“The northeast! They’ve wintered north of us, between the mountains and the woodlands of the Dimwood. They’ve occupied the southern end of the Thunderhell Steppes, and now they’ve struck southward.”
“Southward!” Pug echoed, alarm in his voice. “They’ve attacked us?”
Patrick threw down the parchment. “Read about it. They overran a detachment held in reserve in the foothills, to reinforce whichever gap Fadawah might attempt to breach along Nightmare Ridge. They slaughtered every man in the company.”
“Are they continuing to move?”
“No,” said Patrick. “That’s the good news in this. They seem content to butcher three hundred of my soldiers, then withdraw. They left us a warning, though.”
“What is that?”
“They left three hundred stakes in the ground. Atop each was a man’s head. It’s a clear challenge.”
“No, Highness,” corrected Pug. “It’s not a challenge. It’s a warning.”
“A warning to whom?” Patrick said, his anger barely held in check.
“To anyone. To us, to Fadawah, to the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, any creature of intelligence who is near enough to see the skulls. Jatuk is telling us that the Saaur are claiming the Thunderhell Steppes for themselves and for us to stay out.”
Patrick considered it and said, “Save nomads, weapons runners, and outlaws, no one lives there I would care to name Citizen of the Kingdom, but it’s still our Realm. I will be damned to the lower hells before I allow an army of aliens to overrun my troops and declare themselves an independent nation within our borders.”
“What would you have of me, Highness?”
“In the morning I’m sending a detachment of soldiers northward. I would appreciate it if you’d accompany them. You were the one to get the Saaur out of the war. If this Jatuk wants to turn his anger against Fadawah, I’ll withdraw my soldiers along the northern ridge and even give him supplies to go assault Fadawah in Yabon. But I can’t have this bloody business go unchallenged.”
“What would you have me tell them?”
“Tell them they must cease this hostility against us, and withdraw from our lands.”
“To where, Highness?”
Patrick said, “I don’t care where. They can have safe conduct to the coast, and they can swim home for all I care, but I won’t have them telling me to stay out of any part of my own Principality! There’s been too damn much of that lately!” Patrick’s voice was rising and Pug could tell anger was getting the best of him.
“I will be pleased to go, Highness.”
“Good,” said Patrick, his tone leveling off. “I’ve sent word to Captain Subai, who’s in charge of the northern elements of our forces along the ridge, that someone would be coming. I want you to have him accompany you and I want this matter resolved. I’ve got enough to worry about with this business down in Stardock, Kesh acting foolish, and Fadawah living in my Principality to have the Saaur act up.
“If they’ll listen to reason, I’ll listen to reason. Have them tell me what we must do to get them out of our Kingdom and I will do it. But if they refuse, there’s only one thing you can do.”
“What is that, Highness?”
Patrick looked at Pug as if he were missing the obvious. He said, “Why, you must destroy them, magician. You must obliterate them from the face of the world.”
Seven - Opportunity
Jimmy grimaced.
He had one good night’s sleep, in Owen Greylock’s camp, then had spent the next five days in the saddle, tiring out a string of relay horses. He and the Knight-Marshal of Krondor rode as quickly as possible to Darkmoor, where Prince Patrick’s court was established.
Now he stood outside Patrick’s quarters, having ridden in just before dawn. He waited along with other courtiers, while the Prince was dressing for the day’s court, and thanked all the gods he could think of that at least here an ample supply of Keshian coffee was still to be found. Tsurani chocha was a reasonable substitute, but nothing kept him going like a hot mug of coffee, cut with a tiny bit of honey.
“James!” said a familiar feminine voice from behind, and Jimmy was suddenly wide awake. He turned to see a young woman approaching.
“Francie?” he asked in astonishment.
In a serious breach of court protocol, the girl threw her arms around Jimmy’s neck, and said, “It’s been years!”
Jimmy hugged the girl back. He then stepped back and regarded her. “You’re all grown up,” he said, admiring that fact. She was a tall girl, slender yet muscular in his embrace, as if she had spent a great deal of time outdoors in vigorous physical activity. Her face was lacking the usual cosmetics of the women of court; sun freckles lightly brushed her cheeks and nose. Her hair, usually a light brown, was lavishly streaked with blond highlights. She wore a very mannish vest and trousers, white shirt, and riding boots.
“I was just coming back from an early morning ride with Father and saw you standing here. Let me go change and put on something more appropriate. Where can I find you?”