Iver’s face sobered. “You may, but I’m afraid it’s a sad tale. A pox. I’ll tell you the whole of it when I’ve had a chance to deliver our more pressing news, but I’m sorry to say that Desmond was among those it took. Otherwise, obviously, he’d have been in contact with you all along, and we could have avoided what I’m sure have been many misunderstandings.”
“You can see how your arriving here without him—or an army—might arouse that suspicion you mentioned,” Arun said.
“I can.” Iver smiled again, though it was a bit more subdued. “I’ve taken Corghest for you, if that helps ease your mind. The army is still there.”
Wardin’s mouth fell open, and stayed that way for several seconds before he realized it was an unfitting expression for a prince and a commander, and closed it again. “I beg your pardon? We’ve heard nothing of this.”
Restan coughed. Was it perhaps to hide a laugh? Wardin glanced at the man, but his face was inscrutable.
“I suppose you didn’t have any sages in the south who could get the news to you sooner,” Iver said. “I get the sense your own army’s been a bit diminished. There was a battle at Corghest, six days past. I’ve taken the stronghold and secured the surrounding area. I wasn’t able to find a pigeon, though truth be told, I didn’t try very hard. There’s no reason I can’t ride as hard as any messenger, and I wanted very much to see Pendralyn.”
“Six days, you say?” Arun pursed his lips. “I would expect it to take longer to get here from Corghest, for someone unfamiliar with the land.”
“As I said, we rode hard. I wanted the honor of being the first to brag of my victory.”
“Our ponies are with your stable mistress now,” Restan added. “A lovely woman, that.”
“As for the land being unfamiliar, we do have maps in Dordrin, you know,” Iver said. “My wife is a Caird—a Tar—and Erietta and Desmond were both helpful in educating me about Eyrdon. Avadare isn’t so hard to find, even if Pendralyn is hidden.”
If this is true …
Wardin couldn’t let himself think about it yet. Instead, he looked at Arun, and forced his voice into some semblance of calm. “Go and tell Polly to send someone for Eldon, would you? I want a sage skilled at communication and a contriver skilled at cloaking and scouting to ride for Corghest within the hour. If things are as our guests say, the sage at least is to stay, for communication purposes.”
Arun nodded, his eyes flat. Wardin couldn’t tell whether he didn’t believe the Dords, or he did, and was regretting Erietta’s promises to them. “I’ll do one better, and go talk to Eldon myself. I have some thoughts on who he should send.”
“Here.” Iver removed a ring and handed it to Arun. “Have them ask for the queen, and give her this so she’ll know they are who they say. It will spare them the awkwardness we’re presently experiencing.”
Wardin quickly closed his mouth, which had tried to fall open again. “Your wife came to war with you?”
“Of course! Our women don’t fight, as a general rule, but there are exceptions. As I said, she’s a Tar.” Iver grinned. “I’d hardly deny her the opportunity to see a Lancet put in his place, and she’d hardly allow it if I tried. Anyway, she’s as good a commander as any.” He crossed his arms, the smile falling. “Surely you wouldn’t attempt to keep Erietta at home?”
Wardin fidgeted with the edge of his tunic and did not mention that he had, in fact, recently made just such an attempt. Most unsuccessfully. Arun snickered as he left the room.
“Speaking of the awkwardness of our situation, Majesty, I wonder if you might do me a small favor.” Wardin took the newly restored inkwell, a pen, and paper from the bag he’d brought. He set them on the table, then busied himself with putting ink in the well. “Would you mind writing your name?”
Restan huffed, but Iver looked fascinated rather than insulted. “Is this the inkwell that keeps a man honest, then? Erietta told me about it. How wonderful! Such a useful thing, for a king.” Without even sitting down, he dipped the pen, then leaned over the paper and wrote far more than Wardin had asked.
I am Iver, King of Dordrin. This is Restan, my seneschal. We’ve come, rather late I’m afraid, to help you win your war. To that end, we’ve just taken Corghest. I look forward to sailing up the river to Narinore and putting Bramwell Lancet in chains. Figuratively, at least. Or better yet, perhaps he’ll personally take up arms against us, and we’ll have the happy task of killing him.
The blood seemed to rush through Wardin’s veins at twice its normal speed, as he allowed himself to feel the excitement he’d been holding at bay. It was true. The Dords were here at last. And they’d taken Corghest, something the rebels had already failed twice to do.
This is it. All our prayers answered. We’ve won.
And Etta is missing it.
Wardin bowed. “I owe you my deepest apologies for insulting you with my suspicions, Majesty, when it seems we are indebted to you. We’ve been betrayed of late, I’m sorry to say, and it’s made me cautious.”
“I understand.” Iver beamed down at the inkwell. “And I enjoyed the demonstration of this marvelous object, so no harm done. I tried to write someone else’s name, you know, but it wouldn’t let me. Extraordinary.”
He looked back at Wardin. “But now that you can be sure I am both the king and your ally, perhaps some slight refreshment might be called for? I’ll explain my long absence, but it will be thirsty work.”
“Of course. Apologies, too, for my lack of hospitality.” Wardin arranged for food and drink to be served not only to them, but to Iver’s guards, who were given their own room to rest in. By the time that was settled, Arun was back, and the four of them—Wardin, Arun, Iver, and Restan—sat around the table, the inkwell put away and a platter heaped with fruit, cheese, honey cakes, ham, and coppernuts in its place.
“We were only three days out to sea when I got the first reports of men falling ill,” Iver said. “The pox spread quickly. Before two more days had passed, my fleet sat helpless in still waters, without enough healthy crewmen to do otherwise. Not that we could have sailed, in any case. Where would we have sailed to? You can’t very well allow plagued men off a ship, can you?”
Restan shuddered and stared into his mug of mead. “Those were terrible days.”
“They were,” Iver agreed. “And they went on too long. Until we were dangerously low on supplies and water. We tried to contain it by separating the sick from the well, moving each to their own ships, but as I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, managing more than seven thousand men can be a bit chaotic. Things can be missed.”
He paused to arch a brow at Wardin. “Would you like me to write any of this down?”
“That won’t be necessary, Majesty.” Wardin inclined his head. “But it is kind of you to offer.”
“Call me Iver, please. And I hope I have leave to call you Wardin. As Erietta no doubt told you, I cannot abide formality. I find it causes needless tension.”
“Actually, Erietta told me very little about you.”
“Is that so?” Iver chuckled, a distinctly affectionate sound. As if they were old friends, and he hadn’t extorted her out of a third of Pendralyn’s priceless treasures. “She spoke rather often of you.”
“We’re very fond of Erietta.” Restan smiled sideways at his king. “Almost certainly more so than she is of us.”
“Negotiations can be trying,” Iver said with a sigh. “But of course, she was in Dordrin for some time, helping us with our plans. We all worked closely together. I like to think the regard became mutual.”
“Do you know she conjured a dragon for us, her first night in Virgardin?” Restan said. “Flew right over the table at dinner. I could actually feel the air from its wings as it passed. I’ll never forget it. She’s quite a magician.” His gaze went slack, as if he were still seeing that dragon, before it snapped back to Wardin. “As the king said, we’ve been very anxious to see if you would prove worthy of her.”
Wardin blinke
d at him, torn between amusement and offense, while Arun’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Was this the reason for all the measuring looks, then? These strangers presumed to judge whether the King of Eyrdon deserved Erietta’s loyalty? Like so many others, they probably assumed she and Wardin were romantically involved. As if that were any business of theirs.
Iver rapped his knuckles on the table, and his seneschal immediately resumed his silence and his bland expression, while the king turned his intense eyes to Wardin. “In any case, I will spare you too many of the details of our plight at sea. In addition to being gruesome, they get rather … vulgar. You can imagine, that quantity of men, trapped in small spaces, ill. But I do want to tell you about Desmond. It may surprise you to hear that he died quite heroically.”
Wardin cleared his throat to hide Arun’s grunt of disbelief. “Oh?”
“He had some skill at healing, and insisted on applying it, though he knew the pox was spreading from man to man, and that exposing himself to the sick put him in danger.” Iver grimaced. “He succumbed eventually. But not before he saved many lives.”
“He was one of the last to die,” Restan said. “And he was tireless, almost to the day he collapsed.”
Wardin stared from one to the other. Arun was even less subtle, and expressed his shock plainly. “If you’ll pardon the unflattering words about the dead, that doesn’t sound like Desmond.”
“It wasn’t out of love for us, I can assure you,” said Iver. “Although he got along with most of us well enough, once he got used to the whiskey. He was particularly fond of my queen, I think. She was one of the afflicted, though fortunately she was also among those who recovered. But Desmond’s only true concern at sea was that we make it here, with as much of the army intact as possible.”
Restan shook his head and helped himself to a second honey cake. “Sadly, that effort was in vain. By the time the worst of it had passed and it was safe enough to sail again, there were too few of us, and with too few supplies, to finish the crossing.”
“So we turned back for Dordrin,” Iver said. “And there we stayed for some time recuperating, replenishing. And rebuilding. We lost ships as well as men.”
“More than two thousand men.” Restan bowed his head, his lips moving quickly and silently. Wardin wondered who it was that the Dords prayed to. Erietta had mentioned the name of their deity once, but he couldn’t remember.
“I’m heartily sorry for it.” Wardin bowed his own head in a gesture of respect. “In truth, I’m surprised you still came at all.”
“You’ll know of our pact with Erietta.” Iver looked from Wardin to Arun and smiled. “Certainly he does. His mouth goes the same shape as his sister’s when he disapproves of a thing. Well, that pact is important to us. Crucial, even.”
“So it would seem.” Wardin wasn’t sure what else to say. An hour ago, he would have insisted on renegotiating the terms, but now that he knew how much Iver had lost, he didn’t see how he could. At the very least, this wasn’t the time to discuss it.
“Of course, Desmond’s sage communication was impossible while at sea, and he never made it back to land,” Iver said. “I did try to get you a message by more conventional means.”
“Erietta received it,” Arun said. “Though there was some debate as to its meaning.”
“Without knowing whether it might be intercepted, there was only so much I was willing to say.” Iver drained his mug and sighed. “So then. We arrived—finally—with four thousand soldiers. Less than promised, but enough for our task. We made short work of Corghest. You’ll find my ships have some innovations that make them quite formidable to any fortress that can be attacked from water.”
A spark lit in Restan’s eyes. “Among them, a marvelous invention that uses explosive powder to send great metal balls through gates and walls. The queen calls it a cannon, in Caird.”
“I expect it will work just as well in Narinore, when we sail up the river,” Iver said. “Though my understanding is that only our smaller ships will be able to make that journey. In any case, they’ll have heard what happened at Corghest by now, and they’ll be making ready for us. Starting with fortifying the river gate.”
“Perhaps.” Arun scratched his chin. “Perhaps not, considering who’s leading the Harths right now.” He gave Wardin a slow smile. “Varin didn’t mention Corghest. He would have, if he’d known.”
“No wonder they’re trying to keep rumors from the common folk. Dordrine ships attacking, Corghest falling, the king in the state he’s in.” Wardin grinned in return. “The Narinore Eyrds might become unruly, if they think the tide has turned so far.”
Iver sat up straighter. “What’s this about the king?”
“Ah.” Arun cleared his throat. “We may have come into a bit of … luck, let’s call it.”
“No.” Wardin’s shoulders slumped. “Let’s call it what it is.” So far, they’d kept Erietta’s rogue mission from everyone. But he didn’t think it wise to lie to Iver, not if they were to plan their next steps together. “Perhaps you’ve been wondering why Erietta hasn’t joined us.”
Iver raised his brows. “I was told when I arrived that she’s away. I assumed on some business of yours.”
“On the contrary, it was no business of mine,” Wardin grumbled. Iver’s manner was easy enough, and he claimed to hate the formal trappings of kingship. But those sharp eyes told another story. He had as much pride as any monarch. How would he react when he heard of Erietta’s crime? “I’m afraid she … er … attacked the King of Harth.”
“With a poisoned dagger,” Arun added.
Wardin waited without breathing as Iver and Restan exchanged shocked looks.
Then the Dords roared with laughter.
27
Wardin
All of Wardin’s rage at Erietta dissipated when he saw her stumbling across the grounds, head bent against the mild wind as if it were a gale. She couldn’t even walk straight.
As he rushed to meet her, he nearly collided with Arun running from the direction of the sage hall. Perhaps he’d seen his sister from his window, or been told of her approach. Or perhaps it was some innate twin sense of one another.
Wardin’s heart sank as he came near enough to see that Erietta was laughing.
He’d known that when she got back she would be exhausted, perhaps hurt, perhaps even badly in need of attending to her balance. The amount of magic required to bypass all the city and castle defenses, to get to the king and then, worse, get away again, would be a strain on any magician. Even her.
But knowing a thing was not the same as being truly prepared for it. Wardin pushed memories of Odger out of his mind as he stopped in front of Erietta and gripped her shoulders. She wasn’t Odger. She was experienced. She was disciplined. She would be fine.
She’d better be.
Erietta stopped laughing abruptly as her eyes met Wardin’s. “I’ve been thinking you might put me in a dungeon.” Her brow creased, as though she couldn’t quite remember why this was. “Are you going to put me in a dungeon?”
“I should,” he snapped, and pulled her close.
He was shortly displaced by Arun, who after a hasty hug took Erietta’s arm and slung it over his shoulders. Wardin took her other side, and together they helped her toward the manor.
“She’s too far gone to start on menial chores right away.” Arun’s voice was clipped, efficient. “She’ll need to be helped along at first. There are some potions and tonics we can get from the healers. Hawthorn would be a big help as well. He and Rowena have been napping in the keep since breakfast, I believe.”
“I’ll send someone for them.” Wardin struggled to match his friend’s practicality. He must treat this like a battle, when worry and sentiment were set aside, and cold blood took over. He must pay no mind to Odger’s ghost, or to the fear it wanted him to choke on. Not until they did what needed to be done. “Once she’s well enough, we can find some mundane chores that don’t require much physical work. Sh
e could inventory the supplies, or something.”
“Good idea.”
“Well I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Erietta pouted, then laughed again. “I don’t much like counting, to be honest. But I wouldn’t mind brushing my hound for a while. His name is Hawthorn, have you seen him? He has the most adorable nose.”
She squinted up at Wardin. “Your nose is adequate, but it’s not your best feature. The blue eyes, those are the thing. My nose is unusually long, have you noticed? Even Tobin noticed. He told the bounty hunters. Arun’s is long too. We’re twins. Did I already say that?”
Arun snorted. “It seems mad, unbalanced Etta and drunk Etta are virtually indistinguishable.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen drunk Etta.” Wardin sped up as they came around the front of the manor. “Unless you want to count that pilfered mead when we were ten. But pray this is as bad as it gets.”
Arun huffed with the effort of keeping up. Their charge seemed to be half asleep now, and was all the heavier for it. “She’ll be fine.”
“She’d better be.” Wardin clenched the hand that wasn’t holding Erietta into a fist. He ached to have a sword in it, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “There’s really nobody for me to kill, if she isn’t. Blast her, she did this to herself.”
“War?”
“What?”
“Just when do you intend to admit that you’re in love with my sister?”
Wardin glowered, though Arun couldn’t see it with the leaden weight of Erietta between them. “When the war is over!”
He kicked the manor door open, only to have Arun’s laughter echo that much louder inside.
They spent the next few hours dosing Erietta with potions, trying to get her to eat something, and as soon as she could manage it, helping her to the armory in the battlemage hall to count swords and jerkins.
She remained confused for most of that time, though at one point her eyes cleared and she looked sharply at Wardin. “He’s dead. I know you’re angry, but you’ll see it’s for the best. You can denounce the assassin and win the war. Pendralyn will be safe, and that’s what matters.”
A Dark Reckoning Page 28
