has wings, I have never seen him fly. While he has a martial spirit, as do all wurms to the best of my knowledge, and as is made apparent by how easily his wing was broken; the wings are vestigial, ornamental at best, and of little practical use, much as the wings of a variety of flightless birds.”
“General, you know this isn’t true.”
Rathfield smiled. “And yet, Highness, you know that no amount of sincerity on my part will convince my superiors at Horse Guards that what I’ve said is other than the truth. If they believe me, what will they do? Let a wurm go to molt and die? They would lay the blame for that death upon me. So then they decide that it only happens here because of food or the air? Can you tell me why Mugwump grew wings? Mugwump has been here for years, and the Crown will never move and station wurms here on the chance that after two or three decades they might grow wings that will never work.”
Vlad nodded. “Just as the Crown refused to believe about the Norghaest threat in the west. What will you do with that in your report?”
“I don’t know.” Rathfield shrugged. “I suppose it is good I have a long journey home to figure that out. Have you decided what you will tell people?”
“Not really. The stories will get outlandish, but our having defeated the Norghaest will keep panic down. Alandalusian troops have reported civilizations in the jungles and deserts south and southwest. Perhaps I will let people believe that these were nomads that we sent home. The demons and trolls can be covered by Shedashee legends.” The Prince snorted. “As you’ve pointed out, it is all a matter of reporting what people are most likely to accept. Luckily I have some influence with the editorial staff at the Frost Weekly Gazette.”
Both men laughed, then Rathfield advanced and extended his hand to the Prince. “If you will permit me this familiarity, sir, I wish to tell you I have enjoyed serving under you. I do not believe anyone at court understands what a capable leader you are.”
Vlad shook the man’s hand. “I’m not a military commander, General.”
“I didn’t say you were. You’re a leader. ” Rathfield nodded. “With men and women so capable and willing to fight, a leader is all they need. I want to thank you for all your kindness.”
“It has been a pleasure.”
As they broke their grip, Owen slipped into the wurmrest. He stopped quickly. “Forgive me, Highness, I thought you were alone.”
Rathfield turned. “I was saying good-bye.”
“Looks like the day for departures. Kamiskwa and Nathaniel are getting ready to leave.” Owen offered the General his hand. “Travel safely, sir. Please give my regards to my uncle.”
“I shall. And thank you for saving my life.”
Owen shook his head. “You’d have done the same for me.”
“Pity I didn’t have the chance.”
The two of them shook hands, then the Prince joined them outside to bid Nathaniel and Kamiskwa farewell. The surviving Shedashee waited across the valley, near the graveyard. As Vlad looked at them and at Nathaniel and Kamiskwa outfitted lightly for quick travel, he wished dearly to be going with them. It was not that he found his responsibilities crushing, but that being able to slip them every so often appealed.
Rathfield shook each man’s hand. “Thank you both for seeing to my safety in the wilderness. I dare say my wolfskin pelisse will be the talk of Launston, and you shall be fully credited in my retelling of that adventure. Prince Kamiskwa, please know you have my sympathy at your father’s disappearance. I wish you safety in your quest to find him.”
“Thank you, General.” Kamiskwa smiled. “Safe journey home.”
Nathaniel threw the man a quick but casual salute. “Safe travel.”
“And you as well.” Rathfield turned and marched off to where his surviving men were gathering their horses.
Nathaniel looked over at the Prince. “Something need to be done about him?”
The question’s bluntness did not surprise the Prince, but its insight did. Vlad reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a small handgun he’d been given by du Malphias at Anvil Lake. “I do not believe he will be a problem, and I had anticipated a solution were that not the case.”
Kamiskwa raised his musket in one hand and pumped it three times in the air. The waiting Shedashee took off to the northeast, disappearing into the woods. They could have just as easily headed east and ambushed what was left of the Fifth Northland Cavalry.
“Yet another reason why you have my gratitude, gentlemen.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “He weren’t of the same cut as Johnny Rivendell, but that don’t mean I am inclined to trust him much outside of rifle shot.”
“I don’t disagree, Nathaniel.” Vlad sighed. “You will keep me apprised of your travels, yes?”
The Mystrian nodded. “Kamiskwa has convinced me that my boy William is old enough to go with us, least ways for the first part of things. He’s been learning his letters, so he’ll be keeping one of them journals that you and Owen set so much store by. We got us a thaumagraph, soes we will tell what we know.”
“Very good. You’ll enjoy having your son with you.”
“I reckon.” Nathaniel scratched at his throat. “Ain’t got no idea how long this will take. Nice that things appear to be warming up.”
“Godspeed to you both. I will make certain, Nathaniel, that Mrs. Ward learns that you survived.”
“Obliged, Highness.” Nathaniel shook the Prince’s hand, then turned to Owen. “You keep the Prince safe, hear?”
“Always. And if you need help…”
“First on the list.”
Owen shook Nathaniel’s hand, then clasped his hands at the small of his back and bowed toward Kamiskwa. “Bountiful hunting.”
“Thank you.” Kamiskwa returned the bow. “I look forward to our meeting again.”
Kamiskwa and Nathaniel headed off down the hill, splashing through the ford and off up in the wake of the Shedashee. Vlad watched them go and the weight of the world pressed in on him. He could never have denied them permission to go after Msitazi, but their absence would make things far more difficult for him. Not that he wanted them to assassinate enemies-though their offer to kill Rathfield indicated just how dangerous they thought he could be. Their practical sense, as well as their knowledge of Mystria and its various peoples, made them invaluable resources.
Plus, he enjoyed their company.
He turned to Owen. “If you don’t mind, Captain Strake, I’d like to speak with you in private. Shall we visit Mugwump?”
“Of course, Highness.”
Vlad let Owen lead the way. The men entered the wurmrest and Mugwump lifted his muzzle. He sniffed once, then settled back down.
“What is it, Highness?”
“Miss Frost told me of the message which was sent concerning your wife. I believe her when she reports that you said you had not revealed the secret of the thaumagraph to Catherine. I am led to believe two things about the message. The first is that my wife relayed it compassionately, not realizing your wife had tricked her. The second, of course, is that your wife is not pregnant. This leads me to wonder why your wife would have lied to mine, and I must conclude that she was pressured into it.”
Owen frowned, then nodded slowly. “I spend a lot of time wondering who would have pressured her, but shifted my thinking to who could pressure her. I can come up with only one candidate: Bishop Bumble. I fear he connected me with Fire’s escape, and threatened Catherine and my family if she did not cooperate. I have to assume that somehow Bumble guessed that we could communicate more quickly than by runner and used Catherine to confirm that guess.”
“Your thinking parallels mine. I will not, of course, allow you to be blamed for any of this. You will, when questioned, claim ignorance. No, Owen, no protest, that is an order. If there are negative consequences out of all this, I need you in a position to protect my family and to protect Mystria. Do you understand?”
Owen nodded. “You do me a great honor, Highness.”
“No, I do you the lowest of disservices, Owen, because I am saddling you with my responsibilities.” Vlad
