Relam rolled his eyes and pulled his cloak closer around him. Then, he went out the back door and into the blustery winter wonderland of Etares to find Commander Hadere.
Chapter 35
The conditions continued to grow worse. The River Road was slowly icing over, forming slick patches too thin to see before Relam stepped on them. More than once, he nearly fell and recovered only by fetching up against a building. Other passersby were having similar problems. People slipped and slid, horses and carts skated side to side. And through it all the temperature continued to drop and the wind continued to blow.
It took Relam half an hour to make the relatively short journey to the north gate. There he found twenty members of the city guard on duty, checking the people entering and exiting Etares, and another cluster off to one side. Relam made for this smaller group, not wanting to interrupt the normal flow. As he approached, one of the guards held out a sheet of parchment for the others to look at.
“This is a sketch of former Commander Narin,” the guard was saying. “Find him, and bring him here.”
“Alive?”
“Yes,” the guard replied, and Relam heaved a sigh of relief.
“Do we go door to door again?”
“Maybe later, if we don’t have any success in the next few days,” the first guard said, his voice muffled by his hood. “We have the manpower, but we’d have to reduce the gate guards and other patrols for a full sweep.”
“Maybe we should close the gates anyway,” another guard suggested. “Keep everybody in the city.”
“If he wanted to get out he would already be gone,” the leader reasoned. “It’s been a few days after all. Now, form teams and get going.”
The group broke up, but the leader remained behind. Relam approached the hooded and cloaked man cautiously. “I’m looking for Commander Hadere,” he said tentatively.
“You found him,” the man growled, turning around. “What do you wan-?” He stopped and frowned, peering under Relam’s hood. Relam obligingly pushed back the hood so Hadere could see his face clearly.
“Your highness,” the commander said, bowing. “I apologize, I did not recognize you.”
“No problem,” Relam replied amicably. “In this cursed weather everybody looks the same.”
“Yes. How may I help you?”
Relam frowned. “Is there somewhere we can talk, out of the weather? This will only take a few moments.”
“The guardroom should be empty,” the commander said, leading the way to a heavy metal door on the left side of the gate. He pushed the door open and ushered Relam inside.
The guard room was small, with a few tables and chairs arranged in the center. Four bunks stood against the left-hand wall, presumably for the night shift. A cold fireplace stood on the same wall as the door, the chimney venting out through the wall at an angle. A door across the room stood open, revealing the great windlass that helped open and close the gate and portcullis. Relam checked the room for occupants, then closed the door and sat at the nearest table, gesturing for the commander to sit as well.
“I hear there is a dead man on the loose,” Relam murmured, getting right to the point.
“Yes,” the commander grunted. “I have no idea how, but it appears he fooled the Citadel and faked his death somehow. All my men are searching for him. Former commander Narin won’t escape us, your highness, don’t worry.”
“You intend to handle this just with the city guard?”
“Yes,” Hadere replied immediately. “This is exactly the sort of thing my men are trained for. There is no need to involve the Citadel. After all, they let him get away the first time.”
“Yes,” Relam agreed. “We should not make the same mistake twice. However, it would be rather embarrassing if word got out that the Citadel – and by extension, us – lost a man that was supposed to be dead.”
“You want me to keep the whole affair a secret?” Hadere asked.
“Until Narin is caught, yes,” Relam confirmed nodding. “We can handle this ourselves I think. If you find anything, let me know. Do not bother the king with this, he has enough to worry about at the moment and has asked me to deal with the situation myself.”
“Very good, your highness,” the commander said, inclining his head gravely. “I shall do as you ask.”
“One more thing,” Relam said as the commander made to get up. “The boy, Aven, how is he?”
“The one who doubles as your servant?”
“Yes. I heard that when Narin escaped your men the other night, Aven was one of the soldiers that was attacked.”
“He came through all right,” the commander said, shrugging. “The rest of his squad was bludgeoned pretty badly with the prisoner’s handcuffs but Aven avoided the worst of it. Narin just knocked him down.”
“Good,” Relam said, relieved. “I had hoped that he was fine. He has served you well?”
“Very well,” Hadere agreed. “Especially for someone of his age. Might be officer material eventually. Don’t tell him I said that,” the commander added quickly.
“My lips are sealed,” Relam promised. “Well, figuratively anyway.” He rose and shook hands with the commander. “Thank you for your assistance. If there are any developments, please send updates to my personal guards at the palace. I’ll make sure they know how to reach me day or night.”
“Very good, your highness,” the commander said, ushering him out of the guard room. “We’ll find Narin, don’t worry. One man against the city guard. Not very good odds for the one, not at all.”
“The trick won’t just be finding him,” Relam warned. “It will be capturing him. There is a reason he was selected to be the palace guard commander. And that reminds me,” Relam said, stepping closer to the commander and lowering his voice, “Make sure you capture him alive. I want to find out how he escaped and what he’s been doing creeping around the city.”
“He was meeting with someone the first time we ambushed him,” Hadere said, shrugging. “The man who betrayed him to us, actually.”
“And what does this informer do for a living?” Relam asked curiously.
“We’re not sure, but it’s likely unlawful,” the commander replied. “He’s a low-life, I’d stake my job on it.”
“Fascinating,” Relam murmured. “Well, see you around commander. I’d best move on to other things. Only so many hours in a day, you know?”
“Yes, your highness,” the commander said, bowing slightly. Relam nodded in reply, then turned away and pulled his hood forward to shield his face, releasing a deep breath as he did so. “Not bad,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s hope it all works out all right.”
By the time Relam arrived back at the palace, sleet was slanting down from the sullen skies above. The roads were well and truly frozen, slick with thin sheets of black ice. When Relam passed Bridge Street, he saw that the guards were already spreading sand on the bridge itself to keep people from slipping. The river below still flowed free, but it always took longer to freeze than a single day.
The palace was warm and dry though, and relatively empty. There were even fewer servants and staff about than usual, some no doubt having holed up in their homes around the city rather than brave the elements for work. What was left was a mere skeleton crew, but even the members of the reduced force seemed bored to Relam, moving slowly and looking up every time someone passed, hoping for a momentary diversion from the monotony.
Relam reached the royal suite roughly an hour after noon. The guards at the door informed him that his father was around the palace, bouncing from meeting to meeting. The prince thanked them, then checked in with his guards down the hall before retiring to his room.
The first thing Relam did upon his return was build a roaring fire in the fireplace in the main room, using up a significant amount of the wood in the basket beside the fireplace. He asked the guards to have a servant bring more up, then went back to his room and stripped off his practice clothes. He donned a dry long-sleeved sh
irt and thick pants and returned to the outer room, moving one of the armchairs close by the fire and propping his feet up on the hearth. The fire crackled and popped merrily, and the flames danced and writhed with warmth and joy.
Relam sat there for a long time, doing nothing and thinking less. The servant came and stacked more firewood quickly, bowing to Relam on the way out. The prince barely noticed though, somewhere between waking and sleeping. Over the course of the afternoon, he eventually drifted off, warm and dry and comfortable.
He was woken by the sound of the outer door opening. He sat up blearily, blinking and looked around in time to see his father enter. The fire had died down some, and was not even half as large as it had been before Relam dozed off.
“Shouldn’t you be training?” his father asked suspiciously, moving closer to the fire.
Relam shook his head. “Oreius let me off after lunch today with the weather being so bad.” He stood slowly and added more wood to the fire, building it back up for his father. “How was your day?”
“Long,” the king muttered. “The details of the hunt are all hammered out. Finally,” he added with a dark look. “Who knew something so simple and pleasant could be made so complicated by bickering guards.”
“They’re just trying to keep us both safe,” Relam pointed out. “It’s their job.”
“Yes, well, your Eric or whoever is a stubborn one,” the king muttered. “Insisted on tighter security on almost everything.”
“He’s very safety conscious,” Relam agreed. “Not a bad thing in a guard, but sometimes you have to beat him back a bit. He is intelligent though.”
“Extremely,” the king agreed. “And alert. He knew the weather was going to turn three days ago, told me himself.”
“He might have warned me,” Relam muttered, sitting back in his armchair again. “Anything else going on that I should know about?” he asked casually.
“No,” his father replied, drawing up his own chair. Relam tried to avoid letting out an obvious sigh of relief as he realized that his father hadn’t heard about Narin. “I don’t doubt that there will be problems again soon enough though. Winter always brings its share of trouble. Bandits move closer to cities for easier pickings, ice storms and snow storms disrupt work and trade, sink ships and ruin roads. And Mizzran is worried about avalanches on top of the miner’s revolt now.”
“Natural ones, or miner-made avalanches?” Relam asked curiously.
“Both,” the king replied heavily. “I wish there was a simple way to resolve that situation, but nobody has come up with one yet. Not me, or Clemon, or any of my other advisors. Not even the Assembly and they always have an opinion on everything!”
Relam raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really? They have nothing?”
“Well,” the king admitted. “They do have an opinion. They believe I should have the perfect solution to the problem and they are happy to criticize it when I finally present it to them.”
The prince snorted. “Idiots,” he muttered. “I can see why you have no use for them.”
“It sometimes makes you wonder why the Council exists,” his father agreed. “Except to be a royal pain in the-”
He broke off as commander Eckle entered without knocking. “Sorry, your majesty,” he gasped. “But we have received a message bird from Lord Clemon. Apparently, he is being delayed in Ardia due to the weather. The committees associated with the trade dispute can’t get to their meeting place due to all of the ice and snow.”
The king scowled. “Wonderful,” he muttered. “Thanks for the update, Eckle. But please, knock next time.”
“Oh,” the commander said, glancing back at the door nervously. “Apologies, your majesty, I didn’t mean to-”
“No harm done,” Relam’s father promised. “I’ll see you tomorrow, early. I have to meet with the Council again.”
“Of course,” Eckle said, bowing and retreating.
As soon as the door was closed, Relam rolled his eyes and snorted derisively. “What a preening, self- important, groveling-”
“Buffoon?” the king suggested.
“Exactly,” Relam growled. “This is the best we can do for a commander?”
“Yes,” his father said, shrugging. “He is very good at his job though.”
Relam shook his head and was about to say more on the subject, but Griff chose that moment to enter the dining alcove and announce that dinner was ready. Immediately, the king and prince jumped up from their seats by the fire and hurried to the dining table for heaping bowls of nourishing hot stew and fresh, crusty bread. The meal was eaten in silence, save for the occasional slurping sound or the clink of a spoon against the bottom of a bowl.
When the meal had been finished, they returned to their seats by the fire, warm and content. Relam fell asleep in front of the dancing flames, dreaming of fire and dragons and adventure, as he often did.
The rest of the week passed slowly. The weather continued to deteriorate, going from cold mist to sleet to icy rain and snow. Drifts began to pile up in the streets and rooftops were covered in white, shimmering blankets. Ice formed on the rigging and hulls of the ships in the harbor, making them appear to be made of crystal, not wood and rope. Icicles dangled from every eave and from under Bridge Street, and at Oreius’ house the ice was beginning to creep out from the bank of the river and into the river itself.
Despite the sub-freezing temperatures, Relam and Oreius continued to drill outside. There just wasn’t space to do it inside and, as Oreius pointed out constantly, Relam could find himself fighting battles in far worse conditions. Best to get some practice in while he could.
The week transitioned into the weekend with little change in the weather. Relam and his father holed up together in the royal suite, huddling by the fire, having servants bring more wood constantly. Relam would have felt bad about sending others out in the cold to do his work, but he knew that the wood was fetched from a massive firewood pile just inside the palace, in a room adjacent to the kitchens.
During this time, there was also no mention of Narin. Relam heard nothing from commander Hadere about the situation, and Narin himself gave Relam updates on the search each time the prince went to Oreius’ house. The former commander was still on house arrest, under Oreius’ careful watch, and itching to be outside again, walking the dangerous streets and hunting for murderers. But it was just too risky, and he was forced to stay inside.
As the next week began, a cautious excitement stole over the city. The Harvest Hunt and celebration were scheduled for the third day of the week, and the weather had improved enough to allow people to believe the festivities would go forward as planned. Oreius, in a surprisingly generous gesture, told Relam after practice on the first day of the week that he could take the next three days off.
The news was most welcome to Relam, who had given little thought to his strategy for the hunt. Each year, the king and the future king set off into the Midwood at dawn to hunt. Whoever returned with the more impressive prize won the event. There was no shame in losing, but if Relam were to beat his father, a veteran and accomplished hunter, it would be bragging rights for a full twelve months.
Of course, Relam and his father would not be going into the woods alone. They would have guards with them, two apiece. Relam had already selected Galen and Wil to accompany him. Eric was too protective and serious for such an adventure, and the prince was not willing to risk Johann blundering and spooking a prize deer or boar.
At last, the appointed day came. Relam, his father, and their two guards each lined up at the open west gate of Etares, waiting for the signal to begin. A reserve group of guards, some thirty strong, had been assigned to patrol the road through the forest in case the prince or king should run into trouble during the hunt. Eckle was in command of the reserve force, an arrangement Relam found highly unsatisfactory.
All around the official party were the people of Etares, young and old, rich and poor. Hundreds had showed up on the brisk morning to wish th
e hunters well and see them off. Relam knew that thousands would gather by evening to welcome them home and judge the results of the hunt.
Relam scanned the crowd, wondering if Oreius had showed up to see the spectacle. The old man was an early riser, after all. But there was no sign of the sword master. Relam reasoned that he was probably occupied keeping Narin from running the streets, so he refocused on the hunt ahead.
A couple of minutes before the sun was due to rise, a herald with a glittering brass horn climbed the steps to the wall above the west gate. An expectant hush fell over the crowd as they watched, waiting for the signal to begin. Relam leaned forward eagerly, rubbing his horse’s muscled neck.
“We can do this,” he murmured. “This year is ours.”
“Well, maybe,” Wil interjected from where he sat astride his own horse. “Most of this event is luck, really.”
Relam glared at the affable guard and straightened haughtily, looking up at the herald. The man raised the horn to his lips and waited, eyes fixed on the east. Relam and his father did not turn to watch the horizon. They did not need to see the sunrise. They just needed to hear the Herald’s horn.
Then, a shattering blast on the horn split the still morning and the hunt was on!
A cheer rose from hundreds of throats as Relam and his father urged their horses into a gallop, careening off towards the distant woods, frosted and glittering with ice, though some of the snow had melted. As he rode, Relam began analyzing the situation. Visibility would be better, with all the leaves having fallen already, and the snow would help to muffle sounds. But there would be less cover to use as they approached a target, and there was a much higher chance of being seen. Relam glanced down at his right knee, which helped secure four throwing spears to his saddle. The throwing spears were light, with barbed heads meant to penetrate and stick. They were also the only approved weapon for the hunt. Otherwise, Relam would have selected a bow for the extra range and easier shot. No other weapons were allowed, outside of the spears. The guards were fully armed of course, but they were not present to take part in the hunt itself. They were present to be sure the hunters were not hunted by something more sinister than a wild animal.
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 43