“Everyone will have their moment in the sun all too soon,” Jusson said. “Find out, Lord Wyln, what their status is. Ask especially if they are able to ride to the rescue.”
“And if whoever the elf, ah, raises says yes, sire?” Beollan asked.
“Then we know he’s lying and the garrison has fallen as they would’ve been here by now,” Jusson said. “At your pleasure, Lord Wyln.”
Wyln made no elaborate gestures, no muttered chants, no runes drawn in the air in flames. He simply stared into the burning hearth for a couple of heartbeats. Then he smiled. “Well, you discover all sorts of things through the fire. Though I really shouldn’t be surprised, Dragon Prince—”
“Sro Wyln,” Captain Suiden said from the hearth. “Where the hell are you?”
Hearing Suiden’s voice, my spine snapped to attention. Next to me, Arlis started. “What?” he whispered. “What happened?”
“It’s Suiden,” I whispered back.
Arlis’ red-rimmed eyes wheeled as he too jumped to attention, and there was a stir among not only Jusson’s nobles, but the townspeople too. Apparently Freston’s leading citizens knew the Mountain Patrol captain very well. Or maybe it was that the events of the past few days had made them realize that Wyln’s “Dragon Prince” was probably more than a nickname. Beollan transferred his attention to the fire.
“I am here with Jusson Iver’son at his residence, Your Highness,” Wyln said. “Rabbit Two Trees’son is with us, as is Laurel Faena, Jeffen Corbin’son, and the soldier Arlis from Captain Javes Wolf Merchant’son’s troop. We are all safe—”
“Lieutenant,” Suiden said.
I stood straighter. “Sir! Present, sir!”
Thadro gave me a considering look.
“You can fight with Iver’son’s Eorl Commander later about who gets to reprimand Two Trees’son for playing truant, Prince Suiden,” Wyln said. “Though it’s good that he had, as he’s safer here with Iver’son than he would’ve been with you at the garrison.”
“So you say,” Suiden said.
“So I do,” Wyln replied. “Do you doubt me?”
“No,” Suiden said slowly. “Not about this. And not with all that’s happened. What is happening, Sro Wyln?”
“Rebellion and sorcery, Your Highness,” Wyln said, and launched into the agreed-upon explanations.
“A ritual murder and an assassination attempt,” Suiden said after the enchanter had finished. “An afrit, walking dead men, a desecrated church, all circling around the remnants of Gherat and Slevoic’s smuggling ring. And a publican issuing ultimatums to the king.” The captain’s voice was neutral. “Sounds as though His Majesty has his hands full.”
“Doesn’t it?” Wyln asked, his tone amused. “What about other sounds? A most unnatural silence has fallen here, where even the birdsong is ceased.”
“No,” Suiden said. “We have all the requisite noises, though what’s happening with you has to be connected with our situation. How Helto fits in is the puzzler— Excuse me.” I could hear murmuring in the background, then the captain spoke again. ‘The senior staff and I are with Commander Ebner in his office, and while no one here knows much about Helto, some of the officers from the south of the kingdom say there was a Bram who served at the Royal Garrison before he left to join Gherat’s House as an armsman.”
“What is it?” Ranulf asked, watching Wyln’s eyes narrow.
“The tapster at the Copper Pig belonged to the House of Dru,” Beollan said before Wyln could, and the side looks were now aimed at him—though Jusson’s look was a frown as he made shushing motions. Beollan blinked, then a faint flush dusted his cheekbones.
“Who’s that?” Suiden asked.
“One of Iver’son’s eorls is with me,” Wyln said lightly. “Beollan of Fellmark.”
“Lord Beollan is there?” Suiden asked. “With you?” Apparently my former captain wasn’t the only one with a reputation.
“Ranulf of Bainswyr is here too, Your Highness,” Wyln said, even more amused. “With Laurel Faena’s illuminating presence, both sides of the last war are well represented.”
The flush deepened on Beollan’s face as his eyes narrowed on Wyln, and I spoke quickly before the Marcher Lord could. “But going back to Bram, sir. Dru has been disbanded for several months, and the Vicious dead almost as long. Why would an armsman from a disgraced southern House all of a sudden show up here in the northern marches?”
“From what Wyln has just said, Peacekeeper Chadde’s proven that Helto had ties to Slevoic,” Suiden said. “It seems the taverner also has access to what is left of Dru’s House. Again, the question is, how does it all fit?”
Chadde nodded as Wyln relayed Suiden’s answer. ‘True,” the peacekeeper agreed. “And what do Mayor Gawell and Master Ednoth have to do with it? Could you ask Suiden if they ever made it to the garrison, Lord Wyln?”
“No, they didn’t,” Suiden said after the question was repeated. “But then, no one’s been able to come or go here since yesterday afternoon. Every time we try to leave, we end up back at the same place, no matter which direction we take. When we heard the alarm last night, we thought that perhaps, with a large enough group leaving at once, we might be able to break through. However, even with all the garrison companies riding great big horses, the same thing happened and we damned near met ourselves coming out as we were going back in.”
“Water aspect,” Wyln said. “Keeper of time and of measurements, the master builder, lord of illusion and the mirror image. It seems that someone has built you a merry maze of time, space and illusion, Dragon Prince.”
“Very merry,” Suiden said dryly. “Many of the troopers had to have a lie down after that last effort, they were so exhausted from merrymaking.”
“But you’re all right?” Wyln asked.
“Other than having ridden through our own shadows, we’re fine,” Suiden said. “Commander Ebner asks what are the king’s plans?”
“I don’t know,” Wyln said. “Iver’son is still arguing with those who think that we’d be better off doing as this Helto says.”
“I see,” Suiden said again, his voice once more neutral.
‘Though the ones with me think the House Master has less integrity than pond scum,” Wyln continued. “I was hoping that you at the garrison would be able to help, but it seems that you are just as bound as we are. I don’t know that I will tell Iver’son of our conversation—though the news about Bram’s ties to Slevoic ibn Dru might make a difference with Iver’son’s eorls and the town elders.”
“If you don’t, then Lieutenant Rabbit will,” Suiden said blandly. “Or at least he’ll tell the Lord Commander. There is such a thing as chain of command—”
Captain Suiden’s voice abruptly cut off as the flames shrank down to the red flickers. Frost appeared at the back of the fireplace with an icy blast, causing both Wyln and Cais to stagger back, Wyln with a look of astonished pain on his face. And I found myself snared by ice green eyes as a bloodred mouth smiled.
Found you, little rabbit.
Arms, white as a cadaver long drowned, reached out from the hearth. But before they could grasp me, there was a bellowing roar and I was yanked back. Moving in front of me, Laurel planted his carved staff against the stone floor, his claws and fangs bared.
“Our House? This dares to come into our House?”
Regaining my balance, I saw Jusson drawing his sword. The frozen green eyes turned to the king and the smile broadened, showing even white teeth. “Majesty!” I shouted. At least I meant to shout. My voice came out as a wheeze. “No!”
I wasn’t the only one to see the creature’s interest shift from me to Jusson. The rest of the room rushed to the hearth, those with swords also drawing them, even Cook and his scullions running over with knives and cleavers. Wyln, elfin quick, recovered enough to get a hold of Jusson’s tabard to pull the king from the hearth; however, Thadro grabbed Jusson’s arm at the same time and pulled the other way, while the press of bodies behind the king kept him front and center.