Treaty of Oslande. The refugees from the civil war had spoken of their cruelty and their efficiency.
“What the hell are they doing here?” asked the Barbarian.
An exceedingly tall, exceedingly thin Terrarch strode towards them. His skin was so pale he seemed almost albino. His long hair was so blond it could have been bleached. At his side hung a long sword in a black, rune- encrusted scabbard.
“Looks like we are just about to find out,” murmured Weasel.
Chapter Eleven
“Lady Asea,” said the stranger, completely ignoring Sardec. “This is a pleasure.”
Asea responded with admirable calmness. “Lord Jaderac! I had not expected to meet you here. Particularly not in that uniform.”
If the barbed allusion affected Jaderac, he gave no sign of it. He was the very model of the eastern aristocrat: superbly arrogant, totally at ease, poised and charming. Sardec hated him immediately, the more so because Jaderac possessed many qualities he wished he had himself.
“I regret there was a misunderstanding back at the Queen-Empress’s court- an insult, a duel, a death, a scandal. You know how these things go. I was forced to take leave of civilisation for a while, and seek refuge in these exceedingly dull lands. Fortunately you are here to illuminate the place with your presence and so I can now count my exile a blessing rather than a misfortune.”
“May I present to you, Prince Sardec of House Harke,” said Asea, cutting through the flow of easy flattery.
“Charmed,” said Jaderac, executing an intricate formal bow. It should have looked effete and foppish, but it was performed with such gusto and precision that it was impressive instead.
Sardec inclined his head and kept his gaze fixed on Jaderac. The easterner met his eyes briefly then turned the full force of his charm back on the Lady Asea. “You are here to speak with Lord Ilmarec?”
“You presume correctly. I represent Lord Azaar. And you?”
“King Khaldarus sent me to demand the release of his sister. I fear Lord Ilmarec holds her against her will.”
“Khaldarus’s timing is astonishing. We only just learned of Lord Ilmarec’s decision, and yet you, it seems, have somehow contrived to be here before us although you came all the way from the East.”
“I was in these parts performing other duties. I have just received a messenger from King Khaldarus. He fears for his sister’s safety.”
“It is pleasant to see such fine family feeling,” said Asea. “The Prince’s concern is touching.”
“I can assure you that the King intends that no harm come to his beloved sister. I am here to ensure to it.”
“I doubt your force, formidable as it undoubtedly is, can storm the Tower of the Serpent.”
“I am sure no one intends to try such a foolish thing.” An airy wave of Jaderac’s hand took in their surroundings. “These kennels are not the place to discuss such matters. Can I ask permission to call upon you, and we can talk at our leisure?”
“Of course,” said Asea. “I look forward to the pleasure of your company.”
“And I yours, dear Lady. I will present my card this evening then. I presume you will be staying at the mansion of the merchant Fharog, the so called House of Three Swans.”
“I see you have done your usual thorough job of preparation, my Lord.”
“I wish it were so. It’s just that I too have taken a mansion here and your host informed my host of your coming. You know how humans love to talk.”
“And not just humans, it seems,” murmured Sardec. Jaderac gave him a cold glance, then his gaze went to Sardec’s hook. He made it quite plain what he was thinking. There was no honour to be gained in duelling with a maimed opponent. Sardec scratched the back of his left hand with his hook. Lord Jaderac clearly found the sight disturbing for he transferred his gaze back to Asea.
“Till this evening then, milady,” he said, all gallantry once more. He performed another superb bow and strode back to his companions. Sardec gave the sign for the Foragers to move onwards. He was very conscious of how shabby they looked compared to the easterner's superbly kitted-out humans.
Once again Asea appeared to read his thoughts. “I am sure they look fine drilling on a parade ground,” she said. “The men behind us can fight and they have proved it time and again.”
Sardec agreed with her, but he knew that the Legion could fight just as well. Their name was known and feared throughout the Ascalean continent. “Let us hope it does not come down to a contest of arms, milady. I fear we are outnumbered.”
The House of the Three Swans was a large manor in the Old Mercantilist style. It had been built to double as a warehouse and a fortress. The walls were thick, the external windows small, high and barred, and there was access only through one large gateway which now stood open, with the fur-robed master of the house standing fur hat in hand to bow them in.
Once inside, in the broad courtyard, things were different. Here were rain barrels and a well. Two sides of the courtyard held arch-covered walkways and wide windows on the second floor. The side directly facing the entranceway was a warehouse space. It had been cleared to give the Foragers a place to sleep. Fharog himself showed Sardec and Asea to their chambers. These were wide and spacious and furnished with the heavy solid furniture human merchants seemed to favour. Elder signs carved in varnished wood covered the whitewashed walls. The rooms were clean, the beds soft. There were writing desks, and pitchers of water, and everything needed for basic comforts. Asea pronounced herself satisfied with them, and Sardec could hardly disagree. Once the merchant had bowed himself out, Sardec went to make sure the soldiers were bedded down comfortably, and had everything needed for their welfare.
He told himself that it was nothing less than he would do for a horse, but he found himself concerned for their well-being, particularly for the veterans who had followed him through the hell of Achenar, and who had held the manor house at the ford. After a few words with Sergeant Hef and Corporal Toby that assured him everything was satisfactory, he assigned sentry shifts to the men. Twenty men were to be in the mansion at all times in case of trouble, the rest were to be allowed leave to scout out the city. They were told to keep their ears open particularly for rumours concerning Jaderac, Ilmarec and the Exiles. Duty done, he headed back into the mansion and knocked at the door of Lady Asea.
“Come in, Lieutenant,” she said. He wondered how she knew it was him. Had she set wards or did she merely recognise his footfall or knock?
Asea sat at a table, sanding a letter to fix the ink in place. Even as he watched she folded it and sealed it with her signet. “I have placed sentries to make sure of your security. If you wish to go out, please inform me. If I am not available please talk to Sergeant Hef. He will see you are provided with a suitable escort.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Won’t you sit?” He accepted gratefully. She smiled at him.
“I have been watching you, Lieutenant. You have changed since our time in the mountains.”
He tapped his hook with the fingers of his left hand. “Yes, I have.”
“That is not what I meant. I would say you have grown. I see you treat the men differently and they respond differently to you.”
He shrugged. There was no sense in denying it.
“You speak less too.”
“I am sorry if I lack the polish and wit of Lord Jaderac.”
“You are worth a dozen of him,” she said. The compliment took him off guard.
“Thank you. I thought you rather liked him.”
“He is witty and charming. He is also cold and deadly, one of those who regards killing as a sport. Duelling is something of a hobby with him. He is very good with his blade.”
“I will be sure to challenge him with pistols then.” She appeared to consider this.
“That would be wise, should things ever come to that. I doubt he practises much with them. His sort spurns all the new weapons. They are demeaning, un-aristocratic.”
