"You're not surprised, Lady Jura."
The scarred and grizzled veteran of the Broken Islands campaign inclined her head. "Sire, I am many things, but I am not a diplomat, nor a courtier, nor a friend who might keep you company on the trip. Now I understand why I was chosen. How long have we to prepare?"
Even the horses seemed to hold their breath waiting for the answer.
Theron spread his hands. "Two days, maybe three. No more."
"Rider in the pass!"
All heads turned toward the high watchtower. Some things needed no translation.
"Maybe less," the king amended dryly.
"Surrender?" Theron folded his hands over the saddlehorn and looked calmly out at the Cemandian herald. Although the herald had addressed him in fluent Shkoden, he continued to speak the local dialect. "I don't think so."
The herald shot an anxious glance at Tadeus who was Singing softly so that all those gathered on the battlements above could hear the conversation. A muscle twitched along the side of his face, but holding both lance and reins he had no way to make the sign against the kigh. "Majesty, Prince Rajmund wishes me to point out that you are vastly outnumbered and unable to close the pass. You may be able to hold the keep, but you cannot keep us out of Ohrid. It will only be a matter of time."
"Then it will be that matter of time."
"Majesty, there will be many deaths for no reason…"
"There may be many deaths, but they will all be for a reason. To keep this land free of Cemandian rule."
"My prince says that he believes the people of Ohrid have no wish to die for such a reason."
"Your prince is wrong." Pjerin's voice barely needed bardic assistance to fill the pass. "You can tell him I said so. And you can tell my aunt that if she had a heart, I'd cut it out and feed it to her."
"I will tell them both, Your Grace." The herald turned his attention back to the king. "Majesty, my prince suggests that it is not yet too late for a joining between himself and your heir to unite these kingdoms in peace."
"Tell your prince that I do not wish these kingdoms to be united and I, and my heir, will fight to our last breath to prevent it." Theron's voice changed slightly. "And herald, tell your prince that it is not too late for him to take his army home before he spills the blood of Cemandia to no avail."
The herald, who recognized a dismissal when he heard one, bowed, wheeled his horse, and galloped back over the border, flesh crawling with the certain knowledge that his every move was watched by the kigh.
"I should be on the barricades!" Pjerin tossed his hair back off his face. "This can wait."
"No, it can't, Your Grace." Elica put her hand on his good shoulder and pushed him back into the chair. "Unless you want to lose the use of that arm, it has to be healed. Now. You haven't exactly taken care of it."
"I haven't exactly been in a position to," Pjerin growled.
"Let her work," Theron said quietly coming into the room. "We'll need you whole come morning. But if you have a moment, Healer, I was wondering about Annice."
"Well, she's exhausted and perhaps a little thinner than I'd like, but, all things being enclosed, I don't think there's anything to worry about. The blood…"
"Blood?" both men exclaimed.
"The blood," Elica repeated, once again pushing Pjerin back into the chair, "is perfectly normal for this time in her pregnancy given that it's been only pink or brown spotting. I wouldn't have even mentioned it had I realized she hadn't told you."
"What else hasn't she told me?" Pjerin wondered, shifting irritably. "She said she was fine."
"She is fine. After a little sleep, she'll be in much better shape than you are if I don't take care of that wound. In fact," Elica sighed, "she'll be in better shape than I am after half a Quarter in the saddle." The rest of the king's party had arrived in the late afternoon to find the keep on a war footing and explanations more confusing than enlightening. Elica had taken one look at Annice and ordered her to bed; had taken a second look at Stasya and ordered her to follow. During the examinations, she'd heard the complete story.
Annice's healing of Gerek—if that's what had actually happened—would have to be investigated by the Healers' Hall. Before she left, she'd take a look at the boy herself. At the moment, with a war imminent and no other healers closer than Marienka, Elica was willing to acknowledge that the Circle held many wondrous things and leave it lie.
"Stasya," she continued, anticipating the king's next question, "may need healing to help her body overcome the effects of that pit. I'll know in the morning. His Grace," she added pointedly, "needs healing now because when I'm finished, he's going to want to sleep."
"When you're finished," Pjerin declared, "I'm going back to the barricades."
The healer rolled her eyes. "Was there anything else, Majesty?"
"No, nothing else." Theron nodded at the due and Elica and left the room. When a healer used that tone of voice, even kings gave way.
Elica turned to Pjerin and studied the angry red lines radiating out from the torn scar tissue. "This is going to hurt," she began.
Pjerin's mouth twisted up into what might have been a weary smile. "I've been healed before. Let's get this over with."
"You're not going back to the barricades."
The smile showed more teeth. "You're not going to be able to stop me."
Some time later, Elica picked up the lamp and gently patted the hand of the sleeping due. "I'll see you in. the morning, Your Grace," she told him and quietly left the room.
"What can you see?"
Heart pounding, Pjerin jumped and spun around. "Annice! Are you supposed to be up here?"
"What do you mean?" She smiled at the sentry, then leaned against the battlements of the high watchtower and stared out into the pass. "Stasya and Tadeus want to see how far away I have to be in order for them to Sing. This is as far away as I can get and still be in the keep. If it comes to it," she added distastefully, "I may have to lock myself away in an interior room for the duration. Someplace with a heavy door and no windows."
"I meant, should you be up here in your condition?"
She wasn't going to tell him that she'd had to rest four times on the way up the narrow stairs or that she'd thought more than once she wasn't going to make it. "We walked across the country with me in this condition. How's your arm?"
"Better." He'd been furious to discover he'd fallen asleep and more furious still to have His Majesty tell him not to use it until he had to.
Annice smiled, correctly interpreting the undertones, then suddenly sobered. "I don't think you should have just let Nikulas go free. I mean, he tried to kill you."
"His brother was dead and he believed I was responsible. It was a perfectly natural response."
She couldn't believe him sometimes. "Of course it was. And suppose he tries it again?"
"He won't."
"Pjerin…"
"I know my people, Annice. One way or another, he'll be convinced."
"And Sarline?"
"Rozyte's not even speaking to her. She has enough personal problems right now without me adding to them."
Annice sighed. "Pjerin, it's all very well to be a compassionate lord, but don't you think…"
"I think we're about to have a war," he interrupted, his expression grim. "And I think I've had enough of death already."
Even she couldn't argue with that, so she carefully swung her bulk around and gestured toward Cemandia. "I don't see anything."
Pjerin turned to follow her hand. "Sun's been up on the other side of the mountains for a while. They're moving, count on it. We should be able to see them any… there!"
The sentry shook her head. "Just the sun flashing on a bit of shiny rock, Your Grace. Happens every morning there's enough light. We won't spot them until they're actually in the pass. Plenty of time to ready bows."