Anton didn’t answer, but Leonides didn’t seem to notice.
“Those mines proved a good purchase,” the sword master continued. “Your father sent a contingent of his own guards to set up an encampment and hire workers to mine the silver. Over the years, he’s rotated the men posted there . . . as it’s foolish to leave anyone in that wild country for too long. But the miners are still digging and silver is still coming out.”
Anton shook his head in confusion. “And now there is a problem?”
Leonides didn’t look at him. “A few months ago, your father got a report he almost couldn’t believe, didn’t believe at first. The present contingent has been out there for only about four months, but even in a short time, those forests can do things to a man’s mind. A Captain Keegan is in charge, along with a Lieutenant Sullian. Keegan wrote to your father that several of the young soldiers under him had . . .” He paused. “Well, they had turned into beasts and gone mad and had to be killed.”
“What?” Anton asked.
Leonides nodded. “Your father sent a small number of reinforcements, but when more reports arrived at Castle Pählen, he started to think these stories were more than a bit of forest madness. By that point, eight of our guards out there were dead, and then . . . two weeks ago, Lieutenant Sullian changed into one of these beasts and had to be killed.”
“This is nonsense,” Jaromir said, unable to keep silent. “Prince Lieven’s initial instincts were right.”
“It’s not nonsense,” Leonides stated flatly, his voice carrying across the room. He looked back to Anton. “And these men who become beasts are too often killing the mine workers before they can be killed themselves. Some of the workers, with signed contracts, have been caught trying to slip away in the night. Production has come to a near halt, and your father wants this solved. He wants the silver flowing again.”
If anything, Anton appeared more puzzled than before. “Why would he engage me for this?”
As if in agreement with the confusion, Leonides shrugged and answered, “Honestly, lad, I don’t know. He said you were clever—which I don’t dispute—and he sent me here as fast as I could ride.” Reaching beneath his armor, he pulled out a piece of paper. “Oh, and he sent a letter.”
Quickly, Anton scanned the contents of the letter and then held it out for Jaromir.
Jaromir took it and read an account of everything Leonides had just related, but his eyes stopped on two carefully worded sentences:
I’ve learned that you were recently troubled by a similar, seemingly unsolvable problem, and yet you managed it. I engage you to solve this one for me, as quickly as possible, but if it proves too much for you, I can turn the matter over to your brother.
His gaze flew up to Anton’s face. First, how did Prince Lieven know about their “problem” this past spring? They hadn’t told him. Second, this was a test, plain and simple. Anton’s father wanted this solved and had given the task to Anton . . . along with a veiled threat to engage Damek instead if necessary.
Jaromir couldn’t help feeling angry. Anton and Damek were always being pitted against each other, and if Jaromir had any say in the matter, Anton would not only survive but also come out on top.
Droevinka had no hereditary king. Instead, it was a land of many princes, each one heading his own noble house and overseeing multiple fiefdoms. But . . . they all served a single grand prince, and a new grand prince was elected every nine years by the gathered heads of the noble houses. This system had served the country well for more than a hundred years. At present, Prince Rodêk of the House of Äntes was in rule.
But within two years, a new grand prince would be voted in.
Anton and Damek were sons of the House of Pählen. Their father, Prince Lieven, controlled a large portion of the western region. He’d given Damek, who was the elder brother, an aging castle and seven large fiefs to oversee. He’d given Anton a better castle but six smaller fiefs. These “assignments” were a chance for each young man to prove himself. However, Prince Lieven had been aging in recent days, and it was rumored he would soon be naming a successor as leader of the House of Pählen. It was his right to choose between his sons, and should a victor be chosen within the next two years, then that son would have the right to place his name on the voting list for the position of grand prince.
More than anything, Jaromir wanted Anton on that list.
But this task Prince Lieven had just demanded hardly seemed fair . . . to stop a contingent of soldiers in an isolated, heavily forested area from turning into beasts?
Anton looked at Leonides. “You must be weary, and I won’t have you riding back out today. I’ll have you brought to a guest room to eat and rest while I write a response. You can take it to my father tomorrow.”
The aging sword master sighed. “Thank you, lad. I’ll admit I’m not as young as I once was.”
Jaromir opened the door and called to the same girl from earlier. “Can you have this man taken to a guest room?” he asked, and again it sounded like a request. “He’ll need a hot meal as well.”
“Of course, sir. Right away.”
Leonides followed the girl. Jaromir closed the door again and turned back to Anton.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. But my father is not given to fancies. If he believes these stories, then there is some truth.”
Though Jaromir didn’t want to agree, he realized Anton was right. Prince Lieven was not given to fancies.
“All right,” Jaromir said. “The main thing your father wants is production at the mines restored. Ryazan is a four-day day ride from here, and after that, there’s no telling how long this will take to solve. We both cannot be away from Sèone for so long a time. I suggest you let me handpick a contingent of our own men and ride out to see to this myself.”
Anton was silent for a few moments, and then he said, “My father has men . . . far more men than I do—along with captains and lieutenants he trusts. Damek certainly has more men than me. Father wouldn’t be giving me this task if he thought it could be solved by sending a stronger contingent with a better leader.” He paused. “Besides, I’ve met Captain Keegan, and if he’s in charge of the mines, he’ll bristle at you riding in with a show of force, and then you’ll be at odds. No, he has to believe that he’s being sent ‘help,’ and not a challenge to competence. This must be approached differently.”
“Differently?”
Again, Anton hesitated. “Somehow, my father knows about the murders that took place here in the spring. I don’t know how he knows, but those murders were solved and stopped by three people.” He locked eyes with Jaromir. “Only three.”
Jaromir stared back at him and didn’t like where this was going.
Chapter Two
Céline and Amelie arrived at the castle that evening and made their way toward the great hall for the banquet. As they walked from the entryway down the main passage, braziers along the walls provided light. For the first time this summer, Céline wasn’t forcing herself to attend such an event. She wasn’t dreading Anton’s thinly veiled concern as he attempted to politely inquire whether or not she was using her abilities again.
Tonight . . . when he asked, she could give him some relief, for she knew his concern was partially motivated by unexpressed guilt—that what he’d asked her to do in the spring might have permanently damaged her. Tonight, she could erase his guilt, or at least ease it.
In addition, she’d worn the amber silk gown he especially liked. The square neckline was cut just above the tops of her breasts, with a point at each shoulder. The sleeves were narrow, the slender waistline fit her perfectly, and the skirt was full, draping about her in yards of fabric. The color reflected just a hint of gold, and it suited her dark blond hair, which she had worn loose.