The Still

Part IV
Chapter 37

It was a day and a night before we found Elryc and our wagons. Though we’d lost a score of men in the foray to the keep, our combined force was again strong enough, almost, to quell my nagging fears.

My skin was hot, and they made me ride in a wagon while my flesh knit. Rust hovered like a mother hen.

I bade Tursel lead us to Groenfil’s realm. We had business unfinished. Chamberlain Willem was given a guard of honor, and made welcome in our camp. Vessa was treated with respect I doubted he deserved. Tursel posted extra rear guard, and seemed worried.

Elryc rode propped against the side of the wagon, chewing a piece of straw. He listened twice to my tale of Stryx Castle, asking whom I’d seen, what changes were apparent. After, he furrowed his brow while he thought.

Suddenly he blurted, “Roddy, don’t leave me.” His face puckered.

“I came back, brother. Just as I prom-”

“No, after. As King.” He grabbed my hand. “You’re changing, don’t you feel it? Don’t forget me.”

“Changing how?”

“Becoming a man. The way you just spoke … it made me shiver. Don’t shut me from your counsel.”

I held out my hand. “I swore to seek your advice, and even setting that aside, you’re my brother whom I love.”

He collapsed into my chest.

After a time I said, “I was cruel to Pytor too, wasn’t I?”

Elryc hesitated. “He only wants to be near you.”

“I shunned him, complained to Mother, made him feel the baby.”

“We taunted you too, Roddy.”

“And I threw stones.” I shrugged. “We all do that as children, but with Pytor, it was more. The whine in his voice … it drove me mad.”

“He’ll forgive you.”

I was grateful for his certainty.

We stopped some hours at a stream outside Groenfil town, to refresh, mend, and elaborate what was left of our finery. I was weak, sometimes dizzy. Tursel argued strongly for pressing ahead, but only when we presented our best did I allow us to appear again before the Earl’s walls.

Groenfil met us immediately, outside the city. We offered perfunctory greetings, and his bow was noticeably deeper, though still not offering the homage of noble to King. “So. What have you done to stir Tantroth? He’s taken Shar’s Cross, roams the hills, assembles a force to assail Stryx Castle itself.”

Was it possible Groenfil didn’t know? With quickening heart I beckoned Rust close, whispered, “Bring Vessa.”

We of Caledon pride ourselves in our intrigue, but it gave immense pleasure to see Groenfil’s jaw drop when the old Speaker pushed aside the flap. We took wine and chatted amiably until I suggested he might retire. When Vessa was gone, the Earl and I faced each other across a narrow plank table. My wound ached. The sides of the tent flapped in a sudden breeze.

“My congratulations, Prince; you’ve four votes. Now, how to proceed? I’m sure fat Lady Soushire will bring her garlic to any place you choose. But Margenthar won’t permit a proxy vote on such an important matter as your crown. Do you think he’ll give you leave to consult Chamberlain Willem in the castle?”

To Rust, I merely nodded. He left with a smile, and returned with the Chamberlain.

Groenfil rose to his feet. “We’ll speak further, sir.” A bow, short and perfunctory. Outside, the wind snapped angrily at our banners.

I called after him, “Certainly. By morn’s light. In the meanwhile, I imagine you’ll be pleased to lend us fodder and supplies for our troop?”

Though he gave no answer, apparently it pleased him. Two hours later, when the wind had died, wagons rumbled into our camp, filled with provender. The supplies were welcome, but I’d pressed Groenfil for more cause than that. Our parleys, his provisions, all coaxed him further from Margenthar. Uncle Mar would soon or late learn that Groenfil recognized my cause, and would assume the Earl was plotting to desert him. Their rift would leave Groenfil more pliant.

I spent the night dozing uneasily. In the morning, Tursel strode into my tent, with nary a gesture of leave. “Pardon, Prince. Word from the rear guard. Hundreds of armed men pour down the trail we followed.”

Suddenly my knees were weak. “Tantroth’s army, so soon? By extending his supply lines doesn’t he risk-”

“Not Tantroth. Margenthar.” Tursel’s mouth was grim. “An excursion in force. He’s heading here, as fast as his wagons allow.”

Rust grunted. “With a supply train, he’s committing to more than a raid.”

I said, “He brought his wagons to trap us at the cross.”

“Yes, but Tantroth was near. Mar was wary of being sucked into battle, lightly equipped.”

“Rust, what shall we do?”

“Why, meet with Groenfil. He’s waiting under the canopy.”

“Does he know yet of Mar?”

Rust said, “He’ll know soon enough. There are no secrets in Caledon.”

I was amazed at my sudden confidence. “I’ll see Groenfil now, while there’s chance he hasn’t heard. Wait here; I may need you.”

As briskly as I could with bound ribs, I strode into our conclave. “Good morning, my lord.”

“Good day, Prince.” We bowed; he took his seat.

“Thank you for the provisions. My men-”

He said, “Shall we come to the point?”

An odd but refreshing approach to the dance of diplomacy. “Very well.”

“I’ll tell you what I know. And what I don’t.” He made a tent of his hands. “When Mar proposed a regency I approved, though I disliked seeing so much power gathered in his hands.”

I nodded.

“Of course, in his view, that was the whole point But you were clearly too young and too callow to be King.”

I folded my arms.

“Not for the reasons you think. You’d never have kept us from each other’s throats, you see. I want Soushire, and Cumber wants autonomy, and Mar wants to speak for the crown, and the Warthen trifles with selling his power of Return to the Norlanders. None of us can allow the others too great a success. Your late mother had her hands full.”

I looked at him with dawning respect.

“The regency,” he said, “can be dissolved by the Council that created it. We were seven, so one would think four votes can dismiss Margenthar.” He made a show of counting. “Willem, Soushire, Cumber … but Vessa? Who controls the city to appoint a Speaker: Mar? Tantroth? Certainly not you.”

“Ahh.”

“That’s what I know. As to the rest …” He leaned forward, intent. “What, exactly, is Caledon’s Power, and how does it operate? They say you must speak True, before and while you wield it. Have you?”

“I believe so.”

“And the other requirements, which make you blush so?”

“Kept.” I spoke through gritted teeth.

“I’ve heard the third requisite of your Still is that you be lawful King. Is it thus?”

“Yes.”

“I asked our Ritemaster and he knows not. Will you pledge to me by your True, that you’re certain Vessa’s clouded fourth vote will bestow on you the Still?”

I hesitated, and plunged into the chasm. “No.”

“Will you swear it does not?”

“I think it shall. By all that’s fair and just, it should. I cannot swear that I know.” But with Vessa’s vote I must give Groenfil’s lands to Soushire, to keep True.

“What of the Rite by which you summon your Power? Does it require … accouterments?”

“The Vessels.” I’d thought it a family secret. “They’re taken.”

“By whom?”

“Uncle Mar.”

“And without them?”

“I have no Power.” I saw my crown fading into mist and added hopefully, “As King, I’ll reclaim the Vessels.” It sounded a forlorn boast.

“Mar will be delighted to hand them to you.”

“Of course he won’t. But neither Mar nor his Bayard can wield the True. They’re … no longer eligible. So it’s me or none.”

Groenfil nodded. “Truth for truth. Well traded.” For a moment he seemed uneasy. He stood, stretched, selected a fruit his own servants had brought the night past. “I asked for a sign, and you brought it. Your ragamuffin force secured not only Vessa, but Willem. I am persuaded: You are one to be King.”

My heart leaped.

“My vote will assure your legitimacy. I believe I mentioned its price.” He stood, as cold wind swirled about our legs. “Oh, a few other trifles. Ten crownweights of gold. I’ll wait ’til you have your treasury; your oath on the True will suffice. My precedence over Lord Margenthar in affairs of state; arrange the protocol as you must, so long as it irks him. But most importantly, Soushire.”

“No.”

“Very well.” He stood. “I bid you good day. Please leave my lands.”

“Be seated!” My voice was a lash. “We did not give you leave.”

His knees bent, but resolutely, he straightened. “You are not my liege lord, sir.”

“Be seated, or our first crowned act will be to have you flogged!”

A sudden breeze stirred the canopy. “Without me, you risk your Power. Do you treasure it so little?”

“More than you imagine.” My eyes blazed into his. “I will be King and crowned; with my other votes you cannot bar that. You may only cost me the Still, and make me blood enemy ’til death.”

Outside, Ebon neighed, and someone soothed him. The tent walls flapped. It was all I could do to stop my voice from shaking. “You will sit, or I shall walk from the tent, and never shall we speak again.”

Slowly, as if battling himself, he sank to his chair. The wind quieted.

“Now. The gold, I refuse. Absolutely, without quibble or haggle. No. We’ll need our strength to rebuild Caledon.” I stood to pace. “Precedence over Mar? Gladly. And I forget not your caveat regarding Renna, your sister. She will live safe, and so will Mar, unless he provokes me further after I am enthroned.” I shook my head, shedding disgust. Gladly would I run Mar through with arrow or spear.

My side twinged; as casually as I could, I settled in my seat. “Now, as to Soushire. For such friendship as we may come to attain, for the benefit of Caledon, for your own sake, I beg you not to ask it.” I held my breath. If he assented, I was undone, yet in decency I owed him the opportunity.

“No. I will have Soushire.”

“You expect me to secure it for you?”

“Whatever arms I ask, in addition to my own.”

I let him wait, so the prize would seem greater. “Very well. Provided you swear to end the regency and speedily crown me King, I swear by the True, and the Power I would wield.”

That, of course, wasn’t enough. He made me reword the oath to his satisfaction; when he was done I was well and truly bound.

Groenfil stood. Slowly, he bowed, the bow of respect, of vassal to liege. His tone was light. “Frankly, sire, I’m relieved.”

“That you’ll have Soushire?” I didn’t much care. Now that it was done, I felt the throb in my side with each heartbeat.

“Why, that you’re no better than I. For a time, you left doubt.” Yet his face betrayed an odd disappointment. “Your oath is truly sworn: I am pledged to you, sire.” He bowed, a proper bow, acknowledging duty of vassal to liege.

We agreed to set forth that very afternoon for Cumber, where Council would convene. I hoped to have Groenfil well away from his realm before word of Mar’s army reached him.

I made note to invite the Warthen of the Sands and Uncle Mar to join in Council, but I knew neither would attend. After, I would be crowned.

The moment Groenfil was gone to his city, Rust rushed into the tent. “I heard shouts, and wind stirred the dust.”

“We were annoyed.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes,” I said. “He pressed us.”

“Ahh, my prince grows regal. Shall I be permitted to touch you, when you’re King?”

“Perhaps,” I said coolly, and was surprised at how his face fell. “Of course,” I said. “As before.” I eased myself onto a couch, gingerly patting my side. “Everyone says I’m becoming a man. But a crown won’t make me one. You’ll help me through the last of it?”

He knelt, and his eyes glistened. “I wish …”

“I know.” I touched his hand. “It’s not my nature. But for a time I must live by the True, and I need your comfort.”

“I’ll cherish each day.” He rose, fled the tent.

Groenfil delayed several hours, preparing to ride forth. Word came from our scouts: Duke Margenthar watered his horses at the stream where we’d stopped to refresh, mere hours from the city.

I was frantic to keep Groenfil free of my uncle’s snares, even if it cost the Earl his castle. “Set the column marching the very moment Groenfil appears,” I told Tursel.

Nervous, not knowing what to do, I poured water, washed breakfast from my hands. After, I perched on a stool outside the tent they’d just folded, toying with the bowl of tepid washwater.

What was this Earl who’d joined his cause to mine? By Mother’s account, he was among the most venal in Caledon. Certainly his lust for Soushire did him no credit. And yet … I shivered, idly rubbing the warmth of my palms. Was there something more to him? Did he adhere to our House only from self-interest? I spread my hands atop the bowl, looking into the distance. Mother, could you have misjudged our Earl?

Would you were here to speak.

In a while I shook myself from my daze. I climbed onto Ebon, waiting with my household party for the Earl.

Genard raised himself in his saddle. “There he comes, m’lord!”

I reminded Tursel, “We’re to ride faster than Mar, whatever the cost. Let our wagons catch us when they will.”

“Your uncle’s troop could fall on our supplies.”

“But we’ll be safe in Cumber with our Council.”

Groenfil rode toward us. In addition to his guard, who fell in with our own, the Earl brought three noble retainers. He bowed from the saddle. “To your fortune, my liege.”

I swallowed. Lord Groenfil was the first to grant me the honors of my title, and it affected me unexpectedly. I gazed at his face. “Why, sir, do you smile?”

He thrust out a hand, encompassing the crisp autumn sun, the waving banners, the scarlet shrubbery. “I’ve this day, your company, and Soushire. May not a man smile at such providence?”

Tursel beckoned an aide. “Sound the trumpet to advance.”

“Not yet.” I could scarce believe the voice was mine. With effort, I raised my eyes to Groenfil’s. “I would not begin my reign in … falsehood.” Resolutely, I thrust down my misgivings. “Sir, in all faith I must tell thee: Duke Margenthar of Verein pursues us in force, and is but hours distant.”

Groenfil took the news with equanimity. “Where?”

“At a spring, where the trail turns toward-”

“I know the place. Runwald, Cheger, go.” Two of his men wheeled, and galloped to the gates. To me, “How long have you known?”

My stomach churned; I’d cast away my crown. “Since the morn.”

“Why tell me now?”

“To redeem honor.”

“Ah.” He studied me, his eyes shrewd. “Did you owe me these tidings?”

“No. Yes.”

“When?”

Was he a tutor, to question me so? I forced a response through unwilling lips. “The moment you bowed before me, vassal to liege.” My cheeks were hot. “I ask thy forgiveness.”

“Very well. Consider your honor redeemed.” He turned to his retainer. “Hermut, tell him.”

The man’s words were a snarl. “We had word of Lord Margenthar’s march last eve, an hour past sunset. The keep is prepared for a month’s siege.”

I looked to the Earl with wonder. “Still, you’d ride with me?’

“The realm needs a king, not disarray.” Groenfil’s smile was bleak. “You’re our best hope of union.”

“And rightful heir.” Elryc’s voice was sharp.

“Why, that too.” Groenfil nodded, as if to dismiss the irrelevance. “Truly, Prince Rodrigo, you surprise me.”

“That I dabbled at betrayal?” I couldn’t help my bitterness.

“That you’d risk your crown, to reclaim yourself.” We waited while the Earl’s two riders rejoined us.

“Shall we?” Groenfil gestured down the trail. Tursel gave the signal. Our column lurched into motion.

I looked back. “And your castle, sir?”

“Will stand without me. Mar can’t afford a long siege; he can’t leave Verein untended. It’s too close to Stryx and Llewelyn’s keep.”

Rust’s tone was courteous. “May I ask, sir, what orders you sent back?”

Groenfil’s tone was equally polite. “I told my son, sir, that if I should fall, he was to be loyal to the House of Caledon.”

I rode silent, chilled. Had I not spoken, who knew how fleeting the Earl’s loyalty, or that of his kin?

With Groenfil committed, the march to Cumber became a regal procession, though in haste. Our regiment was augmented by soldiers of the Earl bearing burnished shields, under bright banners. Food was ample, and even coin flowed free, in loan from Groenfil. Only my wound troubled me. My side was red and hot, and at night, in the tent, Rust pursed his lips at the sight of it.

At Cumber, Uncle Raeth met us in full regalia, beneath the redstone towers. As he escorted us to the donjon he smiled gleefully to his valet. “So, Imbar, you were wrong. The prodigal nephew returns. Welcome, Roddy.”

“Thank you, Uncle Raeth.”

“And his companion.” He almost purred. “Imbar, do escort young Lord Rustin to his quarters.”

“I’ll sleep near my prince.” Rust’s tone was a trifle too sharp. “I guard him.”

“How valiant. Tresa, you’ll entertain Rodrigo until the coronation?”

“Of course, Grandfather.”

“So many guests, Imbar; we’re hard-pressed to find places of honor. Do you imagine they’ve sent envoy to the Warthen and Mar?”

My mouth opened, and I closed it without speaking.

“Perhaps they overlooked that trifle?” Uncle Raeth beamed at Imbar.

I nodded. There’d been so much to do.

“Imbar, send word as we did to Lady Soushire, there’s a good fellow.”

“Of course, Raeth.” His valet left us, patting Rust’s shoulder in passing. Rustin threw off his hand.

Raeth turned to Chamberlain Willem with a bow. Coolly, Tresa looked me over. “You’ve been in a fight.”

“Does it show?”

“Your lip is swollen, and you keep your arm pressed to your side. What befell you?”

“We assailed the keep, at Stryx.”

“Yes, I heard. How are you hurt?”

“A sword thrust.” How could I tell her I fell over a blade gripped by a corpse? “It’s been sewn.”

“Let me see.”

“Here?” My voice squeaked. I fought a furious blush. “Please, my lady.”

“Not in the great hall, for Nature’s sake. In your rooms. Let me show you.” Without a glance back, she trotted up the stairs. I had little choice but to follow, Anavar and Rust trailing behind.

We clambered three flights. Tresa vanished into another stairwell. Cursing, I pursued her. “Where’s he lodging us,” I panted. “On the roof?”

Anavar offered a shoulder, but I pushed him away. I wasn’t that enfeebled.

Two flights higher, the stairs gave onto a long narrow corridor. I hesitated. Could Raeth really be trusted, or might assassins lurk in these far reaches of the keep? “Rust, draw your sword.” I did the same.

Tresa glanced back. “Whatever are you doing?” She threw open a door.

Cautiously, I peered in.

The room was the entry to a suite of chambers, all fitted with the most elaborate furnishings. A huge intricately carved bed of feathers stuffed in soft cloth dominated the largest bedroom. Fine chests, silk drapery, a washbowl of silver. And the room was delightfully cool.

Tresa threw open the windows. “Look, my lord.”

Below loomed Raeth’s crenelated towers, almost as far as the eye could see. Each flew the colors of Cumber. Directly below the window lay Raeth’s magnificent garden, wherein I knew he labored each day. Beyond was Cumber Town.

“It’s … breathtaking.”

“And rarely used. You’re this chamber’s first guest in years.”

“Who was the last?”

Tresa’s face was grave. “Josip, of Stryx.”

My father. I swallowed.

“Now, let’s see your wound.”

“Thank you, my lady, I’m-”

“You’re shy, aren’t you.” It was more statement than question. “Come, off with your jerkin.”

“I’m to be King!”

“Only if you live.” She put hands on hips. “I have skill with healing. Grandfather says I’m to look. Please don’t quarrel.”

I appealed to Rust, but his eyes were elsewhere. Sighing, I took off my shirt. Her gentle hands helped unwind my bindings.

I sat gingerly on a stool. “Will this hurt?”

“Why should it?”

Across the room, Anavar grinned, and I recalled the beating I’d promised. Tresa’s fingers caressed my wound. I flinched from the cold.

“Hotter than it ought be.” Her lips tightened.

A chill stabbed. “Will I die of it?”

Again her fingers probed. “Your body tries to heal.” Her foot tapped, as if impatient. “To be safe, you’ll stay abed until the Council.”

“Imps and demons, I will not. There’s work of state to attend.”

She frowned at my inflamed stitches. “What butcher did this?”

Rust was suddenly absorbed in the view.

“I’ve seen dishcloths better stitched. Who tied this ragged mess?” Her eyes fastened on the flush that slowly crept up Rust’s neck. “You lout! He’ll carry the scar for life!”

I said evenly, “I’ll esteem it forever.” Rust shot me a grateful glance.

“I’ll visit every day, so you won’t be too bored abed.” She spoke as if it were a thing decided.

“Think you that you’re my mother?” I filled my voice with affront.

“Why, no, else you’d be civilized.” Two red spots graced her cheeks. “I suppose I ought to be sorry, Rodrigo. But truly, you bring out the worst in me.”

“Pity any man who does.” We locked eyes.

Abruptly she stalked to the door, gave a curtsy of scant respect. “Good day, Prince Rodrigo.”

“Don’t go!” My voice was too harsh; I tried again. “Please stay. I’m not … I’ve never known-Lord of Nature preserve us!” I looked for something to fling across the room. There was no help for it. To make it worse, Anavar and Rust watched. “Lady Tresa, I’ve no skill at discourse. Around you I feel a complete oaf. I want your company.” I felt my face redden. “I just don’t know how to ask.”

She took two steps from the door. “Do I frighten you?”

“No, not at-yes.”

“Why?”

My fists clenched. Rustin watched curiously. How often I’d humiliated myself before him. This Lady was nothing by comparison. I drew myself straight. “Because you’re grown and I only want to be. You’re a woman, and I’ve never-I’ve seldom spoken to one.” I forced myself not to flinch as I met her eyes, though her ridicule might destroy me.

Instead, she asked, “You like me?”

“You’ve mettle. You don’t fear your grandfather, nor me. It’s … refreshing.”

“Should I hear a yes, or no?”

How much could I bear? Was that a snicker Anavar hid behind his hand? “Yes, my lady.”

“Well.” She put hands on hips. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.” Lord of Nature, I felt young. Why was I standing before her without a jerkin?

“There’s barely three years between us. And you’ve seen the world.”

“Hardly.”

“They say you must hold yourself chaste, to conserve your Power. Is it so?”

Nothing on earth could force me to meet her eyes. “Yes.”

“How awful. Boys do it all the time, don’t they? I mean-” She flushed. “I’ve heard …” Blessedly, she trailed off.

“This isn’t seemly, my lady.” Desperately I strove for dignity. How could I allow such discourse in front of Rust and my ward?

“Of course. I only meant you must yearn so.”

I bared my teeth. If it was pity in her glance, I’d fling her from the window; the crown be damned.

It might have been pity, or some other sadness, that made her eyes glisten. My rage wavered.

“I’m sorry.” Her words came in a rush. “At times I think as a healer, and forget the man behind the pain. Will you forgive me?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to do more.

“Do put your shirt on, before you take a chill. See that tower below, the one with the red streamer? That’s where Grandfather sleeps. You’re higher even than he; by his accounting that’s great honor.” Her finger crooked to Anavar. “Come, youngsire, I’ll show you the spires of the town. You’re from Eiber?”

I was glad to see my ward blush clear to the roots of his hair. Carefully, favoring my wound, I redonned my jerkin. Tresa chatted amiably, until my composure was renewed. At length, jovial, I was able to bid her farewell, and scarce realized I’d promised to spend the next days in bed.

“Lady Soushire is due this night, but it’s two days to the Sands no matter how fast the rider.” Rust spoke in soothing tones that only irked me the more.

“Every hour I lie here is time for ill to befall us.” I threw aside the curtain. “What if Vessa dies of age, or someone poisons-”

“We only settled here this morn.” He sighed. “Shall I call Anavar to amuse you?”

“Hah. He’d ask more silver.” I brooded. “At least we won’t wait long for answer from Mar.” Our envoy had only to ride to Groenfil, not past it to Verein. Disconsolate, I lay back, wishing it were night. If days must pass, let them do so quickly.

Rust perched, elbows on the windowsill, gazing dreamily. “Your uncle is a true romantic.”

“Mar?” I couldn’t believe I’d heard aright.

“No, you dolt, Uncle Cumber. What a fabulous view he created. That laundry wench below looks like an ant with clothes. Come see.”

“Lean any farther and you’ll topple. Besides, who cares about your ants?”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted his reply. “Yes?”

“Imbar.”

Rust’s voice went lifeless. “Come in.”

“Ah, our two young lords; how enchanting a sight. Pardon me if I take a seat.” The old valet wiped his brow. “At my age five flights are an ordeal.”

“What do you wish?” My tone was bland.

“My earl asks if you’re well enough to join him in the garden at once. The Lady Tresa bids you take the stairs slowly.”

I shot to my feet. “What’s befallen us?”

“He’ll speak of it himself.”

I hurried out. Imbar’s hand fell on Rust’s arm. “A word with you, my lord.”

He stiffened. “I go with Rodrigo.”

“The Prince will come to no harm. I wish only a moment.”

I couldn’t wait, with news below. “Hear him, Rust. Join me after.” I raced down the stairs.

Uncle Raeth waited in the garden, but so did Vessa, Chamberlain Willem, and Groenfil. Tresa knelt by a bed of chrysanthemums. I paused in the doorway. No servants were about, no refreshments on the table. Was I betrayed? My voice was harsh. “What say you?”

Cumber chewed at his lip. “He looks well, doesn’t he, Willem? See what a few hours rest-”

“Imps take you, speak!”

Raeth looked shocked, but my ire spurred him. “We agreed you must be told at once. Mar has left Groenfil. He’s headed here, at full gallop.”

I gulped. “Can we withstand him?”

“Easily, were he alone.” Cumber gestured past the low wall, and the groves beyond. “But Tantroth of Eiber races west through Fort. The scouts say he’ll reach us by morn.”

The clouds reeled, and I found myself in a chair, ashen.

Earl Groenfil frowned. “This is how you’d lead us? Perhaps we should reconsider.”

“Let him be!” Tresa strode across the terrace. “He’s hurt, and just rushed down the stairs. You bully him!”

At first I was grateful. Yet, how must I appear, swooning like a maid, while a lady brushed me protectively behind her skirts? Sweating, I made an effort to stand. “I’m well, Lady Tresa. No, be still, I beg you.” I turned to Cumber. “What force does Tantroth bring?”

“Tursel’s sending more scouts. We’ve only first reports, and they’re grim enough.” The old Earl’s face softened. “Sit, Roddy. We won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m well. What word of Tantroth?”

“A huge force, perhaps a thousand horse, many thousands more on foot. There, sit Tresa, put the bench behind him.”

Someone fanned my face. Tresa patted my hand. “It’s only his wound.”

“No.” I found my voice. “It’s fear. I confess it.”

All looked on me, astonished.

“But once, in a glade, I made a vow. Fear, I cannot elude. But I won’t be coward. I shall not run from fear, if it cost my life.” Once more, I struggled to my feet. “If you would not have me thus, I free you from your vows. But know you that I am Rodrigo, Prince, and shall fight to the death for my people, and Caledon.” The solitude of the great hall wasn’t far; only through the pair of stout doors. I could reach it.

At the entryway, I paused. “Bring me your decision.”

Inside, a few more steps brought me to the bench where Cumber dined. I threw myself on it, lay my head in my arms. I’m sorry, Mother. Better they learn now that I’m unworthy. Perhaps Elryc …

Soft fingers brushed my neck. “You’ll make a fine king.” Tresa.

“Bah. By dissolving in tears?”

“By showing your true face. Think you that any on the terrace felt not what you expressed?”

“It’s man’s duty to cast aside terror.”

“Why, Roddy, whoever told you that?” She pressed my head to her bosom. “If only Josip had lived.”

Greedily, I embraced her comfort, more welcome even than Rust’s. At length, footsteps neared. I raised my head, making no effort to hide my dampened cheeks. Willem watched gravely, Groenfil at his side. Vessa blinked in the gloom of the chamber, as did Cumber.

It was Groenfil who spoke. “There was naught to discuss. We’ll crown you now.”

Cumber shrugged. “Besides, it’s too late to reason with Mar; he’d only double his offer-sorry, a bad jest.” He struck flint, lit a candle. “Ah, you’re so like Josip, boy. So earnest.” The candle flickered.

“Now, Raeth.” A dry voice, from the stairs. “You’ll upset him.”

“Too late for that, Imbar.” Cumber sounded cross. “Where have you been?”

“I had word with my lord Rustin.”

Rust’s face was flushed. “You’ll crown Roddy? Today?”

“There’s urgent need.” Willem.

I shook my head. “We’ll wait for Lady Soushire.” Was I determined to throw away my monarchy? I puzzled at my stubbornness.

“Are you-”

“And we’ll allow Mar to attend. He’ll be near enough.” Beneath the walls raising engines of siege, no doubt. “Why look askance, Willem? Would you I risked the Still of Caledon, for a few hours pause? We’ll await the Lady.”

“What if Tantroth takes her? It’s a near thing, her arrival.”

I swung to Uncle Raeth. “Send Tursel with a hundred horse, to hurry Soushire before Tantroth blocks the road.”

Raeth said mildly, “Tursel’s returned to my service, now he’s home again. I don’t think it’s wise-”

I slapped the plank table with open palm, tried not to flinch at the fiery blaze of pain. “Who commands Caledon, sir?”

Our eyes met. At length Cumber smiled uneasily. “What have we got ourselves into, eh, Imbar? Steel he has, and quickly unsheathed. Well, see that Tursel’s told, and soon. If he must be off, I want him back before the noose draws tight.”

Imbar grunted, and was gone.

Tresa put hands on hips. “Are you content? Give Rodrigo a few hours rest.”

“Not up those stairs.” Wanly, I smiled at my uncle. “It’s a lovely room, but not today, I beg you. Someplace nearer.”

I woke with a start. “What hour is it? Was I drugged?”

“Ninth hour by the candle,” said Anavar, sitting by my bedside. “Genard reports that on the ramparts, they see torches nearing.”

“From where?” I stumbled to my feet.

“The south, where Groenfil took his guard to delay Margenthar. But also north, and-”

“Where’s Rust?”

“Out, and I know not where.”

“What of Tantroth?”

“Either it’s his torches that bob in the north, or Tursel’s, escorting Lady Soushire. Sir, where go you?”

In the courtyard, Uncle Cumber stood grimly, a cloak flung over his shoulders, issuing orders to a handful of runners. Townspeople poured through the gates, pushing carts, lugging bundles, hauling wailing tykes. Horses snorted; dogs barked and snapped. Raeth saw me, nodded, but said naught. Elryc ran to my side.

We climbed to the battlements.

“Who goes? Oh, it’s you.” A burly guardsman stood firm in our path. “My lords, it’s not safe. An arrow in the night-”

“Bah.” I thrust him aside, succeeding only by the weight of my rank.

Anavar cautioned, “Slow, sir, or you’ll tear your stitches.”

On the battlement, I peered through an arrowport, while grizzled soldiers watched with amusement. I turned to the nearest. “Where are the riders with torches?”

He pointed. I could see nothing.

Carefully, clutching my side, I hoisted myself atop a keg of oil. “Ahhh.” For a moment I watched the lights dance ever so slowly closer.

Anavar found himself a high place, and squinted. “That will be Tursel.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s only-what, a dozen? — torches. Tantroth would light the sky.”

Suddenly I yearned for Rust. I forced a calm. “Unless he rode in stealth.” I smiled down at Elryc. “See, all is well.”

“Oh, Roddy, don’t be an ass.”

He sounded so disconsolate I almost forgot my dread. “What say you?”

“If not tonight he’ll be on us the morrow. What difference?”

“By morrow I’ll be King.”

“Will that provide an army? An escape from the castle?”

“Bah. If that were what I sought we could ride now.” I waved at the donjon, the thick, solid walls. “We’re safe.”

“For how long?” He turned away without answer, and trudged to the keep.

From the south, a clatter of horses. Two guardsmen cantered through the gate. “Make ready! Groenfil returns!”

Anavar and I peered over the wall, to the road below. At first, in the fading embers of dusk, we saw nothing. Then, in no great haste, Earl Groenfil’s men appeared, in good order. A company of horse led the way, scouting for ambush. Behind them trod a long column of foot soldiers. They seemed weary but none the worse for wear.

The archers marched together, notable by their lack of arms; their bows and missiles would be hauled in a wagon. Groenfil’s spearmen marched separately. A few horsemen galloped back and forth, carrying orders to tighten march, help free a mired wagon, or look sharp.

Behind the infantry rode the Earl, amid a troop of cavalry, distinguished by the plume of his helmet. I’d have to order him to dress circumspectly, so not to become a target.

I sought a torch, waited for Groenfil, gave formal words of thanks to him for all to hear. Then I climbed the battlements again. More torches, to the south. Margenthar’s outriders advanced toward the gates, not far behind the last of Groenfil’s guard.

My arm over Anavar’s shoulder, I trudged to our chambers.