A Distant Tomorrow. Бертрис Смолл

will stand in my husband’s place, but I will be at his side as I was at Vartan’s.”

       The clan lords nodded.

       “Word of this will spread quickly to Hetar. Before Vartan’s pyre is ashes you must send word to Hetar’s High Council that you have a new leader,” Lara continued.

       Heads nodded in agreement with her. The day passed. The house of the slain leader fed all in Camdene. It was their responsibility to do so although the cook fretted that they were going to run out of supplies before it was all over. Lara assured him that if it became necessary she would call upon her magic to keep their larders full. Finally, the dark came. Fires burned on the plains surrounding Camdene indicating the campsites of many mourners. It was time.

       “My lords,” she said to the clan heads who were sitting by the hall fire, “I believe the time is now come to open the discussions. No one can replace my husband’s leadership, but you must choose a new head of the High Council now, and send word of your choice to the City. You cannot allow Hetar’s government to believe the Outlands are in disarray, or weakened by Vartan’s murder.”

       “I would put forth Roan of the Aghy,” Floren of the Blathma quickly said.

       “Perhaps we should first ask the lady Lara if she has a preference,” Accius, the clan leader of the Devyn said. He was certain that she did have a choice, and he was curious to know who it was.

       “I thank the great bard lord of the Devyn for his courtesy in soliciting my opinion,” Lara began, and several of the men smiled for they knew her well enough by now to recognize that she was about to surprise them with her own ideas. “Given what has transpired over the last five years it is obvious to me, nay, necessary, that we need both a head of our council, and a war leader as well. I have heard disturbing rumors of late that Gaius Prospero will soon crown himself emperor of Hetar. This man is no friend of the Outlands. Roan of the Aghy is a great warrior, equal to my own husband,” she flattered the horse lord. “It must be he you choose for your military leader. For head of the High Council, however, I will put my faith in Rendor of the Felan. He is not easily brought to anger. He is thoughtful, and his advisement wise. He is more than equal to the challenge of dealing with Hetar,” she concluded, her gaze sweeping them all.

       “But he is not the warrior Roan is,” Floren said.

       “Nay, he is not,” Lara agreed quietly. “And if there is war again, Roan will lead the Outlands, with your approval. But you need a man with a knack for diplomacy in treating with Hetar. Rendor made friends with the Coastal Kings years ago, and that friendship has never wavered. Indeed, it has grown stronger with the passing of time.” She arose from her place among them. “Let me go and fetch you refreshments while you discuss this among yourselves,” Lara told them. She glided across the room to prepare a tray of wine.

       “You are silent, Rendor,” Imre of the Tormod said.

       “I am astounded,” Rendor answered him.

       “She said nothing of this to you beforehand?” Torin of the Gitta asked.

       Rendor shook his head. “Nothing. I am as surprised as you are.”

       “What think you, Roan?” Accius of the Devyn queried the horse lord.

       “I think I have been neatly and nicely outmaneuvered,” Roan chuckled. “I do not like to admit it, but Lara is right. I am the man to lead you in war, but I am not the man to lead you in or to peace. Rendor of the Felan is that man.”

       “My cousin would find it amusing that it takes two of you to replace him,” Liam told them with an engaging grin.

       His companions laughed heartily, nodding in agreement.

       “Can we agree upon this solution then,” Accius asked them. “Rendor for peace, and Roan for war?”

       “I will call the roll,” Lara said returning with a tray of nine goblets. Passing them about she took the last cup, and began. “Rendor for peace. Roan for war. Petruso of the Piaras—aye or nay?”

       Petruso, who was a mute, nodded vigorously his aye.

       Lara called the others in sequence. “Imre of the Tormod?”

       “Aye!”

       “Floren of the Blathma?”

       “Aye!”

       “Torin of the Gitta?”

       “Aye!”

       “Liam of the Fiacre?”

       “Aye!”

       “Accius of the Devyn?”

       “Aye!”

       “Roan of the Aghy?”

       “Aye!”

       “Rendor of the Felan?”

       “Aye!”

       “Then it is settled,” Lara said.

       “Not quite,” Rendor told them. “You have not given us your vote, Lara.”

       “I am not a member of the council,” Lara replied.

       “Nay, you are not,” he agreed, “but you are the founder of this council, and in a matter as important as this one I believe you should have the right to vote.”

       The other lords murmured in agreement with Rendor.

       Quick tears sprang up behind her eyelids to sting her eyes. Lara nodded her acknowledgment of the honor they were giving her. “In the matter of Roan and Rendor, the founder of the council votes aye,” she said. Then she raised her goblet. “To the Outlands,” she toasted, and they raised their goblets to join her, their voices strongly echoing hers.

       “To the Outlands!”

       The meeting broke up, the lords going to their sleeping places, but Rendor remained behind to speak with Lara.

       “You might have told me,” he said dryly.

       “If I had you would have refused me,” Lara answered him. “Your genuine surprise at my choice proved to the others there was no collusion between us. Given what has happened, Rendor, my friend, there was no time for the clan lords to debate and argue over this matter. We needed to settle the succession quickly. I have soothed Roan’s ego, and believe me that none of the others wanted the position themselves.”

       “Sometimes you frighten me, Lara. You know each of us far too well, I think.”

       “I will be leaving the Outlands soon,” she told him quietly. “I am called once again by my destiny.”

       “But we need you!” he exclaimed.

       Lara shook her head. “You flatter me, Rendor, but I will not leave you defenseless, I promise. Whatever mischief Gaius Prospero is brewing up I will counter.”

       “How?” he wanted to know. “If you are not here how can you help us?”

       “I am only going to King Archeron. Gaius Prospero is not as powerful as he believes. In the City and the Midlands, aye! But the Shadow Princes scorn him, and the Coastal Kings will not cooperate with him because it would not be in their interests to do so. As for the Forest Lords, they have their own difficulties. They may agree to support the Master of the Merchants, but their support will amount to little or nothing. Your friends and mine will protect the Outlands from any trouble.”

       “Will you remain with Archeron?”

       “I don’t know, but I do not think so,” Lara answered.

       “Where will you go?”

       “I cannot say. All I can tell you is that for now I must go to the coast,” Lara said. “But I will not go until autumn. I still have things to do to help ease the transition between Vartan’s rule and yours, and between Vartan and Liam.”

       “Your children?” he asked.