Nor Iron Bars A Cage (17 page)

Tobin didn’t even try to debate with me, just went to his wardrobe and found me a fresh shirt. And eventually ushered me out the door.

We took yet another route through the warren of the palace, which was bustling with activity despite the early hour. Tobin guided us to a small breakfast parlor with, gods help me, a king, a general, three of the most powerful sorcerers in the land, a smattering of other important men, and me. It was probably wise of Tobin to take a firm hold on my elbow, although I could only abide his grip for a moment before pulling my arm free.

The king returned a nod when we bowed, gestured at the buffet against the wall and said, “Help yourselves,” through a mouthful of food as greeting. I guess at some level of power and familiarity, protocol stops being essential. Tobin led me over to the food, where I faced the problem of holding a plate and scooping food onto it. Tobin said, “Let me help.” But instead of ladling food onto my plate willy-nilly, he took both plates and said, “I’ll hold, you serve.” I could have kissed him for that alone. Although perhaps not in front of the king.

The food was simpler than I’d have expected for a high society meal, and we all finished quickly. The king rapped on the table and everyone turned and was silent.

“I’ve consulted with everyone from my Firstmage to the centuries-long dead.” His lips quirked in a quick smile despite the seriousness of the topic. “My decision is that we will ride to the foothills, as soon as we can. I’ll lead a company of archers and light cavalry and my household guard, a few scouts and my Voices, to be the vanguard. General Estray will get the rest of our forces organized, and select those who’ll follow behind us.”

A senior-looking man I didn’t recognize said, “I still don’t like you putting yourself out ahead of your army, my liege. What if the invasion has already begun, and you arrive to find yourselves outnumbered? If you fall, we are lost. Send the scouts ahead and wait for your rightful place among your troops.”

“If there are decisions to be made in the field, they’re mine and can’t be made by waiting behind. You’ll just have to get that army moving quickly, Estray.”

The man grunted, but didn’t reply. The king added, “My King’s Own guards will be with me of course. And my mages. We’ll call up the shade of Xan, and interrogate him again for further guidance once we reach the general area. If it does come to all-out fighting, I’ll command from behind the front lines, I promise.”

“But not far behind,” Tobin whispered, and gave the king a warm glance.

I hadn’t missed the king’s casual assumption that I’d be there to translate for Xan. What if I said no? Would the king clap me in irons and haul me along? The very thought made me feel ill, and Tobin must have caught something of that because he leaned closer to me.

There was a disturbance in the hall, and then the door to the chamber was thrown open. “Your Majesty, your pardon, but there’s a messenger.”

The man who entered had clearly come from a long, hard ride. His clothing was covered in dust, and his face showed streaks where he had wiped away sweat. He bowed to the king, swaying slightly, and Estray grabbed a chair and shoved it behind his knees. “Sit, man.”

The messenger collapsed into it. The king said, “You’re Fram. You’re stationed at the coast in Calbay, yes?”

“You remember? Yes, Your Majesty. I left there three days ago, and took post horses to get here. I bring word of a possible invasion.”

“At the coast?” The king exchanged quick glances with his advisors. He lifted his own goblet of ale and handed it to the man. “Drink a little and tell it in full, and quickly.”

The man took a mouthful, and made a sound of relief. “One of the local fishermen took his boat much further out than usual— two days’ sailing south-east round the coast and well out to sea. He was in open waters when he spotted masts on the horizon. He says the hulls were below the curve, but there were many ships, and the rigging marked them as R’gin. He counted a dozen, before making all speed home. He thinks he was probably not seen, with his single boat and much smaller mast. The fleet was sailing out of sight of land, in our general direction. He says most of the sails were furled, so they weren’t making all possible speed, even though the weather was fine. He thought they might even have been hove to, waiting for something. He brought word to his village constable, who brought it to me. I also questioned his three crewmen, who told the same tale. They’re simple folk and I see no reason to disbelieve them.”

Estray said, “Maybe the movement of supplies to the coast of R’gin wasn’t just a ruse. Our information could have been wrong. Perhaps a sea-borne invasion is what all the preparations were for.”

“Have you any more news than that right now, Fram?”

He shook his head, and looked a bit woozy. “No, Your Majesty. I dispatched other boats to spy out the fleet more carefully and report back, but I thought to bring you first word now, with all speed, and let their reports follow. I left the message-birds for their use, so their information should come hard on my heels.”

“Good.” The king gave him a nod. “Go now and get some rest. You’ve done your part.”

When the messenger had left and the door was shut, King Faro turned to his generals. “Thoughts?”

An older man said, “This could have been the true cause for the war preparations your spies reported. It wouldn’t be the first time the R’gin have come by sea rather than over the mountains.”

Estray added, “Perhaps the reports of the mythical tunnel were intended to send us with our forces east to the mountains while they bring in an army to the south-west by boat.”

King Faro frowned. “It’s certainly possible. Even probable, except…” He paced, and the others made space for him. “Except the reports all fit, of movement feinted to be all in one direction but actually much of it headed for the mountains, and that part in secret. I trust the men who sent that word. And now the mythical tunnel is at least confirmed as fact.” His intense gaze suddenly lit on me. “It is confirmed, yes? There’s no way that the ghost could have been shading his words to make that seem true when it’s not?”

I bowed my head, trying to get words to come out. “Sire, I, um, I believe he saw soldiers emerge from the ground. Of course there’s no knowing where the other end of the tunnel was— back in R’gin or somewhere closer. But he was certain they hadn’t crossed over the mountains anywhere nearby. Your Majesty.”

“Yes.” He paced another couple of turns. “So we have a probable invasion by normal means on the coast, and the hint of a secret invasion by unlikely means in the mountains. Are both real? Is one a feint to draw us away from the other? Does the mountain invasion even exist?”

“It’s easy to plant such a rumor, Sire,” Estray said.

“I am aware.” The king’s voice was dry. “And yet we’ve obtained confirmation that it’s at least possible, from a source the R’gin could’ve neither corrupted nor deceived.”

“I hold by the coast as being the true threat,” the oldest general said. “Even if that tunnel existed long ago, the odds are far better that the Prince Regent heard of it and decided to use it as bait, than that he actually found it intact and usable after all these years.”

“True. It would’ve been an engineering marvel to begin with, and almost certainly also an arcane one. If it really travels under the mountains it would have to be many miles long, far longer than the best mine ever dug. They’d need fresh air throughout, and if they brought horses it can’t narrow too much anywhere. It does sound like it would have to be magecraft. And then to survive a thousand years?”

“Exactly. Not likely.”

“Except…” Again the king paced. “I keep coming back to two things. First that the movement of goods toward the mountains was reported as very subtle and stealthy. My informants were proud of their skills in discovering it. Surely if it was purely a feint, the Prince Regent would have wanted to make sure it was noticed and reported to me.”

“Perhaps he trusts the quality of your spies. He has to know you have them. He’s not stupid.”

“He’s a brother-slaying whoreson, but no, not stupid. I don’t think he’s that crafty, though. Of all the men I have in R’gin, only three sent such reports to me. Three of the very best. I think a feint would be more obvious. And then the second thing. The fisherman reported the fleet hove to and waiting. Why?”

“Dark of the moon is in six days,” Firstmage said.

Estray said, “You don’t land an army from ships on a strange coast in the dark of the moon at night. Too dangerous. For a land invasion maybe, but not from the sea. They’d be better off now, with a sliver of moon to light their way.”

“Dark of the moon,” the king repeated. “I wonder if that
is
the key.”

“Sire,” Estray’s tone sounded like Meldov’s, when he was about to correct some error of mine.

The king flashed him a look. “
Not
for a nighttime landing, but as a signal. Think of it. You sail a fleet weeks round the coast, out of sight and out of contact. If this were just invasion, then you would attack as soon as you could, to minimize the risk of being spotted ahead of time, as in fact just happened. But say there was another attack coming from elsewhere. You’d want to have a signal, to time it right.”

Estray was beginning to nod. “Use the moon-phase. And the day after is the spring equinox. If they wanted to coordinate an attack that would make sense.”

“Say the fleet made good time. You’d have to send them out early, to allow for storms or calms along the way. Say they reached position ahead of schedule— there they would have to wait, for the right day to move in.”

“It does fit.”

Secondmage said, “There could be another reason for the delay. Perhaps they had an augury that success was more likely after the dark of moon. They’re a superstitious people.”

“The Prince Regent strikes me as eminently practical, and not one to pay heed to the gods, or he’d not have killed his own brother. But yes, there could be a dozen reasons, even something so simple as the commander fallen ill with a flux, and the fleet waiting on his recovery. The question is, can we afford to ignore either threat?”

Estray said, “I think not. But I’d gauge the fleet a far bigger risk. At least, I think it’s not some decoy but a second prong of the attack. If they’re going to sail dozens of ships, beating against the wind for weeks, they’re going to make more use of them than just show.”

“True.” King Faro stopped pacing and folded his arms. “So instead of following me, you’ll lead two thirds of our forces toward the coast and set up a welcome for them there. Pridal?” The youngest general came to attention. “You’ll follow behind me with the other third as soon as they’re mustered. And get a company of mounted archers ready to ride now in my first wave, along with one of light cavalry.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“General Vio, you have the home defenses and coordination here in the capital.”

There was a brisk fifteen minutes of discussion with maps and much taking of notes, as the military members of the party conferred of who and what was going where with what speed. Most of the names meant nothing to me. All that was clear was that I’d somehow been drafted to ride at speed to the mountains, there to extract truth about ancient magecraft from a reluctant ghost, while the whole R’gin army might suddenly appear out of nowhere. And no one was bothering to ask if I was willing.

I desperately craved my stone walls. And yet there was a thrumming of excitement behind my fear. Once I was that man, the one who stood on the edge of a summoning circle commanding the spell and waited to see what would appear there, and what new knowledge might be found. That man would have been willing, even eager, for this venture. Was I that much less than I had been?

I hugged myself and whispered to Tobin, “You’ll be coming with us? With me?”

“Absolutely.” His hand found my elbow, and this time the warmth of his grip was comfort. “You’ll be in my personal care.”

Even in a room full of powerful men, he made that sound suggestive. I had a memory of bare skin and lamplight.

“And then I’ll take you home afterward and we’ll have time to get to know one another again.”

I craved that far more than excitement, or safety. Time with Tobin. Well, if we were both headed out with the king, at least Tobin wouldn’t be sent away from me on some errand, as I’d half expected. I tried to be pleased about that.

The discussion around the table petered out and the king rapped on the wood for attention. “Time is short, if we’re to reach the mountains before dark-moon night. My advance party will ride out at noon.”

****

CHAPTER SIX

Riding out with the king and company was very different from riding alone with Tobin. It was crowded, unsettled and noisy and dusty. Too many people, strings of horses, voices calling back and forth. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The dust got up my nose and I coughed, and despite the easy gaits of the new horse I was riding, it wasn’t Cricket and it felt all wrong. I entertained fantasies of reining around and dashing for home. Of course, that wasn’t likely to work, with the whole company of soldiers riding behind me.

Tobin kneed his horse next to mine, took my reins from my hand and passed over a canteen. I drank, expecting water, and almost choked on the hard-fermented cider instead.

“That’s better. You were looking a bit pale there.”

“You thought I’d look better turning blue?”

His horse jostled mine, and he grinned. “I remembered you liked the stuff. The kitchen had some put by.”

I was struck by that. I had liked it, back when we were young. Meldov had scorned any drink that wasn’t wine, and I’d not had cider since then. Not even lately, in the village, where it was a common tipple in the fall. Why not?
Because it made me think of easier days?
“Thank you.” I tried to hand it back but he hung the canteen on my saddlebow.

“Keep it. Just stay sober enough to stay on your horse.”

The afternoon passed in a blur of horses and men and sweat and dust and the taste of childhood. The canteen had been large, and full. I had to pin my reins under my bad wrist to drink, but the horse followed the rest and I didn’t let the difficulty hamper me. I was perhaps a bit tipsy when we finally stopped for the night.