back from Vérella, so if the road’s good, we’ll use them.”
“Right, sir.”
“Eat lunch first, Stammel.”
“I always do, sir,” Stammel said. It was an old jest; Arcolin felt better when he felt himself smiling again.
CHAPTER TWO
O n the road to Duke’s East, the chestnut pulled hard at first, but finally settled into a smooth canter that eased Arcolin’s tension. It would be all right. He would do what the Duke wanted, even without the Duke there—he had done it before. He had the Duke’s signet ring and the Duke’s written permission to use his funds. Worry returned. What if the Crown didn’t agree? What if they wanted to seize the Duke’s property, land, and money?
What if the sky and land turned upside down and he fell off the road? He taunted himself, then slowed to an easy jog as he came into the town. Small children ran alongside, waving. He looked around, seeing Duke’s East with a new eye.
Heribert Fontaine, the mayor, opened the door of his house as Arcolin rode up to it, and two boys stood ready to hold his horse. “News, I’ll warrant—I saw the courier go by, not even stopping for a word.”
“News indeed. I’ll come in, if I may.” Arcolin dismounted, tossing the reins to the boys. “Walk him around; don’t let him just stand in this cold.”
Fontaine held the door open and Arcolin came in. “There—left—the parlor.”
It faced east; sun had left the windows, but the room still held a little of its warmth. A bowl of apples on the table scented the air. Arcolin pulled off his gloves and took a seat at the mayor’s wave.
“You’d better read this,” he said, handing over the Duke’s message. “It’s all I know.”
Frowning, Fontaine read, his brow furrowed. Then he looked up. “The Duke …
our
Duke … is a king? Of … of Lyonya?”
“It would only surprise me more if it were Pargun,” Arcolin said. “All I know is that he’s taken Dorrin’s cohort, and headed east on the river road.”
“And the paladin? Paks?”
Arcolin shook his head. “I don’t know any more than this. Nor did the courier. I would suppose she is dead; that must be what the Bloodlord priests intended.”
“And he’s told you to do whatever you think best. Gird’s right arm! I know you’re senior captain, but—does he mean take over the domain?”
“I don’t know that, either. I’ve taken a one-cohort contract with the Vonjans. I know we’re squeezing supplies up here.”
“So you’ll take … how many away?”
“One all the way to Aarenis, if the Crown approves; the other two in the domain but not here. One cohort, under Cracolnya, to patrol the Pargunese border; one south, under Valichi, in case any ambitious lordling tries to move in. And I’ll be sending supplies from Vérella for the troops.”
“That will ease things,” Fontaine said. “And I don’t think we’ll have more trouble up here for a while. Have you told Valichi? And will you be sending out recruit teams this year? When are you leaving?”
Arcolin held up his hands. “No, I haven’t told Val—he’s here in town somewhere. I’d like you to send someone to him, tell him to come up to the stronghold today—we must have a captains’ conference. As for recruiting—not until the domain itself is settled. As for leaving—as soon as we can. I hope as soon as day after tomorrow. And now I must leave; I need to get to Duke’s West today as well.”
“And you’re in a hurry. Let me have m’wife fix you a stuffed roll for the ride, if you won’t sit down to eat.”
“I can’t stay, but I’d thank you for a roll … anything …”
In a few minutes, Arcolin was mounted again; he set his horse’s nose to the west breeze and eyed the rising dark cloud there with apprehension. His horse was willing now to canter quietly; Arcolinunwrapped the stuffed roll—hot fried ham, onions, and chopped winter greens—and took a bite. Lucky mayor, he thought as he finished, to have such a cook in