Текст книги "Warprize"

Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

I was impressed. She had remembered every item, the quantity and its description. I listened carefully as she recited, nodding as she went along. I didn’t have to correct her once. When she was done, I nodded and smiled. She relaxed a bit, but there was no smile on her dour face. “All right?”

“Perfect.”

“Only the sky is perfect.” She stood and stretched, and moved to where Gils had left a pitcher of kavage. She brought it over with two mugs. “Not the hottest, but wet.” She poured two mugs and handed me one. “Now, I have questions for you.” Seated back on the stool she leaned forward, an odd look on her face. “What do you know of the city merchants?” Her eyes were alight with a strange kind of glow.

“Well, I know a number of them.”

She leaned forward. “Have you bought from them?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” she said “tell me about them.” There was a scowl as she drank her kavage. “I must needs deal with them for supplies. These ways are new to me. Tell me how they deal and what they are like.”

I chuckled. I knew that look now. It was the same look that Remn got in his eye when he was haggling over the price of a book.

We talked for a long time. Sal had questions about sellers of livestock, produce, cloth, and everything an army could want. She already knew all the types of coins used in the kingdom of Xy, and their relative values. She was not so interested in the butchers and bakers, and I couldn’t answer her questions about the dealers in swords and armor. She seemed well satisfied, and stood and stretched, looking out the entrance of the tent. “I’ve kept you late, Warprize. My thanks.” With that, Sal left as quickly as she had come.

I looked after her in surprise. “Is she always that abrupt?”

Rafe and Prest chuckled at my expression. “Unless you’re haggling, Warprize,” said Rafe.

“Let me check Atira one more time.”

Atira blinked at me as I checked the leg, and smiled drowsily. “Warprize.”

“Atira. How do you feel?”

“Good, Warprize.”

I sighed. “Lara. My name is Lara.”

She yawned. “Yes, Warprize.”

I sighed. Apparently I was wasting my time.

On the walk back to the Warlord’s tent, we paused to look at the stars that hung in the sky, and the moon riding low. Rafe was explaining the significance of the fact that Joden wanted to talk to Atira. “It’s an honor, to be in a song.”

Prest nodded. “A great honor.”

“To be honored for a broken leg?” I asked, skeptical.

Rafe chuckled. “Well, it would be better if it were a battle deed, but it is rare indeed to be in a song. Unless you’re particularly brave or cunning—”

“Or dead.” Prest added.

“Or dead.” Rafe agreed. “Joden must also be planning on singing about you, Warprize.”

“Me?” I stopped outside the tent.

Rafe laughed. “Why sing about the injury unless you sing about the healing?” He clapped his hand on Prest’s back, and they walked off, leaving me standing there with a foolish look on my face.

Marcus greeted me when I entered the tent. “Can I get you anything, Warprize?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Lara.”

He turned his one eye up to study the tent. “Kavage, perhaps? Some hot water?”

I snorted, but was too tired to fight him. “No, thank you. I think I will go to sleep.”

Marcus nodded. “I will add some fuel to the braziers. The Warlord is still with Simus, and I think they will talk the stars away.” He bustled about, as I sank down onto the bed, and bade me good rest when he left. I yawned, my face almost splitting with its strength. The bed felt wonderful when I crawled under the blankets and furs.

Later, much later, I woke to find Keir had crawled into the bed at some point. He lay off to one side, on his back, sleeping peacefully. There on his bare arm were those tattoos. I stared at him in the soft glow of the coals, then went back to sleep.

The dress was bright red. Bright, bright red.

Marcus smiled at me. “There, now. That will do us proud.”

I tried to smile back at him.

The morning had started well enough. When I awoke, I found the bed empty and Keir already gone. After breakfast and kavage, I returned to the healing tent, to find Gils there feeding everyone and asking as many questions as he could with one breath. After some negotiation, I allowed some of Atira’s friends into the tent, so they could make their plans. Whenever I wandered in their direction, they would cover up the board, and wave me off. The only times I pushed the issue was when I needed to check the leg, other than that I left them to their schemes. The morning passed quickly, and I soon found myself hustled back to Marcus and food and the dress.

As dresses went, it was quite comfortable. A high neckline and long sleeves, with a flared split skirt. I especially liked the skirt, given the chance of a side-saddle in this army camp was nonexistent. The fabric slid between my legs like water glides over skin. It was nothing I’d ever seen or felt. Somehow Marcus had even gotten slippers that matched the dress.

I soothed the dress, running my hands over the fabric with mixed emotions. I certainly didn’t fill the bodice, the cut being made for more generous curves. The skirt fit fine over my more than ample hips, and the cloth flowed down my legs. Ordinarily I’d be pleased to own such a dress.

But not a scarlet dress.

In Water’s Fall, red was the color worn by women whose profession I was not supposed to know about. At times, some of the bolder women of the court would dare to have a scarf, or some trim of that color, but not a whole dress. What made it that much worse was that I had never seen a red like this before, so bright and vivid. It was the bright red of new blood, brighter even than the roses in the briar of the palace garden. It put all the Xyian colors to shame, making them look drab and dowdy. A dress like this, as bright as it was, all but screamed my position in no uncertain terms.

I bowed my head, hiding my face with a curtain of hair. If I said something, Marcus might not understand, but he might not make me wear the dress. Trous would raise eyebrows, certainly, but this dress would have the lord and ladies of the Court collapsing with seizures. I didn’t want to offend him, but I couldn’t wear this. In the back of my head I heard Great Aunt Xydella’s quavery voice. ‘Speak up, child.’ She’d say. ‘I can’t read minds.’ Of course Great Aunt Xydella would have worn the dress and loved every outrageous minute of it.

I bit my lip, then opened my mouth. “Marcus—”

Keir walked into the tent and stopped short. His eyes widened, and his face lit up. “Fire’s blessing.” He stood, looking at me with approval.

I swallowed what I had been about to say.

Keir made a gesture, and I turned slowly, allowing him to see it. “Marcus, where did you find such a dress?”

Marcus drew himself up and arched his eyebrow. “The clothing of one woman is a task well within my skills, Warlord.”

Keir smiled and acknowledged Marcus with a slight bow. “I stand corrected, old man.” He straightened. He was outfitted in full chain that held a high gloss, with a black cape edged in fur. The hilts of his swords peeked over his shoulders. He moved to stand before me, a look of pride on his face. He held out his hands, and there were the bracelets that I had worn at the surrender ceremony.

I stiffened and looked away. They lay open in his hands, heavy silver symbols of my status. I didn’t look up, for fear that I would betray my feelings. I simply extended my wrists and kept my head down as he snapped them into place. They felt heavy, like the bindings they were, and I let the weight pull my arms down to my sides.

There was a slight pause. Then Keir asked, “Is there a cloak, as well?”

There was, thankfully as black as Keir’s own. I took it from Marcus, who looked at me with a puzzled expression. I put on the cloak as I followed Keir out into the evening air.

The dress was even brighter in the sun. If that were possible.

Our escort awaited us. There were ten mounted men, besides Rafe and Prest. Rafe was holding the horses. Rafe and Prest were also in their best armor, and they gleamed in the afternoon sun. Rafe’s face lit up when he saw me. Prest turned, and a smile spread over his face. Rafe handed me the reins of one of the horses. “Warprize, you look—”

Keir coughed.

Rafe didn’t miss a beat. “Well. Very well.” He mounted his horse, as did Keir and Prest.

I had some difficulty, trying to get the skirt in the correct position, but managed to get up and into the saddle. I gathered the reins and turned, only to find everyone looking at me in varying degrees of dismay.

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

Prest just shook his head. Rafe sucked in a breath. “The way you sit—”

Keir looked at me sternly. “You should have told me you can’t ride.”

I frowned. “I can ride.”

They looked at me, scanning me from head to toe. I sat up a little straighter, but all three shook their heads. The others in our escort all seemed to be very busy adjusting their tunics and weapons. Almost as if they were embarrassed for me.

Prest frowned. “Maybe a pregnant mare?”

Rafe looked toward the city. “We could walk the horses—”

Keir shook his head. “It would take too long. She can ride double with me.”

“This is ridiculous.” I gathered the reins, clicked my tongue, and urged the horse on.

Nothing happened.

Now the guards by the tent were looking at me, shaking their heads. Prest grabbed for my reins, as if afraid the horse would run away with me. Keir moved his horse along side mine, planning to snatch me from the saddle, but I was having none of that. Whore I may look, Warprize I may be, but I’d be damned before I was taken to the ceremony like a helpless child.

Rafe pulled his horse to the side, and I saw what he was doing. He used his toes under the horse’s front legs, instead of his heels, and seemed to shift his weight forward. I did the same, and the horse obliged with a few steps forward. I fended off Prest and Keir and urged the beast on.

Keir’s voice came from behind me. “It’s not safe. You will ride with me.”

I shifted forward again, and the horse broke into a trot.

There were calls from behind me, but I was not going to stop. I could ride. I headed down the path through the tents, toward the road to the city. It didn’t take long for Keir and the others to catch up and form up around me. Rafe was still muttering about my skill, and Prest had a frown on his face, but I noticed that Keir had that look of pride again as he passed me to take the lead.

There were workers in the fields that we passed, and I gave them no notice at first. But the closer we came to the city walls, the more my awareness grew. They weren’t harvesting or preparing the ground for the spring. They were still gathering the dead. It had been days since the fighting had stopped, yet still they moved about in their work.

Were there so many dead?

I had to focus on the road before me, couldn’t look at the men with the carts any longer. I clenched my jaw. The peace had to hold, I had to do my part. Or there’d be more bodies, more lives wasted. If that meant I never heard my name again, so be it. Such a small price to pay.

Our appearance at the main gates of the city caused quite a stir. The ceremony was still some hours away, and from the reaction of the guard, we were not expected so soon. The gates were normally kept open for the merchant traffic. They had been closed due to the war, and apparently were being kept closed. The Warlord drew up to the gates and stopped.

The head guard stepped forward. “Hail, Warlord. Do you wish an escort or crier through the city?”

“My thanks, but no. The warprize knows the way.”

The guard glanced at me, and his eyes bulged out. I looked away. We sat in silence for a moment as he stared.

“The gate,” Keir growled.

The guard started, then gave a shout for the gate to be opened and the portcullis raised. As soon as the way was clear, we headed into the city. The only crowds were the normal crowds of a market day. Keir brought his horse up short and looked over his shoulder at me with a question in his eyes. I moved my horse up next to his. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

“Tell you?” I flushed slightly.

He narrowed his eyes, and studied me. Finally he turned away. “Would there be time to see more of the city? I have only seen the main road.”

I nodded and pointed off to our left. “That will take us along the west wall, and eventually to the palace.”

Keir gave me a sly smile. “Where is the shop that sells the vanilla?”

“Close to where the tinker’s cart was.”

He nodded, looking around. “We will head that way. What is a ‘crier’?”

I smiled. “Someone who walks in front of your horse, crying out your name and title. Usually used by someone who thinks he is of great importance and is afraid no one knows it.”

Keir looked offended. He moved off in that direction, and I fell in behind, with our escort riding around us. That went against road custom in the city, to ride so far abreast. But I doubted any of the City Guard would fine us. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a guardsman running for the palace. I suspected that word would spread fairly quickly that we were in the city.

The townspeople’s reactions were almost predictable. First there was outrage at the violation of road custom, then recognition of the Warlord. At that point, their faces were not welcoming. Then they’d spot me as the procession continued. My cloak was open, the dress visible, and it was causing quite a stir. Thank the Goddess that Keir had headed for the shops. The pleasure streets were on the other side of the city; I could only imagine how the denizens would have reacted.

Our escort stayed close, and Rafe and Prest stayed right by my side, scanning the crowds. Some of the townspeople tried to approach me, but Keir’s glare and the presence of the guards discouraged them. I settled for a nod and a smile to any that I recognized. Most were content to wave and call out to me as we passed by.

The streets were crowded with marketgoers scurrying about, their arms filled with baskets and bundles. One man went by with three chickens in his arms, squawking and flapping their wings. My horse shied a bit, which brought me dire looks from the men around me, but I brought it under control. I could tell that they hadn’t spent time in cities before, or at least cities the size of Water’s Fall. They were on alert, and on their guard, eyes taking in the crowds, the buildings crammed together, some leaning out over the streets. They were doing their best not to be overawed, but I could tell that they were impressed. Once in a while, one would wrinkle his nose at the smells, or start at a strange noise, but no one made a comment. We continued on without incident, moving past the army barracks by the Great South Gate. By now, word of our coming had spread, and there were folk lining the streets to see us. For the most part they were quiet, merely speaking among themselves as we passed. Needless to say, the dress drew its fair share of attention.

Finally, we arrived at the market. I pointed out Estoval’s shop. Keir dismounted, and gestured for me to follow. The others took up positions, clearing an area in front of the shop. Keir opened the door, and I followed, curious.

Thankfully, the fragrant shop was empty of customers. Es-toval turned to greet us and his mouth fell open.

I felt the heat rise in my face. Keir stared at the man, then looked at me for a long moment, eyes narrow. He opened his mouth, and took a breath to speak.

He grimaced then sneezed. Explosively.

That snapped Estoval out of his trance. “Warlord! How may I serve you?”

“Merchant, do you sell vanilla?” He pronounced the word slowly and carefully.

“Yes, Warlord, in many forms, although it is quite expensive. Did you want ground, whole beans, the oil? ”

“Yes.” Keir looked at me. “See to it.” He sneezed, then caught my eye with a flash of a grin that took my breath away. “Buy lots. Buy it all. And whatever else you need.” With a gasping wheeze, he headed for the door, his nose scrunched up against another sneeze. As he passed me, he slipped a purse into my hand. Then he ducked out of the shop, leaving me flushed and embarrassed.

Once Keir was out the door, Estoval relaxed a little, but I noticed that he kept an eye on the door. “ Warprize, you honor my shop.”

“Estoval, please. My name is Lara.”

His eyes darted to the door. “Not anymore, Daughter of Xy.” He gestured to his displays. “I have plenty of vanilla, even some scented soap, for no one is buying extravagances. But my stocks of other items are low. The Warlords supply master was here earlier, and bargained hard.” He shook his head. “Bargained hard and meanly.”

I suppressed a smile. Estoval started to gather up every kind of vanilla that he had on hand. I stopped, thinking for a moment, considering Keir’s words. He had said..

“Estoval, I need an apprentice to run an errand. Are any available?”

“Of course.” He raised his voice calling for a lad.

“And paper and pen, if I may?” He inclined his head. I wrote a quick note and in a moment a lad stood before me.

“Take these coins and run to the shop of Remn. You know it?”

“Of course, Lady.”

“Tell Remn I want two books. Used, mind, cheap as possible. The Epic of Xyson, and a reading primer. Give him this note. Be quick, and I’ll have a coin for you.”

The lad grinned and was off out the back of the shop. I turned back to Estoval, and we continued our business. I was well satisfied. Remn would have both books, especially the Epic. A hoary old saga of my ancestor’s heroic deeds. It was long, filled with battles, duels and the discussions of the virtues of various styles of weapons and armor. It was the bane of every child who learned their letters in Water’s Fall. Atira would love it. I could read it to her, or use it as incentive to learn to read my language.

The lad was as quick as I could ask. He returned with a bundle and the two books. I gave him a coin and asked Esto-val if I could use his back room for a moment. Once in that small area, I broke open the bundle.

Proper undergarments.

Bless Remn’s wife. She was about my size and had included two of each kind. I could trust their discretion in this. Goddess forgive me, but I was too embarrassed to talk to Keir or Marcus about these items of clothing. I dressed quickly, feeling better able to face whatever was to come. When I emerged, I thanked Estoval, who handed me a small parcel, bowed me out and locked the door behind me. I had been awhile, and oddly enough the street was almost completely clear. Which made sense to a degree. Those that could not attend the Court for the ceremony would observe in their own homes, as part of the evening meal.

Keir and Prest were already mounted. Rafe stood, holding my mount and his. “Are you finished?” Keir asked, trying to hide his impatience and failing miserably. “I have sent the others before us.”

“Yes.” I tucked my two packages into my saddlebag and moved to mount my horse. As I swung my leg up, the horse shied and moved away from me, causing me to lose my balance. I dropped back to the ground.

So the lance passed over my head, instead of hitting my chest.

Chapter 7

“Lara, DOWN!”

I barely had time to register what had happened before Keir somehow swept me back. His hands forced me down, against the wall of the shop. I fell to my knees as the horses danced about in confusion. The air filled with shouts, cries of frustration, and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones.

“Stay down.” Keir hissed, as he turned and pulled his swords. I looked up to see the horses flee and Keir, Rafe, and Prest use those precious seconds to take positions, sheltering me in their half-circle. The attackers came charging from the shadows, a hodgepodge of ruffians, shields at the ready, weapons high.

“Death to the—” The lead man never finished his cry. Keir smashed through his defenses and plunged into the man’s chest in one quick stabbing motion. I could hear the sound of steel on bone as he pulled the blade free. With fierce quickness, he struck at another, who barely deflected the blow with his blade.

Prest held his shield up tight, absorbing blows from his two sword-wielding attackers. He waited, patient, then darted in with his sword to take quick strikes when they left themselves open.

Rafe was barely holding his own against his opponent. A big man, armed with an enormous club, was battering at his shield, striking it with heavy, powerful blows. Rafe took the blows, but each time, his shield went lower. Finally the giant struck with such force that Rafe’s shield came down, hitting Rate’s forehead. Sensing this weakness, Keir feinted a rushing attack on his remaining opponent. As the man stepped back, Keir turned and drove one blade deep into Rafe’s opponent. The man gave a grunt as it slid in easily. Keir’s attention focused back on his own enemy before the body fell from the blade.

There was a cry, a clatter, and another man emerged from the shadows, pulling a mace from his belt. He launched himself at Rafe.

I pressed against the wall, trying to stay small and out of the way. The Watch should have come running by now, but the street remained empty, with no sound of a hue and cry. The only sounds were those of clashing weapons, heavy breathing, and boots looking for purchase on the surface of the street.

With two down, the remaining attackers shifted their focus. Prest now had one opponent. Two pressed Keir. Rafe faced one as well.

It proved to be a mistake. Prest bashed at his opponent with his shield, driving the man back, ramming him hard enough to get him off-balance. With a step forward, Prest snaked his sword out around the edge of his shield and plunged it into his opponent’s ribs. As his man went down, I assumed Prest would aid Keir. But he stayed in position, scanning the street, keeping his place.

Keir needed no aid. He seemed to know his opponents’ moves before they were made, and blocked them with ease. His attackers were breathing heavily as fatigue set in. When one made the mistake of stepping back when his fellow shifted forward, Keir did not hesitate. In a moment, another man lay bleeding in the street, and two were left.

They broke and ran.

Rafe made to follow, but Keir barked a command. Rafe froze and kept position. Keir turned his head slightly. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” My voice sounded so shaky, it embarrassed me. I tried to rise, sliding a hand against the wall for support. The wood felt warm and rough against my trembling hand.

“Stay down.” Keir still scanned the street and rooftops, weapons at the ready.

It had happened so fast, my heart still raced in my chest. I concentrated on my breathing, trying to slow it down. For tense minutes, we stood there waiting to see if they would try again. After a lifetime, Keir relaxed. “It’s clear. Anyone hurt?” Prest and Rafe responded in the negative, as they both moved to check the fallen.

I pushed away from the wall. “Rafe, you’re cut.”

“Scraped myself on my shield rim.” Rafe turned his man over. “This one’s dead.”

I took a step forward, toward the other downed men.

“No.” Keir stopped me.

“Please, let me…” I pushed against him, trying to move past. I might as well have pushed the wall.

Rafe spoke up. “Doesn’t matter, Warprize. They’re all dead.” He was kneeling by one of the bodies, cleaning his sword. “Strange that they have no armor.”

“An ambush planned in haste.” Keir stood grim, scanning the market area, which remained strangely empty for the time of day. There was no sign of the Watch. “Warprize, do you recognize them?” Keir moved with me as I stepped forward to look at their faces.

They lay in their own blood, the smell of feces and death in the air. None of them looked familiar as Rafe rolled them onto their backs, and they wore nothing to identify themselves with any noble family. Even as I shook my head, Rafe pulled a belt pouch off one, and it spilled bright gold coins onto the cobblestones. More gold than a mere soldier might see in a lifetime.

Keir growled low in his throat. “Assassins. Xyian, all of them.”

“This isn’t.”

We turned to see Prest standing at the wall, holding the lance in his hands, the tip broken. Black shards lay on the ground at his feet. “Full-tipped when thrown.” Prest’s eyes gleamed as he displayed the feathering on the lance.

Rafe sucked in a breath with a hiss.

Keir’s lips tightened, then he glanced at Rafe. “Gather the horses.” The animals hadn’t wandered far and Rafe moved toward them, making soothing sounds. Keir turned back to Prest. “Wrap that and put it in my quiver. We’re returning to camp.”

“Camp?” I stepped back from the bodies, wrapping my cloak around my body. “But the ceremony…” I let my voice trail off as Keir ignored me, cleaning his swords on one of the dead. Prest was next to me, wrapping the lance in a cloth he’d pulled from his saddlebags. Hadn’t Atira said something about featherings? Their patterns?

It was my turn to suck in a breath. “Who made that lance?”

Prest looked at me, then flicked his eyes to Keir. Rafe came up with the beasts and Keir took the reins. With a nod, he had Rafe stripping the corpses of gold and weapons. With an equally quick movement he motioned for me to mount. “Up, Warprize.”

“You know who made it.”

Keir’s eyes rested on mine for a moment, softening slightly. He spoke, but not to answer my question. “ Mount. We ride for camp.”

I just stood there, trying to think past the rapid beating of my heart. “The ceremony…”

Keir drilled me with a glare. “Ceremony be damned.”

I went to the horse, and clung to the saddle, trying to will strength into my legs. Trembling, I mounted. “ What does it say if the Warlord runs to camp and hides when attacked by six men?”

Rafe chimed in. “Six men who weren’t very good.”

Prest snorted, but kept his eyes on the street.

Keir didn’t glance at Rafe. “So speaks the man who will be practicing his shield work for the next week.”

Rafe shut his mouth.

Keir grabbed his own horse and swung into the saddle. “It says that the Warlord is no fool.” Prest and Rafe mounted up as well.

“We are not hurt.” I swallowed hard, and fought down my fear. “There are many people gathered for the ceremony. What will they say when the Warlord does not appear?” I moved my horse in the direction of the castle.

Keir grabbed my reins as I passed, bringing my horse to a halt. “Then I will go alone. Prest and Rafe will escort you to camp.”

I shook my head. “That leaves you alone and a target. If we all go, then we will have the escort of all the men who are attending on the way back.” I caught his eye. “Besides, my people are expecting me. What rumors will start when I do not appear?”

Keir stared at me, his jaw working. I could see a small vein pulsing on his neck, but I didn’t drop my gaze. Finally, he took in a deep breath and let it out very, very slowly. He released the reins, and turned his horse in the direction of the castle.

“What about them?” Rafe jerked his head back at the pile of dead.

“Leave them to rot.”

The streets remained empty as we rode to the castle. Buildings that had once been friendly and familiar now held deep shadows where danger lurked. My reins grew damp from my sweaty hands, my shoulders tight with every step. Fear gripped me hard.

Rafe rode beside me, with bow and arrow in hand. His horse responded to knees and feet alone, the reins lay knotted in front of Rafe’s saddle. Prest rode in the same manner, but slightly behind us. They both scanned the surroundings constantly, focused on catching the slightest hint of an attack.

Keir rode in front, his swords sheathed, looking outwardly relaxed, but with his head moving from side to side, watching the buildings around us as we passed.

I cleared my throat to ask about the lance again, but Keir gestured for silence without even looking back at me. I bit my lip as my throat went even drier, and fought the urge to hunch in my saddle.

The horses sensed our tension and shifted restlessly under us. But Keir held our pace to a walk. It was only when the castle gates appeared in the distance, ablaze with lights and people, that he urged his horse to a trot. We sped up to follow him the final distance into the main courtyard.

People, both Xyian and Firelander, were clustered about, and palace guards moved forward for our horses. The sun still filled the area with light, causing my dress to glow like a bright flame. I tried to look confident and relaxed, but my stomach cramped as the Xyians around me reacted to the dress.

Keir, Prest and Rafe were still on guard, keeping an eye on the crowd. Keir swung down first, and gave me a concerned look as he helped me dismount, as if he sensed the strain. Rafe and Prest joined us, and they surrounded me as we entered the castle proper.

Othur appeared before us. “Warlord.” He bowed. When his head came up, his eyes sought mine, filled with concern. I risked a small smile. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he continued. “Allow me to show you to the antechamber.” He guided us into the same chamber where I had waited for the submission ceremony. It had only been days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. As we entered, my shoulders relaxed, now that we were out from under prying eyes.

Othur stood in the doorway behind us, and bowed again. “I will inform the King of your arrival. He will join you shortly.”

Keir held up his hand. “We will delay for a few moments. I will send for Xymund when I am ready.”

Keir moved further into the room, threw his cloak over one of the chairs, and started to pace. The light of the fire and the lamps played over his face, making his blue eyes dark and forbidding.

“Who were they?” he asked.

“Not one of us.” Prest answered firmly.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

Prest shrugged. “They missed.”

“He’s right.” Keir continued his prowl. “Had one of my people thrown the lance, you would have been hit.”

“The fletching was Iften’s.” Rafe’s voice was soft.

“Iften’s?” I stared at Keir.

“Full-tipped.” Prest added.

“What does that mean?” I asked, frustrated by the cryptic comments.

Keir sighed. “The tip was whole when the lance was thrown. Lance tips are meant to break when they hit. A scavenged lance wouldn’t be whole.”