “And as good as it’s been to catch up, could youperhapsjust tell us what to do.”
“Please,” repeated Miss Caesar, with more actual pleading and less frustration.
A deadly serenity crept into Amenirdis’s voice. “Very well. Do this, and only this: Know your power.”
“I do nothaveany power,” Miss Caesar protested. And it was, I had to admit, quite a pertinent point.
“That is not what my goddess tells me.”
And although her cousin had been rather burned by her own encounter with the divine, Miss Caesar could not help but be a little intrigued. “What does she tell you?”
“That we are the daughters of Nubian queens. The inheritors of the Mali empire and the legacy of Carthage. That our ancestors made the world quake before therewasa Europe.”
“With respect,” Mr. Caesar replied, “I have learned not to trust goddesses. Besides, you’re talking about ancient history.”
And again, Amenirdis half smiled. “You want to know how to fight a creature made of ideas from a world where time has no meaning, and you think ancient history isn’t important?”
“I—” Miss Caesar sounded hesitant at first, but grew surer as she spoke. “I don’t see how it’s the same as power.”
A look that could almost have been pity entered Amenirdis’s eyes. “You have the power you take. You traded your strength and your beauty for hands of glass. But you can have them back.”
“How?” asked Miss Caesar, her voice carrying the unmistakable and wholly unearned note of hope.
“Can youplease,” I asked from my position in the corner, “give away onlysomeof our secrets.”
“All magic is woven from stories,” Amenirdis said, far moreplainly than she had any right to and over myvehementprotestations. “You need to make this story your own. You bargained for beauty, but you lost more beauty than you gained. Demand redress from the queen and she must give it to you; the lords and ladies of the Other Court are cruel and deceitful beings, but their laws are traps for them as well as for you.”
This was … half a truth. And if I have to tell you even now that half a truth is worse than a lie, then I despair at you, I really do. Not for the first time I found myself wondering what Amenirdis’s game was. To her servants—to some of them at least—Isis was every goddess and every power, so it was not impossible that the witch was seeking to serve Titania’s ends. But either way I mistrusted her.
“That seems too simple,” replied Mr. Caesar, edging unconsciously closer to Captain James for support and reassurance. “What do you think, Barryson?”
“I think you shouldn’t fuck with elves,” Barryson replied, although he had the courtesy not to look directly at Miss Caesar when he said it. “But if you must, then I’d always say to go in strength. And make an offering to Freyr.”
Miss Caesar looked aghast. “An offering?”
“Boar,” Barryson suggested. “Or horse. Dog if you have to, though there’s less good eating on them.”
Miss Caesar’s eyes widened. “I wouldnevereat a dog. Or a horse.”
“When you’re in the hills of Spain,” the captain told her, “without supplies or reinforcements, and the French on every road and in every village, you’ll eat whatever you can damned find.”
“There is a reason that ladies do not go to war,” replied Miss Caesar, piously.
Captain James shook his head. “Ladies go to war all the time. Every army drags women and merchants and children behind them.”
“Not all women are ladies,” Miss Caesar pointed out.
“A poor woman’s blood’s the same colour as yours,” replied Captain James and then, realising that this was not the most sensitive analogy in the context, corrected himself, “as a rich woman’s.”
Amenirdis had been listening to this conversation with interest and now turned to look Miss Caesar in the eyes. “You have my advice. You may do with it what you will. And if the goddess speaks truly, we will meet again.”
“May the goddessnotspeak truly?” asked Miss Caesar.
“She is more rebellious in her heart than a million men,” replied Amenirdis, rather gnomically, “more choice than a million gods, more to reckon than a million spirits. Divinities are to be feared, child, not to be trusted.”
