The Crimson Crown. Cinda Williams Chima

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      Raisa shifted her gaze to Amon, Averill, and Speaker Jemson, who stood just behind Klemath. They nodded slightly.

      “That’s not acceptable,” Raisa said. “I had expected much more progress by now.”

      “I cannot produce qualified officers with a snap of my fingers,” Klemath said, snapping to demonstrate.

      “Has it occurred to you that you can be replaced with a snap of my fingers?” Raisa retorted, snapping her fingers under the general’s nose.

      Klemath stiffened. Still staring straight ahead, he said, “That wouldn’t be wise.”

      “Meaning?” Raisa’s voice was as cold as the Dyrnnewater. “Is that a threat, General?”

      “Meaning that now is not the time to be making yet another transition, Your Majesty,” Klemath said, seeming to recall to whom he spoke. “While things are so unsettled in the south. Too much change all at once is difficult.”

      Don’t lose your temper don’t lose your temper don’t don’t don’t … “Nobody said it was going to be easy,” Raisa said. “But I know you will make every effort to move things along now that you know my mind. Have I made myself clear?”

      “Yes, Your Majesty,” Klemath said, nodding. Still not smiling. “Of course.”

      And with that, Raisa dismissed him and his troops.

      “Come with me,” she said to the others. She stalked into the guardhouse with Amon and the rest trailing her.

      She passed through the duty room and into the sergeants’ office. Mawker shoved back his chair and staggered to his feet, coming to attention, his fist over his heart.

      “Your Majesty! I never … This is a … Nobody said—”

      “Give us a few minutes, please, Sergeant Mawker,” Raisa said, tipping her head toward the door. He hurried out, leaving her alone with Amon, Averill, and Speaker Jemson.

      “That’s it,” Raisa said, sitting on the edge of Mawker’s desk. “Klemath is out as soon as we can find a replacement.” She snapped her fingers and scowled at them. “I don’t trust him, not at all, and I will not be patronized.”

      “If you replace him, daughter, you will need to proceed very carefully and very quietly,” Averill said. “He wields considerable power in the army.”

      “Have you looked through the duty sheets on the candidates I sent you?” Amon asked.

      “Some. Not all,” Raisa admitted. There was so much to do. “I’d like to have a Wien House graduate with some actual army experience. Most you’ve sent me are from the Guard.”

      Amon shrugged. “Aye. Those are the people I know best,” he said. “The ones I trust.”

      “I know,” Raisa said. “But it’s going to be hard for someone like that to be accepted to command the army.”

      “What about Char Dunedain?” Amon said. “What did you think of her?”

      Raisa frowned. “I don’t really remember. Tell me about her.”

      “She’s from Chalk Cliffs originally,” Amon said. “She spent a couple of years at Wien House, then captained a salvo of native-borns who went as mercenaries to Arden. She fought down there for five years, and the fact that she survived that long is impressive. She came back up here and went into the Highlander Army under Fletcher as a colonel. But after Klemath took over, there was friction between them. She finally went to my da and asked about transferring into the Guard. It meant a major demotion, but she did it anyway.”

      “Sounds like the right experience,” Raisa said. “How long has she been in the Guard?”

      “Six years,” Amon said. “My da was really impressed with her, and he’s not—wasn’t—easy to impress. In fact, she was the one he sent to the West Wall to replace Gillen. He trusted her to clean things up and she’s done a good job.”

      Raisa recalled what Dimitri Fenwaeter had said on her coronation day. The new commander at the West Wall is a woman, but she is surprisingly fair and easy to deal with.

      “Can you arrange for me to meet her?” Raisa asked. “How long would it take for her to come here from the West Wall? And could we do it without arousing any suspicions?”

      “She’s here, actually,” Amon said. “In the duty room. We passed her on the way in. I asked her to come here to Fellsmarch for a few days. I wanted to debrief her about current conditions on that border. We’re paying so much attention to our southern neighbor that we need to make sure we’re not missing any risk from the west.”

      Typical Amon Byrne, anticipating problems and handling them before they grew unmanageable. Taking responsibility for issues that were not precisely his to manage.

      “Ask her to come in, then,” Raisa said. As Amon left, Raisa waved Averill and Jemson to chairs along the wall. “You two listen and let me know what you think.”

      Amon returned with a tall, rangy guard in a mottled mountain uniform. She stopped in front of Raisa and saluted. “Your Majesty,” she said. “Captain Byrne tells me that you would like to know the status of our holdings along the escarpment.”

      Dunedain’s eyes were a startling gray color against her coppery skin. Her hair was a sun-streaked brown, tied back with a cord. Her nose had been broken, and badly repaired.

      “You’re a mixed-blood,” Raisa blurted.

      “Yes, I am,” Dunedain said. “As are you, I believe. Is that a problem?” She met Raisa’s gaze frankly, with no trace of defensiveness.

      “No, Sergeant, it’s just unexpected. There are not many clan in the Highlanders.”

      “No, Your Majesty,” Dunedain said. “There should be more.”

      “Why aren’t there more, do you think?” Raisa asked.

      Dunedain glanced at Amon, as if seeking guidance.

      “Be at ease, Sergeant,” Amon said. “You may speak your mind with the queen.”

      “Several reasons,” Dunedain said, relaxing fractionally. “There used to be more clan in the Highlanders. We are well-suited for mountain warfare. But these days the army spends too much time in flatland maneuvers. We do not enjoy marching to and fro on a field to no purpose. Our enemies will come through the mountains or by sea. There is no other way to get here. It would be best to stop the enemy before they reach the Vale, since that is where they have the advantage.” She checked herself. “In my opinion, Your Majesty.”

      “But we need to know how to fight in the flatlands, too,” Raisa argued. “Just in case.”

      “General Klemath’s stripers already know how to fight in the flatlands, ma’am,” Dunedain said. “What they need is to learn how to fight in the mountains.”

      “What else?” Raisa said.

      “General СКАЧАТЬ