Ha! One of the priest guards was in a tavern in Rabak after we’d left you, drinking himself to death and talking of a huge soldier who’d sliced a bag as neat as you please when someone hurled it at him. Said the coins went every which way and were gathered up by stable hands.”
“Stable hands who now have rich hands, I’d say,” Hezekiah said, more to himself than anyone.
Looking steadily at the table, Tyrus cleared his throat.
“As for Marshall Redson,” he said, calmly, “He chose his successor to be General Inermis; he will step up into the place of Marshal over the Eastern Armies, thanks to his fine commanding at the Battle of Munitio.”
At these words, Joseph’s face set as if stone.
“Inermis,” he repeated, darkly.
“Ah, yes...” Dunner said, puffing on his pipe. “A man of many talents, Inermis. He had such faith in his army that he left his horse in charge of the battle and was halfway home by the time victory was won.”
“My memory is foggy,” Hezekiah said, as he re-filled Dunner’s mug with ale. “Did we ever give that horse a medal? Some oats at least?” Tyrus spoke up.
“Our task, good men of the King,” he said, coolly, “Is to find who succeeds the Archbishop, and to discern why Inermis gained such a coveted position. Where does his allegiance lie?”
A few moments of silence reigned.
“What you should do,” Dunner said, tapping the embers from his pipe, “Is to throw one of them big to-dos... a ball. Get a bunch of rich people together and have them eat and drink until they talk too much.” Hezekiah seemed to like the suggestion.
“If you could get a few senator’s to show up, just about every general or priest in the kingdom would come,” he said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “High society has always been fond of mixing politics and wine.”
“The Spring festivals in the King’s Province will begin in less than two months,” Tyrus informed them. “A ball given between Lowe Province and the Westerly region would best suit our purposes, insuring Inermis’ attendance as well as the priests in question.”
Joseph listened in silence until he felt the other three looking at him. Standing, he cleared his throat and began pacing in front of the fires.
“Have it here, then,” he said, looking narrowly at Tyrus. The tall man’s eyes’ appeared crinkled at the corners with mirth. “It is clear you were planning on doing so this entire time,” Joseph continued. Tyrus smiled his agreement.
Grinning, the smith looked from Tyrus to Hezekiah.
“It would take an army to repair the castle in time, a score of servants to keep it, stores and furniture... I have none of these things.”
“An army you say?” Hezekiah returned, his eyes twinkling. “It just so happens that some of my men are on leave in the King’s city. Some hard work would certainly do them no harm...”
“I have built ships, lad,” Dunner said, not wanting to be left out. “A roof is just an upside-down hull, after all, barnacles notwithstanding. My ship’s crew is yours; give them some ale and good meat and they’ll be helpful enough.”
“All you need will be provided, Lord Asher,” Tyrus said, at last taking a mug of ale.
TWO
A LONE merchant cart--piled high with chairs--made its way east from the town of Dorenvines Rattling over the potholes, the cart traversed a little-used road near the coastal cliffs, leading into the estate of Stone Mountain. Its namesake peak loomed into the sky above the cliffs--like a seated, brooding giant. Wearing a thick coat of pine trees the mountain seemed to ever watch the sapphire waters of the Great Bay. Behind Stone Mountain sat a lush valley--criss-crossed by farms; it spread out until it touched the low, inland hills several miles away.
Descending into the valley, the cart encountered a gang of workmen. Two stone masons--and their apprentices--smoothed the surface of the road in the chilly morning air. Behind the gang an old,
“Stable hands who now have rich hands, I’d say,” Hezekiah said, more to himself than anyone.
Looking steadily at the table, Tyrus cleared his throat.
“As for Marshall Redson,” he said, calmly, “He chose his successor to be General Inermis; he will step up into the place of Marshal over the Eastern Armies, thanks to his fine commanding at the Battle of Munitio.”
At these words, Joseph’s face set as if stone.
“Inermis,” he repeated, darkly.
“Ah, yes...” Dunner said, puffing on his pipe. “A man of many talents, Inermis. He had such faith in his army that he left his horse in charge of the battle and was halfway home by the time victory was won.”
“My memory is foggy,” Hezekiah said, as he re-filled Dunner’s mug with ale. “Did we ever give that horse a medal? Some oats at least?” Tyrus spoke up.
“Our task, good men of the King,” he said, coolly, “Is to find who succeeds the Archbishop, and to discern why Inermis gained such a coveted position. Where does his allegiance lie?”
A few moments of silence reigned.
“What you should do,” Dunner said, tapping the embers from his pipe, “Is to throw one of them big to-dos... a ball. Get a bunch of rich people together and have them eat and drink until they talk too much.” Hezekiah seemed to like the suggestion.
“If you could get a few senator’s to show up, just about every general or priest in the kingdom would come,” he said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “High society has always been fond of mixing politics and wine.”
“The Spring festivals in the King’s Province will begin in less than two months,” Tyrus informed them. “A ball given between Lowe Province and the Westerly region would best suit our purposes, insuring Inermis’ attendance as well as the priests in question.”
Joseph listened in silence until he felt the other three looking at him. Standing, he cleared his throat and began pacing in front of the fires.
“Have it here, then,” he said, looking narrowly at Tyrus. The tall man’s eyes’ appeared crinkled at the corners with mirth. “It is clear you were planning on doing so this entire time,” Joseph continued. Tyrus smiled his agreement.
Grinning, the smith looked from Tyrus to Hezekiah.
“It would take an army to repair the castle in time, a score of servants to keep it, stores and furniture... I have none of these things.”
“An army you say?” Hezekiah returned, his eyes twinkling. “It just so happens that some of my men are on leave in the King’s city. Some hard work would certainly do them no harm...”
“I have built ships, lad,” Dunner said, not wanting to be left out. “A roof is just an upside-down hull, after all, barnacles notwithstanding. My ship’s crew is yours; give them some ale and good meat and they’ll be helpful enough.”
“All you need will be provided, Lord Asher,” Tyrus said, at last taking a mug of ale.
TWO
A LONE merchant cart--piled high with chairs--made its way east from the town of Dorenvines Rattling over the potholes, the cart traversed a little-used road near the coastal cliffs, leading into the estate of Stone Mountain. Its namesake peak loomed into the sky above the cliffs--like a seated, brooding giant. Wearing a thick coat of pine trees the mountain seemed to ever watch the sapphire waters of the Great Bay. Behind Stone Mountain sat a lush valley--criss-crossed by farms; it spread out until it touched the low, inland hills several miles away.
Descending into the valley, the cart encountered a gang of workmen. Two stone masons--and their apprentices--smoothed the surface of the road in the chilly morning air. Behind the gang an old,
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