“We need rooms,” dal Sason said as he approached the innkeeper.
The innkeeper nodded. “How many?”
The banneret shrugged. “How many do you have free?”
“Four.”
“We’ll take the lot, then,” dal Sason said.
Guillot chuckled. “It seems I’m a bad influence on you.”
“I work for the king,” dal Sason said. “The Prince Bishop’s finances are of no concern to me. Right now, a hot meal and a good night’s sleep are the only things that do. If we’re well fed and rested, we’ll be better able to do what we came out here to do.”
“Are we too late for food?” Guillot said.
“Stove is still lit,” the innkeeper said. “I can have something heated up for you.”
“Excellent,” dal Sason said. “We’ll take it over by the fire.”
“Won’t be a moment, my Lord.”
“Before you go,” Guillot said.
“Be careful,” dal Sason whispered. “Don’t want to start a panic.”
Gill nodded. “Has anyone come here from Villerauvais in the past couple of days?”
The innkeeper shrugged and shook his head. Gill’s heart sank, but it had been a slim hope.
They walked over to a table by the fire and sat. Two of the Spurriers went to attend to the baggage, leaving only Short—Banneret Eston—and Sergeant Doyenne at the table. They both looked so young to Gill. Eston couldn’t have been more than a year or two out of the Academy, while Doyenne didn’t look much older.
“What brought you to the Order?” Guillot said to Doyenne, trying to take his mind off Villerauvais.
“Opportunity,” she said. “They’re few and far between for a woman. At least for those looking for a bit of adventure. The usual paths after university didn’t take my fancy. This did.”
Guillot nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”
For a woman, education and the professions—medicine, bookkeeping, and the like—were the only paths to an independent life, and they weren’t for everyone. He couldn’t imagine a worse life than spending it doing something like lawyering, although on reflection, he supposed his past few years did come pretty close.
“Plus it means I get to wear a rapier like all the bannerets,” Doyenne said.
“The Order can do that?” Guillot said, looking to Leverre. The law had always been that only bannerets could wear a rapier within city walls, but that didn’t stop a variety of others from trying to get away with it.
“Many of us are bannerets,” Leverre said. “The king gave us a dispensation for any who aren’t.”
“That was nice of him,” Guillot said.
“It was necessary, if we’re to fill the role he has in mind for us.”
“What role is that, exactly?” Guillot said. “Does he find himself in need of replacing his old bunch of drunken lechers?”
Leverre’s face reddened. “You were one of those drunken lechers, as I recall.”
“I may have been a drunk, but I was never a lecher. And I resigned. Apparently the old king never got around to accepting it, though. Says a lot, really.”
“Strange that you use the past tense when it comes to your drinking,” Leverre said. “I heard you’ve spent the last half-decade at the bottom of a bottle.”
“Makes for better company than fellas like you,” Guillot said, his temper flaring.
“Gentlemen,” dal Sason said. “It’s neither the time, nor the place. We’ve got a job to do, and it’s more likely to succeed if we get along. I’d ask you to apologise to one another, but I don’t think that’ll get us anywhere. Instead I’m going to ask you both to put it behind you and move on. Focus on what we’ve got ahead of us.”
There was a strained silence. Guillot had always hated it when he couldn’t defend his behaviour.
“I’m telling you to both move on,” dal Sason said, with an edge to his voice that Guillot hadn’t heard before.
“We don’t have to like each other to work together,” Guillot said. “I worked with the other Chevaliers for years, after all, without killing any of them. More’s the pity.”
Leverre snorted. “Do your job and we won’t have any problems.”
“Duelled a Competition winner, have you?” Guillot said. Even his anger couldn’t stop him feeling ridiculous making the threat. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “How in hells am I supposed to kill a dragon, anyway? Let it eat me and try to choke it on the way down?” Even as he spoke, he realised this was far from the worst of the ideas he’d had so far.
Eston let out a laugh that was cut short by a ferocious glare from the dark-eyed Sergeant Doyenne. Leverre maintained his humourless, impassive expression, a mix of boredom and constipation, while dal Sason shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Guillot could see that the same question had been occupying his mind.
“Have you … detected it yet?” Guillot said. “Are we even going in the right direction?”
“We are,” Leverre said.
“You seem very certain,” Guillot said. “You realise we’re moving into mountainous terrain. The right way might not be the direct one.”
“I realise that,” Leverre said.
“So you know the area?” Guillot said, his suspicions rising. “If you’re so sure we’re on the right track.”
Leverre shifted in his seat and looked at Doyenne. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, but Guillot spotted it. “You know we’re on the right track because you’ve been there before, haven’t you?” Guillot said. “Have you tried to kill it already and failed?”
The expression on Leverre’s face shifted slightly.
“No, that’s not it, is it?” Guillot said.
“I really don’t see this as being in any way constructive,” dal Sason said.
“I think it’s very constructive,” Guillot said. “What were you doing up there?” he said to Leverre.
“We were on state business,” Leverre said.
“You bastards let it out, didn’t you?” Guillot said. The anger in his voice crackled like the log fire they sat beside. “You went poking your noses where they didn’t belong, and you let it out.” It took Guillot everything he had to restrain himself. If it came to blows, Leverre would likely kill him. “This is all your fault.”
He turned his gaze to dal Sason. “I knew it was more than a coincidence when you turned up in the village at the same time all of this started happening. How long had you known about the dragon?”
“We took action as soon as we had an understanding of what was going on,” dal Sason said. “It came as just as much of a shock to the king as it did for any of us.” He paused for a moment. “My involvement only began when I was tasked with fetching you.”
“I dare say the people of Villerauvais got quite a bit more of a shock than the king,” Guillot said. Moments like these made having a sword strapped to his waist so much more dangerous.
“Yes, I … well, I’ve been meaning to say how sorry I am for your loss,” dal Sason said. “We haven’t had the time to consider what a traumatic blow that must be for you.”
“You can shove your apology,” Guillot said. “It doesn’t repair the damage done. It certainly doesn’t bring back the dead.”
“Perhaps we should skip dinner and get some rest,” dal Sason said. “It’s been a long day. We can discuss how we’re going to proceed with clear heads in the morning. Nothing has changed.”
“To hells with that,” Guillot said. “I want to know what happened, and now. How did all this start? I’m done with being kept in the dark.”
Leverre cleared his throat and gave dal Sason a nod. “As you know, the Order is exploring ancient knowledge to help us progress more quickly. Our researchers uncovered information that indicated there were a number of locations that might contain objects or further information that would aid us. It was on one of these exploratory missions that we first encountered the dragon.”
“Encountered?” Guillot said.
> “We roused it while exploring a large cavern in a mountain not far from here,” Leverre said. “It killed all of my men, Banneret dal Villerauvais. It ate them. I can assure you I’m no stranger to loss caused by this beast. I want revenge on it just as much as you do.”
Guillot sank back into his chair and thought for a moment, trying to push away his anger so he could think clearly. “What were you looking for?” Guillot said.
“That’s not important,” Leverre said. “It was simply something the Order’s researchers thought might aid us.”
Why would the Prince Bishop send men to a remote part of the country looking for an object if it was unimportant? Gill wondered. That could wait until another time, however.
“Fine,” he said. “So you think this cave is where the beast lives?”
“I have no reason to think otherwise,” Leverre said.
“Are you actually able to track it?” Guillot said.
“Possibly,” Leverre said. “We haven’t tried. We thought heading back to the cave would be the best way to start.”
“Finally, we agree on something,” Guillot said. “That covers the where, leaving us with the how. Anything on that subject that you’ve chosen not to share with me?” He glared at Leverre and dal Sason, but neither gave anything away.
“We’re just as much in the dark on that as you are, Gill,” dal Sason said. “That’s why you were brought in. The king was hoping that there’s still something about having been a Chevalier of the Silver Circle that will aid us. The initiation ceremony was said to have turned great swordsmen into great dragonslayers.”
“When it was carried out by mages,” Guillot said. “Not a bunch of drunken degenerates.”
“There was still something of the mystical about it, though, was there not?” dal Sason said. “The Prince Bishop seems quite certain of that.”
“He can be certain of whatever he likes,” Guillot said. “It doesn’t change anything. It was all a load of chanting, oath swearing, and drinking.”
“Still, we’ll take every little thing that we can,” dal Sason said. “I don’t understand the ins and outs of it, but there’s the chance that some magic may still have been attached to the ceremony. If that doesn’t make a difference, then we still have the greatest swordsman Mirabaya has ever produced in our arsenal. The rest of us aren’t too bad either.”
Guillot humphed. “You have to get close to use a sword. I can’t see anyone getting close enough without getting eaten. There’s a reason we use special long swords for boar hunting and spears to hunt belek.”
“The simple fact of the matter is this, Gill,” dal Sason said. “The king wanted to send a regiment to kill this beast. It took the Prince Bishop considerable effort to talk him around to sending a smaller group to investigate first. If we can kill it, wonderful. If not, we’re to learn as much as we can and report back so that if and when the king does send a regiment, they are not lambs to the slaughter. Now that the people of Mirabay know about the beast, how do you think they would react to the news that it had destroyed a regiment of the king’s finest soldiers?”
Dal Sason paused, but Guillot didn’t need time to allow the idea to settle in, so he finished the point for him. “There would be panic, then riots,” Guillot said. “The worst fear of every king. Aside from assassination, I suppose.” It was the second time that evening he was forced to admit that dal Sason was correct. Whatever else about him, he had brains and knew how to use them.
“Right now, this dragon reaching Mirabay is the king’s worst fear,” dal Sason said. “Everyone wants to stop it, and stop it fast. Preferably before it kills anyone else.”
The food arrived and conversation stopped as the innkeeper and the re-tasked stable boy set plates of steaming stew onto the table.
“Beef, slow cooked with wine, potatoes, and vegetables,” the innkeeper said. “I hope you enjoy.”
“I’m sure we will,” dal Sason said.
“Have you heard any strange stories lately?” Guillot asked.
“What do you mean?” the innkeeper said.
“Anything unusual. Livestock being killed, buildings being burned. Anything like that.”
“Now that you mention it,” the innkeeper said, “Lord Montpareil rode out yesterday for Castle Brienne. The usual resupply wagons were overdue and he decided to find out what the problem was. The stores here were in danger of spoiling. We do most of our trade with the castle.”
“When do you expect him back?” Guillot said.
The innkeeper shrugged. “Tomorrow? The day after. Soon I hope. The supplies won’t last much longer, and we don’t get paid if they’re spoiled before they get to the castle.”
“Thanks,” Guillot said.
The innkeeper left them to their food, which they all attacked for several minutes before the conversation restarted.
“Where’s Castle Brienne?” Leverre said.
Guillot shrugged. “It’s one of the border pass forts. I’m not exactly sure where—I’ve never been.”
“Do you think the dragon has attacked it?” dal Sason said.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Guillot said. “It’s interesting that the innkeeper didn’t say anything about the dragon, though. Or anything that might refer to it. Sounds like it hasn’t made it this far yet, and neither has word of it.”
“It means the beast’s trail of destruction isn’t as extensive as it might have been,” Leverre said.
“There aren’t many villages out here,” Gill said. “News travels slowly. It could be days before anyone here knows what’s happened at Villerauvais.”
“Hopefully we’ll be able to make sure it doesn’t happen anywhere else. I’m going to turn in for the night,” dal Sason said. “We should start early, I expect we’ve quite a bit of travelling to do to reach your mountain cave, Commander Leverre.”
Guillot nodded, rose, and called for the innkeeper to lead them to their rooms. An early night would have been welcome, but he had a couple of hours of the positions to complete before he could put his head down.
CHAPTER
24
“I have to admit,” dal Drezony said, “that I’m very curious to see what you’re capable of. I’ve never seen the Prince Bishop speak in quite so animated a way about any new recruit.”
After a visit to the Order’s quartermaster to get the uniforms she would need for her training and packing the garments away in her room, she went to the refectory for supper. As soon as Solène entered the long hall, lined from end to end by three rows of communal tables, dal Drezony had called her over. Solène had spent the better part of her adult life trying to be invisible, and being singled out as soon as she entered a room, with so many other people there, bothered her. The questioning made it even worse, but the smell of the food was enough to convince her it was worth staying.
She shrugged in response to dal Drezony. For her, being noticed had always meant trouble, but she realised that was something she was going to have to get over. Forgettable was the impression she had always sought to get across. Except for Trelain, where she had started to think she could make a life and a business. She could never forget where that had gotten her.
“After we eat, I thought you could give me a demonstration,” dal Drezony said. “Give me an idea of where we’ll be starting.”
Solène shrugged again. “What do you want me to do?”
Dal Drezony laughed. “I don’t know. What can you do? What did you do for the Prince Bishop?”
Pride would not allow Solène to repeat the same demonstration, but there were few things she could do intentionally. Looking along the table, she spotted an empty glass that no one was using. She focussed her thoughts, this time locking onto something different, something she had seen in the city, and had been wondering about ever since. She turned the glass upside down and stared at it. The air inside the bowl seemed to swirl and grow thicker, until it looked more like a liquid than a gas. Then it ignited into a light that bathed Solène
and dal Drezony in a warm glow. Solène relaxed and smiled.
Dal Drezony watched in silence until the light faded, then disappeared. She had a pleased but bemused expression on her face.
“I saw the everlasting lamps when I got to the city,” Solène said. “I’ve wanted to try making my own ever since.”
“Magelamps,” dal Drezony said. “They’re called magelamps. And this was your first try at one?”
Solène nodded.
Dal Drezony let out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t let the fading of the light bother you. No one here’s been able to make them last very long either, and they’ve had a lot more practise. When did you stop concentrating on the light?”
“As soon as I made it,” Solène said. “It’s not much use if you have to concentrate on it the whole time, is it?”
Dal Drezony let out an incredulous bark of laughter. “No, I suppose it isn’t. You’ve definitely not had any training? If you have, you can be honest. It won’t get you in any trouble here.”
Solène shook her head. “Where would I have gotten it?”
“Darvaros? Szavaria, perhaps? Although I’ve not heard of any of their mages who can do much more you just did. If they could, they’d have conquered us centuries ago. A good magelamp with a clean, bright light was once considered the pinnacle of the magical art. Every novice mage would have to make one to earn their title of magister. It’s why we still have so many of them after all this time. Even in ideal conditions—perfect peace and quiet—I can’t do much better than you just did. You know, the finest examples hint at the personality of their maker—the hue of the light, the way it swirls within the glass sphere.” She chewed on a piece of bread as she stared at the upside-down glass. “To walk in here off the street and do that is beyond impressive. I can see why the Prince Bishop got so excited.”
Solène felt the warmth of pride fill her, just as she had when people had returned to the bakery day after day saying her bread was the best they’d ever eaten. She didn’t even notice that every eye in the refectory was on her. “I’d like to be able to make one that doesn’t fade,” she said.
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