“Then to the one-time king of your Thesa,” Amanvah waved her hand impatiently. “Our scholars have speculated that the king’s line must go back to the first Deliverer’s Northern heirs for the throne to be legitimate.”
“Might be,” Rojer said, “though I wouldn’t go spouting such things at court. The Rhinebecks haven’t more than a touch of royal blood to them.”
“Oh?” Leesha asked.
“Demonshit,” Wonda said. “If Duchess Araine ent royal, no one is.”
“Oh, Araine is royal enough,” Rojer said. “She was married to Rhinebeck the First’s son in an effort to give his coup legitimacy. But Rhinebeck the First was first minister, without an ounce of royal blood. He invented the machine to stamp klats, and it’s said he kept one in five the machines made. By the time the old duke died without a son, he was the richest man in Angiers, and every royal house vying for the throne was in his debt.”
Amanvah smiled. “Your people are different from mine, husband, but not so different.”
“This is Rhinebeck the Third’s problem,” Rojer said. “If he dies without an heir, there are any number of houses with as good a claim to the throne as his brothers’. They might manage to keep power, but it will cost them, and make the succession ripe for interference from the north. Klats are well and good, but Euchor can fill their enemies’ coffers with gold.”
“That’s not all he can fill them with,” Leesha said, but she did not elaborate.
They moved out of the Hollow proper the second day, but the road leading in was well warded, with caravan camps at regular intervals. They kept moving well after dusk, pressing on to the garrison of Wooden Soldiers at the edge of Thamos’ territory.
Rojer was out of the coach the moment the caravan called a halt, stretching his restless limbs with his tumbler’s warm-up.
“Gone stir-crazy?” Gared asked, swinging down from Rockslide, his massive Angierian mustang, as easily as any of Thamos’ cavalry commanders.
“Needed the stretch,” Rojer said.
“Ay,” Gared said. “Reckon it’s exhausting, sleeping in furs all day with three women.”
Rojer smiled. “If that’s what you think, the duchess needs to find you a bride more desperately than we thought.”
Gared laughed, and Rojer deftly rolled with the blow as the big Cutter accented the sound with his customary slap on the back.
Rockslide turned their way, but Gared had a fat apple in hand. The animal snatched it with a bite that could easily take a grown man’s head and turned back, chewing quietly as Gared ran a brush against the stallion’s neck.
Rojer shook his head. “Gared Cutter I met a year ago barely knew which end of a horse was which.”
“A season ago, even,” Gared agreed. “I could get here to there, but I never liked the corespawned things.” He looked back at the horse, standing proud as if it were doing him a favor by allowing itself to be brushed. “But old Rocky here’s got no patience for raw wood.”
“As fine a specimen as I’ve ever seen,” Count Thamos said. “Forgive me, Baron, but I wish every day I’d seen him first.” Rojer turned to see Jasin heeling the count like a dog. Careful to stand well out of reach.
“Offer stands, Highness,” Gared said, holding out the reins with a smile. “You last a full minute in the saddle, and you can take him.”
Rockslide snorted, and Thamos bowed with a laugh. “I know weighted dice when I see them, Baron. I’ll simply take heart that you ride at my command.”
“Ay,” Gared said, only hesitating a little. With Arlen gone, he had grown increasingly dependent on the count. If the Warded Man never returned, he would soon be Thamos’ man through and through.
“The road ahead is unwarded,” Thamos said. “My garrison commander says the increased traffic has drawn demons by the score. It will cost us additional time, but I do not think we should proceed after dusk from here out.”
“Nonsense,” Leesha said, coming up to them. Thamos glimpsed her, and quickly averted his eyes. “We have warded weapons and skilled warriors. If your brother cannot ward his roads and keep them clear, the Hollow should offer assistance.”
Thamos’ jaw tightened. He raised his eyes to her at last. “We have warriors, yes. We also have Herb Gatherers. Foreign dignitaries. Jongleurs. These are not people prepared to go out in the night.”
Leesha snorted. “Rojer alone could protect the entire caravan.”
Ay, don’t bring me into this, Rojer thought.
“How dare you speak to His Highness like that, Gatherer,” Goldentone said. “Prince Thamos is commander of the Wooden Soldiers. He needs no military advice from you. The caravan clearings ahead are filled with beggars these days in any event. Coming in we had to send a squad ahead each day to chase them out before we made camp, and no doubt the filthy rats moved right back in after we passed.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then everyone turned their gaze to Jasin, who wilted under the combined glare. Gared balled his huge fists, and Wonda put a hand on the bow hanging from her saddle.
Thamos’ voice was low, dangerous. “Are you telling me, Herald, that you ran peasants from their wards just before dusk each night on your way to the Hollow?”
Jasin paled. “I was bid to come to you with all haste …”
Thamos moved faster than Rojer would have believed of a man in armor, closing the distance and striking Jasin a sharp backhand that dropped him onto his backside.
“Those people are under my brother’s protection!” Thamos shouted. “They are refugees driven from their homes, not beggars and bandits!”
Jasin had been wise enough to stay down, and Thamos kicked him into a roll. “This is how you represent the crown? By sending those who come to us for aid to their deaths?”
Jasin deftly turned the roll into a tumble that brought him to his knees before the enraged count, his hands clutched together as if in prayer. “Please, Highness. It was by the duke’s own command.”
Everyone had gathered to watch the scene, or stuck heads from carriages. Not just the travelers, the Wooden Soldiers from the garrison were gathering as well, ready to leap to Thamos’ command. All equipped with warded weapons and armor.
The count turned to them. “Are the Wooden Soldiers so unprepared they can’t build their own camps? They need to drive the weak out into the night?”
The captain of the garrison came forward, dropping to one knee before Thamos. “No, Highness, we are not. But the herald speaks true. Duke Rhinebeck himself signed a decree that all who use royal caravan clearings without license are to be driven out.”
Lines appeared on Thamos’ face as his jaw tightened again. “My brother doesn’t have to look peasants in the eye when he condemns them. But you men did.”
The captain put his head down farther. “Yes, sir. And the Creator will judge.”
“No more!” Thamos barked. His voice rose smoothly as he addressed the soldiers directly.
“Perhaps I have not been clear enough in my expectations of your men. For that, I apologize. But listen you well now, that none claim ignorance later. Every human life in Angiers is your charge. They are yours to protect. Not to drive from the safety of their wards. Not to bully, swindle, or solicit bribes from. Not to touch their women. Am I heard?”
“Ay, Commander!” the soldiers shouted as one.
“AM I HEARD?” Thamos cried a second time.
“AY, COMMANDER!” the men thundered.
Thamos nodded. “Good. Because those who forget will be hung in Traitor’s Square as an example to others.”
Rojer saw Leesha staring at him with tears in her eyes. When the count turned from the crowd she moved toward him, but he smoothly dodged out of her path, coming up to Gared. “General, ready the men. We’ll move on down the road after dusk, culling the demons as we go.”
Gared punched his chest. “We’ll mow them like grass, Yur Highness.”
Thamos turned to Rojer. “Despite Mistress Leesha’s assurance, I do not wish to see any of the duke’s guests exposed to any undue risk. Will you cast your spells to keep the demons from the carriages?”
Rojer bowed. “Of course, Highness.”
“You must be joking,” Jasin said. “We’re to entrust our lives to that … ?”
Thamos leveled him a look at the edge of patience. “That what?”
It was such a delight, seeing Goldentone squirm. Rojer began to think he might have a chance to come forward after all. Have the Jongleurs’ Guild whisper his villainy in the right ears …
Rojer couldn’t help but twist the knife. “Fear not, Secondsong, the demons will never come near you.” He threw his most mocking smile. “Unless I want them to.”
Rojer knew it was a mistake the moment he said it, but the way Goldentone paled made it worth the risk.