'Well, we are, after all, only redemptioneers.'
'Uh huh. I reckon there's going to have to be some mind-changing along about that.' Nathaniel patted Caleb on the shoulder. 'You go and get the rest of your men on up here, Mr. Frost. Show them Branches and Casks that reading don't slow you down none.'
'Yes, sir.'
Nathaniel laughed, not sure he'd ever get used to being called 'sir' in that manner; and positive he never wanted to get to liking it. He headed along the path that ran around the top of the quarry and north, down a hill to the creek.
Another man, medium height, lean build, rose from a stump and fell in step with him. 'Nathaniel.'
'Justice.'
'How is it you ain't killed Rufus Branch yet?'
'Well, I reckon he's just smart enough to not rile me when I'm in a cutting mood.'
Justice Bone nodded. 'I amember a time you did cut him.'
Nathaniel nodded. Back when they were all young, with Rufus being three years older than Nathaniel, and Justice two years younger, Rufus had taken to pounding on Justice for some offense or other. Nathaniel had taken exception to that, and one cut with his knife had sent Rufus running long enough to get Justice home and his scalp sewed up.
'He had it coming.'
'Heard tell he was saying he hoped you was going to head out with the troops. Said lots of strange things could happen to a man in battle.'
'Did he now?'
Justice nodded. 'Noticed he and Zachariah Warren spent a long time whispering and drinking together afore Warren headed south Monday.'
'Good thing to know.'
'Might have even seen some money change hands.'
Wasn't hard to figure out in which direction, since Branch never had any, and Warren had far too much.
'I'll watch my back.'
'You do that, Captain. I will, too.' Justice Bone nodded solemnly. 'Time comes to settle accounts, Rufus will have his paid in full.'
Chapter Fifty-One
May 24, 1764
Government House, Temperance
Temperance Bay, Mystria
P rince Vlad made no attempt to hide his surprise. He'd been awakened by an urgent message from Lord Rivendell. The Military Governor took two pages of painfully pretty handwriting to request an urgent meeting. Vlad called together Count von Metternin, Major Forest, and Captain Strake. At the stroke of ten, Chandler ushered Rivendell into the Prince's office. Langford trailed in his wake, carrying two journals and several rolled maps.
Rivendell bowed deeply. He still wore red and gold, but linen garments which were more in keeping with Temperance's fashion sense. 'Thank you, Highness, and you, Count von Metternin. I trust you have not spoiled my surprise.'
The Kessian bowed and clicked his heels. 'As we discussed over dinner last evening, I am merely honored to bask in your genius.'
'Of course you are.' Rivendell made directly for the model. 'I have been devoting much time to thinking, gentlemen, thinking of a way to crack this nut. I've decided to call it the Fortress of Death. Brilliant, ain't it? Ain't it?'
Rivendell then hesitated, tapping his teeth with a finger. 'Perhaps it should be 'du Morte' to honor the Tharyngians. You'd like that, wouldn't you, von Metternin? Note that, Langford. No matter. Cannons on all sides, no way for us to build a ship and keep it on station, many things here, save for a singular vulnerability.'
The Prince peered closely at the model. 'What would that be, Johnny?'
'The cliffs, Highness.' Rivendell beamed. 'None of you thought of the cliffs. You see, we send an elite force of men scaling these cliffs, and using ropes and grapnels, they can be inside the fort, capture this corner, and turn the guns on the inner compound. Sweep the northern walls-we take them, and the fort is ours. Brilliant, ain't it? Ain't it?'
Von Metternin clapped. 'Bravo!'
Vlad shook his head. 'A bold stroke, Johnny, very bold, but where could we find soldiers who could make that climb? It would have to be in the dark, or so close to dawn they could not be seen. Yes, Major Forest, you have something to say?'
The Mystrian officer nodded. 'Begging your pardon, Highness, I have two companies of Mystrian Rangers. One from Fairlee, one from the Northlands. My men could do it.'
Vlad smiled. 'Excellent.'
Rivendell laughed. 'Major, with all due respect, I have the perfect warriors for the job. The Fourth Heavy Horse. Horses can't go up that cliff, so we'll dismount 'em and let them climb.'
The Prince chuckled lightly. 'You jest, of course, my lord. Your cavalry has no experience scaling cliffs, do they?'
'Don't need it, Highness, don't need it.' Rivendell sniffed. 'These are the finest young men from the finest houses in all of Norisle. They've been defending the realm since 1066. They shed their blood in the Holy Lands and have fought the Tharyngians for centuries. They have the finest of breeding, upbringing and education. If I tell them to go up those cliffs, they will…'
'Fall back down again like the prats they are.' An older man with thinning hair and disdain etched deep into his features flipped a coat off and draped it over Chandler's arms. 'Dick Ventnor, Highness. Count von Metternin, Major Forest, I believe. Owen.' His boot heels clicked crisply on the wooden floor as he made haste to the model. 'Excellent, much as I imagined from reading your report, Highness.'
Rivendell bowed. 'Duke Deathridge, a pleasure.'
'Straighten up, Johnny. You look every bit the popinjay.'
Vlad glanced at Owen. The man's face had become an impassive iron mask. 'Duke Deathridge, we were given to suppose your ship would not be here for a week.'
'True, but the wager was whether or not I would be here, not my ship. Langford will pay my man when he arrives, Johnny. A packet boat overtook us, so I transferred to it, coming with the latest dispatches.' The dark-eyed man stared at the model. 'Southwest is a trap, of course. North is the only true avenue of assault. Cliff is a nice idea, but the cavalry would never make it. The Fourth has a hard enough time climbing out of bed.'
'You impugn their honor, sir.'
'And you would use them like tin soldiers, Johnny, but you cannot reset them for play when things do not turn out as you wish.'
Vlad pointed to Major Forest. 'We have two companies of Mystrian Rangers, sharpshooters, and hand-picked men who can and will make that climb.'
Deathridge nodded, his eyes narrowing. 'Two full companies?'
'Yes, Duke Deathridge.'
'Fully capable woodsmen, Robert? The best Mystria has to offer?'
'Yes.'
'And you'll be leading them?'
Forest smiled. 'I still have a thumb, so I will be leading them.'
'Very good.'
Rivendell blinked. 'You cannot mean to have them go up the cliff, Dick. These are Mystrian troops. Have you forgotten the lessons of the Artennes Forest?'
Deathridge's lip curled into a sneer. 'I will ask you only once, Johnny, to remember who was there actually
