*
‘It’s dishonourable,’ said Nikandros.
They were approaching the border sentry on the southern road that crossed from Sicyon into the province of Mellos. Damen scanned the blockade, and the patrol, which was forty men. Beyond the blockade was the sentry tower, which would also be manned, and which would relay any message across the network of towers to the main fort. He could see the armed readiness of the men. The approach of their wagons, trundling slowly across the countryside, had long since been observed from the tower.
‘I wish to restate my strong objection,’ said Nikandros.
‘It’s noted,’ said Damen.
Damen was suddenly aware of the flimsiness of his disguise, the incongruity of the wagon, the awkward mien of his own soldiers, who had had to be schooled multiple times not to call him ‘Exalted’, and the threat of Jokaste herself, waiting cool-eyed inside the wagon.
The danger was real. If Jokaste found her way out of her bindings and gag to make a sound, or was discovered inside the wagons, they faced capture and death. The sentry tower held at least fifty men, in addition to the forty here in the patrol guarding the road. There was no way to fight past them.
Damen made himself sit at the reins of the wagon and continue to drive it slowly, not giving in to the temptation to speed up, but approaching the blockade at a sedate walk.
‘Halt,’ said the guard.
Damen reined in. Nikandros reined in. The twelve soldiers reined in. The wagons stopped, with a creak and a long drawn-out, ‘Whoa,’ to the horses from Damen.
The Captain came forward, a helmeted man on a bay horse, a short red cape flowing over his right shoulder. ‘Declare yourself.’
‘We are the escort to the Lady Jokaste, returning to Ios after her labour,’ said Damen. There was nothing to confirm or deny this statement other than a blank, covered wagon that seemed to wink in the sun.
He could feel Nikandros’s disapproval behind him. The Captain said, ‘Our reports said that the Lady Jokaste was taken prisoner at Karthas.’
‘Your reports are wrong. The Lady Jokaste is in that wagon.’
There was a pause.
‘In that wagon.’
‘That’s right.’
Another pause.
Damen, who was telling the truth, looked back at the Captain with the steady gaze he had learned from Laurent. It didn’t work.
‘I’m sure the Lady Jokaste won’t mind answering a few questions.’
‘I’m sure she will mind,’ said Damen. ‘She requested—quite clearly—not to be disturbed.’
‘We have orders to search every wagon that comes through. The lady will have to make allowances.’ There was a new tone in the Captain’s voice. There had been too many objections. To stall again wasn’t safe.
Even so, Damen heard himself saying. ‘You can’t just barge in on—’
‘Open the wagon,’ said the Captain, ignoring him.
The first attempt was less like the throwing open of illicit cargo and more like the awkward knocking on my lady’s door. There was no answer. A second knock. No answer. A third.
‘You see? She’s sleeping. Are you really going to—’
The Captain called, ‘Open it up!’
There was a splintering sound of impact, as of a wooden bolt struck by a mallet. Damen forced himself to do nothing. Nikandros’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, his expression tense, ready. The wagon door swung open.
There was an interval of silence, broken by the occasional muffled sounds of an exchange. It went on for some time.
‘My apologies, sir.’ The Captain returned, bowing deeply. ‘The Lady Jokaste is of course welcome wherever she chooses to go.’ He was red-faced and sweating slightly. ‘At the Lady’s request, I will ride with you personally through the last of the checkpoints, to ensure that you are not stopped again.’
‘Thank you, Captain,’ said Damen, with great dignity.
‘Let them through!’ came the call.
‘The stories of Lady Jokaste’s beauty are not exaggerated,’ said the Captain, man-to-man, as they wound their way across the countryside.
‘I expect you to speak of the Lady Jokaste with the greatest respect, Captain,’ said Damen.
‘Yes, of course, my apologies,’ said the Captain.
The Captain ordered a full salute for them when they parted ways at the final checkpoint. They trundled on for two miles, until the checkpoint was safely out of sight behind a hill, when the wagon stopped and the door swung open. Laurent stepped out of the wagon, wearing only a loose Veretian shirt, slightly dishevelled over his pants. Nikandros looked from him to the wagon and back again.
He said, ‘How did you convince Jokaste to play along with the guards?’
‘I didn’t,’ said Laurent.
He tossed the wad of blue silk in his hands to one of the soldiers to dispose of, then shrugged into his jacket in a rather mannish gesture.
Nikandros was staring at him.
‘Don’t think about it too much,’ said Damen.