than Tellesberg, which had at least reduced the length of his supposed voyage to the Desnairian Empire’s Crown Lands from over ten thousand miles to “only” fifty-seven hundred. He’d actually turned up in West Harding, publically (and noisily) “borrowed” a forty-foot single-masted schooner, and put to sea in order to make sure everyone “knew” how he’d gotten where he was going in the fullness of time.
That schooner, unfortunately, was now on the bottom of the Parker Sea. He regretted that. It had been a sweet little craft, and Nimue had always loved single-handing her sloop back on Old Terra whenever she’d had the chance. In fact, he was increasingly irked with himself for having abandoned the schooner as quickly as he had. With so much time to kill, he might as well have spent some of it doing something he’d always enjoyed so much before.
You need a vacation, he told himself. Well, to be fair, I guess you needed a vacation. You’d really have to call the last month or so something like a vacation, after all, but you’re just too damned contrary to actually take time off, aren’t you? Always have to be doing something. Everything depends on you. He snorted mentally. You need Sharley or Cayleb closer to hand to kick you in the butt when you get too full of your own importance.
It was amazing how comforting it was to be able to think that. The loss of so many colleagues left a special aching wound at the center of the theoretically immortal “ seijin ’s” heart, yet the inner circle had survived, even continued to grow. Best of all, he wasn’t indispensable any longer, and that was a greater relief than he’d ever imagined it might be. If something happened to him, the others would still have access to Owl and the technology hidden away in Nimue’s Cave. Not that he planned on anything happening to him, of course. It was just “Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Alban.”
Merlin twitched internally, although his physical body never moved, as Owl’s voice invaded his thoughts.
“Yes?”
“The sensor net deployed to cover Talkyra has reported a situation which programming parameters require me to call to your attention.”
“What sort of situation? No, scratch that. I assume you have the raw take from the sensors for me, yes?”
“Affirmative, Lieutenant Commander Alban.”
“Then I suppose you’d better show it to me.”
“Tobys.”
Tobys Raimair looked up from the dagger edge he’d been carefully honing and cocked an eyebrow at the man who’d just poked his head into his spartan little bedchamber. Corporal Zhak Mahrys was one of his small guard force’s noncoms. Normally a calm, almost phlegmatic sort, he looked more than a little anxious at the moment.
“What is it, Zhakky?”
“There’s something going on,” Mahrys said. “You know Zhake Tailyr?”
“Sure.” Raimair nodded; Tailyr was one of King Zhames’ guardsmen. He was also a drinking buddy of Mahrys’, and Raimair and Earl Coris had encouraged the corporal to pursue the friendship. “What about him?”
“He says there’s been a lot of going back and forth between Colonel Sahndahl’s office and Father Gaisbyrt’s office since lunchtime. A lot, Tobys.”
Raimair’s face stiffened. Father Gaisbyrt Vandaik was a Schuelerite upper-priest attached to Bishop Mytchail’s office in Talkyra.
“What kind of back and forth?” Raimair asked.
“Dunno. He said it was Brother Bahldwyn mostly, though… and Vandaik came back to the castle with him about an hour ago.”
Better and better, Raimair thought. Bahldwyn Gaimlyn was attached to the king’s household-technically as a “secretary,” although there was precious little evidence King Zhames had requested his services.
“Did Tailyr have any idea what it was about?” he asked.
“If he did, he wasn’t telling me.” Mahrys looked even more concerned. “He’s somebody to hoist a few beers with, Tobys, not my blood brother. He may know-or suspect-a lot he’s not telling me. On the other hand, at least he dropped some warning on me.”
Raimair nodded, although he had to wonder if Tailyr’s decision to “warn” Mahrys had really been his own. Raimair could think of a couple of scenarios in which a particularly devious Schuelerite-and they were all devious, sneaky, underhanded bastards-might arrange to have a “warning” passed in order to manipulate someone he suspected into incriminating himself.
“Thanks, Zhakky,” he said now, standing and sliding the dagger into its belt sheath. “Pass the word to the rest of the lads. No one makes any moves, no one does anything to suggest we’re worried, but check your equipment and be sure you keep it handy. I want them ready to move fast and hard if we have to. Got it?”
“Got it.” Mahrys nodded and disappeared, and Raimair walked down a short hallway, up a half-flight of stairs, and knocked on another door.
“Yes?” a voice responded.
“Could I have a minute of your time, My Lord?”
“I don’t know, Irys,” Phylyp Ahzgood said, looking out the turret window into the darkness. “ I can’t think of any good reason for Vandaik to be talking to Colonel Sahndahl. Or not any reason that would be good for us, anyway.”
“Can we go ahead and run now?” Irys asked, watching his back, seeing the tension in his shoulders.
“Maybe. But we weren’t supposed to run for another two days, and we don’t even know for sure what’s happening. Making a break for it now might be the worst thing we could do!” The frustration in his voice was evident, and he turned to her with a sour expression. “I’m not used to having things like this sneak up on me.”
“I know you’re not,” Irys said with a lopsided smile. “And I count on it not happening. But you’re only human, Phylyp, and the truth is-”
“And the truth is,” a much deeper voice neither of them had ever heard before said calmly, “that everyone makes mistakes occasionally. Even me.”
Irys and Coris whipped back around to the window just as a tall man with blue eyes, fierce mustachios, and a dagger beard swung lightly over the windowsill and into the room. The fact that they were three stories up and that the wall fell sheer from the window would have made that astonishing enough, but to make bad worse, the stranger wore the livery of the Charisian Imperial Guard in the middle of the capital of the Kingdom of Delferahk.
The earl and the princess gaped at the apparition, and he bowed gracefully.
“Please excuse my unceremonious arrival,” he said, straightening from the bow and stroking his mustache. “Captain Merlin Athrawes, at your service.”
“But… but how-?”
The imperturbability of even a Phylyp Ahzgood had its limits, and the Earl of Coris couldn’t seem to get the question finished. He only stared at the newcomer, and Merlin chuckled. Irys Daykyn was made of sterner stuff, though.
“Captain Athrawes,” she acknowledged, bending her head in a gracious nod. “I won’t say the Empire of Charis is especially near and dear to my heart, but at this moment, I’m most happy to see you.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” He bowed more deeply. “And please accept Their Majesties’ greetings. They look forward to seeing you safely out of Delferahk.”
“And into Tellesberg, of course,” she riposted in a slightly barbed tone.
“Well, of course, Your Highness, but I’m trying not to be tacky,” Merlin murmured with a slight smile, and Irys’ lips quivered for just a moment. Then she cleared her throat.
“It would appear you’ve arrived at an opportune moment, Seijin Merlin,” she said then. “Of course, we don’t know why it’s an opportune moment or how you’ve managed to arrive at it, now do we?”
“In answer to the second half of your question, Your Highness, everyone insists on calling me a seijin, so it’s only reasonable I should act like one on occasion, including arriving at opportune moments. If I recall my fairy tales
