Laras frowned, as if trying to remember something important. "Oh, yes. I’m afraid it is very much finished. "Vor, let’s be gone."

  "A moment, Your Grace," Vor said, his anger and frustration still evident. "No one has said your name, but Molic has seen your face. I’m afraid that just won’t do now." Before Laras could protest, Lord Vor drew his sword and cut Molic down. One stroke without fanfare or hesitation, though it seemed almost like an afterthought.

  After his initial surprise at Vor’s deed, Laras felt strangely sad. Molic was a fool and worse, but Laras had found himself becoming become somewhat fond of him. "The risk was minimal. Was that really necessary, Lord Vor?"

  "Molic's claim depended on our being able to enforce it directly, and that's impossible now. You know as well as I that one plan may fail, and from the ashes may rise a better one. But not if the loose ends of the first knot are left dangling. I’m afraid His Late Majesty qualified as one such."

  Molic was dead. There was nothing more to say, or to do. Duke Laras was somber as he recalled his men and rode away as the tide of battle turned against the hired soldiers dying on the banks of the river.

  §

  Tals, Albon’s second, rode up and dismounted just as the healers were finishing. "Well fought, Your Highness. Albon would have said so."

  Prince Galan winced as one of the healers gave one last pull on the bandage on his upper arm. "Father insisted on weapons practice even though I had little interest or aptitude. The man’s wisdom continues to astonish me." Galan looked at one still form only a few yards away and felt a rush of nausea that he barely contained, remembering. "Sir Albon is dead, isn’t he? He died defending me. As did several good men."

  Tals removed his helm and nodded, then wiped away a trickle of sweat and blood with one gauntleted hand. "I’m sorry, Highness. We were taken unawares and that is inexcusable."

  Galan took a sip from a wineskin and felt a little better. He looked around at the carnage. "This wasn’t a chance encounter with a Free Company, not within my own borders," Galan said. "And we had no warning because they were waiting, hidden. They knew we were coming."

  Tals sighed. "That was my conclusion as well, Highness. Still, it is very strange."

  "What is? That someone would seek my life?"

  Tals shook his head. "No. Your pardon, Highness, but Albon taught me that a counselor’s main duty is to speak truth as best he understands it. There is more than one faction that could find some advantage to a dynastic void; indeed there are such in any kingdom. No, I was speaking of the rather pathetic disguises the ambushers wore, and the very fresh hoofprints we found on that ridge." Tals pointed to a section of high ground just opposite the fording place. "The tracks are muddled, but we estimate about twenty horse, maybe more. Whoever was there had a good view of the battle."

  "And could have changed the outcome," Galan said, looking thoughtful. "Why?"

  "Why what, Highness?"

  "If they were in league with the ambushers—and I find their presence hard to explain otherwise—why didn’t they attack when it would have mattered? We were hard pressed there at first and for quite a while after. A charge might have made all the difference, and not in our favor."

  "A very good question, Highness, to which I have no answer," Tals said. "I’m sorry."

  Galan smiled weakly. "No need, you of all people. Your shield was at my side today more times than I can recall. Did you find anything else?"

  "Just a dead farmer, Highness. Probably used as a guide and then slain when his work was done, poor sod."

  "Indeed," Galan said. "Someone has a lot to answer for. I intend to see that they do."

  Tals hesitated. "There’s another matter that I would bring to your attention right now, since the greater ones must wait in any case."

  "What is it?"

  "Sir Lokara of House Tandas also fell today. His two squires were due to be knighted when we reached Korsos. Under the circumstances they have requested that it be done now and, in the absence of their lord, that you would do the honors."

  Galan smiled a little wistfully. "I was always meant for either Monastery or University, Tals, as you well know. I never won my spurs nor thought I would miss them, and only a knight may create another knight. Much as I hate to disappoint anyone who fought for me today, I cannot in good conscience grant what I do not possess."

  Tals smiled. "Well spoken, Highness. And anticipated." He raised his hand and three knights approached. Galan recognized them all, and knew the nobility of their Houses and their service to his father. Earl Caras carried a bare sword across his arms, Lord Moltai a belt and scabbard, and Earl Nond a pair of golden spurs. Galan looked from one to the others in total confusion.

  "What does this mean?" he asked finally.

  Tals broke into a wide grin. "Highness, it means that every man who fought for you and with you today believes your golden spurs are missing, and with your kind permission, these gentlemen will now rectify that before we ride on to Tonara."

  After Nond and Moltai buckled on his swordbelt and spurs, Earl Caras himself touched Galan’s shoulders with the sword and then gave him the traditional blow that sealed the ceremony, not to mention ringing Galan’s ears.

  "I wish your father had lived to see this," Earl Caras said, weepily. "He would be the proudest man in the world."

  "Aye, though even more I wish my brother had seen it," Galan said, and spoke the last part silently, for himself alone. He would have split a gut laughing.

  The squires were properly knighted in turn, and then they all rode on toward Korsos for the final leg of the journey. As he rode, Galan wondered if any anticipation of the coming coronation at the splendid palace at Tonara could even begin to match that one small ceremony by the River Kor. A ceremony done, at least for the most part, because those whose right it was to judge deemed it the worthy thing to do.

  §

  "So much to do," Seb said, "especially with their own dead and wounded to see to. Yet they had time for this."

  Seb and Tymon stood together on the ridge, looking down at the low mound of earth and single standing post that marked Molic’s grave.

  "That’s Galan’s hand showing, I wager," Tymon said. "There’s a streak of kindness in him. I hope it doesn’t interfere with his ability to reign."

  "Kindness not being a virtue in a king?"

  "For its own sake? No. More like an expensive luxury that ofttimes your subjects can ill afford. When properly seasoned with the right mix of self- interest and justice? A tool. No different from cruelty or praise or reward or punishment. All useful in their different ways to a king."

  "And some who are not kings, Tymon? What was in that letter I brought to Duke Laras’ nursery?"

  Tymon sighed. "It was simply a promise, Seb, sworn on the infamy of my name and marked with a few sigils of tavern-trick magic in case there was doubt. A promise."

  Seb waited, and finally Tymon scowled. "All right, Seb. I promised Duke Laras I would kill his wife and child in some horrible fashion if he didn’t call off his hounds. The presence of the letter alone would make the threat credible and, yes, I damn well would have done it if need be." Seb just stared at the Magician for several long moments, and finally Tymon smiled grimly. "You look like a carp when you do that. So. Has your opinion of me sunk even lower?"

  "It’s not that, Tymon. I’m just astonished that it worked. I mean. I would have thought someone who could plan the death of Prince Galan so easily would be made of something closer to stone than willow wood."

  Tymon turned away from the grave and started back toward their horses, and Seb followed. "Laras has ambitions, Seb, but as far as I can winkle them out they are not of a dynastic nature. Witness his use of poor Molic rather than taking the lead himself. Rather a refreshing change, given his family’s history. His marriage, arranged as they all are, turned into a love match and he dotes on his daughter as much as any father ever did. You don’t survive as a royal duke without a ruthless streak, but there’s love in him as well. It made him vulnerable and I used that."

  "You don’t sound proud of it."

  "I’m not, Seb. I pray I never would be proud of such a thing." Tymon mounted his gelding, and after a moment Seb followed onto his own horse.

  "Still, we were much safer when you were thought dead. It’s a shame to lose that."

  "A necessary sacrifice, Seb," Tymon said. "Just one of many."

  Seb urged his mount forward to stand beside Tymon’s. "So. Where are we going?"

  "Wylandia."

  Seb sighed. "I hope your reason is a good one. You realize, of course, that everyone from the lowest pigherder to the highest duke knows your face there?"

  Tymon nodded, even as he guided his mount toward the north. "My death, pleasant a respite though it was, could not last. We both knew that."

  Seb nodded, looking unhappy. "Still ... pity."

  §

  Galan’s escort was nearly to Korsos before he asked the question that had begun to trouble him soon after the battle at the Kor. "There was more to my knighting than you’ve said, Tals."

  The young man’s expression didn’t change. "Highness, how so?"

  "Oh, I doubt not the sincerity of the earls, but the fact that I handled myself acceptably in one skirmish wouldn’t have rated the accolade in and of itself."

  Tals shrugged slightly. "Albon told me that, in almost any matter involving mortal humankind, there is the surface and there is what’s beneath, and often what’s beneath is buried so deep that even those involved most directly do not see it. If you wish, I will tell you what I see."

  "Please," Galan encouraged.

  "Well then," Tals said, keeping his voice low after a quick look to judge those within earshot, "first there is the matter of knighthood itself. Though it is nobler in theory than it ever manages in truth, at least the shared ideal creates a bond of sorts, even among enemies. So it is counted a good thing that one who commands knights should also be one. Not necessary, no, but a good thing."

  "That’s first. What’s second?"

  "Second, by knighting you themselves, the earls place you in some small way in their debt . . . well, not debt exactly. Say rather they create a special bond with you. Not that they were thinking of that solely, or even at all, but it is there."

  "As by my accepting knighthood of them I have tied these earls even closer to the royal house, and to my considerable advantage under the present circumstances."

  Tals smiled. "Spoken like a king. Though I presume to think this occurred to you after all was done. As I said, beneath the surface. Present but not uppermost in anyone’s thoughts. You judged the honor a sincere one, Highness, and as your earls understand honor more than they ever will intrigue, I am inclined to agree. On that level it is enough to just accept it."

  "I do. Yet can a king ever be content with the surface of things?"

  If Tals had an answer to that he never got to give it. They were interrupted by a lone rider, one of the scouts sent on ahead in an attempt to avoid more surprises. "An armed body approaches from the south," he man told them. "The banner and livery is that of House Korsos."

  Galan frowned. "So soon?"

  "Our messenger would have reached him yesterday. I assume he brings force in arms as a show of support," Tals said.

  "Surely we could expect no difficulty this close to Korsos?"

  Tals shrugged. "Unlikely, but this show is solely for your benefit I’ll wager. Duke Molikan is demonstrating his loyalty in light of what’s happened."

  Galan looked puzzled. "No one has accused him of anything."

  "No, but he doesn’t know that. I also believe it is an embarrassment to him that the attack occurred as close to his territory as it did. He may try and make amends for that, and if so I think you should let him, Highness. It’s possible he will misread any hesitation on your part as suspicion, and that’s one wheel we don’t want to start turning."

  Galan thought about it. "I see your point. Albon chose you well."

  Tals smiled wistfully. "I’ll accept the compliment, since it’s really a compliment to my mentor. That ambush didn’t cost Borasur as much as it might, for which we all give thanks, but the price was still very high."

  "Indeed."

  With Duke Molikan’s escort they reached Korsos without incident. After his time on the road and in a succession of small manor houses, Galan’s quarters in Duke Molikan’s smallish castle felt almost decadently comfortable. He made sure his escort was billeted properly, but after that he indulged in the luxury of a hot bath and several hours uninterrupted sleep before letting events intrude on his attention again. He joined Duke Molikan for breakfast as Tals and two guards stood at a discreet distance.

  "Any news?" Galan asked, as he attacked a plate of bread and cheese.

  "Not very much, Highness, I’m afraid," the Duke replied. He was about Albon’s age, graying but still vital, but there the resemblance ended. Galan looked into the man’s face and could find not one trace of guile, try as he might.

  The Powers witness, as I must and will have men like Tals around me, so will I not forget those like Molikan who do not look below appearances nor wish to. I need both.

  "We found tracks on the eastern border, heading north, which from the number and direction might have been the horsemen you seek. As far as we can tell they have not returned the same way. We lost the trail near the Hossos River."

  "It would make sense to take an alternate route on the retreat," Galan said, and Molikan nodded.

  "That was my thought as well, Highness. To do otherwise would freshen a cold trail and ‘Caution is useful in retreat as well as advance,’ as it is said."

  Galan brightened. "You’ve read Koban’s TREATISE ON TACTICS AND FIELD ORDER?"

  Molikan smiled. "I’m afraid not, Highness; I’m no scholar. I learned that from my late father, who was a great friend of Sir Koban. It’s possible Father got that from him. Or the other way around. There’s an inscribed copy in my library, if you’d care to see it."

  Galan smiled. "That I would. I’d be pleased if you’d show me—"

  They were interrupted by a servant who entered the room hurriedly and whispered in Tals’ ear. Galan could have sworn that Tals looked surprised; as his counselor approached the table, Galan was sure of it.

  "Tals, what’s happened?"

  "It seems you have a visitor, Highness. A woman. She insists on you seeing you now, and no doubt she will get her wish."

  Galan sighed. "This isn’t the best time for an audience, in light of the circumstances."

  "I presume again, to think you might reconsider. It’s Princess Ashesa of Morushe."

  Shortly Galan and Ashesa were together but not alone. Such a thing was close enough to impossible now as to make little difference. Tals and a member of Ashesa’s escort kept a discreet distance in Duke Molikan’s hall, but they were never out of sight nor allowed the royal couple to be either. Galan wondered how different things might be after they were married or if indeed they would different at all.

  "Protocol," Ashesa said. "I understand it, but I don’t like it."

  "I’m understanding more of it than I ever thought needful," Galan said. "But enough of that. I’m very happy to see you, Ashesa, and yet—"

  "Puzzled, I fancy. Margy was too, when I told her what I planned. I spoke to some of your escort outside. I heard what happened at the Kor, Prince Galan, and I’m very happy to see you, too. Is the wound painful?"

  Galan frowned, then glanced at the bandage on his arm, freshly changed after his bath. He’d almost forgotten about it. "Almost literally a scratch, Highness, and no sign of festering. I was luckier than many."

  "I’ve spoken to some of your escort and there are men in your service who claim it was more than luck. That there was a hint of your brother about you that they had not seen before."

  It could have been his imagination, but Galan thought there was an intensity to Ashesa’s gaze that was a bit unsettling. He also realized—with a little annoyance—that he was blushing, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. "Men believe what they will," he said, then smiled hesitantly. "I'm reliably informed that I didn’t disgrace myself, for which I’m also grateful. Still, I know you didn’t come to see me about the fight at the Kor."

  She shook her head. "In truth I knew nothing of it until I arrived at Duke Molikan’s castle. I came to tell you something, Galan. Something I think you should know before you make any public announcements about the marriage alliance." Galan barely had time to register his bewilderment before the words came rushing out of Ashesa. "Tthe magician called

  Tymon the Black did not kill your brother."

  He frowned. "He didn’t? Then who ...?"

  She didn’t turn away from him, though he could see that she wanted to.

  "I did," she said.

  Ω

  8 settling accounts on an empty purse

  Seb and Tymon spent just one night in the Kuldun monastery; it was the last stop before attempting the mountain pass that would take them to Wylandia. It was still early enough in the season that ice shouldn’t be a threat, but this pass wasn’t the main business artery between Wylandia and Morushe. Rather it was more of a smuggler’s route known for its predators, human and otherwise, and wasn't called "The Serpent Pass" for nothing. It was still preferable to the main pass to the east; there the danger was that Tymon would be recognized, and Tymon and Seb agreed that this was more reason to worry than a few ragged highwaymen.

  Tymon went off to pay his respects to the Abbot. Seb waited in their quarters, grateful for a warm hearth and a bit of wine. By the time Tymon returned, Seb was feeling quite mellow.

  "So. How is His Eminence?"

  "Tolerable, for someone so close to death."

  Seb blinked. "The Abbot is ill? I’m sorry; I didn’t know."

  "I didn’t say he was ill. I said he’s close to death. That is to say, he’s studying mortuary customs of the Kaleal. It’s rather taking most of his focus right now and he’s feeling too morbid for proper company. I do wish he’d chosen a cheerier subject, but scholarship has its own reasons."

 

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