Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles #4) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,52

whined.

Maud obliged with another snicker. They were putting on a show for her benefit. She hated to disappoint.

“Are you going to marry the Lord Marshal?” Seveline asked.

“It’s complicated,” Maud said.

“I say don’t do it,” Seveline said. “Live free.”

“She has a child to think about,” Onda said. “Has the Lord Marshal made any assurances as to the child’s future?”

They were definitely fishing, but for what? “We haven’t entered into any formalized agreement.”

Onda’s voice floated to her. “But Lord Arland knows he is the Marshal and Krahr is an aggressive House. They love war. He must’ve acknowledged his life is frequently in danger.”

“Onda is right,” Seveline added. “To not have a contingency plan would be irresponsible. Men often are, but not where a spouse and children are concerned.”

What were they after? “I’m aware of the dangers,” Maud said, letting just enough sadness through.

“But of course you are,” Onda said. “You’ve been widowed.”

“Husbands don’t always last,” Seveline said.

“I cannot believe that, with your history, the Marshal hasn’t made at least some arrangements to reassure you,” Onda said, a slight outrage vibrating in her voice.

“He has to have done something,” Seveline added.

“Has he mentioned anyone?” Onda asked. “Someone who might take care of you and your daughter in case of an emergency? Someone who would accept that noble responsibility?”

It hit her like a lightning bolt. They were after the Under-Marshal. Of course.

As a Marshal, Arland led the totality of House Krahr’s armed forces. He commanded every fighter, every war animal, every military vehicle, no matter if it was a two-seater land runner or a space destroyer. If it could fight and belonged to House Krahr, it answered to Arland. He was in possession of codes, passwords, and command sequences. If Arland was incapacitated, House Krahr’s military would find itself adrift. To avoid that, every vampire House large enough to have a Marshal also had an Under-Marshal, a secret second-in-command who possessed a duplicate of everything that gave Arland power and access. If anything happened, the Under-Marshal would step in, the transfer of power would be seamless, and House Krahr would continue to fight until the threat passed and a new Marshal could be appointed. Until then, the Under-Marshal would assume all of Arland’s responsibilities, including his obligation for the safety of his spouse and children.

The identity of the Under-Marshal was a closely-guarded secret. It was never revealed to outsiders. It could have been anyone, Karat, Soren, Ilemina, her consort. Had Maud been trusted with that knowledge, letting another House in on it would be treason.

They really thought she was a complete idiot.

“Lord Arland didn’t mention anyone,” she said. “But you’re right, this is worrying. I’ll ask him.”

“You should,” Onda said. “Just for your peace of mind.”

“She’s totally useless,” Seveline murmured in Ancestor Vampiric. “Let me trip her.”

“No.”

“She would scream all the way down. It would be funny.”

“We might still get something out of her.”

The path widened and turned, following the mountain. A massive gorge opened before them, the trees at its bottom so far below, the expanse of empty air had taken on a slight blue tint. Another mountain cliff formed the other side of the gorge, a sister to the one they’d climbed. A mess of narrow stone arches and breezeways bridged the gaps between the two cliffs, as if some chaotic giant had carelessly tossed a bundle of stone sticks into the gap. The stone formations crossed over each other, some spanning the distance, some ending abruptly, crumbling into nothing, turning the gorge into a maze. They looked completely natural, as if time and weather had whittled the living rock, but their placement was too deliberate. No geological phenomenon would produce slender crisscrossing bridges like these. Someone must’ve made them; how, she had no idea.

On the right, atop one narrow stone protrusion, a vala tree spread its branches. It was ancient and massive, its thick roots wrapping around the stone and burrowing deep into the mountain, as if challenging the gorge. Between the two cliffs the setting sun painted color onto the evening sky, turning it yellow, rose, lavender and finally, high above, a beautiful purple. Against this backdrop, the red leaves of the vala all but glowed.

The view took Maud’s breath away. She stopped. The other women halted too.

“Behold,” a woman’s voice rang out from ahead. “The Mukama Roost.”

Nothing more needed to be said. Once, the ancient enemy made their home here. Now the sacred vala tree ruled the cliff.

The procession resumed. Maud stared at Onda’s back. They wanted the identity