“I was in disguise,” Rylin said. He’d set his ring shining, but in the heat of combat mistakes were simple to make.
“Ah, he’ll be fine now,” Lasren said, brushing the topic away with a wave. “And boy do the Alantrans love you! Three of their healers completely drained themselves working you over, and one of them is still recovering from it. You were this close to galloping off.”
“I owe them my thanks. What about Varama and the squires inside? Any word from them?”
“A little. She’s still in there. Apparently the ugly weirdo’s running the Naor ragged.”
Rylin snarled. “Don’t call her that.”
Lasren smirked.
“I mean it.”
“Sure.” Lasren grinned cockily. “You been pounding her or something?”
Cold fury seized him. His hand shot out and grabbed the front of his friend’s khalat. Lasren stumbled forward in mute surprise. Rylin’s voice shook with rage. “She’s worth ten of you, you stupid hastig. You shut your damn mouth!”
Lasren’s eyes widened and searched his own, as if seeing something unfamiliar there. Finally, he looked away.
It took Rylin a moment to relax. He lowered his hand and dropped it to his side, flexing his fingers. He felt a little faint as he stepped back.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Lasren said softly.
“An alten should always mean what he says.” Rylin’s voice was a tense whisper.
Troubled silence lingered for a long moment, and then Lasren spoke on with false cheer. “She managed to kill a bunch of their dragons. We’ve only ever seen one moving around, and it never flies very far.”
Of course Varama had found a way to get to the dragons. He wondered what else she was doing, and wished he was in there helping her, instead of outside listening to Lasren’s juvenile ramblings.
“You know, they’ve even given you a nickname. Well, they’re using several, really.”
“Who are ‘they’?” Rylin asked with only mild interest.
“The Alantrans. Sometimes it’s ‘Rylin the Valiant’ or ‘Rylin the Wily’ but the one I hear most often is ‘Rylin of the Thousand.’ I think that’s the one that’s going to stick. By all accounts you probably saved more than thirteen hundred people, but I guess it gets the point across. It’s a pretty good moniker, especially since it’s the people you saved who came up with it. Oh, and Elenai’s got a sobriquet, too, now. Elenai Oddsbreaker.”
Rylin repeated the last under his breath and then shot his friend a searching look.
“She got promoted to the ring. So she’s fair game now.”
So Elenai got promoted and all Lasren could think about was how that made her a potential bedmate? Rylin had thought him occasionally tiresome before, but shook his head that he would ever have found that kind of chatter amusing. Still, it was nice to hear Elenai had come through, and risen to her potential. Isn’t that what Varama had said about him? That he was rising to it?
Suddenly weak, Rylin had to steady himself against the tent pole.
“You look like you’re about to collapse. Come on. Sit down.”
That sounded a fine idea, so Rylin returned to his tent, conscious now of the smell of sickness. He must have been sweating out a fever.
Inside there was nothing but the bedroll and a bundle of clothes spread over a blanket behind it. There was just enough room for him and Lasren, if they sat on well-pressed grass blades. Apparently he or others had been sitting there a lot recently.
Rylin gratefully drank, a little pleased it was water his friend offered. As weak as he felt, he was pretty sure even a couple of swigs of wine would leave him tipsy. The whole time, Lasren watched him as though he were a rare animal seldom glimpsed in the wild.
“Stop looking at me like that. How long have I been out?”
“Six days.”
That was a long time. “And how large is this camp?”
“Not as large as might be nice, but we have about a thousand Kaneshi, some Alantran horsemen, and some advance scouts from Vedessus. The commander and I rode in with them. More are on their way, along with some infantry.”
“Vedessus—” Rylin remembered that the Naor had planned to attack it next. “Did the Naor move against Vedessus?”
Lasren laughed. “Aye. And they got themselves killed, along with Mazakan himself.”
“Mazakan’s dead?” He could scarce credit it. “I thought only Irion could do that.”
“Irion did.”
“Who was wielding it?”
Lasren’s broad, handsome face brightened in a grin. “Funny you should ask.”
A trumpet blared outside. It was a call for assembly.
Lasren held up a hand. “I should check on that.”
“I’m coming, too.” Rylin started to rise with his friend.
“No—get dressed. I’ll be right back.”
Lasren stooped and hurried from the tent. Rylin frowned after him, jealous of his friend’s health. It was only as he looked down that he realized he might not have been as self aware as he’d first assumed. He had only a loincloth under the long shirt.
He rooted through the bundle of clothing, discovering it was his own, for the most part, and laundered. The shirt was different, blue, but proved a decent fit.
By the time Lasren returned, Rylin had poured water from his friend’s waterskin to scrub his face, and then donned clothes, stifling most of his groans at the occasional discomfort. He’d also shaken out the blankets and rolled them, and opened the flap to air out the tent.
“You look almost human now,” Lasren told him.
Rylin was in little mood for jokes. “Is there a problem out there?”
“No. Just another patrol going out.”
“Who’s the new commander, anyway?”
A smile lit his friend’s features.
“Why are you grinning?”
“Because you won’t believe me.”
He tried to keep irritation from his voice. “It isn’t Kyrkenall, is it?”
“Better.”
“You look awfully pleased with yourself. Is it Gyldara?”
“No.”
It didn’t seem like he’d get it out of Lasren, and he didn’t feel like playing games. “Fine.”
Lasren still worked to overcome the strained air between them. “Hey, I got to see Enada riding down the Naor. She’s a little crazy, but she sure knows what she’s doing. I think the Naor may actually be afraid of her, and I didn’t think they were afraid of anyone but N’lahr.”
“They’re still afraid of him,” Rylin said. He hadn’t missed Lasren struggling to recapture the ease of their old friendship, and he worked to share something the way he might have in the past. It just didn’t feel as imortant as it might once have. “I captured a Naor scout, and when I told him I was N’lahr, he nearly crapped his armor. I guess they don’t know what he looks like. Later on, at the site of a fight I had with the Naor, I wrote N’lahr’s name out in the blood of the dead.”
Lasren’s laugh was only a little forced. “You’re kidding. So they think he’s inside the city?”
“They certainly think he’s alive. One of the Naor officers claims to have seen him. None of the upper-ranked officers believed her, but I think a lot of the soldiers do. They’re so afraid of N’lahr they practically jump at even the mention of his name.”
Lasren grinned as a shadow fell just outside the tent. “You have no idea.”
As the flap opened, Lasren had a clear view of whoever was out there and hurried to his feet, crouching so as not to hit his head, but saluting as he did so.
“As you were,” said a cool voice, and a tall figure in an Altenerai khalat ducked his head and moved under the canvas.
It took a moment for Rylin to understand just who he was looking at, and even then, his jaw dropped. Then he realized it had to be Varama playing a trick with her semblance, and he grinned. Somehow she’d gotten out of the city. “Nice one, Varama.”
The N’l
ahr image she was wearing was far more realistic than Rylin himself might have dreamed up, owing of course to the fact Varama had spent far more time around him. Rylin had met the great general only a few instances as a young squire.
Lasren was unable to hide a snort of astonished laughter.
Varama answered shortly. “I’m not Varama.”
“Well, you’re not N’lahr,” Rylin countered. It wasn’t like her to play a trick, but she had long since proved herself unpredictable.
“He is,” Lasren said from behind Varama’s shoulder.
“I am,” said the image, with the hint of a smile.
Rylin stared. In his experience watching Varama wear semblances she inevitably revealed herself, particularly in the way she used her eyes, which never seemed to be entirely focused on the here and now. Either she had been practicing, or someone else was wearing the semblance.
“I’m impressed,” Rylin said, “whoever you are. Is this going to be used to frighten the Naor?” He was surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself before now.
“Alten Rylin, my death was faked. I was the queen’s prisoner in the north. What you see is neither jest nor disguise.” The voice was serious but a slight smile played about his eyes.
Only then did the possibility he was looking at the real man reach him. Yes, he’d seen that the body in N’lahr’s tomb was a fake, but he was so used to thinking of N’lahr as dead he’d naturally assumed the man continued to be. Especially after Rylin’s own recent experiences with impersonation. “Sir?” He put his hand out to help himself rise to attention.
“No.” N’lahr, if that’s who he really was, sat down across from him on the grass.
Rylin looked over to Lasren.
“It’s true, Rylin.” His friend was still grinning. “This is no joke. That’s him.”
Rylin studied the narrow face with the black eyes and pointed chin. He’d never expected to look on it again, alive. Somehow he managed to say something that wasn’t entirely bereft of worth. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir.”
“And it’s a pleasure to meet you as an alten. The last time we talked you were a third ranker, in Kanesh.”
“Yes, sir.” He smiled that N’lahr would remember that. He’d been grooming the horses and N’lahr had stopped to ask him how he was faring.
“Are you hungry?” the general asked. “Thirsty?”
“Both, sir.” He answered in a daze, still staring.
“Lasren—”
“I’ll take care of it, Commander.” Lasren put his hand on the tent flap and looked back to his friend. “Sorry, Rylin. I was so happy to see you—I should have made sure you were comfortable … anyway, I’ll get you something.” He limped quickly out of the tent. Rylin heard his booted feet pushing through the grass.
Rylin turned his attention back to the man who should have been dead, gazing in amazement.
“I’ve been getting that a lot,” N’lahr said, with amused exasperation. He calmly uncapped his wineskin and handed it across.
The cool wine was wonderful on his throat. So much for going easy on it. Somehow the wine seemed more necessary in light of the stunning surprise before him. He lowered the skin and returned it. “Thank you, sir. I still can’t believe I’m not dreaming. You’re a legend. Returned in our hour of need.”
“I don’t need hero worship. Least of all from you. I need information.”
“Yes, sir.” Rylin struggled to compose his thoughts. He kept thinking of the dead, like finding Aradel all but drained of blood. He didn’t think he was lost in memory for long, but he discovered N’lahr watching him.
The commander was famed for his cool detachment, but when N’lahr spoke, he sounded as if he knew where Rylin had been for the long, last moment. “You can never do as much as you want, can you?”
“No.”
“If you’ve given your all, you have to leave your regrets behind. You’ve earned the right to let them go.”
He nodded, and pulled himself together. He’d gained a lot of important information. He hadn’t expected to report it to N’lahr, but that didn’t matter. “I discovered a lot, Commander.”
N’lahr nodded once. “Go ahead.”
Rylin proceeded to tell him all that he’d learned about the Naor officers, the disposition of the troops, and the changes to the city. The general listened intently. He sensed that much of what he said might have been conveyed by some of the squires that had helped escort the Alantrans from Alantris, and other information might be out-of-date, but N’lahr interrupted only occasionally, to request additional details. This reminded him of Varama, in a way, except that N’lahr’s intensity couldn’t match hers. Even though her questioning sometimes felt like an assault, he knew a sudden pang at the thought of her.
Lasren eventually returned with a platter of dried meat and fruits and some unleavened bread. N’lahr paused in his queries as Rylin started on the food, and then a squire turned up with a request for N’lahr to consult with Enada. N’lahr relayed that he’d be there shortly, and the squire departed.
“I have lots of questions…” Rylin said, then faltered. “But I don’t want to waste your time.”
“If it were vital we’d have heard trumpets. Go ahead.”
Rylin hesitated. He imagined a source other than the head of their forces could catch him up on much of it, but there was so much he wanted to know. “What happened to Elenai and Kyrkenall?”
At that, N’lahr actually smiled. “They’re both fine. Alten Elenai acquitted herself well and has been awarded the ring. She’s on assignment with Kyrkenall right now. She has proven a deft hand with the hearthstones.”
“And Commander Denaven’s dead?”
“Elenai killed Denaven in a duel.”
That seemed only a step lower in credibility than learning N’lahr was still alive. “Elenai did?”
“Yes.”
That surpassed all his expectations. He shook his head. “Were there other traitors?”
N’lahr’s smile faded. “Not that we know of. Belahn had been deceived into working with them. Cerai, Denaven, K’narr, and Cargen appear to be the only ones. Though four are bad enough. Cerai is especially dangerous.”
“Yes, she is.” Rylin frowned. “If not for Cerai, the city might have held. She’s got a lot to answer for.”
“And she will. Later. Right now we must focus on the Naor.”
“And the queen, right? Why did she imprison you, and why did Denaven hide the sword?”
“She needed me out of the way to broker an agreement with the Naor about the hearthstones. She wanted their supply. We believe her intention was to subdue me, but the process went awry and the sword was trapped with me in a kind of hearthstone prison. Since the sword couldn’t be extricated, a duplicate was hung in the hall, complete with a glamor so it radiated magic.”
“So Asrahn noticed it was a fake and they killed him before he could start asking questions.” Rylin shook his head in disgust.
“Yes,” N’lahr said darkly.
“Are you going to be able to retake Alantris?”
“I’m working on it. But now, I need eyes and ears in Darassus. Someone who can think on his feet and take measured risks and get out alive. I’m sending you.”
“Me?”
He must have seen Rylin’s doubt, because he explained his reasoning. “Your own report, and those of your squires, provides me with all the assurance I require. You impersonated not just one, but a series of enemy officers, then passed yourself off as one of their staff to attend an enemy meeting, where you learned information you were able to pass on to Varama. You killed two of the men most vital to the maintenance of the dragons. You left the city with more than a thousand men, women, and children who were destined for slave labor and worse. If you can accomplish that among our enemies, then infiltrating a city you know well should be much simpler.”
“I don’t think it will be simple.”
“No. It won’t,” N’lahr agreed.
“I got lucky,” he confessed.
“Sometimes the difference between success and failure lies in knowing when to improvise, and judging when to press your luck. What do you think of Lasren?”
He answered without thinking. “He’s my best friend. Well. He used to be.”
“We need every alten on the front lines. But I’m loath to send you into Darassus alone. You have to be able to trust whoever I send with you.”
Rylin thought about all the spontaneous decisions he’d had to make while in disguise in Alantris, and how often he’d have been handicapped in companionship with another person. And then he thought about Lasren, bluff, hearty, and loud. And capable, Rylin admitted, even through his doubt. He might rise to the occasion. There was no question that Rylin would be safer with Lasren at his side in a direct battle. But moving around behind enemy lines? “I trust him. He’s just not very subtle.”
“I have you for the subtlety. He’s a brave, committed warrior. Are you familiar with the squire Elik?”
He nodded in approval at the thought of the curly-headed, pale-eyed fifth ranker. “He’s good.” Because of their skill, and intelligence, Elik and Elenai had been two of his favorite squires, but unfortunately he and Varama hadn’t been able to find Elik prior to their departure from Darassus. “Why do you ask?”
“He was sent here from Darassus with a small number of reinforcements. He has the most up-to-date details about the city and the standing of various people. If you think he’s trustworthy, I’ll send him with you.”
Rylin nodded. In some ways he considered Elik more dependable than Lasren. “I’ll take him. I don’t suppose there are any hearthstones?” His mind was already shifting to how he might best run a scouting mission against the capital, and a semblance would be a tremendous asset. He might not have been recognized in Alantris without a khalat, but he was a familiar sight in Darassus.
“Elenai sent most of those we’d recovered along with us. In case some of our weavers could use them before the battle. I don’t encourage taking one into Darassus with you. It will make you much easier to find.”
“I won’t. But I need one to repair a tool Varama made.”
“I’ll make it available.” He eyed him. “In addition to seeking intelligence, I need you to escort the new Alantran governor to the chambers of the Darassan Council. Her testimony about what she witnessed and what she’s learned will hold more weight than yours, especially since you’ve been accused of treachery.”
Upon the Flight of the Queen Page 30