“I won’t, sir.” Alex had no doubt that was Sage’s influence at work, but she’d looked so happy to see Clare. Maybe he could convince her to travel on to Vinova with her friend.
“I met your latest dispatch the other day, Captain.” Lord Gramwell set the chalice down and looked at Alex sternly. “It was rather distressing to see you’ve learned nothing after six weeks.”
Alex tried not to fidget under the ambassador’s gaze; it was nearly as powerful as his own father’s. “Sir, I’ve almost come to the conclusion that there’s nothing to find. Perhaps we were mistaken in our assessment.”
“Are you willing to stake your career on that?”
“Not yet,” said Alex, trying to sound calm and confident. “I need a couple more weeks of scouting to be certain.”
“You have one.”
One? Alex fought back panic. “You mean with my next dispatch?”
Lord Gramwell shook his head. “No, Captain. I mean when Colonel Traysden arrives. The courier from Tennegol that caught up to us this morning carried this for you.” He reached into his traveling jacket and pulled out a sealed note. “I have my own, but I imagine it says the same thing.”
Alex cracked the seal as a cold sweat broke out over him.
Captain Quinn,
In light of your findings, or lack thereof, I have turned my full attention to your mission. If your fourth report, which by now has already been sent, does not contain any new information, I will leave for your position within a day, and you may expect my arrival a fortnight after that. If I deem it necessary, I will take command of the Norsari Battalion at that time.
Respectfully,
Colonel K. Traysden
Alex dropped the note and pulled a calendar toward him. If dispatches took ten days to reach Tennegol, the fourth one would’ve arrived seven days ago. One day to prepare and tie up necessary matters, and the Colonel would be five days into the journey south by now. No doubt he’d met the fifth report already, and he’d have the sixth in a few more days. Alex had eight or nine days before the colonel arrived. Ten if he was lucky.
Ambassador Gramwell watched him calmly. “I feel the need to remind you that Colonel Traysden handles all intelligence reports from the realm, and the issue here, though significant, is only one of his many national concerns. Your lack of progress has monopolized his attention at a dangerous time.”
Alex felt like he would be sick.
“I’m on your side, Captain,” said the ambassador. “I hope to the Spirit this is all a mistake and a conflict is not imminent.” He stood and looked down at Alex. “But whatever your assessment of the situation, I suggest you be ready to defend it when Colonel Traysden arrives.”
35
CLARE AND THE ambassador left early the next morning. It would take them the whole day to get back to the Jovan Road, where their caravan waited. Sage was saddling her friend’s horse when Lord Gramwell approached. “You’re still welcome to come along, Mistress Sage. I know Clare would love to have you with us.”
Last night Sage had dined in the command tent with the officers and their guests. Ambassador Gramwell had invited her to travel with them to Vinova as Clare’s companion. She’d politely declined the offer with a side glance at Alex, who she suspected was the source of the idea. Clare slept on a cot in Sage’s tent, and in their late night talking she admitted Lieutenant Gramwell had asked her to persuade Sage to go.
“I’m afraid I have too much work to do with His Highness,” she told the ambassador. “Her Majesty is depending on me to bring him up to the level he should be at.”
Prince Nicholas stood behind Lord Gramwell, holding his horse’s lead. He stuck his tongue out at Sage, but she kept a straight face.
“Very well,” said the ambassador. “Where is my daughter now?”
“I believe she’s taking care of some last-minute feminine issues, Ambassador,” Sage answered, knowing very well Clare was in her tent, saying good-bye to Luke in private.
“Say no more, Mistress Sage,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
A minute later Clare came walking over with Lieutenant Gramwell carrying her bag. Sage helped her friend mount her horse as Luke shook his father’s hand good-bye. “I imagine Alex will send dispatches to both Tennegol and Vinova now,” Sage said quietly. “I’ll send my reports to you, and you can forward them to the queen. It will take longer, but I don’t dare send her anything but progress reports.”
“Of course,” Clare said, taking the reins and looking quite comfortable sitting astride, despite its unladylike position. “I just hope you have something to actually say next time.”
Sage scowled. “I did plenty of work translating. More than you.”
“Well, it’s not as if you have anyone else to write to,” Clare said, then blushed. “I’m sorry, Sage, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know,” Sage said. She didn’t regret coming, and she’d never considered abandoning her mission for the queen, but if she wasn’t here, Alex would be writing to her. Ironically, Sage would be communicating with him more than she did now in camp.
The ambassador had mounted and was leading the small retinue out of the camp. Clare looked down at Sage one last time. “Bas medari,” she said, using the Casmuni phrase of greeting and farewell.
“Bas medari,” Sage replied.
When the party had disappeared up the trail into the trees, Sage turned back, thinking to skip morning training and recover from staying up so late with Clare, sorting out the Casmuni words and phrases, and arguing over which syllables to emphasize in pronunciation. Sage was lifting the flap on her tent when she realized the assembled Norsari didn’t sound like they were exercising. Curious, she headed for the open area they normally gathered on.
The men were standing at attention as Casseck called out names. When the lieutenant finished, Alex stepped forward. “Those called are excused from duties today and will report to the quartermaster for supplies. We leave at midnight.”
A ripple of surprise went through the ranks. Patrols had always been made by established platoons, but the men selected had been drawn from all four. They’d also always left at dawn, so this was either a rush, or something that required the cover of darkness. Or both. Had the ambassador given the Norsari a special mission?
Alex stepped back. “Carry on,” he told Casseck, who took charge. The designated soldiers fell out of formation and headed for the supply tents.
Prince Nicholas folded his arms and pouted. “I never get picked.”
Sage waited until nearly noon before seeking out Henry, one of the squires whose name had been called. He was in his open tent, sorting his gear while his tent mate, the prince, sulked from where he sat mending a tear in his tunic.
“Hello, Henry,” Sage called as she approached. “I heard you won’t be coming today.” The squire had eagerly joined the prince’s lessons with her, though it was probably less for learning and more to avoid cleaning out the horse pen in the afternoons.
Henry looked up. He was the scrawniest of the four squires—about her height and weight—and she was often paired with him in sparring. “Good morning, Mistress Sage. I was just telling His Highness that these patrols are less fun than he thinks.”
“He doesn’t take into account how his being gone adds to my workload,” said Nicholas peevishly.
“I’ve never been on one,” Sage replied, “so I can’t say.” She surveyed the issued gear laid out on Henry’s bedroll. “What have you got there?” she asked, pointing to a shapeless bundle.
Henry held up a long, wide strip of cloth. “I’m to make this into some kind of head scarf. Supposed to cover my face, too.” He glanced at the prince. “But someone is using my needle and thread at the moment.”
“Hold your horses,” the prince snapped. “If you’re taking the kit with you, I need to do this now.”
“Or you could just borrow Harold and Elliot’s,” said Henry.
“Harold’s using it to make his own head scarf.”