They traveled along the Velta River two more days, meeting with some success, especially because all the nobles they visited were more willing to offer money than troops.
Kendryk decided not to press the issue and focus his efforts on the northern estates. He had high hopes for substantial support from Duke Aidan Orland, who not only ruled a vast domain, but had always opposed Desmond as a matter of course.
But long before they reached Orland’s lands, Kendryk ran into trouble. They’d stopped at the palatial manor of the Countess Winsebach, one of the wealthiest landowners in the valley.
Her reception of Kendryk and his party was chilly, and when he told her what he wanted, she became downright unfriendly.
“You can’t be serious.” She tossed her elegant blonde head. “I refuse to believe Duke Desmond would do what you’re accusing him of. He’s always been scrupulously correct in his dealings with me.”
She fixed her chilly gaze on Kendryk. “He had a great deal of trouble with you, though. Are you sure you didn’t get that bruise when you attempted to attack him?”
Kendryk stared at her. “I would never try to attack him, though considering what he did, I probably should have.”
He’d handed her a copy of the notorious contract, which she’d put aside without a glance.
“Just as I thought.” The countess stood. “I don’t wish to be inhospitable, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’ve heard too much about your character and the trouble you’ve caused to believe your story.”
She wouldn’t even look at Captain Becker or at Georg, no doubt considering their commonness beneath her notice.
Kendryk had no choice but to go, and it got no better at the next estates.
“How did he get to all of these people?” he asked Georg.
“If he’s been planning to get rid of you, he’s been cultivating them for years. You know of the slander he spread about you amongst the common people. He probably told the nobility even worse while he flattered and bribed them.”
“If I have to fight him, this lot will join him.” Kendryk was feeling glum. His first few successes had given him hope that much of the country was on his side, but outside the immediate area around Heidenhof, that wasn’t the case.
His reception was just as bad as he traveled further north.
Even though some were more polite than the countess, they refused to lend Kendryk any support.
“I must cross the river and go see Duke Orland.” He was wasting his time with this bunch.
Georg shook his head. “No, let’s go to Kaltental first. Desmond might not have influenced the townsfolk to the same degree. He was too snobbish to spend much time with commoners. And Kaltental can deliver many thousands of troops to you, far more than Duke Orland.”
Kendryk shrugged, feeling downcast. It didn’t matter much. He worried he wouldn’t find enough support anywhere. He needed Sonya to succeed now.
Southern Terragand
THE WEATHER CONTINUED to be cold, though at least it didn’t snow. Sonya was miserable all the same, mostly because she couldn’t figure out what to do. Appearing at the duke’s estate seemed the height of folly, and yet she had little hope of sneaking up on him.
Fritz was more optimistic, but in her current state of mind, that drove her crazy. It was nice to have company, but she quickly vetoed his only idea.
“You ought to disguise yourself as a man, captain,” he said. “They’ll never know it’s you.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Sonya shook her head. “My hair is already shorter than most men’s, I wear military clothes all the time, and my figure isn’t the most feminine. The most I can do is add a wig, or a beard, which is ridiculous.”
“True, you’d look funny in a beard,” Fritz admitted. “Though perhaps we can find a wig for you in a town.”
“I doubt it.” Sonya realized she sounded too cross. Fritz was only trying to help. “Let’s concentrate on gathering information for now. Maybe the duke isn’t staying on his estate, in which case we might get an opportunity to attack him.”
“Excellent point,” Fritz said.
She had to admit, his friendliness and ability to strike up a conversation with anyone was useful. Where Sonya might walk into a tavern wanting only a flagon of ale and a moment’s peace, Fritz made friends and often had someone buying him a drink within minutes. With such an open, honest face, no one seemed to suspect him of anything. He’d make a wonderful spy, if not an assassin.
Kendryk and Julia had helped them come up with a story. The two of them were mercenaries from Zeelund, recently unemployed, hoping to find work with the duke.
That tale would work as long as no one recognized Sonya. She used Irena’s name, and left her characteristic red coat behind. So far, no one had given her a second glance.
But once she got near the duke she’d have to be more careful. Irena’s name wasn’t known to him or his people, but they might recognize Sonya.
So they worked their way south quickly while still stopping often enough to hear what was going on.
Trouble was afoot, no doubt about it. The duke had passed this way, and everyone here seemed to believe he was in the right.
The stories about Kendryk were even worse now. Not only had he committed treason with Sanova, he’d done it with Zeelund as well. He’d also attacked the duke in person when confronted about his actions.
Sonya didn’t see how Kendryk could win this fight. His only chance was for her to get rid of the duke, and she didn’t know how. At least not yet.
Ten leagues from Ebenstein, Sonya and Fritz got lucky. From one of his latest drinking friends, Fritz learned that a recruiter was signing up troops on the duke’s behalf.
“He’s looking for professionals,” Fritz said in a low voice as they retrieved their horses from the inn’s stable. “Officers mostly, and paying good coin to those who have experience.”
“Perfect.” As part of a faceless mass of soldiers, Sonya had a chance of getting within at least pistol-shot of the duke. What she’d do if she killed him, she didn’t know. It seemed unlikely she’d survive such an act, but then she’d been lucky so far.
They didn’t have to go far to reach the recruiter, who’d set up shop in a nearby tavern. Judging by the numbers of armed folk milling around the muddy courtyard, he was having some success.
They walked into the crowded, stuffy tavern. At the far end of the room, at man sat at a table while a long line of applicants snaked across the floor.
Sonya and Fritz joined them and Fritz struck up a conversation with the fellow in front of them.
“How did you hear about this?” he asked the man. “We expected we’d have to go further south before finding any real work.”
“Word has spread fast across Terragand,” the rough-looking blond fellow said. “Duke Desmond has let it be known at every inn and tavern in the land, and he’s offering good pay. Only problem is, he expects a short campaign.”
“Why?” Fritz was good at sounding puzzled, which had the welcome effect of others wanting to explain things to him.
“That treacherous little prince ought to be easy to beat,” the man said in such a dismissive way, Sonya felt her anger rise.
“He’s forged documents, trying to make the duke look bad, but no one believes they’re real. I doubt he’ll be able to raise much support. Once he’s defeated, the duke expects the rest of the kingdom to fall in line. Most of the nobles already support him, and once the towns and temples see what’s what, they’ll do it as well. Still, ought to give us a few weeks of work.”
Sonya had been hearing talk like this all along, but now she saw evidence of the duke’s wealth and power, she became even more discouraged. What if she killed the duke and it didn’t matter? Did the folk here hate Kendryk so much, they’d support anyone against him?
She wished she had more time, time for her letters to reach Andrei and Count Faris, and for them to make their way here. As aggressively as the duke was recruiting, h
e’d still have trouble against a professional force the size of Count Faris’s. But it did no good to wish. She needed to work with what she had.
They made their way to the front of the line, and the recruiter, a weathered, middle-aged man with flinty eyes looked Sonya over. “Orician, eh?” he asked after she gave him Irena’s name. “Why aren’t you down south, fighting for the emperor?”
“It’s a long story.” Sonya hoped she appeared eager to tell it. “I was married to a Zeelund captain—not this fellow—”she nodded at Fritz who was polite enough to look downcast, “but one who’d been out east for years. It was all going so well when my old mother-in-law fell ill—we were sure it was gout, but it turned out to be—”
“Yes, yes.” The recruiter’s eyes glazed over as Sonya had hoped. “Looks like the husband’s gone and you’re at loose ends. That’s all I need to know. One thing we’re short on is cavalry. Can you command a squadron? They won’t be well-trained—mostly noble children who’ve spent a lot of time on hunts and tournaments—but they’ll be well-equipped.”
“I’m used to working with that sort,” Sonya said, though she really wasn’t. Farther east, cavalry troopers sometimes came from the nobility, but more often from respected common families who’d been fighting on horseback for generations. Families like her mother’s.
“Good,” the recruiter scribbled a note. “Will he stay with you?” He nodded at Fritz.
“Of course,” Sonya said, “he’s my sergeant.”
Fritz had only ever had experience with garrison and guard duty, but he was a competent horseman and she could teach him the basic commands quickly enough.
“Well then,” the recruiter said, “Just sign here, and welcome to the employ of Duke Desmond Balkunus.”
Kaltental, Terragand
ONCE HE REALIZED HE’D get little support in the countryside, Kendryk hurried north to Kaltental. Perhaps he might speak in a large city square and duplicate his success in Heidenhof. So when they arrived at the enormous walled town at the mouth of the Velta River, Kendryk went straight to the burgomaster’s palace.
The man was not impressed. “I wondered if you’d wash up here,” he said, his long white mustache quivering as he shook his head. “I’ve spoken with the duke many a time and know of the problems he’s had with you. And the rumors that have reached us lately are very disturbing.”
That my own regent tried to murder me is disturbing,” Kendryk said. “I trust you’ve seen the contract he took out on my life?” He reached for the one in his pocket, just in case the burgomaster had been living under a rock.
The man snorted. “I’ve seen it. Easily forged. The duke is a powerful man and has no need for such under-handed action.”
Kendryk had to force his mouth shut, lest he gape in disbelief. “I have further proof,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “Julia Maxima herself saved me from the duke’s clutches.”
“Pfft.” The burgomaster waved a hand. “Everyone knows the Maxima has been jealous of the duke’s power for years. It looks like she saw an opportunity and took it. No, I’m sorry, Your Grace, I will not support your attempts to subvert my population.”
Kendryk rose out of his chair with all the dignity he could muster. “Then I will do it without your support.” If he had to, he’d walk the streets, talking to every person he saw. “Let’s go,” he said to Georg and Becker, who’d been standing near the door.
“You won’t do it at all.” The burgomaster stood up, moving quickly for such an old man. “If you don’t leave town at once I’ll have you arrested and send you back into the duke’s custody, where you belong.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Kendryk was shocked. It was one thing to not support him outright, but quite another to help the duke in this fashion.
“I would.” The burgomaster wore an unpleasant smile. “Now please go before I change my mind and have you arrested right away.”
With most of his guards outside the palace, Kendryk had little choice but to give in, at least for the moment.
“I won’t forget this,” he said to the burgomaster, hoping he didn’t sound too petulant, turned on his heel and left the room with his most dignified stride.
Once outside, he couldn’t keep up the pretense. “What will I do now?” he asked Becker as they rode back out into the streets.
“We’ll go see Duke Orland. But there’s no time to waste. Since we’re few, let’s hire a riverboat. That way we can get to his estate by the end of the day tomorrow. I don’t like this place.” Becker scowled up at the leaden sky.
The whole city was gray, from its damp cobbled streets and narrow stone buildings, to the water of the harbor and the weathered ships waiting there, to the constant foggy drizzle.
Kendryk was disappointed, but didn’t mind leaving. “Let’s go to the harbor and see what we can get.”
They reached the waterfront, where a small crowd had gathered on the docks in spite of the inhospitable weather, staring at four large ships tying off in the biggest berths.
“Where are they from?” Kendryk asked a jolly-looking stevedore who stood there in nothing but a light jacket and cap. “Are they merchantmen?”
“Sanova,” the man said, “and those are battleships.”
“Why would they come here?”
“Why it’s likely the troops the little prince asked for from Sanova.” The man looked at him as if he was daft. “They’ll be here to overthrow the duke.” He heaved a great sigh and pulled out a pipe. “I doubt they’ll get far. That duke is likely to have raised a great army by now.”
Kendryk stared at the people disembarking. Why would Sanova send troops? He hadn’t asked for them, but perhaps he might convince them to help anyway.
He hardly dared hope, but turned to Becker and said, “That man coming down the gangplank, can you bring him to me? I’d like to find out who he is.”
“Sure enough.” Becker left, shouldering his way through the crowd.
Kendryk licked his lips and tried to count the soldiers emerging from the ship nearest him. There were quite a few of them, and cavalry too, judging by the jangling of all the spurs. He prayed to Vica that these were not mercenaries hired by the duke, then glanced at Georg, still standing by his side. “Why are you smiling?”
Georg shrugged. “I have a good feeling about this.”
“I wish I did. But I never asked for an army, so I doubt I’ll get one.”
Becker returned, leading a slim, gray-haired man with a pointed beard and alert, intelligent eyes. He stopped in front of Kendryk, a warm smile spreading over his face and bowed.
“General Count Ruso Faris at your service. Thank the gods we’re not too late.”
Kendryk was so thrilled and shocked at the same time he could barely speak.
“I—” he began, then had to pause for a moment. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” he finally managed. “Things look terrible for me at the moment,” he hurried to add. There was no point in pretending, especially if Faris was there to help.
Faris’s smile fled. “I was afraid of that. We received worrisome letters from Captain Vidmar, and even worse rumors as we moved west. Is the captain with you?”
Kendryk didn’t know what to say. He felt awful that Sonya had been treated so badly, and was even now far away on a suicide mission. “It’s a long story. We need to talk somewhere, though the burgomaster is kicking me out of the city.”
“You’ll stay here as long as you please.” Faris’s eyes hardened. “I’ll deal with the burgomaster later. Now come, we’ll go to a warm inn and talk. One of my officers is wounded and needs a comfortable place to rest.”
“Was there trouble along the way?” Kendryk’s mind was spinning, unable to think of who might have challenged Faris.
“You might say that. But that’s also a long story.” Faris turned to the stevedore who’d been standing by Kendryk the whole time, gawking, and asked, “Will you take us to the nearest fine inn?” while tossing him a silver coin.
&
nbsp; “Yessir!” the man said. “Follow me.”
He led them up the nearest street, to an establishment a cut above those surrounding it.
“This will do.” Faris nudged a nearby officer to deal with the innkeeper. “We’ll spend the night here, and you’ll be under my protection, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” Kendryk turned to Becker, asking him to get the rest of their small party situated, then followed Faris to a small parlor, Georg at his heels. It was an enormous relief to be in the care of someone so authoritative and competent, who also commanded an army of some size.
They’d been seated only a short time when there was a small commotion at the door and another man dressed like an officer entered on crutches, pale and sweating.
“You got here fast.” Faris jumped up to help him to a chair, then turned to Kendryk. “This is Captain Andrei Danko. He was wounded on his way here to help you.”
Captain Danko bowed before sitting down and asked, “Is Captain Vidmar with you?” His broad face wore an anxious expression.
“No,” Kendryk said. “I’m terribly sorry.” And the whole story poured out.
Faris’s face remained mostly expressionless, though he frowned when Kendryk told him of Sonya hitting him, and the duke’s contract.
Danko was not so tactful. “I don’t believe it,” he burst out. “She would never do such a thing.”
“I disagree,” Faris said. “Captain Vidmar has many good qualities, and one of them is extreme resourcefulness, sometimes verging on ruthlessness. It’s possible she committed a small atrocity to gain the duke’s trust.”
“Well, I don’t believe it.” Danko scowled at Kendryk as though all of this were his fault, which he supposed it was, ultimately.
Kendryk told them about Sonya’s mission and Danko looked even less friendly.
“With all respect Your Grace, why did you allow it? That’ll be a near impossible task. Even if she succeeds, she’ll never come out of it alive.” Captain Danko struggled to his feet. “I’m going to find her. You two can do as you please.”
The Forsaken Crown Page 18
