At the Harvest Market vendors' stalls were being moved aside to make way for ballistas and catapults.
Diomis had spent the afternoon in the streets, trying to sort some sense out of the ebb and flow of rumors flying freely around the city: the Plenimaran fleet had been spotted off the southern tip of Skala; the fighting was centered around the island of Kouros; it was a land attack-the enemy had crossed the Folcwine and was marching west toward Skala; Plenimaran marines were at the Cirna Canal.
A Queen's herald had arrived at the market at last with solid news; the Plenimarans had made a surprise attack against Skalan troops somewhere in Mycena.
"It makes my old fingers itch for a bow string even now," Thryis commented wistfully as her family and Rhiri gathered in the kitchen for the evening.
"I still remember that battle we fought above Ero. A clear summer morning, not a breath of wind to spoil the shot, and a hundred of us lined up behind the infantry with our longbows. When we let fly, the Plenimarans fell like a swath of wheat before a scythe."
"They'll be fighting in mud and rain, starting in this early. I wonder how Micum Cavish's girl is making out." Diomis broke off in surprise as a tear trickled down his daughter's cheek.
"Why, Cilia, you're crying. What's the matter, love?"
Cilia wiped her cheek and hugged the baby to her, saying nothing.
"Luthas' dad is a soldier, isn't he, dear?" her grandmother asked gently, patting the girl's shoulder.
Cilia nodded mutely, then hurried up the back stairs with Luthas in her arms.
Diomis rose to follow, but Thryis stopped him.
"Let her go, son. She's never talked of the man before; I don't suppose she'll say anything now until she's a mind to."
"What do you know about that?" he said, scratching under his beard in bemusement. "You'd think if she cared for whoever this fellow is enough to weep for him now, she'd have said more about him to us. Why do you suppose she keeps it such a damned secret?"
"Who knows? I always thought maybe he'd broken promises to her, but she wouldn't cry for him if he had. Ah well, Cilia's always had her own way of doing things."
They sat quietly a moment, listening to the crackle of the fire. Then Rhiri tapped the table with his spoon and made a hand sign. "No, I have had no word of them since yesterday," Thryis told him. "Alec's Patch was gone this morning, but both of Seregil's horses are still in their stalls, aren't they?"
Rhiri nodded.
"I wouldn't worry about those two," said Diomis. "You go on up to bed now, Mother. Me and Rhiri will see to things down here."
"Make certain the doors are barred," Thryis warned as he helped her to her feet. "Rhiri, don't you forget to put oil in the lanterns out front. With all the excitement today some folks may get up to mischief. I want the court well lit."
"Aye, we will, Mother," sighed Diomis.
"Haven't we seen to the closing up these last twenty years? Rhiri, you go on out and check the stable. I'll take care of the front room."
Rhiri gave a quick salute and went out through the lading-room door to the back court.
In the front room Diomis checked the bar on the door and extinguished the lamp. The hearth fire was out; with only two guests in the inn, he hadn't bothered to keep it burning when they'd turned in early. He was just checking the shutter hooks when he heard the familiar rattle of the front door latch.
Diomis peered through the crack of the shutter but saw no horses in the courtyard.
"Who's that?" he called.
There was no answer except a crisp rap on the door.
Diomis had no patience for games tonight. "We're closed up! Try the Rowan Tree, two streets over."
The unseen visitor knocked again, more insistently this time.
"Now look here—" Diomis began, but was cut short by the crash of the kitchen door slamming back on its hinges.
31
Topping the crest of a hill just north of Watermead, Alec was surprised to see a long line of torches in the distance. As they came closer, he saw it was a column of cavalry under the red and gold insignia of the Red Serpent Regiment. Reining in, he hailed the first of the outriders as he came abreast of him.
"What's going on?" Alec called out.
The soldier slowed his horse. "War, son. It's war at last. Pass it on to all you meet."
"This early in the year?" Alec exclaimed.
"Looks like the bastards were spoiling for a fight," the man replied grimly. "A Plenimaran raiding party ambushed some of our cavalry up in the Mycenian hill country. We're headed north to join with the Queen's Horse Guard. Word is they took the brunt of it, as usual."
"The Queen's Horse? I know someone in that regiment. Could you take a message for me?"
"No time, son," the man said, spurring away as the column caught up.
The hundred or more riders wore red and gold tabards over their chain, and their huge black horses rang with harness and breast plates. Then, like an apparition in the deepening dusk, they disappeared over the crest of the hill.
"Maker's Mercy, here you are at last!" Arna exclaimed, coming out into the courtyard to meet him.
"Did you have trouble on the way?"
Alec was in too much of a hurry to properly address that. "Just tell that fellow Ranil not to send anyone else that way," he said, leading Micum's black to the stable. "I had news on the road, though. The war's started."
Arena’s hands flew to her wrinkled cheeks. "Oh, my poor Beka! She's up on the border already. Do you think she's in it yet?"
Alec didn't have the heart to lie.
Turning, he took the old servant by the shoulders.
"The soldier who gave me the news said the Queen's Horse was in it, yes. Micum didn't know any of this; word hadn't reached Warnik's yet. I imagine they'll hear it there before long, but in case they haven't, you tell Micum first, then let him break it to Kari, all right?"
"I will, love, I will," Arna sighed, dabbing her eyes with a corner of her shawl. "Wouldn't you just know it? Nothing will do for her but to enlist, then doesn't she land smack in the middle of things. And her not even twenty yet."
"Well, she's a good soldier," said Alec, as much for his own comfort as hers. "With Micum and Seregil for teachers all those years, and then Myrhini—that's as good training as anyone could have."
Arna gave his arm a squeeze. "Maker love you, sir, I hope you're right. I'll go get you something to eat as you ride. Don't you go off without it, hear?"
By the time he'd shifted his borrowed saddle onto Patch's back, she was back with a bundle of food tied up in a napkin and several torches. Mounting he lit one from the courtyard lantern and set off on the final stretch to Rhiminee under a clouded, moonless sky. He met more columns of riders and foot soldiers along the way, but didn't stop for news.
He came in sight of the city just before midnight. The highroad followed the top of the cliffs above the sea and from here he could see down to the harbor where lines of watch fires outlined the moles, shining brightly across the dark expanse of water. More signal fires burned on the islands at the mouth of the harbor, and torches had been lit along the city walls above.
The north gate was open under heavy guard to allow for the passage of troops. Inside, the Harvest Market looked as if a war had already been fought there. Piles of scrap wood and tangled shreds of colored canvas were all that appeared to be left of the booths and stalls he'd ridden past that same morning. Despite the lateness of the hour, soldiers were at work everywhere, setting up ballistas and hauling off refuse. From now on, it appeared, merchants would have to carry on their business under the open sky or from the backs of carts.