by Brandon Mull
“How does the timing of their progress synchronize with our attack?” Nollin asked.
“We have to trust the oracle,” Galloran said. “She informed us when to begin our assignments. We complied. How long their quest takes will depend on the hardships they face and how far they must travel to reach the abode of Darian the Seer.”
“Unknowable variables,” Nollin agreed.
Galloran stood. “We all have arrangements to make for tomorrow. I will counsel with Nedwin, Nollin, and Kerick tonight after Nedwin is officially appointed regent. Thank you all for your service.”
Rachel replaced her wide-brimmed hat and arranged the dark veil over her face. She left the room behind Nedwin and walked down the stairs. Was she really about to go to war? With real battles? How much would the others be counting on her? Galloran often talked like her Edomic skills would provide them with an important advantage. Even though she had built up her endurance, she could only make a limited number of people freeze up or flop to the ground at a time. There were only so many flaming tables she could throw before running out of juice.
As panic threatened to unbalance her, she told herself to take it one step at a time. War was coming. It would be ugly. But it wouldn’t start today. There was no point in losing her grip yet. What could she do right now? What preparations did she have to make? Not many. She had chosen her horse. Her gear would be prepped by others. She supposed she should go practice her Edomic.
At the bottom of the stairs, the group dispersed in different directions. Rachel noticed Nedwin walking down a lonely corridor, head slightly bowed. He staggered a little before disappearing around a corner.
“I was glad to hear Lord Jason remains alive,” Tark was telling Io. “Not surprised, mind you. It will take more than a Maumet to stop him, mark my words. There’s more to him than greets the eye. He’ll find a way to enter the Celestine Library or I’ve never touched a sousalax.”
“Wait here for me,” Rachel said.
“Here?” Io questioned.
“I’ll be quick,” Rachel promised. “I just remembered something I need to ask Nedwin in private.”
Tark folded his arms. “Begging your pardon, milady, you shouldn’t go wandering off without—”
“We’re in the castle. I’ll only be a moment.” She was already hurrying after Nedwin. She reached the bend in the hall in time to see him proceeding up a stairwell. She didn’t get much of a look, but he no longer appeared particularly despondent. Maybe she was jumping at shadows, imagining how she would feel if she learned she would have to govern an entire kingdom.
Still she followed him, just in case. At the top of the stairs she found a quiet hall. Nedwin sat on the floor, back to the wall, elbows on his knees, both hands in his unruly red hair.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He glanced over at her. “I heard someone following me. I thought it was you. I just need some time. You should go make ready for tomorrow.”
“I’m ready,” Rachel said. “I don’t mean to intrude.”
He lowered his hands, placing both palms on one knee. “I appreciate the interest. You’re kind.”
Rachel assumed that was the closest she would get to an invitation. She walked toward him. “Are you worried about serving as regent?”
He exhaled sharply. She thought the gust was intended as a chuckle. “An honor I did not seek and which I do not desire. Did you know that I have almost no fears left in me?”
“You’re definitely not afraid of heights.”
“I don’t fear fire or water or starvation. I’m not afraid to fight. I fear no man or beast. I fear no illness. No punishment. No torture. I’m not afraid to die, Rachel. Part of me would welcome the release.”
“You shouldn’t talk that way,” Rachel said.
He ignored the comment. “I have troubling dreams. I dislike my dreams. Aside from the tricks my mind plays when I sleep, I only have two fears left. Would you like to know what they are?”
“Okay.”
“I’m afraid for King Galloran. I want to keep him safe. And I’m afraid of disappointing King Galloran. This opportunity to serve as regent will separate me from him. I will not be able to protect him. And I will be in a position to fail him.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“I’m glad one of us feels confident. Rachel, through dark years that I would prefer to forget, I clung to the idea of Galloran. Trensicourt was not worth all I suffered. Not even freedom from tyranny was worth it. But that man was worth all I endured and more. I failed him when he was captured. I only survived in the hope that Galloran would need me. And he does. But I won’t be with him.”
“I’ll be with him,” Rachel said. “I’ll keep him safe.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “Swear it.”
Rachel swallowed dryly. Suddenly she had to confront how far she would go in order to fulfill her words. The thought of her protecting Galloran seemed almost silly. He was the best swordsman in Lyrian. But it obviously mattered to Nedwin. He actually seemed to think her protection could make a difference. She imagined a soldier attacking Galloran from behind. Would she allow that? “I promise, Nedwin. I promise to watch over him. I love him too. I’ll die to protect him if necessary.”
His posture relaxed a little. “That is good to hear. Yours is no small gift, and he will keep you close.” Nedwin sighed. “We have come upon hard times if I am the man he selects as regent.”
“He couldn’t choose anyone more loyal,” Rachel argued.
“But he could find many more polished, more schooled in politics. Less scarred. Less damaged. Sometimes I can feel my mind unraveling. Once I was something of a social creature. No longer. I prefer solitude. I’m a good scout. Great, even. I don’t expect I’ll make much of a regent.”
“But you’ll do it?”
“If I refuse, I’ll have failed him already. I would give anything not to fail him.”
“You’ll have help from Nollin and Nicholas,” Rachel reminded him.
“I’ll be forced to lean on them,” Nedwin agreed. “Much as they would lean on me out in the wilderness, where I belong.”
“You’ll be terrific,” Rachel encouraged. “The fact that you care so much makes you the perfect person for the job. Much better than some overconfident politician.”
“Let’s hope for the sake of the realm that there is sense in your words. I’m relieved to know you’ll be watching out for my king.”
“We’ll all be watching out for him. Nobody wants to see Galloran harmed. But I’ll make a special effort. I’ll try to do what you would do.”
Nedwin closed his eyes. “Thank you, Rachel. The thought affords me a measure of comfort. Can I give you anything?” Pulling on the leather strands around his neck, Nedwin produced several vials from within his shirt. “I’ve collected unusual substances from the far corners of Lyrian—expensive extracts, rare and useful. Pain enhancers, poisons, healing ointments.”
“You keep them,” Rachel said. “Carrying poison would freak me out. We should rely on our strengths. Mine is Edomic.”
Nedwin nodded, eyes remote. “Mine is stealth, I suppose. And commitment. I don’t suppose I could be more committed.”
“That might be exactly what this kingdom needs.”
Nedwin stood. With him seated, she had almost forgotten how abnormally tall he was. “Enough wallowing. I’ll escort you back to your bodyguards.”
“I can find my way.”
“Let me guide you. It’s one of my strengths.”
CHAPTER 13
FINAL PREPARATIONS
The long stable contained more than a hundred horses, all of them impressive specimens, mounts for the elite of Trensicourt. Rachel paced down the center aisle, glancing left and right, murmuring Edomic phrases to those that interested her most. Galloran had instructed her to pick any mount she wished, and she wanted one that would respond warmly to her instructions.
Tark stood at one end of the stable, Io at the
other. Neither man had struck up a conversation with her today. Rachel wore her veiled outfit of black robes. She now had three similar ensembles, and always wore one of them when out in public. In at least one way, the costume worked too well. Each day Io and Tark seemed to regard her with greater awe.
Rachel paused beside a large, dappled mare. She had learned many commands at Mianamon, but she tried something simple with only the slightest effort of will behind the suggestion. The horse backed up as requested. She gave more instructions, and without resistance or hesitation the mare reared, bowed, stamped a right foot, then a left, and at last sniffed the sweet grass on her flat palm without eating. Rachel hardly had to push to get the messages across. The mare seemed eager to please.
Rachel stroked the horse and told her to eat. “You’re my girl. You’re bigger than I was planning, but you’re the one I want. White with gray spots . . . how about Snowflake? I know you might have another name, but Snowflake can be your nickname.”
“Nedwin is coming,” Io announced.
“Good,” Rachel replied down the aisle. “I think I just found my horse.”
The tall redhead entered the stable and moved toward her with long strides. “You found a suitable mount?”
“Better than suitable,” Rachel replied, pulling her veil aside to better see him.
Nedwin drew near and regarded the horse. “Looks like a respectable choice.”
“And she’s smart.”
“Smart can lead to ornery.”
“Not Snowflake. We have an understanding.”
“The king wishes to speak with us,” Nedwin said. “Ferrin has news.”
Tugging her dark veil back in place, Rachel followed Nedwin out of the stable. The building had been cleared for her inspection, so idle stable hands watched as the foursome strode away.
“Is it good news?” Rachel asked as they entered the castle.
“Not sure,” Nedwin replied. “Based on his demeanor, nothing terrible.”
They passed many soldiers on their way up Galloran’s tower. Partway up the winding stairwell, six guards stepped aside to allow Nedwin access to a hefty door bound with iron. Nedwin unlocked it with a key and led the others inside.
Galloran, Ferrin, Nollin, and Kerick awaited them. Galloran wore his blindfold.
“The enigmatic lady in black,” Ferrin greeted with a wry smile.
Rachel pulled her veil aside. “Ha-ha.”
“The title has caught on,” Nollin said smugly.
“Title?” Rachel asked.
“Galloran’s Dark Lady,” Nollin supplied.
Rachel had never heard anyone call her that. But nearly everyone she encountered besides Tark and Io had taken to calling her “milady.”
“That’s a little embarrassing,” Rachel said, taking off her hat.
“It’s statecraft,” Nollin insisted. “We all have roles to play to add legitimacy to the forthcoming campaign. King Galloran is the saintly hero restored to his throne. Nedwin is the fallen but faithful squire reinstated to a position of influence. Kerick and I are the noble lords of the Amar Kabal, here to pledge the support of our people to the cause. Io is the drinling prince whose presence implies the backing of yet another ancient nation.”
“And I’m the dirty secret,” Ferrin said.
Nollin raised a finger in objection. “If your identity as a displacer is ever called into question, you are the turncoat who has provided all the secrets of Maldor’s defenses.”
“What about Tark?” Ferrin inquired.
“The commoner elevated to a station of high responsibility,” Nollin replied smoothly. “Evidence that King Galloran recognizes the vital contributions the common man will make in the upcoming turmoil.”
“Nollin is no stranger to politics,” Galloran said, suppressing a smile. “We are fortunate to have him laboring on our behalf. Copernum and the other connivers at court have hardly known what to make of him.”
“We all serve where our talents are best suited,” Nollin said humbly, clearly gratified by the praise.
“I have summoned all of you here because we are ready for war,” Galloran announced. “Our host will depart at first light. But two of you must remain behind.”
Nobody spoke.
Rachel glanced at the others. Nollin seemed a natural fit to stay at Trensicourt and play political games. But who else? She didn’t want to end up separated from more of her friends.
“Trensicourt will be left vulnerable in our absence,” Galloran said. “I worry about treachery from within and attacks from without. I will leave enough soldiers to man the wall and the castle, but little more. A skeleton crew, really. To an extent, Trensicourt will have to rely on the strength of her walls and the attention our offensive will demand. Those two elements should suffice if we can prevent the city from collapsing internally.”
“Who is to remain?” Io asked.
“I wish I could bring all of you with me,” Galloran said, “but necessity dictates otherwise. After much consideration I have decided to elevate Nedwin to Duke of Geer and name him regent in my absence, fully empowered to govern the affairs of the kingdom.”
Nedwin paled beneath his freckles. “This is too great an honor, sire. Pray let me remain at your side.”
“No honor is too great for my most faithful servant,” Galloran said. “Your house was stripped of your earldom by Copernum. For that reason I have created a duchy in your name. As much as I detest losing my finest scout as I head into the field, I need a man on the throne who I can trust. Brin must come with me into battle. For laying a siege, his engineering skills may prove essential. Nicholas has the mind for the job but not the body. He will serve as one of your counselors, and his contacts will be at your disposal. Tark lacks experience in affairs of state. Bartley has waffled in the past. And obviously the regent cannot be a seedman or a drinling or a displacer. It must be a man of our kingdom.”
Nedwin looked stricken. “Of course I am yours to command, sire.”
Rachel felt bad that Nedwin seemed so devastated. She would miss him—he had proven himself amazingly reliable. They were all safer with him around. But she had to admit it was probably a good pick. Nobody was more loyal to Galloran.
“The job will not be easy,” Galloran affirmed. “By my mandate Copernum and several of his cronies were preparing to take the field with us. But they have fallen ill, victims of a debilitating fever.”
“Subterfuge,” Nollin grunted. “The coincidence is much too convenient.”
“Copernum knows a variety of recipes to produce such symptoms,” Nedwin added.
“Nevertheless, I cannot force sick men into battle,” Galloran said. “Whatever the cause, the symptoms appear legitimate. We lack the time and the means to expose the charade. I will take the majority of their men, leaving only their household guard. But I need not stress how dangerous these vipers might be to the kingdom once my back is turned.”
“I will protect the kingdom, sire,” Nedwin said.
“I know your feelings toward Copernum,” Galloran said. “They are completely warranted. Do not move against him unprovoked. But should you catch him conspiring, you will have full authority to administer judgment and punishment.”
“As you wish, sire,” Nedwin replied.
“I do not mean to leave you friendless,” Galloran said. “Nollin, you are not mine to command. But given your expertise with statecraft, and given the relationships you have already cultivated here, would you consider remaining with Nedwin to help oversee the kingdom in my absence?”
“Your trust astonishes me,” Nollin replied.
“I know the Amar Kabal to be loyal and true, and I have seen evidence that you are more devoted than most. Some of our ideologies have differed in the past, but I know you do not want to see Maldor lay claim to this kingdom.”
Nollin placed his palms together in his lap. “In truth, my strengths might be better applied to this task than to the siege of Felrook. I will stay if you wish, but please all
ow me to retain the company and security of my sole countryman.”
Galloran gave a nod. “Three to stay behind instead of two. I hope you will not have need of Kerick’s sword, but I understand the request. And I agree. Nollin, I ask you to serve as a right hand to Nedwin. Watch out for his interests, help him to comprehend the maneuverings of his enemies, and take what action you must to protect the throne and the kingdom.”
“I shall do as you say until your return, King Galloran, or until the campaign ends in ruin. After that I make no pledge.”
“It pains me to miss fighting alongside my people,” Kerick admitted. “Nevertheless, I will remain with Nollin and Nedwin. I vow to protect them both.”
“I am relieved to have that settled,” Galloran said. “Nedwin, you will be granted the powers of regent in a private ceremony this evening.”
“As you wish, sire,” Nedwin responded.
He was saying the right words, but Rachel could tell that Nedwin was disappointed about the assignment. She supposed Galloran could tell as well, though he offered no indication. It was hard to blame Nedwin. Staying in Trensicourt surrounded by plotting enemies would be no fun at all.
“I have had eagles from the Amar Kabal and the drinlings,” Galloran said. “Both stand ready to march on Felrook. We will coordinate our marches so that we arrive together.”
“What of the other kingdoms?” Ferrin wondered.
“A major insurrection is planned in Meridon,” Galloran said. “It will begin tomorrow and might bring us some fighting men in time, though the revolt will probably prove more valuable as a distraction. I suppose at this late stage I can reveal that Vernon rescued the syllable guardian Trivett from the Isle of Weir, and they will be involved with the uprising.
“Minor mischief has been planned in a few other kingdoms. To my surprise, a group of four hundred treefolk are currently marching to our aid. They should join us before we reach Felrook.”
“The treefolk have never left the jungle,” Nollin said in surprise.
“The treefolk have never had more reason to care for matters outside their borders,” Galloran said. “Through Esmira in the past, and now through Ulani, they have been kept informed of the relevance of our plight. Even so, four hundred is only token support. They could make a much more significant difference if they dared.”
