“This is Lord Roache and Lord Laetho, my advisers,” Cratyn said, not having the wits to announce their full titles.
“Lord Laetho?” Damin asked. “Now you I’ve heard of. What happened to that brat we sent back, by the way?”
“We are here to discuss surrender!” Cratyn declared, sounding more like a petulant child than a statesman.
As she watched Cratyn try to impose his will on the gathering, she could not help but compare her husband to her lover. Apart from the physical differences between the men – even the most objective observer would agree that Cratyn fared a poor second – there was no comparison. Damin commanded authority without even trying. Cratyn had to demand it – loudly.
“Surrender?” Damin cried, as if it was the first time he had heard the word. “Surely you’re not going to quit after one measly little battle, Cratyn? I came here for a good fight and you want to surrender already? Have some balls, man!”
Even Jenga bit back a smile at Damin’s deliberate misunderstanding.
“Not me, you fool!” Cratyn snapped. Normally surrounded by men who treated him like rare porcelain, he was floundering in the face of Damin’s disrespect. “Medalon is surrendering to us!”
“You are?” Damin asked Jenga. “Since when?”
“No decision has been made as yet, Lord Wolfblade.”
“You claimed you knew nothing about this,” Cratyn accused.
“An unverified message has been received, your Highness. I do not consider that an order when dealing with an issue of such importance.”
“You require verification, my Lord?” Roache asked.
“Naturally. Would you surrender a strategically superior position without some sort of confirmation?”
Roache nodded solemnly. “Of course not. How long will this verification take?”
“I suppose that depends on whether or not the order is genuine,” Jenga shrugged. “I imagine the confirmation should arrive within the week, if it is.”
“And if the order is proved genuine?”
“Then I have no choice, your Grace,” Jenga conceded.
Roache appeared satisfied with the Lord Defender’s answer. He was the most experienced of Cratyn’s dukes. He understood the Lord Defender’s position, even admired his stance.
“Perhaps then, in anticipation of the verification you require, we could discuss the details of your surrender?”
“That is somewhat premature, is it not?” Jenga ventured.
“Not at all, my Lord. Given that we have also been advised of your imminent surrender, one could safely assume that the order is genuine. Given that neither of us wishes unnecessary misunderstanding, such an agreement would seem prudent, don’t you think?”
Cratyn had become superfluous in the face of the experience of the Lord Defender and the canny Lord Roache. Even Laetho seemed at a loss for words. But Damin wasn’t finished. Not yet.
“Well, I’m sorry, but if you’re going to surrender, I can’t condone it,” he declared. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
“The surrender includes all forces currently allied with Medalon,” Cratyn pointed out stiffly.
“Then consider our alliance at an end,” Damin announced. “I’m not going to surrender to this whelp.” He turned on Cratyn shaking his head. “Did you really marry one of Hablet’s daughters? Gods! I can’t imagine how you manage to keep her satisfied.”
Adrina would have thrown something at Damin, had she had a missile handy, but Cratyn did blush an interesting shade of red.
Damin turned to Jenga. “My Lord, I cannot countenance this farce any longer. I shall be leaving immediately. Kindly have my court’esa delivered to my tent at once.”
The Warlord tossed his head dramatically and marched from the Hall, his savage looking Raiders in his wake. Jenga purposely kept his eyes downcast.
“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Lord Laetho demanded.
“Lord Wolfblade is an ally, my Lord. I do not command him. Short of a pitched battle, I don’t see how I can stop him leaving.”
“The Hythrun is of no importance,” Roache agreed. “There is only one place he can go, and he might find more waiting for him when he gets there than he bargained for.”
“There is also the matter of Captain Tenragan,” Cratyn added, annoyed that the discussion was slipping from his control.
“Your Highness?”
“Don’t play the innocent, Lord Jenga. Tarja Tenragan murdered Lord Pieter and the priest Elfron. He is to be handed over to us for trial.”
“There was nothing mentioned about this, even in the unverified order.”
“I can assure you, verification is on its way. You must agree to hold him, pending your surrender.”
Adrina glanced at Tarja. He was torn between stepping forward and bolting, she thought. Duty warring with survival. She placed a hand on his arm and shook her head.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Tarja,” she said softly. “There’s nothing you can achieve by going down there.”
Tarja looked at her for a moment. He nodded slowly, acknowledging her advice, then turned back to watching the Kariens.
“Should such an order be received, then of course I will honour it,” Jenga assured Cratyn.
“I should think so,” Cratyn replied, rather lamely. He really wasn’t handling this very well.
“In that case, gentlemen, I believe this discussion is at an end. I shall have Captain Alcarnen escort you to the border. Should verification arrive, I will send a message, advising my position.”
“Your cooperation in this matter is much appreciated, my Lord,” Roache agreed, before Cratyn could add anything further.
“Captain!”
Nheal Alcarnen stepped forward and saluted sharply.
“Would you be so kind as to escort our guests back to the border?”
“Sir!”
There was little else Cratyn and his party could do but follow the captain.
As soon as the Kariens had left the Hall, pandemonium broke loose, as the officers demanded an explanation. Tarja waited until Jenga had quieted his men and ordered them about their business. The last man was leaving as they descended the stairs. Jenga looked up at their approach. His face was haggard.
“You’d better get out of here, and soon.”
Adrina nodded. “I thank you for not betraying my presence, my Lord.”
Jenga shrugged. “A small victory over the Kariens, your Highness, even if there is nobody to share it with. I wish you a safe journey, although I suspect your future is as doubtful as mine.” He turned to Tarja. “I want you to go with them, Captain.”
“I won’t desert you, Jenga. Not this time.”
The Lord Defender shook his head. “I want your resignation then. I’m damned if I’m going to hand any man of mine over to the Kariens for some sort of farcical trial with a noose waiting at the end of it. Particularly for a crime he didn’t commit.”
Adrina looked at Tarja curiously. If Tarja hadn’t killed Lord Pieter, then who had?
“I won’t run away, Jenga.”
“Now is not the time to be noble, Tarja. I lied to the Kariens. A courier delivered the orders from the Citadel this morning, signed by Joyhinia. Accompanying the orders was a warrant for your arrest.”
“Then you will surrender?”
“I have no choice.”
Tarja didn’t answer.
“Go,” Jenga ordered. There was more emotion in that one word than Adrina could ever recall seeing the Lord Defender betray previously.
Tarja hesitated for a moment then saluted smartly. “My Lord!”