“This is enough,” Fen told him honestly. “That you are listening to me now, in that way you do.”
“In that way I….” Lan didn’t finish. He paused, took a breath, and then said, “Tell me one history now. A small one, because you must rest too. All right, flower?”
“All right,” Fen agreed, and considered for a long moment before deciding to begin with a story about the Lylanth.
Twelve
Fen only knew a few family histories in great detail, and the Lylanth had the advantage of not being the Acana or the Geon. He supposed he did have an interest in portraying the Lylanth in a way that would appeal to Lan, but Lan listened to the start of Fen’s tales of them, asked him a few questions about their territory and the black boar on their red banners, and then thanked Fen and told him to sleep.
Fen went about the next morning with banners in his thoughts. He didn’t believe Lan had one. To have chosen colors and an emblem was, to Lan, something only nobles did. He didn’t realize why so many families used them, or the effect they might have on anyone happy to live beneath those colors, although Lan would have faced some in his battles. But Fen doubted Lan had regarded Maben banners as anything but a spur to his anger.
Lan’s banner would have to show a dog, though he likely wouldn’t care for the idea. A large dog, of the kind for hunting, with no collar or any other sign of a master or a function. But the banner also couldn’tonlyhave a dog, and that part Fen puzzled over as he returned to assisting Ati. For a banner, they would need a broad field of cloth first, in whatever color was available, but if it was white, Fen might be able to dye it out here. He would have to dye some thread for the embroidery, in any event, unless someone had some dyed wool that hadn’t been spun yet.
Around midday, he chose a spot around one of the fires to return to work on other people’s mending, and was a good way through his pile when he noticed more voices around him and then realized one of the voices was Lan’s.
He raised his head and found Lan sitting not far from him, with a few figures he didn’t recognize and one he did. Race winked at him when he saw Fen looking but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him, intent upon the woman currently speaking.
“…Erdolyn has guards who’ve served them for generations, but not many beyond that,” she said in a calm, quiet voice. Her clothing was dirty from travel. So were her face and hands. She’d arrived very recently, then. Probably the others had as well.
Fen got up, both because he wasn’t supposed to be in Lan’s councils and because she, and some of the others from the look of them, would need meals.
“No, cub.” Lan was unmistakably speaking to Fen although he didn’t turn toward Fen when Fen looked at him.
Fen slowly sat back down, then glanced at Race when Lan told him nothing.
“The Erdolyn probably isn’t planning on doing anything,” Race said to Lan, not even giving Fen a wink this time. “Cautious, that one. Maybe that’s why their guards stay loyal.”
“But the Savirin lands, the marshes and the rivers, are full of impatient youths who think they would love a battle,” the man sitting next to the new woman said. “And Savirin lands are near the Erdolyn. For the Savirin to get anywhere quickly would require the permission of The Erdolyn.”
“Maybe they see a chance to take land that isn’t wet.” The person on Lan’s other side was broad and nearly as tall as Lan. They were also unsmiling despite what might have been a jest.
Fen glanced to Lan again, then lowered his gaze to his lap to murmur, “The Erdolyn’s beloved sister is allied and wedded to someone of the Savirin. The Erdolyn might not fight, but he will let them cross his lands. However, The Acana complained many times of The Erdolyn’s caution. So I… I also don’t believe someone like that would allow an entire force onto his land.”
“Those wetlands are tricky,” someone else remarked after a small pause. “The Erdolyn can narrow down who and how many are allowed to cross them at one time, if he does decide to let them in.”
“That does sound like something he would do,” Race agreed. “Act, but not grandly.”
Fen kept head bent over his sewing, only breathing again when Lan said, “So that gives us a few questions: are the people of the Savirin acting on their own or with permission of The Savirin? And are they after the chance to fight and gain someone else’s lands, or my head specifically? Then… will they get in the way?”
Fen’s hands did not move, but he didn’t think the others noticed. He absently considered the garment in front of him. Someone’s pants, torn near the crotch, although he had not asked how. His cheeks burned. His chest was tight. Lan and his current council discussed what further news they had—with Fen right there and able to hear them.
It was not everything. It was not what Lan spoke of with Heni and Dol and Race alone. But Lan had felt Fen would have something to offer and brought the others here to speak so that Fen might hear them.
The feelings inside Fen had all the energy of a storm but sparked no fear. His thoughts were clear and nearly weightless.
Thiswas how Lan would bring the lesser nobles to his side. Before alliances, before endless talks and even before battles, he would bring them in and listen to their thoughts. So little, yet so much more than many Earls would ever think to offer.
This was how he’d win them, and what Lan won, he kept. He might not even know he could, because he certainly couldn’t have guessed the tempest in Fen’s heart now at being trusted even this much.
Fen assumed many things from what he saw and how he had helped Tellan with the accounting and inventories. He had prepared for battles and the injuries that Ati clearly anticipated. Lan couldn’t help anyone guessing those things if they spent any time in this camp. But this had been deliberate.
So Fen forced his heart to calm as he listened to what could only be the reports of spies and informants, pleased that Lan had such a network already. He couldn’t tell Lan’s exact plans, but didn’t let that worry him for now. This was about information, and Lan wanted him to hear it, so he paid attention although he didn’t speak up again.
When the talk began to become questions raised by the new information rather than relaying more of it, Fen moved at last, forcing himself to finish a row of stitches, then pulling the small knife from his supplies to cut the thread. He put the pants onto the pile and without looking up said, “I will see to food for them now, if they’re hungry. And you as well, Lan.”
“I could finish a whole stag by myself,” the woman, whose name was Tai, responded first, sighing heavily.
Lan looked at Fen at last, his expression impossible to read, as usual. “As you see fit, cub.”
