“Good.”
For a moment no one spoke, but Sparrow could hear Hale rising, grunting, and moving away a little. A softer feminine voice then cooed over him quietly. Lady Swan no doubt.
“Tell me, Lady Ursa,” Merlin began softly. That odd quality to her voice was back. “What is more important: maintaining Elista and her powers at all costs, or maintaining peace?”
Ursa took a long moment before answering: “Elista must remain strong, even if that means war.”
“Good, I’m glad you agree.”
Sparrow wondered how much of Ursa’s responses were lies and what was truth. Legs hadn’t been entirely sure they could trust Ursa, which was why it was only Sparrow on this mission with Ahmaia. If things went badly, she could try to fly away, and if that didn’t work, at least it would be only her which was lost. She didn’t like that option, but she’d agreed to do this for Legs; she’d do anything for Legs. The thought of the other woman, her truest love, sent a thrill through Sparrow. The thought of Legs always made her smile, gave her strength and courage, and made her so desperately wish to be back in the arms of her lover. She pulled her mind away from that to listen. She needed to know if Ursa would betray them. She hadn’t yet, but…
“And what do you think of the traitor Maverick and his House of filthy betrayers?” Merlin’s voice rose just a little, not in volume, but intensity, that odd quality more pronounced now.
Ursa’s reply was quick: “I do not know what happened with that once Noble House. I’ve heard that Maverick betrayed us and went over to Vauphan, and that his House is now in hiding. Obviously, they found a way to come here to the capital to kill the queen, which I cannot comprehend at all, but I do not know much more than that.”
“And what does that tell you? What do you think of their actions?”
“They have betrayed us all.”
“And…?”
“And for that, they should be hunted down and slain. And for the one who murdered the queen, the death should not be quick but torturous and slow.”
Merlin sighed. “I’m glad you agree, Lady Ursa.” Something in Merlin’s voice suggested she relaxed a little.
Ahmaia said, “Despite her words, I sense no duplicity from Ursa, I do not think she will betray us.” She reached out to touch Sparrow’s shoulder, a strong and firm hold on the slight arm. “I have not sensed anything in her tone which would indicate she is doing anything other than playing along, telling Merlin what she wishes to hear. I think we will be well, little one.”
Little one?Sparrow wasn’t tall by any means, but Ahmaia was a half head shorter still. Though Ahmaia was probably something like two hundred years old — even though she looked Sparrow’s age — or something like that; no one knew how long Fey actually lived.
Merlin’s voice was just a little twisted now, a hint of sadistic glee sneaking into it. And it was in that moment that Sparrow realized what the odd quality to Merlin’s voice had been and still was: the woman was insane. “And tell me, Lady Ursa, will you do anything for Elista? If it was for the good of the entire country, would you kill some of our own citizens?”
“I… ah…” Sparrow could hear the moment’s hesitation in Ursa’s voice. Yet it quickly resolved. “Yes. Though I would never wish for the deaths of any Elistans, if it were necessary, for the greater good of Elista and must be done, then I would sorrow in the act, but I would do what was required.”
“Do not sorrow to kill traitors, Ursa. Never that.” Merlin seemed pleased. A long silence stretched after this. Sparrow wondered what was happening. It was frustrating just listening, not being able to do anything. Yet she was ever so curious what would come next.
“Come with me,” Merlin said, and there was the rustle of fabric and soft footfalls. “Hale, you are dismissed.” Then in a more confidential tone, closer and quieter: “We need to speak in private.”
Two sets of footfalls padded along for some time before a door could be heard opening then closing.
“Sit,” Merlin said. And again, fabrics shifted and the pouch jostled.
Sparrow hadn’t known she was holding her breath until she had to let it out suddenly, starting to feel strained, struggling to breathe.
Merlin’s voice was seeking, curious when she asked: “Would you agree that the Mists are at the core of Elista’s identity as a nation?”
“Yes,” Ursa said quickly.
“And what if we no longer possessed the Mists?”
Ursa didn’t answer right away. When she did, she spoke slowly, “You believe Vauphan will try to take them from us?”
Merlin chuckled. “No, that is only the tale we have told everyone else, the truth… is far more infuriating as there is little we can do about it.”
Silence.
Merlin continued: “The truth is that the Mists are moving. In fact, they have always been moving, but it is so slowly we had never noticed it. They shift perhaps a quarter of a mile a year, but they are shifting toward Vauphan, you see. They’ve always been close to our border, but in twenty years, they’ll be on the border, and in a hundred years they’ll be mostly in Vauphan. The Mists will no longer be ours… unless we conquer the north of Vauphan first.”
Ursa released a heavy breath. “That’s horrible. No wonder you’ve acted as you have. We must protect the Mists at all costs!”
