“Well,” Clemon observed, “I see immediately how you became so bored that it was necessary to conjure some cock and bull story about raids and such.” He gazed out the window. “Such a desolate, empty place,” he added, curling his lip distastefully. “No trace of civilization.”
Janis smiled humbly. “We are a remote garrison, my Lord,” he said apologetically.
Khollo admired his uncle’s grace, undeserving as Clemon was and as temperamental as Janis normally was. Khollo was struggling to keep a distasteful expression off his own face. Not for his surroundings, but for the man who had just entered the room.
“Who are the others?” Clemon asked suddenly, sounding almost curious. “Servants?”
“Not at all,” Janis replied. “This is Ondus, my second in command in charge of military affairs.” Ondus stood and bowed, his left hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. Clemon merely sniffed in acknowledgement.
“And this,” Janis said carefully. “Is Khollo, our master of intelligence.”
“What the devil does that mean?” Clemon asked, frowning.
“He helps plan strategy and determine the strategy of the enemy, keeps track of activities in the Basin and reports patterns that he notices to me so that we can take care of trouble before it becomes too great,” Janis said smoothly.
“Shade young, isn’t he?” Clemon asked skeptically. “You must be starved of talent to be forced to use mere boys as guards and officers.”
“We do the best with what we have,” Janis said indifferently. “Please, take a seat, my lord. Make yourself comfortable.”
Clemon selected a seat a little apart from the rest of them. Clearly, he wanted no close contact with Ondus or Khollo. They were beneath him.
“To business,” Janis said, leaning forward. “I sent a message to Etares regarding certain unusual events in the Fells and in the Renlor Basin.”
“Yes, yes,” Clemon interrupted. “Some utter codswallop about vertaga and trade caravans being raided. The odd raid is nothing to be concerned about, my good lord.”
Then why are you here? Khollo wondered.
“These were no mere raids,” Janis replied. “Since the first incident, there have been many more. Half a dozen villages have been leveled, the people massacred, and there have been several attacks on travelers and some sightings of vertaga soldiers from a distance.”
“That was not in your report,” Clemon observed, tapping the table nervously.
“These are recent developments,” Janis explained. “At the time of my message, there had been three sightings. The trade caravan, my own personal explorations, and an attack on the Ishkabur docks.”
“It’s more likely that the docks were attacked by pirates or other seafaring criminals.”
“Do you know of any pirates that have horns?” Janis countered.
“A trick of the light, nothing more.”
“If I may,” Ondus broke in, “I was with Lord Kurkan when we encountered the beasts. They were without a doubt vertaga. Not only were they horned, but they had fangs and claws and could run as fast as our horses. In fact – ”
“Enough,” Clemon snapped bad-temperedly. “I sail and ride all the way down here – on a horse,” he added with a shudder, “And you waste my time by badgering me like this?”
“Regardless of the, ah, delivery of Lord Ondus’ comments,” Janis said stiffly, “they are accurate. There have been too many confirmed sightings by multiple witnesses to – ”
“Confirmed sightings?”
Khollo reached across the table and scooped up the stack of reports he had been working with to trace the vertaga. “Lord Clemon,” Khollo said respectfully. “These are the reports in question. Each and every one deals with an attack or sighting in some capacity. There are over two dozen confirmed incidents in these reports.”
“You expect me to take the advice of children as fact?” Clemon asked.
“I expect you to trust my advisors,” Janis replied, stressing the final word.
Clemon shifted uncomfortably. “Well, this is certainly a diverting story. You’ve spent a fair bit of time on it, obviously.”
“Lord Clemon,” Janis said quietly. “Outside of the fact that you believe the vertaga no longer exist, is there any other reason that you doubt us?”
“Well, I – ”
A commotion erupted in the antechamber, then the door flew open and Leon stumped into the room, followed by Sermas and Hern. The master of intelligence was brandishing a harried looking pigeon on one arm. The bird squawked and flapped in protest at the rough treatment.
“My lord!” Leon all but shouted, his customary calm forgotten. “News, from Ishkabur!”
“Ishkabur! What is this nonsense?” the king’s chatelain demanded. “Who the devil are you?”
Leon ignored Clemon and handed the bird off to a bewildered Sermas. After a moment’s struggle with the flapping, feathery fiend, Leon managed to detach a thin scroll. He passed this to Janis.
Khollo watched as Janis unrolled the small scroll, his eyes flying back and forth, taking in the message. After a long moment, his eyes stopped, fixed on some point far off in the distance that only he could see. Fear settled like a small boulder in Khollo’s stomach as he watched with bated breath.
Not Ishkabur too, he thought wildly. Did they suffer the same fate as the villages? Has the first major blow been struck in the war?
“Well?” Ondus asked finally.
Janis lowered the scroll. “Lord Clemon, perhaps you would like to share the news with everyone else?” He shoved the message across the table.
Clemon regarded the scroll with an expression akin to the way most people look at venomous snakes. Clearing his throat loudly, the king’s chatelain scooped up the scroll and began to read aloud.
“To Lord Kurkan of the West Bank, the only willing defender of the realm.” Clemon stopped abruptly, chewing on that title for a moment. Then he continued.
“Our situation has grown dire since my last message. The vertaga have . . .” Clemon trailed off, and
