Treason's Shore by Sherwood Smith Read Free Book Online

for the next fifteen years. No king (or queen, selected by the women by different criteria) was permitted to have children.
    The older wife enjoyed her position of superior knowledge, though she was scarcely more connected to the exalted Durasnirs than the young wife. “Like the others not picked that Breseng year, Fulla Durasnir was sent to sea, until his senior brother died in battle.”
    “I remember hearing something about a duel.”
    “There was talk about how and why the oldest son died in that skirmish over on Goerael. The second son died in a duel as the result of the talk. He won, but only outlived the loser by a day. And so Fulla was called back to take title and to marry. Vra Durasnir was his lover at the time—she was younger than you are, second assistant to the House Skalt—but he insisted on marrying her.”
    The younger wife was impressed. From a negligible family with no thralls to a House with maybe six homes above ground and below, an entire floor in one of the Twelve Towers, and at least a hundred born thralls, what a leap!
    “And she was adopted into House Durasnir with the birth of Vatta, their first son. Who was killed in a sea battle just after the fleet was sent south.”
    The young wife did not explain that she had known Vatta, but she’d rejected his shy, awkward flirtations in preference to luring Prince Rajnir. You did not tell stories on fallen heroes, even sixteen-year-old ones.
    The two reached the bottom of the stairs and joined in the crowds hurrying toward the tunnel decorated with silver and white mosaics that lay directly under the King’s Road, leading to Anborc and the Hall of Judgment.
    The young wife wanted to catch a glimpse of Prince Rajnir again. They’d had that passionate dalliance just before he was sent south to gain land for the Venn. She hoped that ten years and kingship would not have cooled his ardor; how fun it would be to become a king’s first favorite!
    Vra Seigmad was behind them. She’d listened to the two fools, gauging how much of the gossip was truth and how much hearsay (and what that meant), head angled up to catch the sound of footsteps following her. Surely Brun Durasnir would be coming down behind her at any moment. And Vra Seigmad not only had a ring bespelled to warn of magical spiderwebs, she knew how to keep her voice down.
    As she stared up the empty steps she brooded on the protocol, which required those of the senior rank to speak first in any exchange. The only way around it was if your House was allied with the House of the person you wished to talk to, but Durasnir and Seigmad were not House-allies, despite the long friendship between individuals of two generations.
    Maybe because of that friendship? So many alliances were forced on people, predicated on agreements between one’s rivals. But she could see no way to change that, especially now when every second person appeared to be looking over his or her shoulder for the shadow of Rainorec.
    Rainorec: Venn Doom.
    On impulse Vra Seigmad swung around and began vaulting back up, grimly smiling as she moved her bulk with the unflagging speed she’d trained with when young and more lithe.
    Venn got stout with age—in this climate, it was better for health. But Vra Seigmad refused to let any of her added flesh turn to flab. She bustled up the six or seven stair turns as the air became more chill. When she gained the bastion she paused and pulled her hood down to her chin, yanking the cord so that it snugged at her neck, stabilizing the slits over her eyes.
    From long habit she shifted her body against the door, knowing it would take all her strength to get it open. When she’d eased it a handsbreadth, she peered through and stared in surprise at the tall figure who waved impatiently.
    Vra Seigmad forced herself outside. The most dangerous conversations had to be held outside. Though the House skalts all knew how to place (and to ward) what were called spiderwebs, magical spells that somehow