“It was my father’s,” Khollo replied with his mouth full of bread and sausage. “Janis gave it to me.”
“Janis knew your father?”
Khollo realized that he never had filled the others in on that development. “Yes. Janis is my uncle, my father’s twin brother.”
Hern and Sermas looked like they had been simultaneously clubbed over the head. For a moment, Khollo wondered if they were okay. Then Sermas began to shake his head slowly, laughing.
“Well, that’s news,” he said finally.
“Don’t go spreading that all over, all right?” Khollo said quickly.
“Why? Ashamed of him?” Hern asked drily.
“No!” Khollo said quickly. “It’s just . . . better if nobody knows we’re related.”
“Janis asked you to keep quiet about it?” Sermas guessed.
“Well . . . yes,” Khollo admitted.
“And he didn’t say why?” Hern asked.
“No . . .”
Sermas and Hern exchanged a glance. Sermas shrugged. “Okay.”
“What does that mean?” Khollo demanded. What do they think is going on here? Have I missed something in all of the madness the last few months?
“We all know that Janis is very, very smart,” Hern said slowly. “He thinks a dozen steps ahead of everybody else. If he says keep quiet, I imagine we’ll see a reason why eventually.”
Khollo bolted the rest of his breakfast and stood quickly. “Well, we’ve got a meeting to attend,” he announced. “Come on. It ought to be interesting.”
The three youths made their way to the council chamber, which was deserted at the moment. The others had yet to arrive. Through the wide windows, Khollo could see the vast, gently rolling sprawl of the Renlor Basin. Somewhere out there a hundred or so vertaga were moving towards their next target.
Khollo shuddered and took his customary seat at Janis’ left. Sermas and Hern hesitated, then took seats on the same side of the table to Khollo’s left.
They did not have to wait long for the others. Within ten minutes, everyone had arrived. Janis, Wilkes, Ondus, Leon. Then Garren, who looked out of place as usual in his simple robes compared to the heavily armed men surrounding the table. And the leader of the hunters, Gort. The other military leaders, the troublesome ones that normally sided with Wilkes, were seeing to the defenses. When all had been seated, Janis began speaking.
“As you know, we have at last discerned a pattern in the vertaga attacks. The last known positions of the vertaga put them on a direct course to the West Bank, and we expect that we will meet them in battle any day now.”
The council was silent. They had all received their orders that morning, and had assumed that this was the case.
“Lieutenant Khollo,” Janis said, gesturing to the young warrior, “Is the one that found the pattern. Khollo, please explain for the others what you discovered.”
Khollo stood and drew the two marked up maps to the center of the long table. Leon was leaning forward eagerly. “I started by marking the dates and places of each attack, with the help of Leon,” Khollo explained, nodding to the old man. “This includes razed villages, sightings, and waylaid travelers. We suspect that there were more such incidents that did not have survivors to carry the news. The good news is, we have enough here to see a pattern in the enemy movements.”
Khollo leaned forward between Wilkes and Garren, indicating the second map. “Marked here are the paths I believe that each of the three bands of vertaga followed. I was able to separate the initial attacks by distance and time. It became obvious almost immediately that the same group could not possibly have committed all of these attacks. After the initial paths and areas of operation had been determined, I traced the path of each band through the reported incidents.” Khollo paused. “As you can see, the ends of each path point toward the same location, the West Bank. I believe that the three bands, each numbering between thirty and fifty, will join forces somewhere south of here and attack within the week.”
Khollo looked up as he concluded his presentation. Leon was nodding in agreement. Wilkes looked confused. Garren was frowning thoughtfully. Most of the others merely looked grim and determined.
“Any questions?” Khollo asked, looking around the table.
When there were none, he resumed his seat quietly, letting Janis take over.
“Thank you, Khollo,” Janis said quietly. “Now,” he continued briskly. “You have your orders. More may follow, depending on if we get more information on the enemy. In the meantime, keep a watchful eye on all approaches. Nobody leaves the fortress, and every man stays ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Good luck, men,” Janis said by way of dismissal.
The others rose and trooped back down the stairs. Soon, Janis, Ondus, Khollo, Sermas, and Hern were the only ones left.
“Sermas, Hern, join the door guards, and follow their instructions,” Janis said quickly. “Announce the king’s chatelain when he arrives.”
“Yes, sir,” Hern replied. He and Sermas retreated to the door, shutting it behind them.
“Let me do the talking initially,” Janis murmured to the others. “Clemon respects rank and power. That is all. He does not recognize strength or intelligence.”
“He doesn’t possess them either,” Ondus remarked in a barely lowered voice.
A knock came at the door.
Ondus started guiltily, then shrugged fatalistically. Janis sat up straighter, trying to look imperious. “Enter,” he called.
The door swung open and one of Janis’ guards entered, head tilted up formally. “The king’s chatelain, Marc Clemon,” he announced, then stepped aside.
Clemon swept into the room haughtily. Today, his robes were emerald green, but they were just as expensive and impractical for an embattled fortress as his
