The rest of their forces were scattered across the map. First Soldiers guarded the villages and towns from Maligon’s troops. Reports indicated Maligon killed every last soldier in his way. He glanced toward Elwar. Quilla killed those who supported him. How many hid within her ranks still loyal to Kiffen?
Kiffen itched to do something. Just to attack the bands of traitors that Bai’dish’s escort avoided would relieve some frustration. Yet, their true fight lay south, in Moniah. Preparation for the battle to come aggravated him. Just a few days ago, he had argued with Kassa and Halar about when they should strike.
A week earlier, Kassa had said, “Kiffen, if I learned one thing from Maligon, it’s never to strike until you’re fully prepared. Yes, he’s amassing an army. Yes, he’s almost at the threshold of Adana’s View. The fortress is well-armed. But you have few soldiers. Adana’s forces are farmers and merchants. She has a few Watchers and soldiers but not enough. It takes time to act. Maligon’s had years to prepare.”
Not shown on the map, but just as important, were the hundreds of refugees fleeing before Maligon’s scourge across the kingdom. The keep and the village of Roshar received them, but the majority of them became the responsibility of Linus, the commander guarding Adana’s View.
An image from Bai’dish rose in his mind, as if the giraffe were present and talking to Kiffen. Each day, it became easier to maintain the bond. The image was one sent by Adana three days ago. The refugees in Roshar included a trio of royalty—Adana, Jerold, and Navon. Kiffen felt nauseous every time he thought of it. It would be so easy for Maligon to send a force into the makeshift encampment and eliminate three ruling dynasties at once.
Kiffen would rest easier if everyone he cared about were ensconced in the tunnels below the Border Keep, but even he understood the danger of moving them across the territory recently traveled by Glume and Bai’dish.
The time to move was finally near. He’d heeded Kassa and been patient. They would crush Maligon between the three forces as long as the traitor maintained his course. His arrogance had been his downfall before. With the Creator’s help, it might be again.
He turned at a knock on the door. A Watcher entered. “Sire, the Monian giraffe is at the gates.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
* * * * *
Chapter 26
From her official rooms at the temple’s holdings, Adana looked out over the sprawling mass of refugees and wondered how far Maligon would push her people. The accommodations Brother Honest and the villagers of Roshar offered were not perfect, but still people came, fear pushing them toward the safety of numbers. She wrinkled her nose as the breeze shifted and brought with it the smells of manure and tightly-packed humanity.
As bad as this looked, her people still flocked to her. It hadn’t taken long for word of their queen’s presence to leak out. So far, Jerold’s identity and the safe arrival of Morana and Navon remained secret.
Am’brosia brushed her mind. Bai’dish and Glume stood in the courtyard of the Border Keep. She sighed with relief as the crowds parted, and Kiffen approached the two, a shy smile on his face. The giraffe spread his forelegs wide and bowed his head toward the ground in the official greeting of a royal giraffe with his bonded partner. A yearning to be with Kiffen ached in her heart, but Bai’dish’s satisfaction to be standing in Kiffen’s presence, flowed along the link. She noted a difference from Am’brosia’s joy at her own presence. Kiffen’s and Bai’dish’s joy was evident, but quiet, while with Am’brosia, their joy bubbled. A difference in males or because the two still needed to learn each other?
When Kiffen looked up into Bai’dish’s eyes, she gasped. She looked straight into his face and saw the surprise of recognition in his expression. They gazed at each other a moment longer, but then Kassa joined Kiffen, and he was forced to look away. She felt his loneliness in the moods of the animals.
Within a few days, they would march toward Adana’s View. Maybe then, they would find time to be together and less lonely.
Glancing out over the huts and tents, again, she tried to imagine Adana’s View overrun with this many people. The thought of her beloved home’s open spaces covered in cramped hovels nauseated her. Such beauty, such a noble people, reduced to this by one man who shouldn’t even be alive.
She turned as a knock sounded at the door. “Come.”
Montee entered. “Our guards report five strong and able men in today’s arrivals. They appear healthy and well-fed. Unlike the others, they carried little but sacks on their backs.”
Most of the men able to fight had arrived days ago. Five? Together?
“They were scattered among this last group, but the Watchers suspect they know each other. After we pulled them aside, they stood separately, but each one tried to not make eye contact with one man in particular. Probably, their leader.”
“Yet, they didn’t enter the gates together?” Adana walked over to the window again and looked out. One more concern to weigh on her. Who to trust?
Montee joined her. “I welcome good soldiers, but…”
“You question why they pretend to not know each other and have arrived today, not sooner?”
Montee nodded. “Only the weakest and most in need of protection have arrived in the last three days. None of the other refugees in this group knew them. They had never seen them before this morning, but they were there when they awoke at dawn.”
“Bring them to the solarium. Let them relax awhile. Place Elayne nearby to listen. Maybe she can learn something.”
Montee nodded and turned away.
“And Montee, give them some of our best stores of food and drink.”
“Our best?”
Adana smiled. “Good food and wine loosen tongues.”
* * *
Elayne sat in a small enclosure outside the solarium listening. As the stamp of boots rang in the hallway, she positioned herself in a relaxed position, so she could remain still and silent.
“We have provided some refreshment for you,” a Watcher said. “Please wait here until the commander can speak to each one of you separately.”
One of them gave a low whistle and then chuckled. “I’d like to separate her from the herd.”
“Be quiet.” The cultured voice issuing the harsh command caused Elayne’s eyes to widen in recognition. “Show some respect. She is a Watcher.”
The same man snickered. “She can watch my giraffe.”
The men laughed, then there was silence except for shuffling feet, sounds of chewing, and other grotesque noises made by hungry men, awakening memories of the raunchy atmosphere at The Sleeping Dog and her life as Shana. The familiarity of the men’s sounds made her stomach clench. Someday a refugee might recognize her. What would she do then? She wanted to remain a Listener, but if the queen discovered her true identity, would she allow it?
The genteel voice spoke again, and she leaned forward, trying to confirm her suspicions.
“So, Your Highness,” a gruff voice said, his voice lilting with heavy sarcasm, “how do you plan to handle this interview?”
Several snickers sounded from the other men.
In clipped, well-enunciated tones, Pultarch’s voice responded. “Are you incapable of speaking with respect, Horace? I will have you gagged and turned in as a traitor to the Watchers if you do not show some restraint in your comments.”
“Yes, sir.”
Elayne could almost see the man’s comical salute as his buddies continued to chuckle at the speaker’s antics.
The cultured voice belonged to Pultarch. She was sure of it. The question was whether she should alert the queen now or listen longer.
Another man in the group, his voice secure with authority, settled it for her. “You both are fools. Keep your mouths shut. We don’t know who listens. Only I will speak from here on.”
Silence followed.
Elayne waited to be sure no one violated his command, and, when they remained silent, she hurried to report to Queen Adana and Mon
tee.
* * * * *
Chapter 27
Adana’s response startled Elayne.
“Pultarch? You must be wrong.” The queen turned away from her and settled in the chair Honest had carved for her use. Arms crossed, Adana glared at Elayne.
Elayne glanced around the queen’s quarters, thankful that only Montee attended them at the moment. The room, although not spacious, felt large with only the three of them present, but with the queen unhappy, the walls shrank around her.
The seat Adana took was centered near the rear wall of the room. To its left and right, small potted trees provided some contrast to the stark walls. A rug woven in reds and browns covered the floor, a contribution from the village’s innkeeper, Talia.
“I assure you, Your Majesty, I know his voice,” Elayne said, keeping her speech firm, but soft. Had Adana forgotten her embarrassing admission of interest in the young earl? So much had passed since then.
“But you only met him briefly. How can you be so sure?” Adana leaned forward, her hands gripping the arms of her temporary Seat of Authority.
Elayne bowed her head. Of course, the queen didn’t know she had first met Pultarch when Sarx brought him to The Sleeping Dog where she had worked as Shana, the tavern maid. How could she convince them without causing these two Watchers to doubt her loyalty? She cursed Sarx for placing her in this predicament. Why couldn’t she be where she needed to be without the secrets of others weighing on her head?
Adana turned to Montee. “Can she be correct? Identify a voice she heard only a few times? Do Listeners have that ability?”
The First Vision squinted at Elayne, studying her until Elayne fought the urge to squirm. “I do not know. It’s possible. I think I should verify if it’s him.” She turned to leave.
“Wait.” Adana stared out the window on the far side of the room, the one facing the solarium. “If it is Pultarch, bring him to me.”
Elayne’s shoulders relaxed. The queen’s tone held resignation, an acceptance of the information she provided. No one need find doubt in her word or be reminded of her infatuation with Pultarch.
Her relief evaporated when Montee motioned for her to leave while she stayed in the room with Adana. “Close the door behind you.”
The door clicked shut, and Elayne stood on the other side, trying to calm her pounding heart. At least, she had a moment of privacy here. No one else stood guard outside the chamber at the moment. What if Montee knew of her feelings for Pultarch? Watchers discovered so much from body language. She paused and listened for sounds of approach. Satisfied no one would find her eavesdropping, she eased down the corridor and leaned her ear against the wall. On the other side was the back wall of Adana’s chambers where the two women spoke.
Montee’s voice had dropped to a quiet, urgent tone, but Elayne could still understand her. “I still don’t think you should meet with him.” The First Vision’s voice held the sharp tang of shock. “He’s part of Maligon’s army. Surely, he’s a spy.”
“If it’s him,” Adana said, her voice ringing with purpose. “He cared for me in Elwar. I believe he will talk to me. From what Elayne said, he is not in charge of this group. I would like an explanation of how the son of an earl has been reduced to answering to a common soldier.”
“He could be dangerous. Remember his attack on Kiffen.”
Elayne leaned in closer. She’d heard rumors of the young noble’s rash actions after the announcement of Adana’s and Kiffen’s betrothal. It had happened the day after his drunken night at The Sleeping Dog.
She straightened in surprise for a moment. The jealousy she’d felt when first hearing this story didn’t rise in her belly. Why? Had witnessing his weakness among these soldiers conquered her emotions?
“I will keep watch for any untoward actions by him.” Adana’s annoyed tone brought her back to the present, and she leaned in closer to the wall. “I’m perfectly capable of fighting off his advances. I don’t believe he will do something that foolish ever again.”
In the silence that followed, Elayne pondered the exasperation that seeped into Adana’s voice. On the day Sarx presented her to Adana as a companion, gossip about Pultarch and Kiffen’s sword fight had swarmed throughout the castle. It never occurred to her that the young noble’s actions had impacted Adana. Now that she knew the queen, it made sense. Adana hid any sign of weakness within herself.
When Sarx convinced Pultarch’s father to use Elayne as a gift of contrition, he had focused on Pultarch’s rashness toward Prince Kiffen, not the lady Adana. The rumors said Adana became a pawn in the fight. Adana was proud and, often, unsure of her ability to command. An error in judgment about Pultarch would have shamed her.
At the time, Elayne had worried about obscuring her own identity as Shana, the tavern maid. There had been some risk Pultarch might recognize her. That was Sarx’s first test of her skills, and she had passed, or Pultarch had failed.
She clutched her fist to her chest, willing her heart to calm its rhythm from the memory of those first encounters dressed as a lady with Pultarch. It appeared her heart still felt something for him. He had flirted with her as a lady. Men didn’t flirt with ladies the same way they did with tavern maids.
Montee’s voice rose to a normal level, drawing Elayne back to the hushed conversation. “Where should his men wait?”
“Tell them we have no room in the barracks today. Send them back to the village but have them followed. It sounds like one of them, maybe this Horace fellow, will eventually let something slip.”
Before Montee could discover Elayne taking advantage of her newfound listening gift, she scurried back toward the chamber door and waited at a respectable distance.
* * * * *
Chapter 28
Adana paced from the window to her chair, to the window, again. Should she have Am’brosia alert Kiffen to Pultarch’s unexpected appearance in Roshar? Kiffen’s animosity toward his former friend burned at a low fire, forgotten amidst the obstacles Maligon placed before them. If he knew the earl’s son was in Roshar, he might act on that knowledge rather than think about the battle ahead of them.
“Elayne?” She called out the name, knowing the woman would be nearby.
Within moments, Elayne stepped inside the door. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Go alert Brother Honest that I might be sending him a visitor soon.”
Adana settled herself back in the chair. Although not the true Seat, it was of polished acacia wood, like the one at Adana’s View. The fact that it fit her form perfectly did not escape her notice. Its high back felt smooth and cool to the touch, something the original Seat wouldn’t offer her as queen. That Seat of Authority sat in the Great Hall in Adana’s View, an expansive room in the center of her fortress, open to the sky and the hot savanna sun, relentless in its warmth.
The Seat burned when the queen first sat in it. She knew. Her mother made her sit in it once a year on her birthday. That was one tradition she hadn’t missed while in Elwar.
Before Adana could decide whether to alert Kiffen or not, Montee returned, Pultarch’s arm in her firm grip. At a nod from Adana, the First Vision dropped her hold on the man, and he jerked away in the pretense that he had initiated the move.
“Adana.” The young man rushed across the room and knelt at her feet.
Montee stalked after him. “Address her properly.”
He cowered under the First Vision’s shadow but complied. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I am overjoyed to finally reach you.”
Adana studied him for signs of mistreatment. Besides dust from the road, a rank odor of sweat, and the common clothes he wore, he appeared well-fed and in good health.
She straightened in her chair and rested her hand on one of the knives strapped to her thigh. “Our long-lost friend, Pultarch. How surprised we are to find you here. Please, rise, be comfortable, and tell us of your journey.”
As he stood, Adana shot a look at Montee. “Leave us.”
Back rigid in disp
leasure, the woman exited the room and shut the door.
Pultarch took a step closer to Adana. “Thank you for seeing me alone. I can’t bear to have witnesses to our interludes.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Surely, you must realize a queen is never alone. Montee is just outside the door.”
“Of course.” He blinked and looked around the chamber. “I just was so excited at the prospect of seeing you, of knowing you are alive.”
“Come now, Pultarch. Do you mean to tell me you did not know I was alive? After all, your friend, Maligon, has spent the last week assuring my kingdom I’m alive and desiring a marriage to you.”
His shoulders stiffened, and the edges of his mouth whitened. “Merely a pretense I’ve had to hold until I could find a way to reach you.”
“A pretense? Oh my.” She sat back and studied him. “How did you manage to break away? And with soldiers, no less?”
Pultarch gave her an incredulous look. “Soldiers? You call that riff-raff soldiers?”
Adana studied him. Something was different, more defensive, in his manner. He’d lost some of the boyish charm which caused other women to flock around him.
“Riff-raff, as you call them, are exactly the type of people Maligon attracts.” She leaned forward. “Tell me, are these not his men? Are you not in his employ?”
“Me?” A glimmer of steel blazed in his eyes. “Turn to Maligon? I thought you knew better than to believe every piece of gossip delivered to your ears.”
Intrigued by his sparring nature, Adana goaded him further. “So, you want me to believe you instead of my own Watchers? You expect me to trust you? Someone who mysteriously disappeared on the same day as the attack on my caravan? On the very day the regent, King Micah, and Elwar’s King Donel were murdered?”
The Watchers in Exile Page 20