heed my advice, you won’t go that way. Any who pursue you will certainly expect you to fly in that direction. I would instead suggest that you make for the Silverleaf Trail and head due north, through the woods. Three to four days of hard riding should bring you to the Hillsfar-Yulash road, a day’s ride west of Hillsfar.”
“Sound advice that I think I’ll follow,” Geran answered. He set his hand on Daried’s shoulder. “How can I ever repay you for the help you’ve given us?”
“Give Rhovann my warm regards,” the bladesinger said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Our paths will cross again before too long, I think.”
The swordmage released his old mentor, and turned to Alliere. Strange, he thought. Only a year ago, and I would never have been able to turn my back and ride away from her, yet now he meant to do exactly that … and his heart was content. He took her hands in his, and looked into her face. “I am truly sorry for what I did before,” he said to her. “But I’m glad that we part in friendship now. Sweet water and light laughter until we meet again.”
She held his gaze for a moment before she nodded. “And to you, dear Geran,” she answered. Then she released him and stepped away.
Sarth and Hamil were already mounted and waiting for him. He quickly swung himself up into the saddle, turning his mount’s head toward the forest. “Follow me!” he said to his companions. He kicked the horse’s flanks and led the way as they sped off into the night.
EIGHTEEN
Shortly after sunset, a clatter at his window startled Rhovann from his meticulous record keeping in his laboratory. A small gray shape scratched at the thick glass; the mage set down his quill and hurried over to open the window and let in one of his homunculus spies. The creature croaked once and flopped inside, collapsing on the windowsill.
“What is this?” the mage muttered to himself. The homunculus was dying. Something had raked its body with deep claw marks, and dark fluid dripped slowly from the wounds. He frowned and examined the number scribed at the back of its neck, trying to determine which of his minions this was. After a moment, he nodded to himself. This homunculus he’d sent to Thentia several days before. The injuries were severe, but it was quite likely that the tiny creature had spent itself in the wearying flight. The creatures were not made to endure days of travel in the harsh winds and weather of the Moonsea North.
He sighed, closing the window against the wind-driven hail and icy rain that beat against the panes of his workshop. “Well, let us see what you have found,” he said aloud. The creature could not understand that, of course, but the mage was speaking to himself, not the homunculus. He carried the small monster from the windowsill where it had collapsed to a worktable nearby. Murmuring the words of a spell, he set his hand-the living one-upon the tiny creature’s head, summoning up its recollection of what it had seen during its long flight.
Endless miles of moorland and barren, stony hillsides reeled by beneath him; Rhovann ignored it and shifted the creature’s recollection to something of significance. The image blurred, and then steadied again; now he seemed to hover above an encampment of wooden barracks and tents. Hundreds of soldiers in surcoats of blue and white marched and wheeled in some sort of mock battle. Rhovann blinked in surprise; that was certainly more than he would have expected the Hulmasters to gather in exile. They must have had more success reorganizing their Shieldsworn than he’d anticipated … or perhaps, as the Vaasans feared, some other Moonsea power had chosen to support the Hulmaster cause with gold and sellswords. It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened.
“A matter for concern, but not panic,” he decided. No doubt Geran and Kara Hulmaster would get the most from the troops under their command, but the Council Guard still held an edge in sheer numbers-and that was not counting his own runehelms, who were far stronger and more resilient than merely human combatants anyway. “Show me more,” he commanded the homunculus, and the picture in his mind’s eye shifted again. Now he peered in a window at a large room where many captains gathered. He could clearly make out Kara Hulmaster, speaking at the head of the table. A tall young cleric in the robes of an Amaunatori friar stood listening nearby beside a black- bearded dwarf in heavy armor who smoked a pipe. Rhovann frowned, recognizing Kendurkkel Ironthane. He still didn’t understand why the Icehammers had joined the Hulmaster cause; it didn’t seem like the mercenaries to take on speculative work. There was a map on the table, and Rhovann strained to make out the details on it. Unfortunately, this vision only lasted a few more heartbeats before the homunculus was obliged to flit away from the window in order to avoid the attention of a nearby guard.
“What is your plan, Kara?” he wondered aloud. “You are outnumbered, but you prepare to attack regardless. What is it you know that I do not?” Geran and his cousin might be counting on more aid from friendly cities … or perhaps they hoped to combine forces with the rebels who’d been causing so much trouble in Hulburg. Yes, that might be it; they had a different appreciation of the numbers than he did.
Rhovann willed the homunculus to its next memory. He found himself flying over a field behind the manor, heading for one of the barracks. A solitary man on horseback sat back in the tree line, with something on his arm. He threw his arm forward with a sharp cry-and a large falcon leaped into the air, its wings beating with power and grace as it arrowed up toward the homunculus. There was a confused tumble of sky and ground, flashing talons … Rhovann snatched back his hand, unwilling to share in his small servant’s mortal agony. It was just as well-the broken thing expired an instant after he severed their connection.
“A falcon,” he murmured, pursing his lips in thought. Kara Hulmaster’s doing, no doubt. Evidently she’d decided to guard her camp against airborne spies; she was damnably clever about such things. If she was cautious enough to post falconers, she might very well be cautious enough to anticipate his spying and make a point of showing him things she wanted him to see … in which case, he could not be confident of any report his minions brought back from the Hulmaster camp. Well, he would just have to find another way to keep an eye on the so- called Hulmaster army.
He closed his eyes, thinking hard about what the homunculus had seen … and not seen. There was no glimpse of Geran Hulmaster anywhere. Of course, the odds of his homunculus spotting one specific person in a manor crowded with many hundreds were low, but Rhovann had instructed his small spies to seek out Geran, and for tendays now, they’d found nothing. For that matter, the human spies he employed in Thentia couldn’t confirm Geran’s location, either.
The mage scowled as he realized that some of his calm confidence about the coming conflict had eroded away. Still weighing the homunculus’s last vision, he closed his journal and secured the laboratory with the customary wardings. Then he went in search of Edelmark.
He found the Council Guard captain in the castle’s rain-splattered courtyard, observing the drill of one of his companies. “Come, Edelmark,” he said. “I want a word with you.”
“Of course, my lord mage,” the captain replied. He nodded to a subordinate to take over, and fell in a half step behind Rhovann as the elf mage led him into the dry interior of a turret overlooking the castle gate. A murmured spell and a simple gesture guaranteed their privacy.
“I have just received a report from Thentia,” Rhovann said to his captain. “The Hulmasters are drilling and maneuvering their army every day. And it seems that our initial reports were correct, and the Icehammers are marching under the Hulmaster banner.”
Edelmark nodded. “Do you know when they plan to march, my lord?” he asked.
“I haven’t been able to discover that with my observations,” Rhovann admitted. “If you were in command of the Hulmaster forces, what would you do?”
Edelmark frowned and considered his answer. “A winter campaign would be difficult. There’s no shelter to be had in the Highfells. Given my choice, I’d wait for the weather to turn … but time doesn’t favor them. If they wait for the spring thaw, the reopening of our port would give us the opportunity to bring more mercenaries into the city any time we liked.”
“It would also give me the opportunity to manufacture more runehelms,” Rhovann observed. He hoped that the number and strength of the constructs he’d created would come as a very ugly surprise to any Hulmaster loyalists marching on Hulburg. Geran and his cousin might understand that, or they might not. On the other hand, they probably wouldn’t overlook the significance of Hulburg’s port reopening. “If the Hulmaster army comes before
