“I see you have done your usual thorough job of preparation, my Lord.”
“I wish it were so. It’s just that I too have taken a mansion here and your host informed my host of your coming. You know how humans love to talk.”
“And not just humans, it seems,” murmured Sardec. Jaderac gave him a cold glance, then his gaze went to Sardec’s hook. He made it quite plain what he was thinking. There was no honour to be gained in duelling with a maimed opponent. Sardec scratched the back of his left hand with his hook. Lord Jaderac clearly found the sight disturbing for he transferred his gaze back to Asea.
“Till this evening then, milady,” he said, all gallantry once more. He performed another superb bow and strode back to his companions. Sardec gave the sign for the Foragers to move onwards. He was very conscious of how shabby they looked compared to the easterner's superbly kitted-out humans.
Once again Asea appeared to read his thoughts. “I am sure they look fine drilling on a parade ground,” she said. “The men behind us can fight and they have proved it time and again.”
Sardec agreed with her, but he knew that the Legion could fight just as well. Their name was known and feared throughout the Ascalean continent. “Let us hope it does not come down to a contest of arms, milady. I fear we are outnumbered.”
The House of the Three Swans was a large manor in the Old Mercantilist style. It had been built to double as a warehouse and a fortress. The walls were thick, the external windows small, high and barred, and there was access only through one large gateway which now stood open, with the fur-robed master of the house standing fur hat in hand to bow them in.
Once inside, in the broad courtyard, things were different. Here were rain barrels and a well. Two sides of the courtyard held arch-covered walkways and wide windows on the second floor. The side directly facing the entranceway was a warehouse space. It had been cleared to give the Foragers a place to sleep. Fharog himself showed Sardec and Asea to their chambers. These were wide and spacious and furnished with the heavy solid furniture human merchants seemed to favour. Elder signs carved in varnished wood covered the whitewashed walls. The rooms were clean, the beds soft. There were writing desks, and pitchers of water, and everything needed for basic comforts. Asea pronounced herself satisfied with them, and Sardec could hardly disagree. Once the merchant had bowed himself out, Sardec went to make sure the soldiers were bedded down comfortably, and had everything needed for their welfare.
He told himself that it was nothing less than he would do for a horse, but he found himself concerned for their well-being, particularly for the veterans who had followed him through the hell of Achenar, and who had held the manor house at the ford. After a few words with Sergeant Hef and Corporal Toby that assured him everything was satisfactory, he assigned sentry shifts to the men. Twenty men were to be in the mansion at all times in case of trouble, the rest were to be allowed leave to scout out the city. They were told to keep their ears open particularly for rumours concerning Jaderac, Ilmarec and the Exiles. Duty done, he headed back into the mansion and knocked at the door of Lady Asea.
“Come in, Lieutenant,” she said. He wondered how she knew it was him. Had she set wards or did she merely recognise his footfall or knock?
Asea sat at a table, sanding a letter to fix the ink in place. Even as he watched she folded it and sealed it with her signet. “I have placed sentries to make sure of your security. If you wish to go out, please inform me. If I am not available please talk to Sergeant Hef. He will see you are provided with a suitable escort.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Won’t you sit?” He accepted gratefully. She smiled at him.
“I have been watching you, Lieutenant. You have changed since our time in the mountains.”
He tapped his hook with the fingers of his left hand. “Yes, I have.”
“That is not what I meant. I would say you have grown. I see you treat the men differently and they respond differently to you.”
He shrugged. There was no sense in denying it.
“You speak less too.”
“I am sorry if I lack the polish and wit of Lord Jaderac.”
“You are worth a dozen of him,” she said. The compliment took him off guard.
“Thank you. I thought you rather liked him.”
“He is witty and charming. He is also cold and deadly, one of those who regards killing as a sport. Duelling is something of a hobby with him. He is very good with his blade.”
“I will be sure to challenge him with pistols then.” She appeared to consider this.
“That would be wise, should things ever come to that. I doubt he practises much with them. His sort spurns all the new weapons. They are demeaning, un-aristocratic.”
There had been a time when Sardec would have whole-heartedly agreed, but at this moment, a pistol was the only weapon he could use with even a modicum of skill.
“You think it will come to that,” Sardec asked.
“It might. We do not know why Jaderac is here.”
“I suspect he told us the truth, Lady Asea. I have no doubt that Prince Khaldarus would like very much to get his hands upon his sister, or, failing that, to have her killed.”
“That is part of it now, I am sure. The question is what was he doing here before this crisis arose? I suspect Jaderac is here to stir up trouble in other ways. He is rich and he is one of the Queen-Empress’s many lovers. He often acts as her special envoy. He is just the individual to cause problems for us here- particularly among the landowners who have Purple sympathies.”
“You think he may have been behind Lord Esteril’s attack on us?”
“I would say it’s certainly possible.”
“It would not be a bad thing if an accident occurred to him then.”
“He probably thinks the same about us, Lieutenant. There is something else of which you should be aware.”
“Yes?”
“Lord Jaderac is a sorcerer of considerable power and somewhat sinister reputation.”
“Sinister reputation, milady?”
“There are rumours among that he dabbles in necromancy and other darker sorceries.”
“I will inform the troops, Lady Asea. I shall see all of them are wearing their elder signs.”
“I will take all steps to see that the mansion is protected. Inform the men that there will be wards placed in each corner of the building. They are not to disturb them.”
“It shall be done. May I ask what your plans are for the moment?”
“I will dispatch a messenger to Lord Ilmarec, and see if he will see us. Tonight I intend to dine with Lord Jaderac. I would be grateful if you would attend me.”
“Of course.”
“Then I will see you later. Now, if you will excuse me I have some tasks to perform.”
“I have given the men assigned to be my direct bodyguard leave to see the town,” she said. “They are gathering information on my behalf.”
Knowing those three they were most likely causing trouble and getting drunk. Sardec decided to keep that information to himself.
Rik strode through the streets of Morven, drinking in the feel of a new place. It was something he had come to love. In the first fifteen years of his life he had never strayed far from the streets of the poor quarters of Sorrow. He had possessed no idea of what a pleasure simply being in new surroundings could bring. He found they stimulated the eye and the brain. It did not matter to him whether the changes were small or large, they acted on him like a drug.
The girls here favoured braiding their hair, and many of them used carved wooden clasps to keep it in place. Their features were different from those he was used to; the hair more honey coloured, the noses slightly flatter, the lips thicker, the mouths wider. Many of them had eyes of startling blue. Their dresses were longer and marked with an intricate cross pattern that was local. A serpent motif seemed very common. Everyone was either barefoot or wore clogs save for the richest of merchants. They wore short robes whose hems would not drag in the omnipresent mud.