‘Now I must go see to the wagons. You rest. You need it.’
Roo sat alone in the chair and felt all strength drain from him. It was all he could do to rise and move to a divan a few feet away and lie upon it, face down so as not to put pressure on his shoulder. Helen in love with him? It couldn’t be possible. Like him, yes. Be grateful for his care of her and the children, yes. But love him? It couldn’t be.
Then Roo felt all the anger, pain, and loneliness of his life rush to the surface. He had never felt so stupid, inept, and illused. Two people he thought loved him had plotted to kill him and were dead.
Now Luis was telling him that the woman he admired the most in the world was in love with him, and he must send her away. Tears came unbidden as he lay there, feeling sorry for himself, and anger at his own shortcomings. Sleep came quickly as exhaustion overtook self-pity, and it seemed only brief moments of rest were his before Luis was waking him, telling him it was time to leave his home.
Roo rose on shaky legs and let Luis give him a hand to where the wagons were lined up. Roo blinked and realized Karli, Helen, and the children were all in his coach, ready to go. ‘I let you sleep to the last minute,’ said Luis, indicating that Roo should enter the coach.
Roo glanced to the west and saw the sun rising. ‘We should have been gone an hour ago,’ he said.
Luis shrugged. ‘We had much to do and little time to do it. An extra hour will not see us safe.’ He pointed to the west.
In the grey light of dawn, Roo saw towers of smoke in the distance. Burning homes. To the northwest faint glimmers of fire could be seen. ‘They’re close,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Luis. ‘Let us go.’
Roo entered the carriage and crowded in beside Karli. Helmut, his son, sat on his mother’s other side, while Helen was flanked by her two children. Abigail sat on the floor of the carriage, between Karli’s feet, playing with a doll and singing a little song. Roo let his head loll on his wife’s shoulder, closing his eyes.
The ride was bumpy and probably would not let him sleep, but he would rest his eyes awhile. As sleep returned to Roo, he wondered how Jacob Esterbrook would do in his negotiations with the invaders.
Jacob Esterbrook sat quietly behind his desk. He knew the first moments of his confrontation with these new invaders would be critical. If he showed fear or panic, any hint of uncertainty or hostility, they would react badly. But if he was calm and merely asked to speak to someone in authority, someone who could relay his message from key figures in the Keshian court to this Emerald Queen, he was certain his position would be protected.
He had experienced some surprising distress on discovering his daughter was dead. He had never liked the girl much, but she had proved useful, as had her mother before her.
Jacob wondered why some men felt so much concern over matters of children, who remained a mystery to him.
The sound of horses outside announced the arrival of the raiders, and Jacob composed himself. He had thought of what he would say. Footfalls echoed in the hall outside, and the door was thrown open.
Two oddly dressed men entered, one with a sword and shield, the other with a bow. Both had their hair heavily greased, with long braids that hung in a semicircle below their heads, and both wore scars on their cheeks, ritual in nature, Jacob decided, rather than from combat.
Jacob held up both hands to show he was unarmed, the scroll of credentials held in his left hand. His intelligence about the far continent had told him the denizens of that far land spoke a variant of the Keshian tongue, one used years ago in the Bitter Sea, related to the dialects of Queg and Yabon.
‘Greetings,’ said Jacob slowly. ‘I wish to speak to someone in authority. I have a message from the Emperor of Great Kesh.’
The two warriors looked at one another. The bowman asked a question of the other, in a language unlike anything Jacob had ever heard before, and the one with the shield nodded to the bowman. The archer raised his weapon and snapped off an arrow, which pinned Jacob to the back of his chair.
As the light fled from Jacob’s eyes, he saw the two men pull knives and approach him.
Later that morning a captain of one of the many mercenary companies serving the Emerald Queen rode up with a squad of twenty men. They fanned out, ten circling the estate, while eight dismounted and hurried inside, the remaining two holding the horses. Every man in the company was starving and anything besides food was going to be ignored for a while.
A few moments later one of the fighters came out of the house with a disgusted expression on his face. ‘What is it?’ asked the captain.
‘Those damn Jikanji cannibals. They’re in there eating someone.’