“Not as quickly as it reached you, it appears. They say you’ve been in Murwood for near a fortnight now.”
Less, but I do not correct him. Nor do I correct his assumption that we’ve come here to solicit the Voyagers’ help. It serves my purpose to let them think such a thing. Clearly, they know nothing of Aldwine, and I would keep it that way. Although he might not join our cause today, or tomorrow, as long as the king’s son lives, there is hope he might yet be persuaded. Though not, it seems, by me.
“We were provoked, Stokerton, as well you know.”
Thomas adds, “Women and children were never fair game in this fight between us.”
To his credit, the commander seems genuinely saddened by the thought. His smile flees.
“That the borders grow more lawless each day should not surprise you. When Galfrid last requested a parley on that very matter, your queen denied him,” I say.
At the words “your queen,” Stokerton’s eyes narrow. “Cettina wants peace along the borders as much as he does.”
I try not to laugh, knowing it will only incite him.
“Willing it so will do little to make it happen.”
McGreghere jumps in. “I live where the Loigh Mountains meet the Northern Mountains. None wish for peace there more than I do.”
A true Highlander, then, living in a place known for its danger.
“Galfrid has forgotten us,” he says, which is where I cannot help but jump in.
“He is not your king. Your ancestors saw to that.”
And round and round we go, as always, for the rift is bitter and old and full of blame.
Halfway into a second round of ale, I put a stop to the never-ending discussion. “We will not negotiate peace here at this inn, a place where neither of us hold sway.” I pause, calculating, then say, “You’ve also come to solicit the Voyagers’ support?”
No matter what Stokerton says, his eyes share the truth of my words. A fool’s errand. They will never fight for Edingham.
Or Meria.
“Lord Bailor remained coy when I asked of your negotiations.”
Because there were none. But his admission confirms my guess.
“Lord Bailor does not speak for Murwood. Gaining his support will not ensure you get help from any of the others.”
How much does Stokerton know of the people here?
How much do you know? According to Aedre, not very much at all.
“They say you’ve spoken to the mercenary?”
I can feel Thomas tense against me.
“Aye, he’s one of many men we’ve spoken to here,” Thomas says.
McGreghere watches me closely.
Stokerton says nothing for a time. But he’s the one who breaks the silent stand-off, by saying, “I’ve neglected to offer our sympathy on the passing of Prince Matteo.”
Again, I detect no hint of malice. He seems to mean what he says.
“I would not have expected your sympathy”—given that the ship was headed to Edingham’s shores—“but thank you for it.”
“An unfortunate turn of events, having Lord Hinton as successor.”
I watch for any indication he knows of Aldwine or connects our presence to him, but I see none.
“It is not an ideal situation,” I admit. “Much like having Lord Whitley at the queen’s heels, I would imagine.”
Stokerton’s face darkens at the mention of the queen’s brother-in-law.
“Just so,” he says, drinking.
His companion gives nothing away, nor can I ascertain from the commander how much truth there is to the rumors about the queen’s troubles.
“’Tis a shame we are on the brink of war,” I offer. And although I am not authorized to do so, I take the opportunity given, especially since Aldwine will not be returning south with me. “Perhaps rather than playing tug-o-war with the Voyagers, we could discuss terms for a truce?”
Thomas nearly spits out his ale. I will have to speak to the man about improving his ability to hide his surprise.
Stokerton puts down his mug and looks me in the eye.
“You’ve not been given leave to offer such a thing,” he states correctly.
“Nay,” I admit. “I have not.”
He and McGreghere exchange a glance, but it’s evident, despite their age difference, Stokerton is the one in charge here.
“Go on then.”
I’ve thought about this quite a bit since learning Stokerton was here in Murwood. My next words carry great risk, but the potential reward makes it worthwhile. Besides, he will learn soon enough of Galfrid’s reluctance to name Hinton his successor.
“It is true the king sent nearly two hundred men to your shores. If we’d intended a coup against your queen, I’d have been among them. The intent was a show of force at the border, nothing more.”
Can he sense the truth of my words?
“Galfrid recognizes Edingham, as his father did before him.”
The rulers of Edingham have always suspected us of secretly wishing to overthrow their “rogue” kingdom. And that may have been true at one time. But now we simply want our people to live in peace.
Unfortunately, Queen Cettina’s father did not believe it. As for his daughter, the queen has not been in power for long enough, less than a year, in fact, for her motives to be clear.
“Tsk. Two hundred men to squash a border squabble?”
“It was no squabble, but a brutal slaughter.”
McGreghere cuts in. “And now that Meria is weakened because of your tragedy, you wish to make peace?”
“Recall that we are here for the same reason,” Thomas says. A reason that has naught to do with peace.
Both men grow silent, thinking, considering.
“Galfrid is reluctant to name Hinton as heir,” I admit, “but the man is gathering support from the church. The same church that crosses the border.”
Neither kingdom is immune to the meddling of the Prima, his Eldermen, and most importantly, his Shadow Warriors.
“Hinton will be no friend to the queen.”
I can tell Stokerton is surprised I’ve offered so much, but surely he knows the king’s nephew well enough to realize I speak the truth.
“Who will Galfrid name instead?”
“I do not know.”
Realizing I’ve lost him, I rush to add, “Truly, I do not know. I left for d’Almerita the day after the sinking.”
“To gain the Voyagers’ support against
