Havoc's Daughters

Chapter 9 - Day 2 (morning): Diannah - Lord Fsssk

Dawn’s first caress lit the hills bordering the western side of the valley, though all below lay yet in shadow. Quiet murmurs came from the dim courtyard, and the soft clanks and plashes of the morning gruel being dished up for the waiting queu. A peaceful daybreak, one would think. But the sight before Diannah Setigera closed her throat and took her appetite. 

From her location on the roof of the hospice, formally known as Mirze-march Manse, she gazed to the west, across the river to the blackened ribs of the hunting lodge she’d always considered home. Built on some wicked whim of her grandfather on a cliff overlooking the river, and the manse of his Cumberan counter-part, it had rarely been occupied by the family. A fortnight or so at planting and harvest was it. Mostly they lived in Setigera Keep, at the base of the pass on the Roenish side of the valley, though winters were spent in Kingsport for the court season. But so many of the family’s happiest times had been spent at that lodge….

Both manse and lodge would have been on the same ridge, but for the river, and stood above the surrounding fields and forest. Each had access to its lands along an elevated road, except in the highest of spring floods. But the river that cut between them and provided an easy slope on the Cumberan side had left the western shore sheer. It was a journey of several leagues to get from one to the other. 

Unlike Lady Caidrin's manse, the lodge had been built mostly of wood. Its ruins offered little to hint what had stood there, or to suggest it be rebuilt. 

You need to find a positive focus for your morning ritual, Diannah nudged herself. That obviously won’t do. 

She turned resolutely away and, ignoring the Guards who kept watch from this vantage, made her way to the parapet bordering the south end of the main building. 

The river was still in darkness, though she could smell it:  river and dust and woodsmoke. The woodsmoke is from the courtyard fires, she scolded herself. Not the lodge. 

Even from the roof Diannah should see no more of Rose Hill town than a hint of walls over the trees to the south. She waited as the light crept down the tallest treetops and caught the glimpse upriver she was looking for:  walls…and a haze of smoke.

She lingered as the sun rose, its bloody light sweeping across the Mirze Vale like the Cumberan army. Rather than it bringing hope, as the Goddess of Dawn was wont, Diannah only felt overwhelmed. So much was happening; too much of it bad. 

Even if we manage to drive back the Cumberans, how many of our people will return? Can we rebuild? Will Da be here to help? 

Despite Lady Caidrin’s good intentions and Alzarin's forebearance of the day before, Diannah knew the odds were poor. King Dirk was not likely to let this chance at his old enemy go unrealized. Especially if he knows -- 

A shriek tore the tranquility, a war cry outside the front gate, ululating up the scale. Diannah nearly swallowed her tongue, gasping with the fear that her wandering imagination had conjured an attack on the hospice. She rushed to the northeast corner. 

Oddly, the sentries posted on the roof walk paid the sound little heed. The nearest one even grinned at her. 

“That would be Lord Fsssk. He’s caught us dinner, again,” he said. 

It made no sense to Diannah. ‘Fisk’ was the term for a king’s most loyal retainer, and for the wild card in a gaming deck.

Though the embattled outer wall of the manse was straight-edged as a builder’s square, and plumb to the base, the inner side of the roof walk fell away in variously angled tiers tiled with slate. An agile person, J’Lian for instance, could have climbed about like a goat. Buttressing on the exterior wall of the great hall might even provide safe passage from the cobbled yard.