He hesitated at the intricately wrought metal gates that gave entry to the lord’s courtyard. There were two armored and armed men flanking theopening. They looked at him sternly. To his surprise, once he’d stammered outhis name and village, they’d conferred by hand signal, then simply passed himthrough.
Once inside, he slowed to look around, but there wasn’t muchto see. The grounds were raked dirt and gravel or sand-clean, plain, andutilitarian. A few plain benches of hardwood or stone were scattered here and there, but there was no other ornamentation.
The keep was smaller and much plainer than he’d haveexpected, but then this was not a king’s palace. Still, it rose high above hishead-four sets of windows, one above the other with a guard-walk above that. Thewalls went straight up, the stone dressed so smooth there were no visible handholds anywhere. Two mail-clad men paced back and forth on the roof above the parapet. The lower windows appeared to be set at random, but their sills were deep and the openings so narrow that he couldn’t have squeezed through theentry. Structures such as this were for siege fighting, his father had told him. Archers could shoot from reasonable safety, and a small force could hold off an entire army.
But there had been no such siege warfare in Cryllor in long years and with the gods’ blessing, there would not be again. Lhors smiled as hiseye caught the large blue banner snapping in a suddenly brisk breeze. Lharis had worn that same patch of blue on the breast of his jerkin. He had been very proud of that bit of blue.
“I won’t shame it or you, Father,” Lhors whispered. “I swearit.”
He could see a walkway along the wall he’d just come through,with enclosed towers on the corners where guards could shelter from harsh weather.
The grounds were busy. Someone was hauling a cart away from the near stable. A boy steadied a nervous ass tethered to a wagon that was piled high with dull green hay while two men in grubby leathers forked the feed into tubs for other boys to carry inside.
Half a dozen men paced between the gate and keep. Three were in full armor, but the rest appeared to be servants, clad alike in dark blue trousers and shirts.
Four men lounged on a bench, and just beyond them, two servants were working on a saddle. At their backs, a boy in roughspun clothes sat cross-legged near a pile of stirrups. He was busily polishing one to a gleaming bronze and audibly groaned when a middle-aged fellow wearing only loose, greasy leather pants dropped another load of stirrups atop the pile. The older man laughed raucously, then pulled a polishing cloth from his pocket and settled down to help.
Other soldiers hovered at the buttery, drinking from leather cups. Lhors eyed them sidelong. Many of them were older, hard looking, and not all wore the blue patch. I wonder if any of them knew my father, Lhors thought wistfully. But he felt suddenly shy. He wouldn’t know what to say to such men,and likely they’d ignore him.
There were two guards at the broad step leading to the main door-a massive, bronze reinforced slab of wood that stood open. Lhors swallowedpast a very dry throat and walked up to them. The guards drew two swords each and stepped to block his way.
“Name, affiliation, and business,” one of them snapped.
“Affiliation-that means what village you’re from,” the secondadded with an unpleasant grin.
“Be polite, Efoyan,” the first chided, but he was grinning,too.
Efoyan simpered. Lhors blinked. He hadn’t expected their kindin the lord’s employ-young men who were full of themselves and what little powertheir duties gave them. Well, the trick was to keep his irritation in check. If they couldn’t get him angry, they’d give over.
“I am Lhors, son of Lharis,” he said, “of the village UpperHaven to the north. I bring the Lord Mebree word of danger.”
“‘Son of Lharis’, indeed!” Efoyan smirked. “Imagine, Doneghal!Here’s a peasant who believes he can name his sire!”
Lhors decided to let the insult pass. He would never receive an audience with the lord by quarreling with guards. He waited. Doneghal finally waved him to continue. “Some nights ago,” Lhors said, proud that his voice didnot tremble at the memory, “Upper Haven fought giants-”
Both men broke into spluttering laughter, again silencing him. “Giants?” Doneghal jeered. “There are no giants in Keoland!”
“What? Did you attack the brutes with torches and scythes, ormerely feed them bad village stew and ale?” Efoyan snickered.
Lhors set his jaw and grimly plunged on. “We did fight. Myfather was once a guard here in this very city, and he trained us boys.”
“Oh, it gets better. His father a Cryllor guard, yet! Andhe’s trained himself!” Both men laughed harshly, then Efoyan drew himselfupright. “Go away, boy. It’s a clever tale but we’ve heard many better.”
“Giants indeed,” Doneghal snorted, narrowed eyes fixed onLhors, who suddenly realized what a picture he must present after three days of hunting in the hills followed by Upper Haven’s final, bloody night, and thendays of journey on short rations with no time or place to properly bathe.
“You, boy,” Efoyan said, “I know what you are. You’re agrubby little market thief trying to get in to steal something or catch a glimpse of the king and win a bet with your fellow grubby thieves, aren’t you?Well, it won’t work! Not while we’re on guard!”
Lhors stared at him. “Steal?” he managed. The guards seemedto find this wildly funny.
Efoyan swallowed laughter. “Look, peasant. If there really
“Yes, he would,” Doneghal added. “Because, if anyone was tobe told, it would be us, d’ye see? Because we two are the ones who’d have toknow it was all right for you to be inside, wouldn’t we?”
“But we haven’t been told one gods’ blessed word aboutgiants. So you see what that means, don’t you? Means you’re lying to us, doesn’tit?”
“Lying!” Doneghal finished triumphantly. “So! Just you beoff, right now! You aren’t getting into the keep, not today or any day soon! Notwith a stupid tale like that!”
“Your pardon, sirs,” Lhors broke in sharply, “but Upper Haven is in thefoothills well to the north of here-many days’ ride. Until our village wasattacked, no one around there had seen giants, so I must warn the lord or get a message to him-”
“You grow boring,” Efoyan said flatly. He set his spearagainst the wall and gave Lhors a shove. Lhors fought for balance, managing to right himself as the guards stalked toward him.
“Boring,” Doneghal echoed and tossed his spear aside so hecould grab Lhors’ shirt. Efoyan shoved him aside.
“Let me, friend,” he said flatly and slammed one open handagainst Lhors’ chest, driving him back into the courtyard. He drew a long,braided leather whip from his belt. “I know how to teach a stupid peasant not towaste my time.” He snapped his wrist. Lhors jumped convulsively as the leatherthong cracked just short of his ear.
Efoyan struck again. Lhors just managed to duck as it cracked over his head. Behind him, a deep man’s voice snarled, “Why don’t you pick onsomeone closer to your own size, Efoyan?” Lhors scuttled back as a dark, solidlybuilt man caught hold of the tip of the lash and yanked. The guard yelped as the whip was torn from his grasp. The dark man slid the lash through his fingers, gripped the handle and slammed it into the guard’s brow. Efoyan sagged, wentflat, and stayed there. Doneghal leaped across his companion, eyes narrowed as he went into fighting stance, but the newcomer simply grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him halfway around and kicked him, hard. Doneghal staggered and slammed into the palace wall, head first. He slid down, dazed or unconscious.
Lhors gazed blankly up at the bronze-skinned man who turned away from the fallen pair to give the youth a hand up and a smile. “Sorry aboutyour reception, lad.”
Before Lhors could fathom a suitable reply, the man walked over and began to nudge the two guards, who were beginning to moan and look around, obviously still dazed.
“Up!” the man shouted. “Up, the both of you! Up I say! Now!”
The two guards reluctantly complied. Outrage and embarrassment played over their faces, though both of them had obviously lost all will to fight.
“Do you know who I am?” the man demanded. They both noddeddumbly. “Very well. You”-he jabbed at Efoyan with his finger-“will report toSergeant Storrs and tell him what has taken place here. You will leave
