red and gold satin, with black shoes and gold buckles, red knickers and waistcoat, white shirt and hose. The man carried a cane, but as a baton, not anything useful. His hat had two feathers, both impossibly long, and his shirt had a lace collar and cuffs.
The man, long-faced and slender, save for a pouchy belly, paused just past the doorway. He swept his hat off in a grand gesture, bowing very low, his left foot pointed forward. He came back up, his face alight with a grin wide enough to almost touch his ears.
He barked a quick laugh. 'I told you they'd be surprised, Langford. Ain't I right? Ain't I? That's three crowns you owe me.'
Colonel Langford emerged from his shadow. 'Yes, your lordship.'
'Take it from the whist winnings, mind-no more cheating when you keep score. Love the game, can't be bothered with the numbers, you know.' Rivendell turned back to the Prince. 'You thought of my father when you heard the name. Everyone does. Died January, he did, God rest him. No worries-could have been worse. You could have had Smalling. See the look, Langford, they know how lucky they are having me here.'
'Yes, my lord.'
Rivendell tapped his stick on the floor. 'Your troubles are over. I've read my father's book, of course, been part of his command for years. I'm as good as he was. Even better, I dare say. Much of Villerupt, that was me when his gout had him down.'
'You are most welcome, Lord Rivendell.'
'Just call me Johnny. All the troops do, even after I flog 'em. Want them to know I care, don't you know.'
'I see.' The Prince forced a smile. 'I should like to present Count Joachim von Metternin.'
'Keeping with the enemy, now, are we?' Rivendell laughed aloud. 'You keep an eye on him here, Langford, the eye you should have had on him at Planchain. That's good. You gentlemen know my aide, Colonel Langford. Most useful to me. Bless me, what have we here?'
Vlad moved aside. 'This is du Malphias' fortress. We built it from the maps and drawings I put in my report.'
'Oh, very good. Capital.' He glanced back at Langford. 'You knew of this?'
'Yes, your lordship. I mentioned it to you.'
'Did you? Very good. That's your job, ain't it? Ain't it?'
Vlad frowned. 'Lord Rivendell…'
'Johnny.'
'Johnny, you did read the report I sent, didn't you?'
'Read it? No, no, no. No time for that.' Rivendell reached around and smacked Langford in the chest with his cane. 'That's what I have Simon here for, ain't it? He read it. He told me everything I needed to know. We have the situation well in hand.'
'You do?' Vlad glanced at von Metternin. The Kessian's expression was completely blank. 'Do you have any information about what sort of troops Tharyngia has sent to invest the fortress?'
'This one, this one here?' Rivendell peered closely at it, then pulled back. 'I think we have some documents, don't we, or are they coming on the other ships?'
'Other ships, my lord.'
'Very good, you are right on top of things, Langford. Good to be home, ain't it? We won't tell your wife what you've gotten up to in Launston, will we? No, we won't.' Rivendell smiled at the Prince. 'All those troop things are coming on the other ships, along with the troops. We came in with supplies, don't you know. Guns, powder, firestones.'
Vlad sighed, and didn't care that Rivendell saw him. 'So you're here to prepare things, but you're not leading the expedition?'
'Ain't I? Ain't I?' The Norillian noble frowned. 'Langford, this is my command, ain't it?'
'Yes, sir.'
Vlad forced another smile. 'No offense intended, Johnny, but I would have thought they would have chosen someone more senior.'
'To wipe out a Ryngian bugger in the middle of God-knows-where? No. There was some panic at Horse Guards when your report first came through. I must say, Highness, no need to gin up the panic by saying du Malphias is a necromancer who has a legion of the dead to oppose us. Why, everyone knows that can't be true! Took some talking to make that point, of course, but cool heads prevailed, saw the truth of it.'
Vlad clasped his hands behind his back. 'I'm afraid, Lord Rivendell, the reports were the truth. Du Malphias has at least a battalion of these pasmortes.'
'Really?'
'Really.'
'Have you ever seen one?'
Vlad hesitated. 'I have. Men in my employ brought a captive to my estate.'
'Do you still have it? Heard you were a keen one for studying the Ryngian way. Got it in bottles do you, all pieced out?'
Vlad looked down. 'No. My wurm ate it.'
Rivendell laughed, holding his belly and doubling over. 'Your wurm ate it. Oh, very good. Langford, remember that one. Have to tell it to the others when they arrive. His wurm ate it.'
The Prince's cheeks flushed. 'That misfortune not withstanding, I do have witnesses. Their statements were in my report. I can bring them before you.'
'Now, now, Highness, I don't blame you for being taken in by these rustics. They're of inferior breeding, ain't they? Lying is in their blood. They couldn't explain why they ran from some scruffy Ryngians, so they made them into monsters. That you believe them goes to your heart, sir, and I commend you on it. But no need to worry now Johnny Rivendell is here.'
He looked back at his aide. 'That's good, Langford, get that down for the book.'
'Book?'
'Yes, Highness, I'll write one just as my father did, once we deal with this fort of yours.' He lowered his voice. 'But you are not alone in your concerns. Some at Horse Guards thought I might want an advisor. Richard Ventnor, Duke Deathridge, is following with the troops. And his mistress, right pretty one, she. His niece, too, but don't let that get around.'
Vlad blinked. 'His niece?'
'Oh, ain't like that at all, Highness.' Rivendell smirked. 'Niece by law, not blood. Catherine Strake, she's what keeps him warm all through the night.'
Chapter Forty-Six
May 13, 1764
Government House, Temperance
Temperance Bay, Mystria
'I believe, sir, you are mistaken.'
Lord Rivendell turned toward the doorway, the wild smile still wide. 'No, I ain't.'
Owen glanced at Chandler, who withdrew, and stepped into the room. 'The woman to whom you refer is my wife. I believe you are mistaken, sir.'
Langford, who had blanched when he saw Owen's face, interposed himself between the soldier and Lord Rivendell. 'So good to see you again, Captain Strake.'
Owen spitted him with a stare. 'Unless you are going to act for Lord Rivendell in a matter of honor, Colonel, I suggest you give ground.'
Count von Metternin tugged off one of his gloves and proffered it. 'If you require a second, Captain, it would be my honor to attend you.'
Owen reached for the glove.
Rivendell's smile evaporated. 'Could be I was mistaken, sir. Could be. The voyage, you see, takes its toll. That's
