Covenants (v2.1)

by Lorna Freeman

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t understand, do you?”

  “No, sir.”

  Suiden casually turned around and watched the deck around us. “Ambassador Laurel isn’t the only missile being catapulted at the Royal Court.” He saw my frown and sighed. “You, Rabbit. Remember, ibn Chause e Flavan?”

  Oh, yeah. I shoved what I had just seen aside and concentrated on the captain. “Yes, sir.”

  “While you were stationed at Freston, you were far enough removed not to matter in kingdom politics. Now you’re landing in the middle.”

  “Does it matter that I don’t want to be a lord, sir?”

  “Don’t be naive.”

  “Yes, sir.” I sighed this time. A couple of weeks ago I was worried because we couldn’t find our way out of the mountains. It now seemed such a small thing.

  “Connected to two powerful Houses, you’d make a tempting target to their enemies, Lieutenant. Or perhaps even their allies.”

  Enlightenment could happen even without infernal illumined questions. “Laurel didn’t share my tent for his protection, he was guarding me.”

  Suiden gave a faint smile. “Not so naive, after all.” His smile faded. “Governor Hoelt asked for you upon her arrival at the station—you were more important than the very large cat standing on his two hind legs before her. Now the governor may have just wanted to curry favor, but since she found out you were there from Ryson, sent out on the sly by Slevoic, I tend to think not.” We were coming up to the docks and I could see the sailors readying the mooring lines.

  “I’m not minded to have anything happen to you, Lieutenant.”

  I was silent for a moment. “Why didn’t Doyen Allwyn or Major Verne know who I was at first, sir?”

  “Because they weren’t told.”

  “But they knew to come to the way station.”

  “Information was leaked from the governor’s office, Lieutenant. Remember how unhappy she was when they arrived?”

  “Yes, sir.” I nodded, remembering the look of frustration on Governor Hoelt’s face.

  The ship gently bumped against the pier, and sailors swarmed, making fast.

  “Though she must’ve thought Festival had come early when you started screaming bloody murder at the doyen.”

  I did not scream, I thought.

  “All right, a loud shout.”

  Startled, I looked Suiden who was faintly smiling again as his green eyes glinted at me. “Uh, yes, sir.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Custom officials were waiting to inspect our ship after we had docked, coming on board as soon as the gangplank was in place. They cast superior looks at the provincials from the northern marches, only to do double takes so fast that I could hear the snaps as their heads whipped back around. They clumped together on the deck as we left the ship, rubbing their necks and staring at the Faena.

  I saw firsthand the unpretentiousness of Dornel. As we left to call on the city’s garrison commander, we passed people pushing wheelbarrows up the dock to our ship. Some were ordinary folk while others wore livery and had other signs of service to the rich and mighty.

  “Manure, Lieutenant Rabbit,” Captain Javes said, riding beside me.

  “Pardon, sir?”

  Javes waved a hand at the line. “They are here for the horse manure on our ship.” Captain Suiden had decided that, as we were horse soldiers, we should ride to the garrison. I looked down at my mount, wondering what was so special about his droppings that people would line up for them.

  “They use it for gardens and other shrubbery,” Javes said.

  “Well, yes. Of course, sir. But surely the city has plenty of its own.”

  “The people of Dornel firmly believe in waste not, want not.”

  “Ha, ha, sir.”

  Javes’ mouth tightened against a smile for a moment. “They feel it’s better to shovel it on their flowers and vegetables than throw it in the river. After all, the fish have no use for it. A very neat and thrifty people.” I cast a glance back at the ship. Ryson was going to be very busy.

  “They’re self-sufficient too,” Groskin said from in back of us, where he rode next to Slevoic. “Enough is grown within the city’s walls to feed all the residents.” We entered Dornel proper via the Rivergate, the wide-eyed guards thrusting people aside to let us through. “There are even underground cisterns that fill up when the river runs high during the spring melt,” Groskin continued. “Sluice gates draw off the surplus to other reservoirs. The city has a plentiful supply of fresh water at all times.”

  “Why make themselves so siege-proof?” Laurel asked, walking beside Suiden’s horse in front. He ignored the gasps and cries of those who pressed away from him.

  “There used to be pirates who raided along this stretch of the Banson, sir,” Groskin said.

  “Didn’t you say, Lieutenant, that the raiding had started again?” Suiden asked.

  Groskin frowned. “Yes, sir.” He saw my questioning look. “My family is from around here, Rabbit, and they’ve written that pirate sightings and raids have become almost commonplace in the last few years.” Laurel looked around. “I see no signs of attacks here, honored lieutenant.” Groskin shrugged as he also looked around. “For some reason this time around they haven’t tried Dornel itself, but my father says that he has a friend whose cousin’s son’s wife’s brother was in a settlement that the pirates laid siege to not far from here.”

  “So deep in the kingdom?” Laurel asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Groskin said. “The garrison troops and river patrols are sent out to search for them, but they disappear like magic—uh, mysteriously, Ambassador.”

  There was a bubble around us as we rode through the streets of Dornel and the commotion that started at the gate followed us into the city. Folk would look up, casual at first, then more intent as they realized that Laurel was not wearing a costume. And he wasn’t our prisoner. And he carried a really big stick. He smiled at something the captain said, his canines gleaming white. The bubble widened to include most of the street, and I wasn’t surprised a little later when mounted soldiers appeared ahead of us, bristling with things that had sharp edges.

  “I think we should halt here and make no sudden moves,” Captain Suiden said, reining in his horse. We did likewise and waited for the men to approach.

  “Lieutenant Jaxtir of the Dornel garrison, Dornel Patrol.” The lead soldier raised his helm’s visor and saluted. The men behind him kept theirs lowered and weapons out.

  “Captain Suiden of the Freston garrison.” Suiden saluted back. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir. What is that?” Lieutenant Jaxtir pointed at Laurel.

  “He is Ambassador Laurel. I’m sure your commander has received orders regarding his journey to Iversly.”

  “They said nothing about it coming in my city.”

  “You’re privy to your commander’s dispatches?”

  Lieutenant Jaxtir shifted his shield. “He shared them with his staff.”

  “I see.”

  I watched the light play off Jaxtir’s shield, and folded my lips together tight.

  “Are you barring us, Lieutenant?”

  Jaxtir shifted again. The shield shimmered in the sun and I bit the inside of my lip, drawing blood.

  “No, sir. Not you, Captain—” Jaxtir began.

  “As I am sure King Jusson and his Lord Commander would both be very interested in a lieutenant taking upon himself to refuse passage to an ambassador to his court.” Jaxtir’s shield flashed green and blue. Something tried to come up my throat and I swallowed it back down, hard. I must have made a sound, though, as Captain Javes looked at me, then faced Jaxtir again, lifting his quiz glass. The shield turned purple.

  Lieutenant Jaxtir did some inspired thinking. “Perhaps this should go before the commander, Captain Suiden.”

  “What should go before your commander?” the captain asked. “You gainsaying us?”

  Maybe not so inspired.
The lieutenant’s eyes shifted to Laurel, whose ears were laid back on his skull. “If you would follow me, sir, I’ll escort you to the commander.”

  “Thank you.” Captain Suiden nodded. “Ambassador Laurel, if you would, please?”

  We started moving again.

  “I wonder if you have seen our traveling companion, Doyen Allwyn of Gresh,” Suiden said.

  We stopped moving.

  “A doyen from Gresh is traveling with you,” Lieutenant Jaxtir said, his voice flat.

  “He’s going to Iversly to meet with the patriarch,” Captain Suiden said. “I’m sure the letters with his itinerary were on the mail boat that passed us a few days ago.” The captain paused. “He has gone to pay his respects to the Dornel doyen.”

  “Doyen Orso.” Jaxtir made a rough gesture to start his men moving again.

  “Oh, is he still doyen here?” Captain Suiden indicated that we were to start moving too. “He’s a relative of yours, isn’t he, Lieutenant Groskin?”

  “More of a connection, sir,” Groskin replied. “Through some cousins’ marriages, though as a child I called him uncle. I asked Doyen Allwyn to tell him that I was here. I’d hoped I could see him later.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged, Lieutenant.”

  Jaxtir rode a little ahead of Suiden, and the way he was positioned kept me from seeing his shield, but I kept darting glances towards it, like probing a bad tooth. Apparently, though, Captain Javes’ view was unrestricted.

  “I say, Lieutenant Jaxtir, that’s an interesting shield you have there. What is it made of?”

  Jaxtir glanced over his shoulder at Laurel. “Lizard skin, uh, Captain.”

  Bloody liar, I thought.

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Javes gave his silly ass smile. “I’m Captain Javes, also of the Freston garrison. These are Lieutenants Slevoic, Groskin and Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan.” We stopped again as Lieutenant Jaxtir turned his horse around to stare at me. I smiled, showing my teeth, and watched the lieutenant’s shield, now in front of me, flash delicate pink.

  “He’s going to see the king in Iversly, too, and whatever relatives may be hanging about.” Lieutenant Jaxtir’s mouth parted in consternation. That last revelation must have put the last nail in the coffin of any plan to have us waylaid in an alley by thieves and cutthroats.

  “The garrison, Lieutenant?” Captain Suiden said.

  Jaxtir once more gave the signal, and our cavalcade began to move.

  “So your shield’s made from a lizard,” Captain Javes said. “Is it standard issue here?” He peered through his quiz glass at the other Dornel soldiers. Their shields were just like the one I carried, except for the Dornel emblem on them. “Or are they only for officers?”

  “No, sir, it’s not standard issue,” Jaxtir replied, facing straight ahead.

  Javes turned his glass back on Jaxtir’s shield. “How fascinating. I’ve never seen lizard skin like that. How did you come by it?”

  “Can’t recall, sir.”

  “Really, Lieutenant? Well, that’s amazing, what? To not remember how you got something so uncommon.”

  “Always had a poor memory, sir.”

  Lieutenant Jaxtir tried to slip away the moment we were inside the garrison gates, to inform the commander of our arrival—he said—but Captain Suiden insisted on going with him and taking us along.

  “Oh, and bring your shield too, Lieutenant,” Javes said.

  We all walked into the commander’s office, Jaxtir carrying his accoutrements.

  “Commander Ystan, this is Captain Suiden and Captain Javes of the Freston garrison,” Jaxtir said. The commander rose from his desk as the army part of our group saluted while Laurel, despite being ignored, began to bow—only to snap upright at my gasp. Instead of mail, Commander Ystan wore a hauberk made of the same material as Jaxtir’s shield. Laurel Faena roared.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This is my fault, honored captain,” Laurel said.

  Captain Suiden didn’t argue with him. We were in a room waiting for Commander Ystan, with guards stationed outside.

  “I shouldn’t have been surprised, especially after seeing the lieutenant’s shield.” At Laurel’s roar, troops burst into Commander Ystan’s office as Lieutenant Jaxtir pulled his sword and accused us of trying to attack the commander. Which was kind of hard to prove as we stood with empty hands in plain sight on the other side of the room.

  “Commander Ystan,” Captain Suiden said, ignoring Jaxtir. “I am here by order of Commander Ebner of the Freston garrison.”

  “Yes, um— Got the dispatches a few days ago.” Commander Ystan blinked at us.

  “Then you know that it’s a matter of some urgency.”

  “We also know that there’s a large, unpredictable magical that may have just tried to do something—magical,” Jaxtir said, his sword pointed at Laurel. He turned his head to look at Ystan, who still stood blinking behind his desk. “I suggest, sir, that we place them under guard until we are able to sort everything out.”

  Captain Suiden said nothing as we were escorted to another room and guards placed outside our doors. But his look could have filled a library.

  “The skin the commander was wearing and Jaxtir’s shield came from one of Dragoness Moraina’s brood, sir,” I now said. “Dragon Gwyyn. He was an ice dragon.”

  “Whom you played tiddlywinks with as a small lad,” Slevoic said, throwing himself into a chair.

  “No,” I replied. “Gwyyn had a territory in the Upper Reaches by the time I was born. But he would visit his dam.” I looked back at Suiden. “He was a poet, sir, and would give recitals every time he came.” Laurel rumbled and a guard looked over his shoulder at us.

  “He should have lived for centuries. Longer,” I said. “Dragoness Moraina is approaching her millennium. A thousand years of such poetry as to make even a snot-nosed boy yearn and dream. Dragons don’t read or write, sir. It’s all oral, passed down from master to pupil. Now everything Gwyyn knew, everything he was is gone. And they used his skin for undergarments and shields.”

  Both guards were now looking into the room at us.

  “I am sorry for it, Rabbit, Sro Laurel,” Captain Suiden said. “I am truly very sorry. But we can’t do anything for him or Sra Prudence. We can, however, do something for Sra Moraina’s other offspring—if we can get to Iversly.”

  Laurel rumbled again. “It’s not for protection that I am going to see your king.” He looked worried. “And I am not sure it’s not a fool’s errand I’m now on.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Captain Javes.

  “I am here to stop a war, but after today I don’t know if I can.” He ran a paw over his head, ruffling his beads and feathers. “Do you think that honored Moraina doesn’t know what has happened to her son? Or will soon know?” He looked at me. “And what do you think will happen when the elves find out?”

  “Elves,” Groskin said.

  “Elves live longer than dragons,” I said. “Forever, barring fatal injury. They remember when they lived in Iversterre—and how they were driven out.” It was my turn to look worried. “The northern clans still read their death rolls on their holy days. None of them like the kingdom very much. Or humans.”

  The Dornel guards were now in the room. Captain Suiden glanced at them, then paced to the window. Moving aside the curtain, he revealed two more guards, who looked back at him.

  “I need someone to find your commander and get him here now,” Suiden said.

  “Who’ll go?”

  “I’ll go, sir,” said a voice from the window, and we heard footsteps hurrying off.

  “It’s not just what’s going on back home that concerns me,” Laurel said after a moment, “but also what we’ve found so far on our journey. If this is what’s in the provinces, what’s going on in the Royal City?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Commander Ystan and Lieutenant Jaxtir showed up a short while later, accompanied by Doyen Allwyn, another doyen, and the g
overnor of Dornel. Apparently the fine art of spying was practiced in Dornel also. There was rustling in the bushes as the guard resumed his post outside the window once more. He wasn’t about to give up one of the best seats in the house.

  Ystan had removed the dragon skin and now wore regular chain mail under his tabard. He clinked as he walked in, Jaxtir by his side and the others behind him.

  “Captain Suiden—”

  “Groskin, my boy. How are you?” The second doyen had a rich, rolling baritone and it rolled over Ystan as he swept around the commander and caught Lieutenant Groskin in a bear hug.

  “Uh, grace to you, Doyen Orso,” Groskin grunted. He managed to get free and tried to smooth out his crushed tabard.

  “Faugh! No need of formality between us, eh, nephew?” Orso grinned and slapped Groskin’s back, sending him stumbling. “How’s your mother?”

  “She’s well, uncle,” Groskin said.

  “And your father?”

  “He’s well also.”

  “And your brothers? Sisters?”

  “They are well, uncle.”

  “I am Governor Somne,” the governor said, breaking into what promised to be a long cataloguing of the Groskin clan. She bowed. “Grace to you and welcome to our fair city, Ambassador Laurel”—she turned to me—”and Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan.” The spy network was working overtime. Laurel Faena and I bowed back.

  Doyen Orso rolled again. “Now, what’s this about my nephew being under arrest?”

  “And Lord Rabbit and Ambassador Laurel?” Governor Somne added.

  “Um—” Commander Ystan started.

  “They’re not under arrest,” Lieutenant Jaxtir said. “There was an incident and now we’re conducting an investigation.”

  Doyen Orso rolled on. “What was this incident?”

  “It’s an internal matter,” Jaxtir said.

  “Fine,” said Governor Somne. “In the meantime, Ambassador Laurel will remove to the Governor’s House.”

  “I’m afraid we cannot allow that, Governor,” Jaxtir said. “The incident involves the—this—it.”