“Ho, Fergus.”
Fergus looked up when he heard a boy’s voice, and broke out in a smile when he saw who it was. “Tapel! Lord of the Sky, lad, another beating, eh?”
“I gave a bit back,” Tapel said.
“I’m sure you did. Here, get in. Next stop, the Crystal Palace.”
“Was that last man a Veldrin?” Tapel asked as he hopped into the boat.
“Why do you ask?”
“He sniffed when he passed me. I hate it when they do that.”
“Some of them think we’re barbarians,” Fergus said, pushing off. “Don’t mind them, lad. A lot of strangers in Sarostar, though.”
“You’ve noticed too?”
“Eh?” Fergus grunted as he put his back into the oars. “Noticed what?”
“Oh, nothing. Well, tell me, do you think this is strange? I saw a one-eyed man a few weeks ago. He was walking through the Poloplats market, dressed as a wealthy merchant. He was buying goods in the section where they sell stores. You know, salted meat, biscuits, that sort of thing.”
“What of it?”
“I swear I saw the same man again, just yesterday,” Tapel said. “This time he was dressed as a beggar.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not really.”
“You should say something to someone at the palace. Or perhaps your instructor.”
Tapel shuddered. “Bladesinger Bartolo? I couldn’t.”
“Well, sometimes people like you and me notice things that others don’t. We’ll keep an eye out, eh?”
Tapel gave a weak smile as he touched a red mark on his head, and Fergus saw a boy struggling with the expectations that had been placed on him. “All right. Thanks, Fergus.”
“Your mother’s well?”
“Yes, she’s fine. I miss Ralanast, though.”
“I used to visit family there, did I tell you?” Fergus said.
“What district do they live in?”
“They’re dead. Killed in the war.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, lad. I lost my cousins, but you lost your pa. Do you miss him?”
“He used to yell at my mother,” Tapel said. “Rogan’s good to her.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Used to scare the daylights out of me, Rogan did. I like hearing about him from you, though. We all have our softer side, and it’s nice to know he’s no exception.”
“He’s not that soft,” Tapel said wryly.
“I’m sure he’s not.” Fergus chuckled. “But don’t you worry, Tapel.”
Fergus pulled up at the dock near the Crystal Palace.
“You’ll make him proud.”
8
Miro rubbed sleep from his eyes as he examined the new wall outside Sarostar. In the long series of defenses between Castlemere and Sarostar, this was the final bulwark. If he didn’t hold them here, Altura’s capital was doomed.
It was early dawn, and the distant treetops in the direction of the coast were tinged with golden light. Behind Miro the city was waking, merchants taking goods to the Poloplats markets and officials hurrying to appointments that simply couldn’t wait. Already the sound of chisels and hammers filled the air, soldiers-turned-workmen muttering as they fitted blocks and dug trenches, lifted cannon and felled trees. The fresh scent of the forest wafted in on a cool breeze, banishing the smell of stone and upturned earth.
Miro kicked the tall wall with a booted foot as he looked up at its summit. The thick barrier was made of solid stone, the blocks tightly fitted together and bound by strong mortar. The wall curved slightly, its arc covering the final approach from Castlemere. At regular intervals Miro’s men had built round towers, and on each tower a brass cannon pointed at the sole road from the free cities.
Commodore Deniz, the Veldrin naval commander who had led his people to safety in Altura, had helped Miro place and sight these cannon. Miro was reluctant to take too many cannon from Deniz’s fourteen Veldrin warships—all needed for the naval struggle—and he and Deniz had settled with Miro taking a third of their original complement. Miro and Beorn then distributed their cannon evenly between these defenses at Sarostar and those at Castlemere. Miro had a few mortars, but too few, and just one solitary dirigible.