Owen stopped laughing, but his smile would not die. “Understand something, Colonel. The Crown’s authority extends only in so far as you can enforce it. Here in Temperance Bay or Bounty or south-that’s pretty far. Two days’ ride from here there are whole villages populated by people who’ve never seen Norisle and who think the Queen is something out of a faery story. When we get further out, you’ll see places where there aren’t many people, and where the only law is Nature’s law. You think Mystrians won’t care about the Crown? Jeopards and wolves will care even less.”
Owen straightened up in the saddle and opened his hands. “As for your holding me to a high standard, understand what that means. You can write me up in reports and say bad things, but everyone will expect that. If you try to flog me-flog any of us-it won’t be tolerated. If you choose to demand satisfaction of me, I’ll decline as the Prince doesn’t favor dueling. Others who will be joining us, however, have different opinions, and they’re a lot deadlier than I am.
“So, Colonel, your being here is pretty much like your being in Rondeville. You’re on your own. How you best decide to proceed is up to you.”
Rathfield considered for a moment, and then nodded. “I see. I will take your words under advisement, though I warn you that I meant what I said.”
“I understand that.”
“Good. As long as we understand each other, I believe we can work together.” Rathfield pointed south. “Shall we?”
“By all means.” Owen gave his horse a touch of the heel. “Welcome to my home.”
The drive to Strake House snaked through woods, which had been thinned of larger trees. The road worked its way around hills simply because that had been less expensive than digging through them-and level roads were more practical in the winter when the snow came. The serpentine track opened onto a wide lot with a barn on the left, smokehouse to the right, and the main house in the middle. Beyond the main house, down by the Benjamin River, stood a small boathouse and dock.
“I know it’s not much, but…”
“It is impressive.”
The main house had been built on a stone foundation. They’d excavated down to bedrock, which gave the house an eight-foot-high cellar for food storage in winter. The rectangular building rose to two stories, with chimneys at either end and fireplaces sufficient to heat four upstairs bedrooms. The pitched roof hid an attic. The main floor boasted a kitchen toward the back on the right side, a dining room to the front on that side, a sewing room back left, and a library and parlor left front. Stones finished the corners, but clapboards otherwise covered the house, and the roof had been done in cedar shingles.
Owen snuck a look at Rathfield’s face and suppressed a smile. In Norisle, even a man with Rathfield’s money could barely have afforded a house such as that. Because Mystria had so much land and so many resources abundantly available, the construction had cost a fraction of what it might have in Norisle. Owen could afford to build a house that was much larger than the equivalent in Norisle, and in Norisle would have had to be a minor noble to afford an estate that size.
As they rode toward the stables, James the stable boy emerged to take their horses. The two men dusted themselves off. Before they could reach the front door, however, it opened a crack, then a little, black-haired girl with bright hazel eyes slipped through. Giggling gaily, she ran toward her father, hands extended, then stopped and looked up at Rathfield.
Her smile died and her hands disappeared behind her back.
Owen scooped her up and kissed her cheek. “Colonel Rathfield, this is my daughter, Miranda.”
Rathfield drew off his hat with a flourish and bowed solemnly-a bit of playful whimsy that Owen would never have credited as possible. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miranda.”
The beautiful little girl stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, then buried her face against her father’s neck. Owen shook his head. “She tends to be shy around strangers. Normally she is quite happy and talks all the time.”
The main house door opened and a woman appeared, though she still faced back into the house. “Let that happen again, Agnes, and I shall get the strop!” She turned, looking over the yard for her daughter-there was no mistaking the resemblance in the nose and the chin-then she stopped. “Owen, I hadn’t…”
“We have a visitor. Colonel Ian Rathfield, may I present my wife, Catherine.”
Catherine stiffened, then pressed her brown hair into place and straightened her dress. “Please forgive me, Colonel.”
Rathfield took her hand and raised it to his lips. “My pleasure, Madame.”
Catherine covered that hand with her other, then her brown eyes narrowed. “Are you? Yes, your uniform, the Fifth Northland Cavalry. You’re Ian Rathfield, the hero of Rondeville.”
“You are very kind, Madame.”
“Catherine, you must call me Catherine, Colonel.”
Owen watched his wife transform herself into the woman of the manner, with a small hint of the flirtatiousness he’d enjoyed when they first met. He’d not seen it in so long, it surprised him that it still existed. He found her a bit silly, but dared not laugh, and welcomed the change.
Catherine raised a hand to tuck a stray lock of brown hair away.” It will be an honor to have you here. How long will you be staying?”
“I shall do my best not to inconvenience you for long, Catherine. I hope to take rooms in Temperance soon enough.” Rathfield smiled. “I’ve been sent by the Crown for a specific mission. I am afraid, however, I shall have to take your husband with me. I hope you won’t mind.”
Her eyes flashed. “Not at all. I live to serve the Crown.”
“It’s good to hear that in the Colonies, Catherine.”
Owen looked at his wife. “The Prince has invited us to dine with him this evening. Hodge will be up with the Colonel’s things. I imagine we will head out inside the fortnight.”
Miranda clutched his neck. “No, Daddy, don’t go!”
Owen rubbed her back and kissed her head. “It will be okay, Miranda. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I get scared.”
“I know, honey. More nightmares?”
Catherine folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, during her nap. The shadows in the woods are back.”
Rathfield smiled. “I’m certain there is nothing to fear out there, Miranda.”
The little girl hid her face against her father’s neck again and shivered.
Oh, Colonel, you have no idea what lurks out there in the woods. Owen nodded. “You’re probably right, Colonel. But, for now, no shadows, Miranda. Just friends-friends from far away.”
Chapter Six
27 March 1767 Prince Haven, Temperance Bay, Mystria
Prince Vlad retreated to his laboratory to open the packet from his father. When he’d built the new laboratory, he’d started with a barn so he had a massive open room that featured two lofts. The main floor contained his desk and drafting tables, dissection tables, closets for maps, charts, and equipment, and the largest or most recent of his specimens from around Mystria. The first loft had been ringed with bookshelves, which he had filled almost halfway with volumes from all over the world. A smaller bookshelf near his desk contained books he needed for current study, and piles of books supplemented its capacity. The highest loft, which he referred to as the attic, had a pulley and winch system on the main roof beam to help haul heavier items into the darkness. He’d thought he might store seasonal things there, like canoes, but he couldn’t fit them through the lower door and hadn’t yet opened a wall that high.
He sat at his desk, and turned up the wick on a lamp. He pinched the wick much as he might do to snuff a flame, then invoked a spell, and pulled his hand back. The wick caught quickly and burned yellow-gold. The spell-a variation of that used to ignite brimstone in the breech of a gun-was common enough, but those who could not use magick were often wary of those who did, so the Prince did not indulge himself over much.
