“Who are you, sir?” huffed the mustachioed knight who emerged from the guardhouse a moment later. “What’s the meaning of all this?”
“I’m Lord Marshal Jaymes Markham, commander of the Army of Solamnia. I’m here to see the Duchess Brianna, and this kender is my guide. I ordered him released, and if your man doesn’t comply, I’ll see that he’s not fit to hold so much as a chicken leg when dinner comes around!”
“There, there,” soothed the older guard. “Lew, release the kender. Max, go tell the majordomo that the duchess has a visitor-give him a good description. In the meantime, why don’t we all just calm down and get this sorted out?” He fixed Jaymes with a wary look. “Though, if you’d been around here for a while, you’d know that none of us has had so much as a glimpse of a chicken leg in quite some time.”
Moptop made a great show of wounded dignity in adjusting his topknot and tunic, making sure all his pouches were in order. He stalked back to Jaymes with the air of one who had endured a great insult, but the dignified effect was somewhat ruined when he stuck his tongue out at the scowling Lew.
“You’re the lord marshal, eh?” said the sergeant major, making an elaborate show of spitting a stream of tobacco off to the side. “Don’t have much of a uniform. I suppose that would have been a bit of a distraction, when you rode through the enemy lines, eh? You and your kender guide.”
“I’ll tell my story to the duchess,” Jaymes said easily. He stood a dozen paces away from the guard post, watching as more men appeared atop the palace wall. A door opened off to the side and still more guards hastened out, quickly circling outward to form a ring around the two visitors.
“So did you get a look at the half-giant when you slipped past his tent?” continued the sergeant major, swaggering forward. He had an increasingly skeptical look on his face. “Maybe share a cup o’ tea with him?”
The guards numbered more than a dozen, and all of them regarded the visitors with blatant hostility. Their faces were gaunt and unshaven, and their sunken eyes gleamed with suspicion. The effects of hunger were clearly visible in every face.
“Psst-I don’t think they’re very glad to see you,” Moptop whispered loudly, tugging on the lord marshal’s sleeve. “Maybe we should go back to the Cleft Spires.”
“We’ll stay here until we have a chance to talk to the duchess,” Jaymes replied calmly.
“Maybe she’s got some more important business than talking to a spy,” the guard sneered.
“He’s not a spy! He’s the lord marshal of the whole army, and I’m his professional guide and pathfinder extraordinaire!” the kender declared, bristling. “And we didn’t come through Ankhar’s army-we found a new way to get here! And you just better-hey!”
Moptop squawked in alarm and ducked behind his companion’s legs as a shadow suddenly flashed above them. A large net, a circular web with heavy weights around the fringe, soared from the wall, having been flung at them by a pair of guards. It spun itself taut and dropped toward the two travelers standing outside the palace gates.
In the same instant, Jaymes reached over his shoulder and pulled Giantsmiter from its sheath. Blue flames flashed in the sunlight as he swept the weapon in an arc over his head, neatly slicing the strands of the net as it plummeted. The weights carried the fringes to the ground, but the swordsman and the kender stood, unencumbered, in the middle of the ruined net.
For the first time, the sergeant major’s eyes showed the shadow of respect. He scowled darkly, while several of his men whispered among themselves. “That’s the sword of Lorimar, all right,” one of them said quite audibly. “Mebbe he is who he says.”
Further debate was prevented by the arrival of a woman, a very young woman of striking beauty, dressed in a supple leather skirt that reached to her feet. Hair of coppery red spilled across her shoulders, curling and full. Her face was pale except for the dark circles surrounding her sunken eyes. Her cheeks, neck, and arms had the same slightly gaunt look that was characteristic of everyone in the besieged city, but they were also alight with a glow of warmth, greeting, and something else-hope, perhaps.
“My Lord Marshal,” she said, stepping through the ring of guards to approach and holding out her hand in greeting. Jaymes took it and bowed. “How nice it is to see you here.”
“The honor is mine, Your Grace,” he replied.
“Sergeant Major Higgins,” she said, turning and regarding her guard with slight disapproval. “Perhaps you could help our visitor disentangle himself from the net?”
“But… Your Grace! So you do know this man?” Higgins sputtered. “He’s not from the city-and yet, how could he come through the siege lines?”
“I have never met him-but he looks exactly as Dara Lorimar described. Those eyes! They look like they could stab you from ten paces away. The beard is a nice touch, my lord. It gives a weight of maturity to your countenance.” She turned to the sergeant major, the hint of a smile playing about her lips. “And from what Dara told me about him, years back, I should think that if Jaymes Markham wanted to pass through the lines of a siege, he would be able to figure out a way to do that.”
“I showed him the way!” Moptop proclaimed.
“How very nice of you,” the duchess said with a dazzling smile. “You must be a splendid guide.”
Moptop beamed in return, and seemed to grow a good two inches.
The city of Solanthus was still intact, Jaymes could see as the duchess led him through the streets toward the western quarter. The buildings were mostly made of stone, and many of them loomed two or three stories high. Their facades were undamaged, their stonework and outer staircases clean and neat. But upon close inspection he saw that many structures had an unfinished look, and this was because wooden porches had been pulled down. Benches were gone, and even unnecessary doors had been removed.
“We burned almost all of our wood during the last winter,” Brianna explained. “Even so, we lost a thousand people-mostly the very old and the very young-to the cold.”
“Your brave stand has been remarkable,” Jaymes acknowledged. “The whole of Solamnia is heartened by your example.” Even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow. How could anyone who was not here understand what these people had been going through?
He noticed, as they passed corrals and stables and small barns, that there were no animals about. They, like the wood, had undoubtedly been consumed during the nearly two years of siege.
“We were faced by a new attack just a few days ago,” Brianna explained as they walked, without ceremony, through the city streets. “It was a being of magic, gigantic in size, terrible in its destructive force.”
“I received word of that,” the lord marshal replied. “A wizard told me-she described the creature as an elemental, a magical composite of fire and water, earth and air.”
“Oh! Did she tell you how we might kill this magical foe?” the duchess asked.
“Not in so many words,” Jaymes said, shaking his head. “That’s one of the reasons I came here; I am helping her search for the answer.”
“Come this way, and I will show you some of the damage it wreaked.”
They passed several knots of defenders, all of whom stood at attention when they saw it was the duchess approaching. The men of her garrison obviously regarded her with affection bordering on awe. They hastened to clear a path for her, lunging to kick pieces of rubble out of her way, following her reverently with their eyes as she walked past them. Despite her beauty, there was nothing of lust in their expressions-rather, they reflected more the adoration a young boy might show for his mother.
Jaymes noted the duchess’s eyes were filled with sorrow, however, as she guided him and Moptop through the city, escorted only by a quartet of palace spearmen who materialized an unobtrusive distance behind them. Word spread, seemingly through the cobblestones themselves, announcing her approach. The people turned out along the whole way, leaning from upper windows, lining the walks beside the narrow streets. They did not cheer, but quietly nodded, bowed, and curtsied as the duchess passed.
These same people regarded Jaymes with frank curiosity and an occasional scowl of apparent hostility.
“They remember the promises of Caergoth and Thelgaard,” Brianna explained apologetically, “and the knights who never appeared here. Very little is known about you, of course, though we have word that your army came north across the Garnet River. But they have had so little cause for hope in this last year.”
“As of now, my army should be crossing the Vingaard. Relieving your city is our objective, but even so it will take days for my armies to close in upon the enemy camp.”
“Until then, of course, we must continue to survive,” said the princess coolly. They came around a corner and saw a whole block of devastated buildings. “Come this way. We’ll climb the wall, and you’ll be able to get a good
