“No, Highness.” Rathfield half-turned back toward the closed doors. “Shall I fetch him?”
“You’re very kind.”
Within three steps toward the doors, Rathfield had regained his composure. He strode with a certain grace, reminding Vlad of the effortless power with which a jeopard moved through the Mystrian forests. Perhaps he is like the saber-toothed cat, strong enough to be deadly and, therefore, not required to be too clever. If the story of Rondeville was even half-true, the man would be implacable in combat, and just intelligent enough to learn what his masters wanted, yet not so bright as to question their need for that information.
The two men returned, Rathfield a half a step ahead of Owen. Vlad offered his friend his hand, then clasped Owen’s in both of his. “Wonderful to see you again, Owen. I didn’t realize you were in town.”
“I rode in this morning. There was the Wattling affair to take care of.”
“Resolved satisfactorily?”
“I hope so. I left him with Caleb. Mr. Dunsby and I escorted Colonel Rathfield here.”
“Please tell Mr. Dunsby I am pleased to learn he has returned. Baker will be happy to have his help with Mugwump again.” Vlad slapped Owen on the shoulder, then released his hand. “Colonel Rathfield tells me that there has been a petition sent to the Queen concerning a new settlement in the west. Colonel, what do you know of the petitioners?”
Rathfield again hid his hands at the small of his back. “Highness, we know very little. No one signed the petition per se. It was signed in the name of the True Oriental Church of the Lord. No one in Launston seems to know who or what that organization is.”
“Owen, have you any insights?”
“Nothing about that group, Highness, but most of the villages and towns in Temperance Bay and Bounty started when churches had doctrinal splits and half the people moved away. Caleb once mentioned that he had second cousins who helped found the town Humility over in Bounty. I also seem to recall Makepeace Bone mentioning a group heading west a couple years ago-’62 maybe, or ’61-to escape the corruption of the coast.”
“How long would it take to mount an expedition to survey such settlements?”
Owen frowned. “No honest way of knowing, Highness, without a clue as to where to start looking.”
“They want to call their settlement Postsylvania, and want it to run from the Argent to the coast, west of the mountains until they hit water.”
Owen nibbled his lower lip. “I see the problem. That narrows it down slightly. A month to the mountains, perhaps, several more hunting, then a month back. Head out in two weeks, be back in time for your son’s birthday. Six men, including the Colonel here: Hodge, Makepeace, Nathaniel, Kamiskwa, and me.”
Vlad nodded. “I believe we have a working plan. Would it inconvenience you, Captain, to host Colonel Rathfield? Given the confidential nature of his mission, housing him on your estate would be prudent. It makes him easily accessible to me. And while I am certain Mr. Dunsby will acquit himself well, might I suggest you offer Count von Metternin a chance to join you?”
“Of course, Highness. I should have thought of that.”
Rathfield lifted his chin. “Highness, I’m not certain that this expedition, as outlined, fulfills the dictates of my orders. Horse Guards and the Queen were most keen on the idea of bringing any settlement back within chartered territories. I was thinking I could take a company of the Life Guards and that you might scare up a company of colonial scouts and skirmishers to guide us.”
“I will certainly read your orders carefully, Colonel, to make certain we are not in violation of them. Captain, would you care to explain to Colonel Rathfield how long his expedition would take?”
Owen shrugged easily-a mannerism he’d picked up while living in Mystria. “We’d be wintering somewhere out in the mountains, and be lucky to make it back here by spring. Folks in the settlements would agree to head back to the coast, but would just reoccupy things after we left for the next settlement.”
“Then we should have to burn their settlements.”
Owen shook his head. “You don’t understand. You’re thinking of towns in Tharyngia or Norisle, but settlements out here aren’t like that. Folks will have cabins spread all over, five to ten miles from the church, trading post, or tavern they consider the heart of their settlement. You’d never find them all, and they’d warn others. You’d grow more settlements than you’d stomp out.”
“I believe, Captain, your assessment misses the fact that I act with the Crown’s authority.”
Vlad held up a hand. “Gentlemen, this is a subject we can discuss on the road west. I have a cart coming at noon. Colonel, if you and Mr. Dunsby see to your luggage, it can be loaded into the cart. Captain Strake’s home is adjacent to mine. We will ride ahead and see if we can settle things.”
“As you wish, Highness.”
“Good. Please, you’ll find Mr. Dunsby waiting outside, won’t he, Captain?”
“Yes, Highness.”
“Tell him to collect your things. Godspeed.” Vlad nodded toward the door. “And, Owen, a word, if I might.”
“Of course, Highness.”
Rathfield saluted the Prince smartly, then turned on his heel and marched from the chamber. Vlad waited until the door closed behind him, then looked at Owen.
“Tell me, Owen, truthfully. Do you want to go on this expedition because you wish to guarantee success, or do you just want to get away from your wife?”
Chapter Three
27 March 1767 Government House, Temperance Bay, Mystria
O wen hesitated before he answered, less because of the question’s direct nature than the insight behind it. “My only wish, Highness, is to be of service.”
The Prince smiled. “I hoped that was the case. I asked because you are a friend. I wish you only the best.”
Owen glanced toward the floor. “I know that. Had you not asked, I would have convinced myself that service to the Crown is my only concern. However, it is…”
“The sailing season, I know.”
Catherine Strake had never abandoned the idea of returning to Norisle, even when she was told she would be friendless and humiliated. If anything, that seemed to heighten her desire to go back. As spring gave way to summer, she would spend more time in their rooms in Temperance and become increasingly insistent that she be allowed to leave. The edge in her voice would grow, and her glances would become more venomous.
Owen sighed. “It’s the sailing season to everyone else, but I know it as the insane season. I had so hoped she would come to love the land as I do, as our daughter does.”
“Miranda’s a bit young to ascribe such feelings to her, don’t you think?”
“Is she, Highness?” He smiled. “You’ve not seen it with your children yet, but to hear Miranda laugh toddling after butterflies, or sticking her nose in flowers, I have no question that she loves her home. Her mother thinks I let her run wild and wants me to hire a governess from Norisle to raise her properly. This is this year’s ploy, to be allowed to go back to Norisle to find someone suitable.”
Vlad nodded thoughtfully. “When she says it, it’s always a return home, yes?”
“Yes.” Owen rubbed a hand over his face. “Why she can’t see the beauty of this place, why she can’t come to love it, I don’t understand.”
Vlad laid a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “I have come to realize that some people can love what is, and others can only love what they control. You and I can marvel at the wonders of this land, and take comfort in its mysteries. Your wife sees it as hostile and chaotic. Had you remained in Norisle, you likely never would have been given cause to notice this difference. Here, you could not possibly escape it.”
And this would mean that she loved me because she could control me. But here, no more. Owen’s shoulders slumped. “You’ll not have me go, then?”
“Regardless of your answer, I have no choice but to send you. That die was cast before Rathfield ever sailed from Launston.” Vlad frowned. “The only reason to send a hero to Mystria is to lose him, or to use his notoriety to
