“She might be dying,” said Theophanu. “No one knows how badly she was injured in the crash.”
“She will live,” said Alain.
“We could kill her,” suggested Stronghand. “It would be the most practical measure.”
“We could try,” said Theophanu. “I suppose we would have to set fire to the wagon to force her to come out, place archers on all sides, but any of them who looked upon her in order to shoot would, on seeing her, die.”
“It would be difficult,” Stronghand agreed, “but with some careful thought and precise planning it could be done.”
She considered him, and after this looked again down at the wagon. Seen at this angle—from the second story of the palace—the lamplight made the painted sigils, already streaked and scraped from the crash, give a kind of wiggle, as though they were alive and moving on the wood. “If she lives, she will always be a threat, no matter how far away.”
“Any ally may turn into an enemy,” Stronghand replied, “so all alliances must be cultivated in such manner that they will grow and not wither.”
“We must decide what she wants, and what will bind her to us. Where is that Eagle? The one called Hanna. I have heard that she can look upon the sorcerer and live. She must act as negotiator.” She looked at him, and he at her, and they nodded.
“A reasonable plan,” he said.
For a little while she said nothing, regarding him steadily. “It is a rare gift to consider all sides to a question without succumbing to judgment or emotion before the best or most practical answer is reached,” she said to him.
She extended a hand. He took a step toward her and placed his hand on hers. She examined it thoughtfully. “I pray you, Lord Stronghand, show me your claws.”
He stepped back, lifted his arms square in front of his body, and released the claws that lived within.
She did not flinch. “Thus are we all armed with unseen weapons. Better to see if we can seal a treaty with her, for now. Later, if she returns to her home, as she must, she will be very far away and thereby less of a threat.”
“I agree,” he said, sheathing his claws. “It is the most practical solution. For now.”
“Yet where is the Eagle?” asked Theophanu.
“Riding toward Hersford Monastery,” said Alain. “I pray you, Your Highness. Let a procession be made ready to depart as soon as possible for Autun.”
“Yes. Mother Scholastica has already claimed the right to bury Sapientia in Quedlinhame. It’s best to move Sabella’s body to Arconia immediately, so the succession can be set in motion. We must consider where we should first be crowned and anointed. Quedlinhame, or Autun? And what of Sanglant? Where shall we bury him? He has no true home, not really, poor man.”
Moisture winked in her eyes, the only real surge of emotion Stronghand had seen in her. In this, at least, her heart was strong: she had loved her brother and been faithful to him. So was he, in his own fashion, true to Alain.
“Let him be carried west as well,” said Alain, “with a proper escort. Best if he’s carried on a separate track from Lady Sabella and her retinue. There is a more northerly path leading west, that crosses the El River near Hersford Monastery.”
He was clear and clean, like an unsheathed sword, beautiful yet filled with a deadly grace and wielded by an unseen hand. It was a mystery that Stronghand did not understand, but no greater a mystery, really, than the day the Eika had come into being long centuries ago, in the aftermath of the first great weaving. There is power in the universe that cannot fully be understood.
Theophanu said, “Who are you, Lord Alain?”
He smiled gently. “My mother is dead, although she was nothing more—and nothing less—than a starving refugee who used what coin she had to feed herself. I do not know who my father is.”
“You do not answer my question.”
He went to the door. “That I am here is the only answer I know. I pray you, forgive me, but there is one other person here I must meet.”
“Before what?” she asked, hearing the unspoken portion of his words.
“I mean to escort Sanglant’s body.” He nodded at them, as at equals, and walked out. They heard him cross the other room and pad away down the stairs.
Two soldiers looked in. “Continue to guard him,” Stronghand said.
“And as you go, send the Eagle called Hathui to me,” said Theophanu.
They nodded and left, shutting the door.
“Is Constance right?” Theophanu said. “Is he a messenger sent from God?”