hand out to hold hers, but she jerked away from him. “I’m sorry, sister, I didn’t m-m-mean ...” She made no move to take his hand, and he eventually dropped it.
“Clean up,” she said imperiously, standing up. “Get changed. Get shaved. Get rid of that terrible smell. I want to see you in my chambers in an hour. Be there or I’ll send one of the guards to bring you.”
Olio forced a laugh. “Areava, you can’t be serious.”
“Be there,” she repeated, her voice hard, and left.
Orkid knocked on the door of the primate’s office and entered without waiting to be called in. Father Powl was sitting behind a huge desk reading through a sheaf of papers; when he saw Orkid, he stood up hurriedly.
“Chancellor! It’s rare to have you visit this wing of the palace. You’ve missed the primate, I’m afraid. He’s gone into the city.”
“Good. It was you I came to see.”
Father Powl looked surprised. He waved his guest into a chair and sat down himself. “How can I help you?”
“I wanted to commend you on your contribution to the council meeting this morning.”
“I was glad to be of service to her Majesty.”
“You are still her confessor, I understand?”
“Less of late, I’m afraid. Father Rown now relieves me of most of that duty. I’m kept busy with the pressure of office as Primate Northam’s secretary.”
“Your advice at the council came as something of a surprise to most of us. After all, one hardly expects a cleric to demonstrate such a clear understanding of military strategy.”
Father Powl spread his hands. “I have been a student of knowledge since entering the priesthood. Our library here deals not just with religious subjects; there are histories and biographies, accounts of journeys and myths, records of previous military campaigns. The appropriate course of action seemed obvious to me, and it would have been remiss to remain silent. I am quite sure the marshal would have offered the same advice eventually.”
Orkid smiled easily. “Lief is an old soldier who came into command during the great years of peace following the Slaver War. Before that, he was a fine field commander. Grand strategy was never his strong point.”
“He may learn,” Father Powl countered.
“He will have to,” Orkid said dryly. “However, his burden will be eased by good advice. Advice from the queen. Advice from me. And, I suspect, advice from you.”
Father Powl looked shocked. “Chancellor, I would never bypass the council.”
“I was not suggesting you would. But there are times when the council may not be the appropriate forum.”
“Forgive me for being abrupt, Chancellor, but I’m at a loss to see where you are going with this.”
“I would appreciate being the beneficiary of your learning.”
“You are suggesting I go to you with any contribution instead of the council?”
“Indeed not. The queen relies on her councilors to speak directly. But if, for example, you had some insight that might bear on urgent events, there is no need for you to wait for the council to be convened. If you were to come to me, I could convey your advice directly to the queen herself.”
Father Powl rested back in his seat and made a steeple out of his fingers. “I would have to clear this with the primate.”
Orkid shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Let this stay a matter between you, myself, and Queen Areava. Better that way. Fewer channels to slow things down.”
“Let me state your position clearly, so there is no misunderstanding between us. I am to have direct access to you?”
“Yes.”
Father Powl smiled over the steeple. “I feel honored.”
“Do you agree?”
The priest nodded. “I agree. I think this is a relationship that will benefit both our offices.”
And those that occupy them
, Orkid thought.
Areava tried to sit as regally as possible, but it was not possible in front of her brother. Olio stood before her, scrubbed and ashamed. He almost looked like an
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