Her grandmother sat on her favorite chair, brown skin warmed by the nearby fire and several layers of woolen blankets while a servant fed her spoonfuls of a fragrant, steaming soup.

Chicken, Mydea recognized, though she could not place the mix of herbs. Garlic for sure, thyme, parsley, and a hint of pepper?

Grandmother raised a wrinkled hand and shooed the servant away.

The servant set the bowl on a table, curseyed to Grandmother, to Mydea, and Father, then went to wait outside the door.

Squinting, Grandmother said, “Mydea?”

“I’m here, Grandmother.”

“Stay rooted, my dear,” Grandmother said when Mydea attempted to take a step forward. “The hystor says what I have might catch, and I’ll not be the early death of my favorite granddaughter.” She directed a gust of wind about the room. “Is your twin brother not here?”

Mydea explained what had come to pass to her.

“I suppose it’s no matter whether we have the Lord of Kolchis or his lady advocate,” Grandmother said. “I have been thinking while you were away.”

“Does that imply you ever stop thinking?” Father asked with a wry grin.

She sent his general direction a withering look. “Not another word from you, Aetos! What Kass ever saw in you I’ll never know.”

“It doesn’t help that you’ve gone blind,” he whispered.

Mydea slapped his arm lightly, before facing her once more. “I’m listening, Grandmother.”

“Good, good. At least you’ve more sense than the men of this house,” she said. “Our hand is forced, I should think, regarding that whaling town. While your brother remained a child, our friends and allies could overlook the lapses in his rule, but they expect a strong showing from us this year!” She took a deep, raspy breath. “The guilds of Phaleinas did not only underpay, they didn’t pay at all, the steward tells me. We must rectify that with all haste, or soon no one will respect us.”

If even the strawborn could shrug off the yoke of taxes, why should any lord or knight comply?

“We’ll need time to muster the retinue and those sworn to House Kolchis,” Father said.

Grandmother let out an exasperated sound. “You remain a brute if your first instinct when seeking obedience is an army. How many times must I tell you this?”

“I’m sure I’ll get it eventually,” he said in good cheer.

“Bah! My daughter was a seer! Why would a woman as wise as her marry a dolt…” Grandmother said.

“You think I should go to Phaleinas and bargain with the guilds,” Mydea said.

“The farmers too, and it can’t hurt to speak with the Lord of Perasma while you’re already there. I hear he has a younger son fresh from the athenaeum,” Grandmother said.

Father snorted. “Ambitious, tackling all the problems at once. Of course, we still have no leverage, unless you mean for Mydea to marry the next Lord of Perasma?”

With many problems, you may only need one solution, Mydea recalled her mother’s writings. “Perhaps if Father can spare some time from his research to come with me...”

“A change of scenery might do me some good, and at worse a few days won’t hurt anything,” Father said. Innovation was the work of years, if not decades, even for the brightest minds.

“The point of this scheme is to collect the taxes owed to our house,” Grandmother said. “Explain to this old woman how reducing that town into a field of ash and ice would make collecting anything easier.”

Father would do it too, sure as the seasons. He had not flinched from violence once in the last fifteen years, not against their uncles who thought to usurp her brother’s lordship, not against friends, and certainly not against foes. Aetos of Kolchis had been the death of duellists by the dozens.

“He would have to swear an oath not to set fire to anything before I tell him to,” Mydea said, schooling her face into a practiced doe-like expression. “You’ll do it, won’t you, Father? For me?”

“You think that would stay his hand?” Grandmother scoffed, her receding gums showing.

“Even I would not court death by breaking an oath freely sworn,” Father said, looking aghast. “It matters not if you’re born beneath straw, stone, or sky. It may take years, but the gods always have their due for broken oaths.”

“Just to be sure, have a hystor witness it.” A tuft of white hair obstructed Grandmother’s already poor eyes, and a twitch from her wrinkled hand blew it aside. “The threat of force … is that the sum of your plan? It is better than burning it all to the ground, I suppose.”

“You’ve taught me better than that. I think father’s ever present glower shall soften them to my smiles,” Mydea said.

Grandmother nodded slowly. “Your mother was fond of that trick. What else?”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts—every rumor ever whispered within earshot, the talks with traders coming south, the discussions over dinner…

“Pyli of Perasma is a braggart,” Mydea began. “He has claimed for many years now how he slew a mythuselah in single combat.” Which was entirely ridiculous on the face of it. The Bloodless Ones might venture south with their tribes, but the oldest of them were kept far from harm whenever possible. The loss of a mythuselah—and all the secrets they’d accumulated—was so keenly felt by a Tuskar tribe that they might take generations to recover.

No doubt Lord Pyli was compensating for his older son’s inadequacies.

“You wish to test his claim, but what if it's true?” Grandmother said.

“Then I shall proclaim it loudly at every feast to any listening ear,” Mydea said. “What would he give me for that, I wonder? If he has lied, he will lose face. If he hasn’t, then my word will cause his reputation to rise even higher. In either case, we can make it easier—or harder—for his heir to marry when he’s of age.”

“Enough to force a concession, but not capitulation,” Father said.

“It is the nature of compromise that no party is left entirely satisfied,” Mydea recited from The Sayings of Syngian the Sage. “We do not need his capitulation, just a public display to show he remains under our jurisdiction. As for the farmers and the men of Phaleinas, I hear they formed a pact of mutual protection some years ago.” It was telling how badly the march’s defenses had deteriorated if their people were resorting to such things openly. “We need only show them that House Kolchis can still be counted on.”

Grandmother gave her a shrivelled worm of a grin, but whatever she wished to say was cut off when she coughed and coughed.

And coughed.

The servant from earlier burst back in. “Pardon the interruption, my lord and ladies,” she said as she rushed to Grandmother’s side and began patting her back with one hand while the other reached for the empty bowl nearby.

With one last pained cough, Grandmother dislodged the sputum stuck to her throat. Her breathing had turned wheezy afterwards.

“Are you feeling well? We can continue this some other time,” Mydea said with wide, worried eyes.

“It will take more than a cough to kill me,” she declared, though her voice was not as firm as before. Her eyes began to mist. “Kass would’ve been proud to see you grow into a fine young woman. Oh! Why did she have to die so young? Can a seer not see Ygeia passing?”

Not even the gods can see all paths, especially when it involved the god of Life and Death, Mydea thought. Knowledge of one’s future was both boon and bane to many mortal seers.

“I think we can leave it at that for today,” Father said, gently leading Mydea out the room. “Let’s leave your grandmother to rest.”