She looked and did notice the mighty bombard, the barrel lowered almost to a horizontal position as oxen were secured in the wagon’s traces. Beyond, she saw a building, probably an inn, and recognized the three-symbol pennant that was the emperor’s banner.
“Is he down there, then?” she asked, pointing to the obvious headquarters.
“Well, he was. But a few moments ago, he and a party of men, all decked out they was, road across the Stonebridge and into Vingaard Keep. Maybe he had some more terms for the little lady, eh?” he added with a lewd chuckle and a wink.
“Yes, maybe,” Selinda replied disconsolately. Then she walked away from the sergeant with Melissa at her side. Instead of turning toward the castle or the headquarters building, however, she turned her footsteps toward the Apple Creek road, leaving the Vingaard, the castle, and the army behind.
The priestess walked with her in silence for a long time. Finally, she spoke. “You’re not going to try to talk to him, then?” she said.
Selinda shook her head. “No, I’m not. I mean, in the end, there’s really nothing to say.”
The cleric of Kiri-Jolith nodded somberly, and again took her friend’s hand. The Lady Selinda was right.
There really wasn’t anything to say.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Marrinys Kerrigan proved an able administrator. By the time Jaymes, Dayr, and the Freemen rode into the courtyard of Vingaard Keep, she had ordered the vaults opened and somehow collected enough treasure to fill a small chest with gems and larger chests with steel coins. Jaymes didn’t need more than a glance to see that the recalcitrant town’s taxes would be paid in full.
“You’re as good as your word,” he said approvingly.
“I wish I could say the same about you,” she replied, startling him with her vehemence. “But your word has been sullied by your disregard of the parley, more than you even know. The world will long remember how you betrayed my father under a flag of truce.”
“I told you-I didn’t plan to kill him! I gave no order to injure him. It was simply an accident.” Once again, he found himself wanting her to understand and was irritated that she refused to accept his explanation. “Do you think I’m lying to you?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “What I think doesn’t matter. Your intent doesn’t matter. What matters is that a good man, a Solamnic patriot, was slain when he went to you under a flag of truce.”
“Your father’s death was beside the point. The world must learn the price of defying the nation of Solamnia. That’s why this whole campaign occurred.” He gestured to the piles of rubble where the towers had fallen. “It is why that needed to be done.”
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she turned away from him. He grimaced, annoyed, impatient. “Do you need any assistance making funeral arrangements?”
“I can take care of things myself,” she replied coldly. “Very well. I’m detaching my engineering companies, leaving them here under your command. They’ll rebuild the walls, where they were damaged by the falling towers. The fortress will be restored, intact, and once again you will able to defend against external enemies.”
“It is not external enemies who did this!” Marrinys cried. “It is my own liege-my emperor!”
He flushed, clenching his jaw. Something in his eyes caused her to blanch, and she backed up a half a step. But still she was unafraid.
“And the towers?” she asked. “Will your engineers help to rebuild them as well?”
“That will be up to you.” There was no point in talking to her any longer. “Good day!”
He spun on his heel, and as he walked away, he glanced at the scene in the crowded courtyard. Burly troops were helping to move the chunks of rubble out of the way. One of his engineers had backed a wagon with a block and tackle mounted on the bed up to a swath of ruined stone. Officers were issuing orders.
Another wagon rolled in with the priest of Kiri-Jolith, the cleric who had accompanied Lord Kerrigan to the parley, sitting in the front. The priest dismounted and beckoned to some men from the castle guard. They started to remove a litter from the back, which bore the body of the slain nobleman. Jaymes watched impassively as they bore the dead man into the keep, entering a side door, since the main entrance had been devastated by an artillery ball.
Looking around, the emperor saw General Dayr waiting at the gatehouse. The emperor walked over to his army commander.
“I want you to take a message to Dram Feldspar, at New Compound,” Jaymes said.
“Of course, my lord.”
“I want him to begin work on a dozen new bombards. He’s authorized to negotiate payment with the mountain dwarves for as much steel as they can give him. Also, I want to increase the next commission of black powder to a hundred kegs, as well as a thousand balls of ammunition. Dram is authorized to contract to the hill dwarves for sulfur and saltpeter. The new order is effective immediately.”
Eyeing Dayr, Jaymes continued, “I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about these orders. I will need the bombards as soon as he can finish constructing them-certainly at least two of them can be done before the end of summer. And I will take delivery of the powder and balls in small batches, as they become available.”
“Certainly, my lord.” Dayr said, looking away then turning back to Jaymes. “May I ask if there’s a reason you’re worried about a misunderstanding? Might the dwarf be reluctant to follow your orders?”
“No, of course not. But I trust you to see that Dram receives the order and carries it out.”
“Of course. And your orders for the Crown Army? Shall I hold them in place here?”
“No. Take your army back to Thelgaard; you can expect to stand down for the rest of the year unless something untoward happens. But keep the garrisons sharp.”
“Yes, sir. Naturally. Are you taking the legion back over the pass to Palanthas?”
“No. I’m putting them into permanent camp a few miles up the river from here. Vingaard will not be given a chance to forget about them. I intend to have General Weaver practice the legion in open field maneuvers on the plains since there’s a lot more room here than there is beside the city and the bay.”
“Of course, Excellency,” Dayr said, saluting crisply.
Those dispositions made, Jaymes turned at last to his horse. He would ride with the full company of Freemen, a hundred strong; they would escort the wagon containing the tax payment. Palanthas was seven days away, a journey that would take him over the pass in the Vingaard Range, and past the High Clerist’s Tower.
Those mountains were etched along the western horizon, jagged and imposing, with a crest marked by numerous glaciers and snowfields. Some of those peaks were dazzling and white, while others were gray and ominous, shaded by the thick clouds of a massive thunderstorm.
He suddenly missed his wife very much. Jaymes wished he were back home already. He had little spirit for the long ride over the mountainous terrain.
But it was time to get started.
Blayne Kerrigan pulled his oilskin cloak over his head, leaning forward against the neck of his horse in a desperate attempt to block out the torrential rain. He couldn’t see the trail-such as it was-before his nose, so he clung blindly to the saddle. His horse forged ahead, shrugging off the water, shivering against the cold. It was a brave and steady animal and showed its true heart, heading resolutely into the savage weather.
But the mount was as weary as the rider. They had traveled hard through the night, entering the mountains not long after dawn, following a hunting trail Blayne remembered from earlier trips. The trail ran along the bed of a ravine and climbed steeply upward for many miles.
After the all-night ride, the storm had broken on them about noon, and for the rest of that day, they pressed through a steady rain that occasionally, as at that moment, became a lashing downpour. Because of the steep walls rising to right and left, it was practically impossible to get lost, even with the almost complete lack of visibility, so they simply continued blindly, stolidly onward, past a stream spilling down a rock-filled channel in the middle of the
