“I thought it was Trooper Jeffen, sir. But the way it was raining, I could’ve been mistaken.”
“I see.” Suiden laid his spoon down and stood up. “Is there anyone who was ordered to stand guard over rocks or other inanimate objects—things that don’t move,” he added when frowns showed up on some faces, “—by Lieutenant Rabbit?”
No one said anything.
“Maybe Lieutenant Slevoic knows, sir,” Groskin said. “I heard that he was the one who dismissed the guard.” Slevoic gave Lieutenant Groskin a blank stare. “No, I didn’t dismiss anyone from guarding a rock.” He looked at Captain Suiden and added, “Sir.”
“No one?” The captain sat down again and picked up his spoon. “Perhaps in the rain you mistook a horse for a trooper, Lieutenant Rabbit. It’s sometimes easy to do.”
“I could ask them, honored captain,” Laurel offered.
For the first time ever I saw Captain Suiden disconcerted. “You can—The horses can—” He shook his head. “Uh, no, thank you.” He scooped some stew, stared at the chunk of rabbit meat sitting in the spoon, and quietly laid it back into the bowl.
Chapter Eleven
It was raining again the next morning and we stared out at it, glum. Long-suffering faces turned to the captains, as we hoped that they’d let us wait out the storm in the comfort of the station—and it looked like they would, as the captains didn’t want to get wet again any more than we did.
I found an iron to press my clothes. I had left all my best pieces in Freston, thinking that we’d be in the mountains, but I didn’t want Captain Javes to hog all the glory. I stood there in my smalls, running the iron over the creases and cuffs in my trousers. My own jaunty cap, with the feather pinned to it, lay on the table ready to be donned.
“Peacock,” someone muttered as he went past. Not yet, I thought, but soon. I carefully placed my trousers next to my already pressed tabard and laid out my shirt.
“Lieutenant Rabbit, have you seen any of my gear?” Basel asked as he joined me, bringing with him the smell of herbs and green plants.
“Just Rabbit. Please. And no, I haven’t.” I flipped the shirt over and started on the front. “Why?”
“I’m missing a couple of sacks, sir,” Basel said, a worried frown on his face. “I’ve searched but can’t find them.” I stood the iron upright and, looking around the room, saw Ryson walk in from the stables, carrying two sacks. “There,” I said. “They must’ve been left behind when we unloaded the horses.” I reached for the iron again, but as I did, Ryson shifted the sacks, revealing mud on his trousers. I frowned. It shouldn’t have been there, as every muddy garment went into the wash last night—I had the wrinkled hands to prove it—and the only way to get splatter like that was to ride a horse. A galloping horse. The mud glistened weakly in the lamplight. It was fresh.
“I saw him last night with Slevoic, sir,” Basel said softly, also staring at Ryson. “They seemed to be having a rather involved discussion.”
I slid a glance at Slevoic, who was edging his way around the back of the room towards Ryson. Feeling a chill creep down my spine, I grabbed my trousers and put them on.
“How involved?” I asked Basel as I held my shirt up. It wasn’t as crisp as I’d have liked, but most of the wrinkles were gone. I pulled it over my head and did the same with my tabard.
“I couldn’t exactly hear, Lieutenant,” Basel said, his voice even softer. “But it seemed like Slevoic was giving him directions.” Nodding as I snatched up my cap, I looked around again and located Captain Suiden. I hurried over, but just as I reached him, a shout went up outside from one of the poor sods assigned guard duty.
“Riders approaching!”
Captain Suiden looked at me and I inclined my head towards Ryson and Slevoic. The captain’s eyes narrowed before he turned to the room. “Everyone get dressed. We have company.”
I hurriedly searched for Laurel and found him dicing with some troopers in the stables, out of Suiden’s sight. (Not that Suiden was against gambling, but he felt it shouldn’t happen while on duty. Or off duty. Or at the garrison. Or out of the garrison. Or awake. Or alive.)
“We’ve company coming,” I said to the men as they jumped up and saluted. The dice disappeared and Laurel grabbed his staff, which was propped in the corner. I pushed him into the station where he joined Captain Suiden and Javes, every bead and feather in place. I put on my cap and joined Groskin and Slevoic, who stood behind the captains. The door was flung open. . “Governor Hoelt of Gresh!”
We stood at attention as the governor and her entourage entered, a start running through them as they saw Laurel Faena. There was frantic rustling behind me as the half-dressed troopers rushed to finish clothing themselves. To Governor Hoelt’s credit, her hesitation was barely noticeable before she walked over to us, and it could’ve been because of the diminishing nakedness of the men as well as Laurel. Her aides stayed by the door.
Suiden bowed, his hand over his heart. “Grace to you, Governor Hoelt. I am Captain Suiden of the Freston Mountain Patrol, Horse. May I present to you Ambassador Laurel Faena”—Laurel bowed—“and Captain Javes, of the Freston King’s Road Patrol, Horse.” Captain Javes also bowed.
Governor Hoelt bowed back. “Grace, Captain Suiden, Captain Javes. Uh, Ambassador Laurel—”
“Riders approaching!”
“Part of your group?” Captain Suiden asked.
A very frustrated expression flashed across Hoelt’s face. “No!” She struggled for control. “I mean, no, they’re not.”
“I see.”
The door flung open again.
“Doyen Allwyn of Gresh!”
Once again, we, including Governor Hoelt and her group, bowed as the churchman walked in with his entourage. They also started when they saw Laurel. The church clerks bunched up at the door with the governor’s aides as Doyen Allwyn joined us, he and Governor Hoelt eyeing each other. The candlelight twinkled on silver embroidery in his vestments as the doyen then turned and faced the captains. He tapped his Staff of Office twice on the floor, making the tiny silver bells ring.
Captain Suiden bowed again. “Doyen Allwyn—”
“Riders approaching!”
Captain Suiden sighed. “I assume they aren’t with either of you?” Doyen Allwyn shook his head while Governor Hoelt gave a resigned shrug.
Once more we all turned to the doorway and waited. The guard tried to fling it open but it hit one of the governor’s aides and bounced closed. After a moment, the door creaked slowly open again and the guard peeked around it, holding his sword.
“It’s all right,” Captain Suiden said. “Announce whoever it is.” Satisfied that we weren’t being butchered by our unexpected guests, the guard opened the door all the way.
“Major Verne of the Gresh Command!”
Major Verne and the troopers with him tried to enter but the governor’s and church’s groups had flowed back into the doorway. All we saw was the crest of the major’s helm rising above their heads.
“Move, dolts!”
A couple of clergy suddenly went sideways and Major Verne thrust through. He too stopped short, which may have been because of Laurel but also may have been because of the frown on Doyen Allwyn’s face. Major Verne flushed and bowed.
“I beg pardon, Doyen.” He straightened, tugged at his tabard, which had gotten twisted in the brief scrum at the doorway, and walked over to join us.
Captain Suiden saluted and waited to see if there were any more announcements. When there were none, he waved a hand. “Ambassador Laurel, Captain Suiden, Captain Javes.”
“Where’s Lord Chause—”