“I admire your desire to keep faith with Dane. He doesn’t deserve you. Tel his soldiers they could come here. I’d like more Itaskians around me.”
...
Dane of Greyfel s was not wel . He was pal id in the extreme. Any movement caused pain. Gales had been cautioned against taking notice. He expressed strong gratitude when offered a chair beside the Duke, in front of the fire.
“This is so much better than Castle Krief. Inger won’t waste fuel on heating.” Countless economies were under way.
The Crown had a very limited income.
“What news, Josiah? Is there any hope? If not, I should cut my losses. Go home with my tail tucked, to jeers and mockery. I cast the dice but they didn’t love me.”
“Lord, they don’t love anyone here. Kavelin keeps right on heading downhil , taking everyone with it.”
“So it seems. Answer my question. Any hope?”
“She asked me to pol the soldiers to see if any would come work for her. Her Wessons are walking away, mainly because she can’t pay them. Her Nordmen become less supportive by the day, too. She’l have lost al support outside Vorgreberg soon. Each town, each vil age, each lord, and each guild that deserts reduces her income further.”
“So the enterprise is doomed from both directions. And stil she won’t let me in.”
“She remains adamant, My Lord. She wil not trust you.” Greyfel s remained quiet. His frame went rigid momentarily.
Recovering, he asked, “Why, Josiah?” His voice had gone plaintive.
“She has a touch of the il ness that ruled Ragnarson, the Krief, and Fiana. She fears what you wil do to Kavelin if you get control.”
Greyfel s tittered, startling Gales. His normal laugh was an al -out, ful -bodied roar. Now the Duke ended up wracked by deep, sobbing coughs. Gales feared for the man’s life, briefly.
“Sorry you had to see that, Josiah. No. Never mind. I’l be al right. I’ve survived al this before. Go ahead. Pol the men.
Tel them I’l let them go if that’s what they want. Might as wel let her not pay them as not pay them myself.” He contrived a smal , control ed laugh. “Take her an honest answer.”
...
“About eighty men are wil ing to come over, Highness,” Gales reported. “That’s al ?”
“Some wouldn’t give a straight answer. They thought the Duke was testing them. Others said that since they wouldn’t get paid either place they’d as soon stay put and save the walk. Most everyone said they intend to head home after the weather turns and the rivers go down.”
“And you told Dane what?”
“I answered the questions he asked. I volunteered nothing.”
“What wil he do?”
“He talked about doing the same as his soldiers. About cutting his losses and heading home.”
“But?”
“He wil , likely, make one more try, doing what you expected. He’l come in disguise with soldiers who want to switch al egiance. They’l actual y be men wil ing to stick with him.”
“I see. Wil he expect me to expect him?”
“I couldn’t say. My mind can’t encompass so much complexity.”
Later, Inger asked, “Did you see Babeltausque out there?”
“No. Why?”
“He’s been keeping his head down. That’s curious. He could be useful here. He might be able to find my missing treasury.”
“He’s the Duke’s man.”
“You think he wants to be? I don’t. He’s been with the family through several Dukes, each one worse than the last. I can see him being loyal to the family but having an abiding distaste for its heads.”
“I’l talk to him.”
...
Kristen’s flight from Kavelin took seven weeks. The Royal party crept from one Aral Dantice acquaintance to another, often enduring cold nights in the forest between times of warmth and decent food. Dantice was determined to proceed with caution, concealing the identities of his companions.
Kristen considered his precautions a waste. The party was too big and too burdened with women and children to be anything but what it was. But she was seeing it from the inside.
Dantice told her, “Only folks I trust with my life see you. I tel them nothing because they might be questioned someday.”
“Where are we headed?”
“A safe place. If I don’t talk about it no one wil hear about it.”
“Aral, I appreciate everything. You’ve gone way out of your way. You’ve practical y given up your regular life. I don’t understand why.”
Dantice avoided a straight answer. “The travel wil be over soon. So wil the cold and the hunger. You’l be safe. No one wil know where you are. You’l be ready when Kavelin is ready.”
“What about my father-in-law? What about the true king?”
“He stil lives. We know that. We also know they’ve stashed him where he won’t be able to escape.”
Kristen noted his “we” but did not question it. Aral Dantice was much too useful to be chal enged.
He said, “This shouldn’t last long. Kavelin should be eager to proclaim Bragi by next fal . By then even the Marena Dimura and Nordmen should be sick of the chaos.”
“Al right. We’re in your hands. Be gentle.” The party reached an encampment deep in the mountains of southern Tamerice. It differed little from the one where Credence Abaca died. This one was not Marena Dimura, though. The forest people were scarce in Tamerice. The camp had been created by Royalist refugees from Hammad al Nakir as a base for raids across the Kapenrungs. Refugees had gathered there during the Great Eastern Wars.
Dantice told her, “You and the children should stay out of sight if strangers turn up. Let Dahl and Sherilee deal with them.”
Kristen thought Sherilee would attract any man who came within a mile.
Aral said, “I’l give you letters saying you belong here and are under my protection.”
...
“Aral is gone,” Sherilee said. The suffering of the journey had wakened her resilience. She was now the optimist of the band. “Next time we see him he’l tel us it’s time to head home to Vorgreberg.”
“I hope so,” Dahl said. “I wasn’t made for this life.” Kristen snapped, “No one is. It’s a life that comes looking for you.” Sherilee said, “This is a nice place. It must have belonged to one of the high muckety mucks.” The structure, partial y log, partial y stone, was large and had potential for being made comfortable. There were stores in the camp, tools, and even weapons. Dahl said,
“Let’s don’t touch anything we don’t need to. We don’t want any smugglers upset because we got into their stuff.”
“Smugglers?”
“Smugglers. It’s what Aral does. Remember? This is a way station on the route into the desert. We’l see plenty of travelers once the weather gets better.”
“Then we’d better get the kids educated about what to do when strangers come.”
That proved to be no problem. The first travelers were not inclined to socialize, either. Some never showed their faces.
That was both a comfort and discouraging. No discourse meant no news from outside.
...
There had been innumerable dislocations in city life the past ten years. No Vorgreberger knew al his neighbors anymore. The situation suited spies and criminals and anyone else who wanted to go unnoticed.
