Finding a branch low enough over the stream, Martin boosted his companions out and climbed up after them. They moved along the tree until they found another branch of a nearby oak close enough to jump to.
They touched the ground again a dozen yards from the stream bank Martin glanced around to ensure they were not seen and motioned for the others to follow as he led them back toward the Grey Towers.
Sea breezes swept the walls. Arutha looked out at the town of Crydee and the sea beyond, his brown hair ruffled by the wind. Patches of light and dark flashed across the landscape as high, fluffy clouds raced overhead. Arutha watched the distant horizon, taking in the vista of the Endless Sea whipped to a froth of whitecaps, as the noise of workmen restoring another building in the town blew by on the wind.
Another autumn visited Crydee, the eighth since the start of the war. Arutha considered it fortunate another spring and summer had passed without a major Tsurani offensive; still, he felt little cause for comfort. He was no longer a boy fresh to command, but a seasoned soldier. At twenty-seven years he had seen more conflict, and had made more decisions, than most men of the Kingdom knew in their lives. In his best judgment, he knew the Tsurani were slowly winning the war.
He let his mind drift a little, then shook himself out of his brooding While no longer a moody boy, he still tended to let introspection overtake him. He found it best to keep busy and avoid such wasteful pastimes.
“It is a short autumn.”
Arutha looked to his left and found Roland standing nearby. The Squire had caught the Prince lost in thought and had made his approach without detection. Arutha found himself irritated. He shrugged it off and said, “And a short winter will follow, Roland. And in the spring.
“What news of Longbow?”
Arutha balled a gloved fist and gently struck the stones of the wall, the slow, controlled gesture, a clear sign of his frustration. “I’ve regretted the need for his going a hundred times. Of the three, only Garret shows any sense of caution. That Charles is a Tsurani madman, consumed by honor, and Longbow is . . .”
“Longbow,” finished Roland.
“I’ve never met a man who reveals so little of himself, Roland If I live as long as an elf, I don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes him the way he is.”
Roland leaned against the cool stones of the wall and said, “Do you think they’re safe?”
Arutha returned his attention to the sea. “If any man in Crydee can crest the mountains into the Tsurani-held valley and get back, it is Martin. Still, I worry.”
Roland found the admission surprising. Like Martin, Arutha was not a man to reveal what he felt. Sensing the Prince’s deep trouble, Roland changed the topic. “I’ve a message from my father, Arutha.”
“I was told there was a personal message among the dispatches from Tulan.”
“Then you know Father’s calling me home.”
“Yes. I’m sorry about the broken leg.”
“Father was never much of a rider. It’s the second time he’s fallen from his horse and broken something. Last time, when I was little, it was his arm.”
“It’s been a long time since you were home.”
Roland shrugged. “With the war, I felt little need to return. Most of the fighting’s been around here. And,” he added with a grin, “there are other reasons to stay.”
Sharing the smile, Arutha said, “Have you told Carline yet?”
Roland lost his grin. “Not yet. I thought I’d wait until I’d arranged for a ship south.” With the Brotherhood’s abandonment of the Green Heart, travel by land to the south was nearly impossible, for the Tsurani had cut off the roads to Carse and Tulan.
A shout from the tower caused them to turn. “Trackers approaching!”
Arutha squinted against the glare reflecting off the distant sea and could make out three figures trotting easily along the road. When they were close enough to be seen clearly, Arutha said, “Longbow.” There was a note of relief in his voice.
Leaving the wall, Arutha descended the steps to the courtyard to wait for the Huntmaster and his men. Roland stood by his side as the three dusty men entered the gates of the castle. Both Garret and Charles remained silent as Martin said, “Greetings, Highness.”
“Greetings, Martin. What news?” asked the Prince.
Martin began to recount the facts unearthed at the Tsurani camp, and after a moment Arutha cut him off. “Better save your wind for the council, Martin. Roland, go gather Father Tully, Swordmaster Fannon, and Amos Trask, and bring them to the council hall.”
Roland hurried off, and Arutha said, “Charles and Garret are to come as well, Martin.”
Garret glanced at the former Tsurani slave, who shrugged. Both knew the long-anticipated hot meal would have to wait a little longer upon the Prince’s convenience.