Captain Adylton replied, "The sun near midday is hot here, Lore Keeper, you would do well to keep that hood about your head."
Martin eyed the tall, dark-skinned southerner who had removed his cloak about an hour into the ride and rode with short leggings that exposed calves and knees.
Captain Adylton quickly added, "Playing in the surf and lying by the sea is about all I did in my youth. My father was a fisher…"
Keeper Martin smiled—a mischievous smile. In a voice that barely carried above the plodding of his mount's hooves, he asked, "Did you sail these waters often with your father then?"
"More often than I cared to."
Martin noted Captain Adylton's annoyance and his apparent wish to end the conversation. "Would an autumn storm have driven your sails north or south?"
"I see," Adylton said, "that troubles you too."
Martin nodded. "I have sailed to High Province close to winter season many times. Always I felt the breezes upon my face when I stood at the bow."
"Aye, the winds change with the ending of summer. Autumn and winter bring cold breezes out the north."
"Captain Trendmore wasn't a fisher's son was he?" Martin asked.
"Hardly, his father was a tanner or was it a smithy—at any rate, no, I'm sure he's never sailed."
"I have known Captain Brodst for many years, yet I cannot recall his father's trade?"
Captain Adylton gave Keeper Martin a stern look. "You know as well as I that…" The captain's voice trailed off. He looked again at Martin, suddenly seeming to realize where Martin was going with his questions. "You are right. The storms would have blown the ship south if it strayed off course at all. Any experienced captain would have had little trouble in those storms. They were early autumn storms, full of malice yes, but not violent like the storms of winter."
Keeper Martin looked Captain Adylton straight in the eye. "Do you have loyal men in your squadron?"
Captain Adylton stared back at Martin. "They are loyal men all, and they follow all lawful orders of their commanding officers. None would turn against the other, if that is your hope."
"What of unlawful orders given by a man who is no longer loyal to his country or his countrymen?" Keeper Martin asked.
Captain Adylton reined in his steed, nearly coming to a halt. "Proving such a thing, Keeper." His changing the pace brought mayhem to those in the column behind him. A wagon driver's team nearly drove over him. Captain Adylton shrugged off the man's curses and spurred his mount. "How do you propose to do that?"
Keeper Martin judged the captain's receptiveness to the truth by the unease in his eyes. "There is news I have not shared with you, captain. The situation is much graver than you are aware of. It was not just the upcoming departure of a ship from the port city of Wellison that brought me to Imtal Palace to disturb King Andrew's rest in the middle of the night. Prior to this, I had been in the Far South for many months. Secretly.
"At first it was personal matters that brought me to Sever more than anything else. After, much more. It was fortunate that only Keeper Q'yer of Quashan' knew my whereabouts. Also fortunate that my last visit to Sever had been some years before.
"When I arrived in Gregortonn, all seemed well. The affairs in the capital were running smoothly. This all changed quickly. King Charles ordered the city sealed. The city garrison turned to the streets. Hundreds were arrested. Dozens killed in clashes. For a full day afterward the city was quiet. Only the flags removed from their poles upon the walls attested to turmoil. Just before dawn of the second day, the searches began. More arrests, more fighting. Luckily I was able to find reliable accommodations, which did not come without a price.
"Two weeks I was in hiding, plotting my escape. Then one afternoon while moving to a new safe house, I made a most unexpected discovery. Soldiers loyal to King Charles were no longer in control of the city. An agent of King Jarom had usurped power… Everything I'd seen suddenly made sense.
"Soon after I arrived in the new safe house one of my benefactors discovered my true identity. I don't know how, but it was a fortunate turn of events, for it was then that men loyal to Charles approached me. They spoke of a bold plan to retake the city and of a plan to smuggle the heir to the throne from the city to safety. It was with their help that I eventually made my way back to Great Kingdom."
Keeper Martin took a long swig from a wineskin, and then cleared his throat. "You know as well as I that King Charles' voice was the only vote of dissension in the Minors when King Jarom last sued for war and the dissolution of the Kingdom Alliance. His aim is to rule Great Kingdom, there can be no doubt."
Again disrupting the pace of the group, Captain Adylton reined in his mount and stared at Keeper Martin. The wagon driver behind the captain screamed angrily this time.
"Is there something wrong?" came an excited voice from behind them. A rider raced toward them. Both Martin and Adylton recognized the voice and the rider, Captain Trendmore.
"We must act, are we agreed on that, Captain Adylton?" Martin asked as he raised the hood of his cloak.
Captain Adylton signaled agreement and urged his mount onward.
"Is there something wrong here?" Captain Trendmore repeated when he came abreast of the two.
"I was just explaining to the good keeper that if he kept his face to the sun for another hour on a day like today, he would be as bright as a one of Duke Ispeth's apples before nightfall. I think it took him by surprise."
"Yes, yes indeed," Captain Trendmore said, a crooked smile coming to his lips.
Chapter Twenty Five
With the new day came rain, a ceaseless downpouring that made everything all the drearier. To make matters worse, the soft breeze out of the North that had been with them for days was by midday a steady gale. It brought with it a hint of winter's chill. To Vilmos it didn't matter that winter was still months away, he was chilled to the bone all the same. He longed for his hooded cloak, a place next to a warm and cheerful fire, and a bowl of winter stew.
The only good thing about this day was that his hands were free and although Prince Valam said it was yet another sign that William and his men were becoming increasingly bold and less and less afraid, Vilmos didn't care. He only knew how good it felt to have the restraints off his wrists.
Apparently seeing Vilmos' peaked appearance, Prince Valam handed Vilmos his overtunic. Vilmos was hesitant to take it.
Vilmos said, "You'll catch your death of cold, Your Highness."
"Snows in High Province are already knee-deep, and in winter they are so deep a man cannot walk across them. Take it, Vilmos, to me it will make little difference. The hide is specially treated and rain will not soak it. It will keep you from catching a cold. When the time for action comes we'll need everyone at their best."
Vilmos accepted the tunic and wrapped it about him. The Prince's overtunic was so big in fact that Vilmos was able to wear it like he would have his hooded cloak. He didn't put his hands into the sleeves. Instead, he pulled the collar up over his head and peered out through a space between the two middle ties.
They trudged on. Hours passed. Afternoon came. Still rain poured down upon them. Then just when Vilmos thought the day would end much as it had begun, his deepest fears were realized. The green of forest came into sight.
It was then, in a softly whispered voice that Vilmos told the prince, the princess and the guardsman of his previous travels in the Vangar. He also told them of the soldiers in the valley, and of the Wolmerrelle. All the while he spoke, an uncontrollable trembling and dread flooded over him.
"Thank you, Vilmos," Prince Valam said. For a time he was obviously deep in thought, then Valam said, "Be that as it may, we must address other matters. Once we cross the boundaries of the Kingdom into the Minors, our captor will have little use for you and Emel.
"I know not why he has allowed Emel to live, but I am sure now why you live. He is using you to keep me in check. He knew I would brood over the injustices he has given you and think not of other th
ings like escape. His advisors whisper well in his ear. My mind is clouded no more. Tomorrow in the forest," Valam said, "we will make our move. To die fighting is honorable. To die with a blade in your back is quite another thing."
Emel seemed to agree. "Tomorrow," he whispered.
Vilmos started to say that Vangar Forest was no place for unarmed travelers, but Emel cut him off with a wave of his hand. Almost immediately afterward, Vilmos went sprawling face first into the muddy ground as he was booted from behind.
"Rest," said the now familiar voice. The guard, who apparently took great pleasure in his misdeed, turned away laughing as Vilmos spat and tried to wipe mud from his eyes.
Valam screamed at the guards, "Bring water."
None of the guards moved.
"Already they find bravery," Prince Valam whispered, "perhaps tonight in the forest would be even better."
"You give the word, Your Highness," Emel said, "and only death will keep me from your side."
"I do not think they will kill the two of you just yet. If you truly are Minor-born, Vilmos," Valam said, turning as he spoke, "William may just give you your life. Use that chance, Vilmos, use it for all it's worth. Go back to Tabborrath Village and leave the affairs of men to men."
Emel waved a hand under his chin. The conversation stopped. Vilmos turned and saw a guard approaching.
"To your feet!" shouted a gruff voice, signifying an end to the brief rest. Apparently their captors were eager for the feeling of safety that being within the borders of Sever would provide.
Like thieves in the night the enemy army had stolen upon Quashan'. From atop the city's fortified walls, Chancellor Van'te stared out at the enemy host. In the two days since their arrival, they had staged no attacks against the city and though they barred all travel into or out of the city, they harassed its residents in no other way.
Chancellor Van'te turned to the young sergeant at arms beside him. "How many do you estimate today?"
Sergeant Danyel' grimaced. "A few hundred more arrived in the night. Still, nearly the same as yesterday, around ten thousand."
"That is my estimate also." Van'te looked glumly to the young recruits on the wall. "How many were you able to rouse to the city defenses?"
"Two hundred more," Danyel' said proudly. "I told them nothing of the garrison's absence. None would have believed me anyway. Who would believe the entire garrison, save for the handful which includes me, is gone?"
The chancellor scrutinized the sergeant, and then said in a soft voice, "You think me the true fool to allow such an order to pass, don't you?"
"The seal was genuine, and what man can refuse a summons by his King. Perhaps Imtal has indeed fallen."
Chancellor Van'te wasn't able to respond. "Runner!" came the cry from the west wall.
Chancellor Van'te grinned; he knew if he were persistent enough one of his messengers would get through. "Give the man some help!" Van'te shouted to the archers on the walls. As archers began firing wildly at the enemy line out of their range, the chancellor moved to leave the wall. "Sergeant Danyel'," he said, "lead me from the wall."
The two hurriedly made their way to the courtyard where they hoped to find good news. It was a short walk. Still Chancellor Van'te, well advanced in his years, found he was wheezing and puffing by the walk's end.
When Van'te and Danyel' reached the courtyard, they found the runner winded and hunched over after his sprint across the field. Still without delay the runner handed Chancellor Van'te the scroll and in earnest the chancellor began to read its contents. "By the Father," Van'te muttered to himself, "it is from Prince Valam." His voice trailed off and shock registered on his face.
Chancellor Yi turned to say something to the runner and found the man gone, as if he had vanished. "Sergeant Danyel'," Van'te screamed in a high-pitched nasal tone as only he could, "I want that runner found!"
Danyel' signaled to the two soldiers beside him. They hurried off. Danyel' asked, "What does it say? Is the message truly from His Highness?"
Chancellor Van'te showed the scroll to Danyel'. A mute minute passed, then the sergeant said, "Are you sure this is truly Prince Valam's writing? Couldn't this be an elaborate hoax to make us quit the city?"
A pained expression crossed Van'te's face. He blamed himself for what had transpired. He felt suddenly tired and old. "I have schooled His Highness all the years of his life. Surely by now, I should be able to recognize his scrawl… See the loops above the I's, the double slashes on the T's and the way he stops to make an L?"
Danyel' nodded.
"Done that since he was a boy first learning to write, just to annoy me. Yes, I am sure it is his handwriting."
"Do you really believe that if we opened the gates of the city, the army surrounding Quashan' would guarantee safe passage for all who wished to leave?"
"Prince Valam didn't," the chancellor said quietly.
Danyel' seemed confused. "What do you mean?"
Chancellor Van'te flattened out the scroll and pointed to the last few lines.
Danyel said, "I still don't understand."
"The handwriting switched here… Can you see the darkening of the strokes?" Danyel' shook his head. "Never mind, never mind. Only a foolish old man or a young boy such as you would think five hundred could defend a city from ten thousand."
"You, Chancellor Van'te, are no fool," Danyel' said. He patted the chancellor on the back. "If any can save Quashan', it is you. Tell us what you would have us do, and we will do it."
Chancellor Van'te scratched at his chin. "At any rate, there is little we can do now. Soon enough they'll know we do not intend to quit the city, the attack will begin then…"
Prince Valam turned to Emel. "How many men are stationed around the periphery of the camp?"
"You mean, is there hope for escape this night?" Emel said, leaning close to Valam then and whispering something that Adrina couldn't hear. From the expression on her brother's face, it wasn't good news.
Adrina returned to her muddled thoughts. Since their capture, her thoughts had been ever jumbled and never clear.
A day of trudging along overgrown paths had left her exhausted and in tears. Mostly she was distraught because she had always considered herself capable of doing anything a man could do, yet every day now she saw how much she depended on Emel and Valam to make it through the day, especially this last day. Here she had found a bitter truth: until now her life had been a pampered and sheltered life.
Adrina was also agitated because it seemed Valam and Emel left her out of their plans for escape. Disappointed, she remembered a conversation she had with Emel days ago, just before Alderan. She had told him, "I am as good with a blade as you are, perhaps better."
Emel had replied, "Besting me on the practice field is not the same thing, Adrina." She remembered how coldly Emel had said it, and how bitter the truth of it was now that she understood what he had meant.
She heard the words of the mysterious lady in her ears. "The evil brings the change you so wished for. It has found a home in the emptiness of your heart. You care too little for those around you. You see not the servants who toil for you, workers in the fields on their hands and knees with the whip at their backs, drudges scouring the kitchen floors… You must open your eyes!"
Adrina thought back to another time and when she closed her eyes she saw the quiet fields of Mellack Proper—it was then only two days after she met the mysterious lady and her journey was only beginning. Lying there on the cold ground, her body sore, her stomach rumbling, the fields of Mellack Proper, the orchards of Duke Ispeth, the hills of the Braddabaggon and even the mires of Lord Fraddylwicke all seemed desperately far away.
Adrina rubbed painfully blistered feet. "My eyes are open, truly open," she whispered to the wind. Opening her eyes meant much more than simply seeing the things around her. It meant looking for and finding understanding in the world around her, looking not only with her eyes but also with her heart, mind and soul, and then finding resolve to a
ction. It meant being a participant instead of an onlooker.
"Adrina!" hissed Emel in her ear, breaking Adrina from her thoughts.
Adrina started, Emel clasped a hand over her mouth, noticing then that the camp seemed suddenly shrouded in darkness. Beneath the forest canopy, no stars were visible. Even the central fire seemed muted by the stark darkness. She noted that the logs on the fire were all but fiery ashes. Apparently many hours had passed in what to her had seemed minutes.
Emel squeezed her hand, causing Adrina to notice the ropes that had been tied around her feet and hands were gone. Before she could speak her thoughts Emel nodded his head as if he were reading them. Her eyes went wide. Adrina tried to speak again. Emel put a silencing finger to her lips.
Valam gripped her shoulder and turned Adrina to face him. He showed her four fingers and then pointing to Emel, he lowered three. With two fingers raised, he pointed to her. Three to Vilmos, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. Four, Valam pointed to himself.
He then turned her head to look around the camp. In the distance Adrina saw the immense trunks of the great southern trees whose intertwined boughs formed the clearing they were in. At the far edge of the camp, a number of watch fires were set, but they also burned low. Only a handful of guards still stood their watch. Valam pointed out two of them. In the dim light Adrina watched them. One kept slapping both hands to his face, apparently trying to erase sleep from his tired eyes. The other was leaning up against a tree and, to some degree, faced their direction.
A long period of complete silence passed as they waited, for what Adrina wasn't entirely sure. Then without preface, Valam raised a single finger and Emel slipped away. For an instant afterward, Adrina saw Emel's silhouette against light cast by the fading fires and then he disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
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