The Still

Chapter 35

I reined ebon at Tursel’s side, near the head of the column.

The captain’s tone was reproving. “You’re safer in the center of our force, my lord.” I was silent. “Sire, when will we learn the purpose of this mad dash?”

“Tonight, in my tent. How far can we ride by dark? Can we reach Seasand Road?”

“No, only another league at best.”

That night we stumbled about setting up camp, our men grumbling and dog-tired. At last we met in my tent: Elryc, Rustin, Tursel. I bade Genard and Anavar pace outside, lest anyone overhear. “Abide not so much as a crow,” I told them. “Who knows what Powers be set upon us?”

Within, we gathered around the hour candle. First, I swore them to silence, by blood oaths that frightened even me. Then I said, “Margenthar let me think old Vessa, Speaker of the City, was dead. Lord Groenfil said nay, that Tantroth holds him captive. Can anyone think why he might he of it?”

Elryc hesitated. “To fret you, for fear of what Vessa might say to Tantroth.”

“That I sought his vote? All Caledon has heard by now.”

“If it’s a lie,” Rustin said, “it serves no apparent purpose. But if truth, why would he tell us? How does he gain?”

I said, “He called it a morsel to show his good faith.”

Tursel snorted. “What faith? He’s allied to Mar by blood and interest.”

“But he wants Soushire, and Uncle Mar won’t agree.”

“Why not, Roddy?” Elryc perched on my bed, wide-eyed.

“Combined, Soushire and Groenfil would outweigh Verein. Mar won’t risk such a power in Caledon unless he wields the throne. Perhaps not then.”

“But you will?” Rustin.

“I’ll do what I must,” I said carefully. “But Groenfil’s demand confirms that he’s venal. I’d not gain my throne by his hand.” It risked the Still.

“Whose, then?”

I went to the flap, peered out. Anavar stalked past the flap, knife drawn. “No one, sir,” he said. As he disappeared around the side, Genard appeared, going the opposite way.

I turned, faced my three confederates. “Vessa.”

Tursel frowned. “Tantroth holds him.”

“In Llewelyn’s keep, I’ll warrant. It’s the strongest place outside the castle.”

“You mean to sneak in, and take his proxy?”

I paced, my blood rising. “A small force. Forty men, say. No wagons, the freshest horses. We sweep down on Stryx, assail the keep, and take Vessa.”

Stunned silence, from all.

“We’ve surprise, we know the terrain, we have just cause. We even have Tantroth’s black garb that we stripped from their dead.”

Rustin shook his head. “Why did you race from Groenfil’s walls?”

“Caledon reeks of intrigue. The faster we move, the less chance word from Groenfil will outfly us.”

“What could Groenfil reveal?”

“That he told us Vessa lives. And, if he overheard us tonight, who could say he wouldn’t sell my plan to Tantroth?”

Rustin said quietly, “What good is Vessa to us?”

“We’ll have the votes to ratify my crown.”

“How so?”

“Are you fuddled? There’s Willem, Cumber, Soushire-”

“And who else?”

“Vessa, you dolt!”

“Vessa is unseated. What worth has his vote?”

I said angrily, “A quibble. Who would object, were I to convene Council, with him as member?”

Rust regarded me gravely. “Man might recognize your ascension. But would the True?’

My breath caught. Either way, I risked the True, and my Powers. But Vessa, rescued and in my hands, was a sure vote.

Tursel looked between us; we spoke of matters beyond his ken.

“Vessa’s all I have! His vote must be valid! Groenfil wants a miracle I can’t provide; what choice have I? We’ll seize the Speaker, and I’ll take my chance with the True.”

“Roddy, think it through. Tarry here a day, while-”

“I forbid it!” To soften my words I added, “Now the thought’s spoken, we must fly to Stryx. We left in such haste Tantroth may not yet know. With surprise, we have a slim chance. Without it, none.”

Rust looked exasperated. “We know not where Vessa is kept. Without that-”

I flung open the tent. Genard squawked in terror, retreating.

“Anavar! Come!”

My ward raced from behind the tent “What? Who attacks?”

“Inside!” I thrust him through the flap. “Tell them, boy. I’ve beaten you, oft treated you ill. Now I’d send you into Stryx, to learn where Tantroth keeps Vessa the Speaker. Will you go, and not betray me?”

Anavar’s head came up. “You’ve but to ask, Prince Rodrigo.”

“There.” I turned to Rust “Now Vessa’s found.”

“And if he’s truly in the keep?”

“We’ll pry him loose. How can we fail, with you to guide-what’s the matter?”

“Why nothing.” Rust’s voice was hoarse.

“The keep’s but a stronghold. You’d fight Eiber in the hills, would you not? In the streets of Stryx town? Then why trouble yourself-oh!” My sense returned at last.

“You understand?” His tone was low.

“Llewelyn your father. He may abide in the keep.”

“Shall I kill him for your crown, Roddy?”

“No, I-”

“Or rather for his treason?”

Tursel stirred uncomfortably.

“Out, Anavar. You too, Captain.”

None were left but Elryc, Rustin, and I.

“Let it not trouble you,” said Rust. He rubbed his brow, as if weary. “It were best long since done.”

Elryc said uncertainly. “Roddy?”

“I know. Leave us. Tell Tursel to choose his best men. We ride before dawn. Have us awakened.”

When we were alone, I went to Rust’s bench, lifted his chin. “You’ll kill me before you lift hand to your father. Swear to it.”

“He’s destroyed my honor. And his own. Mother’s …”

“Your oath.” Stern in gesture and voice, I made him give it. When we were done I urged, “Come to bed. We’ve little enough time ’til morn.”

“I’ll walk, I think.” He rose.

“Help me with my thongs.” I took his hands, put them to my jerkin. Mechanically, he did as I asked.

“I’m all right, Roddy. Let me go.” He took his cloak.

If one thing was certain this night, it was that Rust must not walk alone.

I knew but one way to stop him. I quelled my distaste; he had done too much to redeem me. Quickly I shucked my clothes, padded across the tent, stood blushing before him.

We rode proudly, three abreast, Anavar, Rustin, and I. Tursel and Fostrow rode just behind. The promise of day lurked over the hills, and I felt every nerve tingle. Rust had kept me from sleep almost until Tursel’s call. I leaned across, tweaked him in the ribs. “This is our moment, Rust. I feel it.”

His smile was wan. “I’m glad, my prince.” Since last night, his sadness had never vanished. Even in the throes of …” hastily, I turned my thoughts.

We were some two score horsemen, on the strongest and best rested of our mounts. We all wore swords, and many bore javelins as well. Not for the first time, I wished some clever horseman had solved the problem of carrying a long sword while mounted. A saddle sheath rubbed one’s leg incessantly, and an ordinary hip sheath could chafe a steed’s side with every step. And little was more laughable than a sword-armed man trying to mount.

We clattered down the trail. We were nowhere near the Verein crossroads, where the route widened to a respectable road. By carefully pacing our horses we might just reach Stryx before dusk. I dared not spend the night between the cross and the city, lest Uncle Mar block my retreat. No, we’d have to sweep into Stryx from the south, ride the coast road through the market, past the wine shops to the keep.

At noon we left the road to water the horses, and stretch our aching legs. By now we were mostly silent, each with visions of the grim work ahead. My mouth went dry every time I thought of Vessa’s dwelling, and the thongs that had bound my wrists.

Yet my own mood seemed lighthearted compared to some of our men. As we remounted, I called them near. “Some of you ride for me, others from loyalty to Captain Tursel. Regardless, to each of you, a month’s pay doubled, for riding this day.”

That, more than any noble words I could speak, brought a cheer. And I suspected fantasies of gold would sustain them through the long day’s ride. These men had little enough to cheer them; far from home, dependent on a rebel prince’s meager purse. Were Uncle Mar to capture them, or Tantroth or Eiber, they faced a bad end.

Afterward, I occupied my afternoon wondering how to pay them. I’d sell my diadem, if I must, and judge cheap the cost.

As we neared, Tursel sent scouts to probe the crossroads, and as I’d predicted it was unmanned. Its only value to Uncle Mar was when it barred my way, with Treak the other jaw of the trap.

The cross safe behind us, we hurried on. Seasand Road crept out of the hills toward the rocky shore, a longish canter south of Stryx.

At third hour, or thereabouts, I embraced Anavar, bid him race ahead and prowl the city to learn what he could. “Take care,” I said yet again. “If the guards we fought recognize you-”

“I know.” He put a hand on the pommel, to mount. “But there are many young aides in Tantroth’s troop. Some say we’re all alike.”

“I’d go myself, except I couldn’t manage your barbarian accent.”

“You mean our civilized manners.” A quick smile. “Forgive me. Father says offering a jest to one’s elders is like proffering garlic stew to a duchess. Even if she’s hungry she won’t thank you for it after.”

“Anavar, our lives are in your hands.”

“You honor me. And later, perhaps …” He spurred his mount. “You’ll see your way to raise my stipend.” And he was off before I could object.

I grumbled to Rust, “Is this what it’s like to have a child?”

For a moment his eyes danced. “Oh, no. Much worse.”

The closer to Stryx, the more chance we’d blunder across an Eiberian patrol. We no longer rode alone; we trotted past peasant carts and mule-driving merchants. If some gaped at our passing, we gave no notice. We wore our black cloaks now, to look as like men of Eiber as we could. We’d cantered past a guard post with an exchange of waves.

The afternoon was late, but still short of evening, when we trotted off the coast road to the ruins of a wharf and a warehouse that high seas had destroyed. Waiting among the broken walls was Anavar, just where I’d bidden.

“Hail, Prince.” He stood straight in his saddle. His cheek bore a bruise, between eye and ear. “Vessa lives.” He giggled. “We were at a tavern. I bought drinks, and had to join in downing them.”

“Anavar!”

“Else I’d raise suspicion.” He made himself serious. “What was I saying? Vessa faces execution, but no one knows when. Our lord Tantroth hasn’t decided. Probably at a festival.”

“Where is Vessa?”

He belched. “Who knows? Father says when you can’t find your road, follow hill or dale until-”

Rustin gripped my knee before I could erupt. He slipped from the saddle, clapped his arm amiably around Anavar’s shoulder, led him along the path behind a wall.

I fumed. See what came of setting a boy to a man’s work? Strong liquor was a menace. Once, when we’d slipped out of the castle, Rust had to hold me while I heaved my innards into the sea. I was no younger than Anavar, not much younger than I was now-imps and demons! Was I boy or man?

Soon, though it seemed long, they reappeared. Rustin shrugged quizzically. “Anavar doesn’t know because the soldiers weren’t sure. He thinks the Speaker’s in the keep. He’s been at the keep, our Anavar has.” His tone was brittle.

“And?”

“Full of Tantroth’s men, but no special guard. The town is theirs, you’ll recall.”

“Rust, you’ll wait here.”

“And the gates at Castle Way are open. Though it takes no more than a moment to swing them shut. As they will if a band of horsemen charges down the coast road.”

“You’ll stay behind with Anavar and three others in case-”

“And miss my Rodrigo leading us in battle? No.”

“Rustin, I won’t have you contend with Llewelyn!”

“Why, my lord Prince!” His eyes were bright, almost feverish. “We’re already adversaries. I’m loyal to Caledon, and he is not.”

That decided me. “You’ll remain.”

“No.” He drew himself up. “I’m not subject to your dominion.”

I was desperate. “Fostrow, Tursel! Seize him. Bind his hands if you must!”

Rust’s sword glinted in the late day’s sun. “Who seizes me dies!” Behind him, Anavar gaped.

“Hold! Fostrow, back.” I swung down from my saddle. Sword still in scabbard, I came close. “Strike me, if you will.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Of course.”

“Yet I’ll break your arm if you move to disarm me.”

“Come.” I led him, protesting, away from the uneasy troop.

A few paces away, where foam crashed into the mossy remains of a jetty, I let go his arm. “Rustin …”

“I’ll fight for you, Roddy.” His tone had a manic gaiety. “Honor demands no less. Don’t ask.”

“Rust, I’m not man yet.” My voice caught. “I need you. I need you sane.”

He thrust me away, mouth set. I stared full into his face.

At length he approached, slipped sword in sheath. “Roddy?” Briefly, his fingers brushed my damp curls. Then, for the second time in our lives, his head stooped to my shoulder, and he wept.

Seven went ahead, Fostrow among them. Concealing their swords in packs and cloaks, they trudged wearily toward Llewelyn’s keep, as if returning from patrol. One youth hid a bow, and a pitch-dipped arrow.

The dust of forty horsemen would raise alarm, especially if no patrol of that number had been sent our way. It was our forerunners’ task to hold open the gates to the keep. A flaming arrow into the dusk was to be our signal.

We waited in the ruins with growing unease. Rust would ride with us; I could not prevent it. But he’d sworn on his very soul to turn away from Llewelyn, should they meet. As for Anavar, I bade him return to our force in the hills, to avoid war with his own.

“Sir, I’ll raise my sword only to protect you, as we enjoined. Let me do that much.”

“No, I won’t have you consumed with guilt. And besides, you’re drunk.”

He flushed. “It passes.”

“I won’t-”

He shouted, “Let me choose my fate!”

My mouth opened, and shut. “Done,” I grated. “But hope I’m taken, else in camp I’ll take leather to you for insolence.”

“Sir, I-”

“Be silent, youngsire.”

Tursel’s fingers nervously traced the hilt of his sword. “I don’t know the town as well as you. How soon ’til our men are in place?”

“A few moments. When the arrow flies, ride as if demons pursue us.”

“Aye. Our men can’t hold the gate long.”

I tried to quell my unease. What if Tantroth strengthened the evening guard? What if Mar divined my plan, sent word ahead to trap me? The worst fate I could imagine was to fall in my uncle’s hands.

What if the arrow wouldn’t light?

“Remember, men.” Perhaps Tursel spoke also to me. “We seek only Vessa. No time for looting, or hunting those who’d run. No doubt the old man’s in a safe room.”

“On the first floor, I’d wager,” Rust added. “Behind the family quarters, west of the kitchen …”

Anavar tapped my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lord Prince.”

“You’ll still be beaten.”

“If … I fall, I wanted you to know.”

I looked away, ashamed.

“Look!”

A fiery trail gleamed bright in the dusk.

“Together, for Caledon!” I lashed Ebon’s flank.

We charged down the cobbled road, scattering townswomen with baskets, tradesmen closing their shops. Rustin drew sword, kept pace at my left.

The coast road wasn’t all that wide. As we passed, a few folk pressed themselves into doorways, or jumped into reeking ditches to avoid our hooves. I glanced rightward. Behind the narrow streets of Stryx loomed our castle. Ahead, the massive keep. To the left, the sea crashed against the break.

We burst past Fullers’ Inn, where Rust and I had oft taken drink. Then, along the shore, a familiar stone hut. “Look, Rust! Need another sword?” Months or days ago, when I was a foolish youth, Rust and I had visited the sword-smith. His burly young prentice gaped as we raced past.

The squared walls of the keep loomed. Over the thunder of hooves I caught shouts, cries of pain. I whirled my blade, “For Caledon!”

“For Rodrigo!”

A dozen guards struggled to swing shut the sturdy gates. Three barred their way. I dug my heels into Ebon. Behind me, riders leveled their spears. The cobbles flashed past.

A shield rose to obstruct me, a sword poised behind. I slashed down with all my might. The shield dropped, an arm with it. I closed my ears to an agonized scream.

Ebon snorted, rearing to strike.

Our column thundered past the gates. “To the villa!” Rustin’s call penetrated the clamor.

Behind me, at the gate, Fostrow hacked at a desperate defender, sweat dripping from his brow. Blood drenched his jerkin. “Did you walk to join us, my lord? A pleasant stroll?”

I hauled on the reins. Ebon roared, crashed into the Eiberian’s ribs. The man dropped without a sound.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” Fostrow panted. “But we’ve four dead.”

“More, by now.” I peered into the setting sun’s haze. “Where’s Rustin?”

“Stay with him, or with me!”

Shouts from above. A squad of Eiberians raced along the lower rampart. I cursed. As they hurtled down the stairs I cantered alongside, sword raised high. I caught one man in the chest, another in the leg. I slammed my sword hilt into a frantic face, watched the soldier topple. Then the rest of the squad was upon us. Fostrow and I fell back to the courtyard where our men formed a shield around the entry to the villa.

“Where’s Rust?”

“Inside!”

I slipped off Ebon and raced to the door where once we’d greeted Lady Joenne. Within was carnage. Bowls of stew lay overturned on a table drenched with blood. A guard lay wailing, cradling his innards. Bodies lay about. Some still twitched.

I glanced outside. Our men braced as troops in black fell upon them from both sides.

In the next room, shouting.

A slim form hurtled past; Anavar planted himself in front of me, sword drawn. I thrust him aside, plunged into the chamber. Rustin was nowhere to be seen. Men of Eiber retreated through a far door. I glanced about. Where was the kitchen passage?

The last Eiberians retreated to the far doorway. A bearded face I thought I recognized. Eyes that met mine, turned away quickly. Was it Llewelyn?

From a hall, Rustin appeared. “This way! Move!”

I tore after him, Anavar at my heels. In near dark I tripped, went sprawling. “Ow!”

Something sharp jabbed my side.

As one, Rust and Anavar hauled me to my feet. I stepped across the body I’d stumbled over, peered into the room.

An Eiberian guard slumped on a stool, a knife in his chest. He stared dully as blood trickled. Behind him, a henchman lay unmoving. Vessa cowered against the far wall.

I stood straighter. “Come with us, Speaker.”

“I couldn’t support you-Tantroth had the city. I had no escape-please don’t kill me!”

“Come quickly, if you want to live.”

The old man tottered to his feet.

Hand pressed to my side, I ran through the passage, leaping over the Eiberian corpse. “Tursel, we have him! Sound the call!” Behind me, Rust and Anavar guided the Speaker. I raced to the front of the villa, plunged into the dusk. “Tursel!”

“He’s rallying the guard.” Fostrow limped slowly to the entry, breathing hard. His leg was bloody.

“Ebon!” I whistled shrilly. As I knew he would, he cantered to me. I swung into the saddle, wheeled to the courtyard.

Tursel loomed in the deepening dusk. “Everyone out! We’ll charge the far gate, where they least expect it!” The north gate, from which Rust and I had escaped to the hills when Tantroth besieged the keep. Now, Eiber’s ships lined the shore. We’d have to ride gauntlet. No matter.

We milled about the courtyard as arrows streaked from above, fired by Tantroth’s folk on the ramparts. I shouted, “Caledon, ride!”

Fewer than twenty, we surged toward the north gate. “Rust! Anavar!” I searched our ranks. Both were among us. Old Vessa gripped a stallion’s mane.

Anavar’s sword was red, and his eyes wild. I snapped, “Stay with Fostrow, he’ll guard you.”

“I’m man enough-where is he?”

I stood in the stirrups. Ahead, our men clashed with the gatesmen. “Fostrow!” Cursing, I swung Ebon, cantered back toward the villa.

He sat on the entry stairs.

“Where’s your horse? Move yourself!”

Around him, blood pooled. “I can’t, Roddy.” He had his helmet off. “Demons take me, it hurts.” His face was pasty.

“No!” My cry echoed in the dusk. I slid from the saddle. “Where?”

“My leg. The tubes are cut.”

“Bind it!”

“It’s past that. Go.”

“Not while you live.” I wheeled. “RUST!”

“No!” He clutched me. “Damn you, lad, run!”

“Not without you.” I sank to his side.

With a weary groan, Fostrow leaned his grizzled head against mine. “Don’t you understand? That’s what we’re for.”

“Roddy!” Rust galloped across the courtyard. “Out! Right now!”

“I’m … tired.” With an effort, the old guardsman focused on my face. “That’s what we do, we soldiers. We give lives for our lords. Doesn’t seem fair, sometimes.”

I could have wept, and hated that which stopped me. “I’ll bind you. We’ll find a horse.”

“Need to lie down.” It was a mumble. Fostrow let himself sink to the planks; I barely stopped his head from bumping. “Listen to … your mother, boy. She’s a … good queen. Even Mar says so.”

“Yes, Fostrow.”

“Now, Roddy!” Forceful hands hauled me away.

I shook free. “Don’t die! I’ll take you-”

A clatter of hooves, as black horsemen swept across the courtyard.

“It’s wars kill us, son.”

My hand swept Fostrow’s sweaty brow.

“Fight only …”

“What?”

Fostrow blinked, seemed to concentrate. “… just wars.”

“NOW!” Rustin tore me from the huddled form, whose chest still rose and fell. He grasped my boot, raised it to the stirrup. “Move or die!”

Numbly, I swung into the saddle. Rust tore loose his empty scabbard and gave Ebon a mighty thwack. “Go!” Ebon shot toward the gate. I clung to the pommel. Rust galloped behind.

We raced through the gate onto the north road. Behind us, the cries of war faded.

The beach was rocky. The black fleet of Eiber lay offshore, riding on the swells. We were within bowshot of the ships, but who would keep archers aboard boats moored for the season? We were safe from that quarter.

What I hadn’t expected was the rows of tents in the field to our right. The Eiberian camps had been roused by the clamor of battle in the keep. A few quick-witted officers had devised a roadblock, but they’d barely dragged wagons and brush into place.

Tursel waved shoreward. We scrambled through sand and stones. A horse went down; the rider screamed; a mate stopped long enough to hoist him behind. We raced on, and plunged into the hills.

Ebon pounded methodically along the trail. I rode dazed in the saddle, side aching. When the tents had faded from sight I spotted a familiar trail. “Tursel, hold!”

He swung his head, saw no one pursuing. Reluctantly, he slowed. “What, Lord Prince?”

“Call a halt.”

“They’ll be on us ere long.”

“But not yet.” I pulled Ebon to a standstill.

“What now?”

I fought to think through a haze. “That path. I think it leads to Besiegers’ Pond.”

“So?”

“Above is the castle.”

“What of it?”

“I’ll go. Rust, come along if you wish.”

“Roddy, we’ve no time for nonsense!”

“Oh, there’s sense to it.” My teeth chattered, as if from cold. “Tursel, take your troop and cut west at the fork. Lead our pursuers to the hills.”

“But why-”

“I’ll meet you at Shar’s Cross.”

“No. Lord Rustin, take the Prince’s reins. You, Thiel, guard his left.”

I rose in my saddle. “By the True and my crown, touch me not!”

“Roddy-”

“Tursel of Cumber, lead our troop to the hills. Move! Anavar, come along.”

“Me, sir?” His voice was a squeak.

“Yes, I’ll need another.” I lashed Ebon, and he leaped from the pack. “All you men, go to the hills. Your King commands it.” I cantered into the thick wood.

Muttered curses, and Rustin emerged from the branches. Behind him, the crackle of hooves on downed wood. Anavar shot out of the brush. He reined in at my side.

If I’d not known the trail as a boy, I could never have followed it on this moonless eve. As before, I had to dismount and lead Ebon through the worst thickets. A stitch in my side made my task no easier. Finally, we emerged at the still pond.

“Roddy, I’m no use unless you explain what we do.”

I patted Rust’s shoulder. “The trail leads to Castle Way, at the turn.”

“Don’t teach me geography!” He was at the end of his patience. “Where do we ride?”

“Why, to the castle gates.” I counted on the likelihood Tantroth would post no guards so close to the walls.

It was dark when we reached the turn. Below gleamed the torches of the keep. It looked like an anthill disturbed; men ran hither and about. Horns blared. As we watched, a great body of men gathered, and rode off to the north.

I turned Ebon up the bill. Anavar said nervously, “What are we about sir?”

“We go within.” As we reached the last bend I pulled off my sword, dropped it alongside the road. “Do likewise, both of you. We’re boys caught out in the night.”

Rustin growled, “Roddy, enough of this folly.”

I said sharply, “Be still! I command it!” He drew in breath, but lay down his sword.

At the top of the hill, the great doors were shut. Above, soldiers patrolled.

A few steps from the gate I handed the reins to Anavar, jumped off. My side stabbed. Perhaps I’d broken a rib in the night’s melee. Carefully, I stooped, found a stone. I trudged to the gate, hammered without cease.

Someone leaned over the parapet. “Stop that racket, lad!”

I tried to speak like Genard. “We been caught outside, Lor’! Soldiers runnin’ round. Lemme back in!”

“Who are you?”

“Master Griswold’s boys.” I stole a glance to Anavar, who was doing his best to seem loutish. For emphasis he scratched his rump.

“Sleep under the wall. Lord Margenthar commands the gates be locked from sunset.”

Lord of Nature help us if Mar were here. Yet surely he had too much cunning to trap himself far from Verein.

“If we’re not tending horses by dawn, old Griswold will thrash us. Please, the small door at least!”

With much grumbling, the small door was unbarred. “I hope he beats you bloody, you fools. Why are you outside the walls when-”

I snatched a torch from a post, held it as close to my face as the heat allowed. My voice rang from cobbles to keep. “I am Rodrigo, son of Elena, Prince and heir to Caledon. Summon our chamberlain Willem.”

Murmurs of disbelief. Someone called, “Seize them!”

I slapped my leg; the sound echoed in the night. “Where is my chamberlain?” A hand loomed. Contemptuously, I struck it away. “Willem!”

For a moment all hung in the balance, then my royal manner prevailed. As I stepped forward, men gave way. “You, there, go to Willem’s chambers! Rouse him!” A man ran off.

Another asked hesitantly, “Does the Duke know you’ve come?”

I snarled, “You question me?” I snapped my fingers. “Lord Rustin, take his rank.” Rust came forward, his manner imperious.

“Bring us wine.” If I drank, I’d spew it into the dust; my nerves were that tight. Still, I had to maintain appearances.

Torches gathered. Men crowded round to marvel. I stood stiff, wishing I didn’t feel faint.

It was years before Willem appeared on the steps from the donjon, a furred robe thrown over his shoulders. “Who goes in the night?”

He seemed to have grown in stature since Mother’s death. For a moment, I recalled the charade Uncle Mar and I played out before the nobles, the day she left me.

“It is I. Rodrigo, Prince.” Even in the dark, I could have sworn I saw him pale. “Come.” I held out my hand. For a moment I thought he’d let my arm dangle, but he walked slowly down the steps, took my hand, bowed. The bow of courtesy, from host to guest, no more. I saw, and he knew I saw.

“Roddy, how did you-does Margenthar know?”

From the castle guards, rising murmurs. “Stire can’t be far, find him. Hold them until-”

I said quietly, that no others might hear, “I call you to your pledge.”

“What pledge?”

“Your vote in Council.”

His eyes darted. “You said-you’d need three.”

“I have them. Vessa, Cumber, Soushire.”

Silence.

Rustin watched me by the torchlight. There was something in his eyes akin to reverence.

Willem chewed his lip. “Roddy, I can’t leave. Mar would …”

I said, “You cherished Elena. Am I not her heir?”

Willem looked ready to weep. “Now? Right this moment?”

“Or never. A horse awaits.” I gestured to the gate.

A soldier growled, “Where in the demons’ lake is Stire?”

“He’s coming.”

“Now.” Ignoring the bite in my side I strode toward the gate, my pace steady. “Do you join us, Chamberlain?”

As if rehearsed, Anavar and Rustin fell in alongside. At the gate, I turned. Deep breaths, for strength; never mind the hurt. “Look on me, Caledon! I am Rodrigo.” I flung off my hated black cloak, the remnant of my disguise. “I will return as your King. Know me now, and then. Fight Tantroth, our enemy. But oppose me at your peril.”

On the ramparts above, running boots. I clapped my hands. “Anavar, Lord Rustin, Willem. Come.” I strode into the night.

I tried not to hurry as I made my way to Ebon. Anavar held my bridle as I struggled to mount. I gritted, “Fetch our swords. You’ll ride with Rust.” Seated, I glanced back. Rust followed.

Chamberlain Willem was a step behind.

I reached across, gathered the reins of Anavar’s mare, presented them to Willem. “Welcome.”

His face was grave. “I do this for Elena, and because you cajoled my promise. Not for you, youngsire.”

I felt giddy. “No matter. You’ll come to love me.” I spurred down Castle Way.