“I have no intention of fighting Tom. My foe is not my brother knight. Whatever is behind this, its goal is clearly to sow dissent, and we must close ranks against it.”

I noted his use of the word it instead of him or her, but didn’t comment. He was clearly as circumspect as he was lethal. I gazed at the other combat-related objects. “You’ve got quite an arsenal here. Do you know how to use all these things?”

“Of course.”

“You still practice?”

“Every day. I can’t slow the process of aging, but I can make sure that I compensate for my weaknesses as they appear. When I lose a bit of speed in a thrust, I start using a longer blade. That sort of thing.”

I shook my head. “I have to say, I’m impressed. You live up to your reputation.”

He smiled, a slight and sad expression that carried more weight than it should have. “No one could live up to my reputation, Mr. LaCrosse. In many ways it saves me a lot of trouble, because it does half my job for me. But one day I know I’ll encounter a sword or a mace or an arrow with my name on it. Dying of old age is not really an option.”

I could think of nothing to say to that. I looked over a large shield painted with a row of red griffins against a wavy red background. The image was chipped and dented in places, and one strap end had torn free. Whatever had happened to it, the damage was apparently more important than using it again. “No restoration for this?”

He chuckled. “No. I fought ten men that day, all at once. Good men at arms. I slew them all. I keep this as a reminder that my greatest day is behind me, and that every victory since then has been by the grace of fate. Or luck.”

He ran a finger along the edge of the shield. “But enough of the past. Grand Bruan’s new enemy is very much of the present, and I must address it. Come along.”

I trailed him through more hallways and doors until at last we emerged into the well-lit stables. By lamplight, pages and grooms attended the various animals; my borrowed horse gleamed from a fresh brushing in one of the stalls. Elaborate saddle blankets and snake-smooth tack hung neatly on the walls, an equine version of the armory. The boys chatted among themselves until they noticed us and fell silent. They bowed as we passed them, then resumed their diligent work. Doesn’t anybody slack off on this island? I wondered.

Spears spoke to the stableboy who’d first greeted me, again in their common language. The boy listened and gave a flying nod as he ran off.

A four-wheeled wagon, worn with use and age, waited with two horses already hitched to it. Spears turned to me. “Good, it’s ready. This wagon will help you blend in with the locals a bit more. Although your clothes could be problematic. Not too many local farmers wear a suit from court, even one as battered as yours.”

“Do you have peasant clothes just hanging around for emergencies?”

“No, and it would take too long to find some. Ah, well, it should be fine. I sent Jack to fetch the map with directions and to tell Jenny we’re waiting.”

“What do I do when I get her to Kern’s?”

“Tell him the situation. Hold nothing back. Make sure Jenny is safe and comfortable. I think at that point you may consider your duties discharged. By then I will have established the queen’s innocence and hopefully ferreted out the hand behind all this.”

And explained to Gillian why he doesn’t have to track me down and kill me? I thought but didn’t ask. “You still say it can’t be Medraft?”

“No,” Spears said with certainty. “But if he is involved, a logical culprit suggests itself.”

“His mother, the king’s sister?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny. If I am right, I will deal with it. If I am wrong, I don’t want to add to the web of gossip.”

Spears walked to the stable doors and looked out into the night. He cut a dashing figure even lost in thought. It couldn’t be easy to be the top sword in town; I wondered how many challengers he faced in a given year, all hoping to be the man who slew Elliot Spears. Eventually one would be, and he knew that. That had to weigh on him.

“When I first came to this island, Mr. LaCrosse, in the middle of Marc’s wars of unification, this house looked nothing like it does now. The insides were raided bare, the grounds overgrown, and a clan of near-cannibal brigands used it as a base to waylay travelers. In the countryside I saw farms burned, dead men’s legs protruding from ponds, and livestock rotting by the side of the road. Nobody dared go out in public after dark. The land was ugly and scarred.”

“It’s better now.”

“Yes, it’s better.” But he said it sadly, as if he didn’t believe it was real.

“May I ask you something?”

He nodded.

“Why did you come?”

“I came to fight. I stayed to help build… this.” He gestured at the world beyond the stable. “A land where the next generation might never know the sound of sword striking in anger against armor. Tell me, where are you from?”

“Arentia,” I said guardedly. It was true, but I didn’t like talking about myself.

“A fine country. The young king seems to know how to rule well. But then, he inherited a stable land from his father. Marc did not. He forged it with his will and his blood.” Spears smiled again, wistfully. “And mine also. That is why I stay.”

“Not for Jennifer?”

“Jenny,” he corrected with a smile. “Not at first. But now, she is linked inextricably with the dream.”

He turned and bellowed a loud order. Instantly the boys stopped what they were doing and ran out into the night, whooping and hollering. Spears smiled after them. “They do their jobs so well, sometimes I forget they are still children. I must remember to dismiss them early more often.”

I nodded in their direction and asked, “Do they know about Jennifer? I mean, Jenny?”

“They know she is the lady of the house, and that she is…” He paused as he sought the right word. “Reticent?”

“Shy,” I suggested.

“Yes, that’s it, shy. Since none of them are likely to ever meet Queen Jennifer, the resemblance is not an issue.”

“Drake never visits?”

“He intends to, on occasion. The queen always finds a way to dissuade him. She has as much to lose as we do.”

“It’s funny. You trust me because Drake says so, and yet you’re trusting me with things he doesn’t know.”

Spears looked at me with that cold warrior look. “I’m trusting you, Mr. LaCrosse, because I have no choice.”

Before I could say more, Jenny emerged from the same passage. Her hair was down and hung in waves close to her face. She wore a floppy, sweat-stained hat with a wide brim. Her dress was simple and threadbare. Her eyes were red from crying, but there were no tears now. She carried a canvas bag and, more gloriously, a basket laden with food. “I couldn’t help noticing you seemed a bit peckish,” she told me wryly.

I tore off a piece of fresh, oven-warm bread. “I apologize in advance for my lack of table manners,” I said as I chewed.

“There’s no table,” she said, her smile widening.

When I finished, I tossed her bag into the back of the wagon. A puff of dust and a few sprigs of hay bounced in response. The horses shuffled in place.

“Nice disguise,” I said to her, then gestured at my own dusty but expensive clothes. “I’m not exactly dressed as a farmer, though.”

“It won’t matter,” Spears said. “It’s night, and the roads are safe. Between here and Kern’s place, no one will bother you.”

Jenny climbed onto the wagon seat. She neither asked nor waited for help from either of us. She arranged her battered dress as if it were court finery. The boy Jack returned, and Spears gave me the map. “This will get you to

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