Cyhan’s quick acceptance was unusual, but then I had rarely been able to read the man’s intentions, either before or after he had taken service with me. I glanced at Dorian to see his reaction to his subordinate’s quick acceptance.
My friend was too honest to attempt deception, so he didn’t bother. “I think it’s a stupid idea,” he grumbled. “Tomorrow would be the best day to attack us. We should be on full alert.” He paused and glared at me for a long moment. “But if you and Sir Cyhan both agree, then I will let him see about arranging the breaks you think are so damned important.”
Something odd flickered across Dorian’s face, as if he had just had a humorous thought, but Cyhan spoke again before I could ask him about it, “It shall be as you say, Grandmaster.”
Grandmaster was Dorian’s nominal title as the head of the Knights of Stone. “Don’t you two ever relax? You’re worse than the men you command,” I noted. After a moment I added, “There’s no need for such formality, when it’s just the three of us.”
“As you wish, Your Excellency,” Cyhan responded with a bow. I thought I could see a hint of a smile on his face.
I looked at Dorian, hoping for some understanding, but instead he grinned, while adopting a pose of attention. “My lord, shall I have Knight-Captain Cyhan punished for his insolence?”
Glancing back and forth between the two of them, I realized they had me completely outflanked. “You’re both impossible. I’m going to go find someone with some sanity left to talk to.” Turning around I left the barracks. This is why I like children, I mused. They’re not nearly as unaccommodating as these so-called grown-ups.
I had decided to escape the preparations and try to get some work done in my workshop, but I was intercepted on my way there by a large, and very nearly bald, man. His name was Claude, and I had retained him several years before to run the kitchens at Castle Cameron. Overall he was an excellent head cook and I rarely had cause for complaint.
“My lord!” he called as he hurried toward me.
For a moment a childish urge took me, and I briefly considered pretending I hadn’t heard him and finding some way to turn a corner and disappear before he reached me. I had never mastered the invisibility that the Prathions used so effortlessly, but I was pretty sure I could have managed something. Instead I stopped and gave him my attention, “Yes? Do you need something, Claude?”
The cook seemed a bit out of breath. At a guess I’d say he had been looking for me for a while. “Yes, my lord, it’s about the meat we have set aside for tomorrow’s feasts. I had not realized that Sir Cyhan and his men would be returning so soon. That’s two hundred men’s stomachs I hadn’t planned on filling.”
Several flippant and unproductive remarks passed through my mind. I ignored the idle thoughts and asked instead, “Why aren’t you taking this up with my lady wife?” She had generally turned the celebration into her personal project, which suited me just fine.
A look of embarrassment passed across the cook’s face, “She sent me to you, Your Excellency.”
Translation; she’s too busy. “Slaughter another cow,” I suggested.
Claude looked down nervously, “Well I had considered that, Your Lordship, but the problem isn’t really beef.”
Now I was confused, “You just said the problem was meat.”
The man’s face flushed as he opened his mouth to reply. “Well… more the variety of meat. People expect a wide selection of game and wild meats to complement the beef and other domestic meats.”
“You are honestly telling me that you think people will be disappointed if there isn’t enough wild fowl, venison, and small game at the feast tomorrow. Are you serious?” It was occasionally difficult to wrap my head around the importance of what I thought of, as trivial concerns. Dealing with kings and fighting gods had changed my perspective on such things.
Claude nodded his head affirmatively without saying anything else. I gave him a long stare before taking a deep breath. “Have you mentioned this to Chad Grayson?” I suggested. Technically it was his job to provide game for these events, along with managing my forests.
“I did, Your Excellency. He told me that his men would be engaged in extensive patrols for the next week or two and that he wouldn’t have any men free to hunt until the current crisis was past.”
Of course he did, I thought to myself. “I’ll talk to him, though I’m not sure what he can do in half a day’s time.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Claude answered gratefully.
“Don’t thank me yet, he may be unable to catch anything quickly enough for you.”
“That may be true, but I also wanted to thank you for tomorrow, for the reason for our celebration. This holiday is mostly a day of thanks for what you did, my lord.” Claude was looking at me with an expression of heartfelt sincerity.
His words sent a surge of anger through me, and my stomach felt as though it held a lump of iron. My eyes hardened even as I fought to keep my tongue still. He doesn’t understand. I mustn’t take it out on him, I reminded myself. “That day was not…” I started to say, but then I changed my mind. “Thank you for that, Claude, though I don’t feel I deserve praise for it,” I said reluctantly, then I turned and without waiting for a reply I left him there.
My face was a mask as I strode away, but behind it I felt lost. The only things I will be remembered for will be my butchery. The World Road itself was perhaps only a way of distracting me from that, or an attempt to make a lasting and more positive impression upon the world. The only other positive thing I had done was to set James Lancaster upon the throne, and my role as kingmaker would never be known. All that the world would remember were the battles… and all the men I had slaughtered.
Kill thirty thousand men and they give you a holiday. Slay a god and make a king and they will never know, much less appreciate it. That wasn’t fair really. Some knew, most of them either Celior’s clergy, or men of power and station. As a rule those people either feared or reviled me for what I had done.
My master huntsman was a stubborn man. “My foresters are currently occupied making certain that no one slips onto your lands unnoticed,” he told me again.
“Tell them to take the day off and go hunting,” I replied.
His brown eyes were unyielding. “My lord, you told me that we face an imminent attack, and that my men were to ensure the safety of your people, or at least provide early warning. Has this become less of a priority for you?” The words were phrased with a tone of rebuke; not something I was used to hearing anymore, at least not from those that served me.
“Master Grayson, are you arguing with me?” I asked curiously.
“Frankly, yes.”
“The attack won’t take place for another week,” I informed him. “If I thought setting your men to providing game would endanger us I wouldn’t ask this of you.”
“That’s as may be, but only a fool would assume that his enemy might not attempt a surprise attack,” he responded evenly.
My eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a fool, Master Grayson?”
“If you act like a damn fool, I’ll call you one,” he replied without flinching.
“You neglected to add the honorific,” I noted.
Chad nodded before repeating, “If you act like a damn fool, I’ll call you one…” After a short pause he added, “… my lord.”
We stared at each other for a long tense moment before I broke down and started laughing. It was a good laugh, the deep sort that comes from the belly. I credited James Lancaster for teaching me the value of such laughter, as I had seen him use it to great effect, but today I laughed simply because I couldn’t help myself.