Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

“The marquis was gone. The reason for taking it went with him,” the bellowing voice of Ethelred thundered. The regent must be standing very near the window, as she could hear him the best.

“Gentlemen,” Saldur said, intervening, “water under the bridge. What’s past is past. What we need to concern ourselves with is the present and the future, and at the moment both go by the same name—Gaunt.”

Again, there were other voices speaking too faintly, their sounds fading to silence. All Modina could hear was the hoeing of servants weeding the vegetable garden below.

“I agree,” Ethelred suddenly said. “We should have killed that bastard years ago.”

“Calm yourself, Lanis,” Saldur’s voice boomed. Modina wasn’t certain if he was using Ethelred’s first name or addressing someone else whose voice was too distant for her to catch. “Everything has its season. We all knew the Nationalists wouldn’t give up their freedom without a fight. Granted, we had no idea Gaunt would be their general or that he would prove to be such a fine military commander. We had assumed he was nothing more than an annoying anarchist, a lone voice in the wilderness, like our very own Deacon Tomas. His transformation into a skilled general was—I will admit—a bit unexpected. Nevertheless, his successes are not beyond our control.”

“And what does that mean?” someone asked.

“Luis Guy had the foresight to bring us a man who could effectively deal with the problems of Delgos and Gaunt and I present him to you today. Gentlemen, let me introduce Merrick Marius.” His voice began to grow faint. “He’s quite a remarkable man … been working for us these … on a …” Saldur’s voice drifted off, too far from the window.

There was a long silence, and then Ethelred spoke again. “Let him finish. You’ll see.”

Again, the words were too quiet for her to hear.

Modina listened to the wind as it rose and rustled distant leaves. The swallows returned and played again, looping in the air. From the courtyard below came the harsh shouts of soldiers in the process of changing guards. She had nearly forgotten about the conversation from below when she heard an abrupt communal gasp.

“Tur Del Fur? You’re not serious?” an unknown voice asked in a stunned tone.

More quiet murmurings.

“… and as I said, it would mark the end of Degan Gaunt and the Nationalists forever.” Saldur’s voice returned.

“But at what cost, Sauly?” another voice floated in. Normally too far, it was now loud and clear.

“We have no other choice,” Ethelred put in. “The Nationalists are marching north toward Ratibor. They must be stopped.”

“This is insane. I can’t believe you’re even contemplating it!”

“We’ve done much more than contemplate. Nearly everything is in place. Isn’t that so?” Saldur asked.

Modina strained to hear, but the voice that replied was too faint.

“We’ll send it by ship after we receive word that all is set,” Saldur explained. There was another pause, and then he spoke again. “I think we all understand that.”

“I see no reason to hesitate any longer,” Ethelred said. “Then we’re all in agreement?”

A number of voices spoke their acknowledgment.

“Excellent. Marius, you should leave immediately …”

“There’s just one more thing …” She had not heard this voice before and it faded, probably because the man speaking was walking away from the window.

Saldur’s voice returned. “You have? Where? Tell us at once!”

More muffled conversation.

“Blast, man! I can assure you that you’ll get paid,” Ethelred said.

“If he’s led you to the heir, he’s no longer of any use. That’s right, isn’t it, Sauly? You and Guy have a greater interest in this, but unless you have an objection, I say be done with him at your earliest convenience.”

Another long pause.

“I think the Nyphron Empire is good for it, don’t you?” Saldur said.

“You’re quite the magician, aren’t you, Marius?” said Ethelred. “We should have hired your services earlier. I’m not a fan of Luis Guy or any of the Patriarch’s sentinels, but it seems his decision to employ you was certainly a good one.”

The voices drifted off, growing fainter until it was quiet.

Most of what she had heard held no interest for Modina—too many unknown names and places. She had only the vaguest notions of the terms Nationalist, Royalist, and Imperialist. Tur Del Fur was a famous city—someplace south—that she had heard of before, but Degan Gaunt was only a name. She was glad the talking was over. She preferred the quiet sounds of the wind, the trees, and the birds. They took her back to an earlier time, a different place. As she sat looking out at her sliver of the world, she found herself wishing she could still cry.





CHAPTER 14





THE EVE





Gill had a hard time seeing anything clearly in the pouring rain, but he was certain that a man was walking right at him. He felt for the horn hanging at his side and regretted trapping it underneath his rain smock that morning. During thirty watches, he had never needed it. He peered through the gray curtain—no army, just the one guy.

He was dressed in a cloak that hung like a soaked rag, his hood cast back, his hair slicked flat. No armor or shield, but two swords hung from his belt, and Gill spotted the two-handed pommel of a great sword on his back. The man walked steadily through the muddy field. He seemed to be alone and could hardly pose a threat to the nearly one thousand men bivouacked on the hill. If Gill sounded the alarm without cause, he would never hear the end of it. He was confident he could handle one guy.

“Halt!” Gill shouted over the drumming rain as he pulled his sword from its sheath and brandished it at the stranger. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I’m here to see Commander Parker,” the man said, not showing any signs of slowing. “Take me to him at once.”

Gill laughed. “Oh, aren’t you the bold one?” he said, extending the sword. The stranger walked right up to the tip, as if he meant to impale himself. “Stop or I’ll run—”

Before Gill could finish, the man hit the flat face of the sword. The vibration ran down the blade, breaking Gill’s grip. A second later, the man had the weapon and was pointing it at him.

“I gave you an order, picket,” the stranger snapped. “I’m not accustomed to repeating myself to my troops. Look sharp or I’ll have you flogged.”

Then the man returned his sword, which only made matters worse.

“What’s your name, picket?”

“Gill, ah, sir,” he said, adding the sir in case this man was an officer.

“Gill, in the future when standing watch, arm yourself with a crossbow and never let even one man approach to within one hundred feet without putting a hole through him, do you understand?” The man did not wait for an answer. He walked past him and continued striding up the hill through the tall wet grass.

“Umm, yes, sir, but I don’t have a crossbow, sir,” Gill said as he jogged behind him.