“The garrison, Lieutenant?” Captain Suiden said.
Jaxtir once more gave the signal, and our cavalcade began to move.
“So your shield’s made from a lizard,” Captain Javes said. “Is it standard issue here?” He peered through his quiz glass at the other Dornel soldiers. Their shields were just like the one I carried, except for the Dornel emblem on them. “Or are they only for officers?”
“No, sir, it’s not standard issue,” Jaxtir replied, facing straight ahead.
Javes turned his glass back on Jaxtir’s shield. “How fascinating. I’ve never seen lizard skin like that. How did you come by it?”
“Can’t recall, sir.”
“Really, Lieutenant? Well, that’s amazing, what? To not remember how you got something so uncommon.”
“Always had a poor memory, sir.”
Lieutenant Jaxtir tried to slip away the moment we were inside the garrison gates, to inform the commander of our arrival—he said—but Captain Suiden insisted on going with him and taking us along.
“Oh, and bring your shield too, Lieutenant,” Javes said.
We all walked into the commander’s office, Jaxtir carrying his accoutrements.
“Commander Ystan, this is Captain Suiden and Captain Javes of the Freston garrison,” Jaxtir said. The commander rose from his desk as the army part of our group saluted while Laurel, despite being ignored, began to bow—only to snap upright at my gasp. Instead of mail, Commander Ystan wore a hauberk made of the same material as Jaxtir’s shield. Laurel Faena roared.
Chapter Seventeen
“This is my fault, honored captain,” Laurel said.
Captain Suiden didn’t argue with him. We were in a room waiting for Commander Ystan, with guards stationed outside.
“I shouldn’t have been surprised, especially after seeing the lieutenant’s shield.” At Laurel’s roar, troops burst into Commander Ystan’s office as Lieutenant Jaxtir pulled his sword and accused us of trying to attack the commander. Which was kind of hard to prove as we stood with empty hands in plain sight on the other side of the room.
“Commander Ystan,” Captain Suiden said, ignoring Jaxtir. “I am here by order of Commander Ebner of the Freston garrison.”
“Yes, um—Got the dispatches a few days ago.” Commander Ystan blinked at us.
“Then you know that it’s a matter of some urgency.”
“We also know that there’s a large, unpredictable magical that may have just tried to do something—magical,” Jaxtir said, his sword pointed at Laurel. He turned his head to look at Ystan, who still stood blinking behind his desk. “I suggest, sir, that we place them under guard until we are able to sort everything out.”
Captain Suiden said nothing as we were escorted to another room and guards placed outside our doors. But his look could have filled a library.
“The skin the commander was wearing and Jaxtir’s shield came from one of Dragoness Moraina’s brood, sir,” I now said. “Dragon Gwyyn. He was an ice dragon.”
“Whom you played tiddlywinks with as a small lad,” Slevoic said, throwing himself into a chair.
“No,” I replied. “Gwyyn had a territory in the Upper Reaches by the time I was born. But he would visit his dam.” I looked back at Suiden. “He was a poet, sir, and would give recitals every time he came.” Laurel rumbled and a guard looked over his shoulder at us.
“He should have lived for centuries. Longer,” I said. “Dragoness Moraina is approaching her millennium. A thousand years of such poetry as to make even a snot-nosed boy yearn and dream. Dragons don’t read or write, sir. It’s all oral, passed down from master to pupil. Now everything Gwyyn knew, everything he was is gone. And they used his skin for undergarments and shields.”
Both guards were now looking into the room at us.
“I am sorry for it, Rabbit, Sro Laurel,” Captain Suiden said. “I am truly very sorry. But we can’t do anything for him or Sra Prudence. We can, however, do something for Sra Moraina’s other offspring—if we can get to Iversly.”
Laurel rumbled again. “It’s not for protection that I am going to see your king.” He looked worried. “And I am not sure it’s not a fool’s errand I’m now on.”
“What do you mean?” asked Captain Javes.
“I am here to stop a war, but after today I don’t know if I can.” He ran a paw over his head, ruffling his beads and feathers. “Do you think that honored Moraina doesn’t know what has happened to her son? Or will soon know?” He looked at me. “And what do you think will happen when the elves find out?”
“Elves,” Groskin said.
“Elves live longer than dragons,” I said. “Forever, barring fatal injury. They remember when they lived in Iversterre—and how they were driven out.” It was my turn to look worried. “The northern clans still read their death rolls on their holy days. None of them like the kingdom very much. Or humans.”
The Dornel guards were now in the room. Captain Suiden glanced at them, then paced to the window. Moving aside the curtain, he revealed two more guards, who looked back at him.
“I need someone to find your commander and get him here now,” Suiden said.
“Who’ll go?”
“I’ll go, sir,” said a voice from the window, and we heard footsteps hurrying off.
“It’s not just what’s going on back home that concerns me,” Laurel said after a moment, “but also what we’ve found so far on our journey. If this is what’s in the provinces, what’s going on in the Royal City?”
Chapter Eighteen
Commander Ystan and Lieutenant Jaxtir showed up a short while later, accompanied by Doyen Allwyn, another doyen, and the governor of Dornel. Apparently the fine art of spying was practiced in Dornel also. There was rustling in the bushes as the guard resumed his post outside the window once more. He wasn’t about to give up one of the best seats in the house.
Ystan had removed the dragon skin and now wore regular chain mail under his tabard. He clinked as he walked in, Jaxtir by his side and the others behind him.
“Captain Suiden—”
“Groskin, my boy. How are you?” The second doyen had a rich, rolling baritone and it rolled over Ystan as he swept around the commander and caught Lieutenant Groskin in a bear hug.
“Uh, grace to you, Doyen Orso,” Groskin grunted. He managed to get free and tried to smooth out his crushed tabard.
“Faugh! No need of formality between us, eh, nephew?” Orso grinned and slapped Groskin’s back, sending him stumbling. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s well, uncle,” Groskin said.
“And your father?”
“He’s well also.”
“And your brothers? Sisters?”
“They are well, uncle.”
“I am Governor Somne,” the governor said, breaking into what promised to be a long cataloguing of the Groskin clan. She bowed. “Grace to you and welcome to our fair city, Ambassador Laurel”—she turned to me—”and Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan.” The spy network was working overtime. Laurel Faena and I bowed back.
Doyen Orso rolled again. “Now, what’s this about my nephew being under arrest?”
“And Lord Rabbit and Ambassador Laurel?” Governor Somne added.
“Um—” Commander Ystan started.
“They’re not under arrest,” Lieutenant Jaxtir said. “There was an incident and now we’re conducting an investigation.”
Doyen Orso rolled on. “What was this incident?”
“It’s an internal matter,” Jaxtir said.
“Fine,” said Governor Somne. “In the meantime, Ambassador Laurel will remove to the Governor’s House.”
“I’m afraid we cannot allow that, Governor,” Jaxtir said. “The incident involves the—this—it.”