There was a cluster of four soldiers fighting just a short distance away. At first, Tristam had trouble distinguishing sides because they all wore Forge livery. Then he saw that two of the soldiers had blue armbands. Edlan blue.
I need more funds to gain the cooperation of Palace scribes, as well as key members of the defense forces, Willem’s note had said. Tristam had thought it a roundabout way of swaying Council votes, but Willem had actually been using the bribes to hide Edlan troops within Forge. There had been such confusion in the Palace lately, with the extra conscripts from the city. A few well-placed bribes to scribes and Red Shield commanders, a few altered documents…The more of our own that we have within the Palace, the safer our position will be.
A body sporting a blue armband lay beside one of the pathways. Tristam swallowed against his disgust and took the man’s sword. Its balance was different from his own, but it would have to do.
The men outside Willem’s house were still fighting. One of the true Red Shields had fallen, and his comrade was backed against a shrub, trying to fend off two enemies. Tristam cut one of the traitors down from behind. The remaining Edlan soldier turned to gape, and the cornered Red Shield ran him through. For a moment, Tristam and the Red Shield stared at each other, catching their breath.
“Thank you,” said the soldier.
“That was an impressive fight. I’m Tristam of Brancel,” said Tristam.
“Claren of Forge.”
They looked to the neighboring courtyard. There, five Red Shields closed in on three Edlan fighters. A line of soldiers rounded the corner, and Tristam raised his sword, only to cautiously lower it again when he saw no sign of Edlan blue. Forge soldiers still outnumbered the Edlanese, at least in this part of the Palace.
“How widespread is the fighting?” asked Tristam.
“All over the Palace grounds. There must have been some kind of signal.”
“The Defense Minister is wounded,” Tristam said. “Can you help?”
They rushed back to Willem’s house. Tristam had just thrown the door open when he heard new shouts.
“Forge men, to the city wall! Edlan’s army is at the gates!”
Kyra waited out the morning as close to the city as she dared. She climbed a tree overlooking the main road and ducked behind the trunk whenever a traveler passed by. She tried not to dwell on her worries, but it became harder as the sun climbed steadily overhead. What had become of Tristam? Would the Council believe him? She had ample time to think up worst-case scenarios, but she didn’t dare go into the Palace, at least not until dark. The last thing they needed was for her to create more trouble by getting impatient.
She heard footsteps approaching, not from the main road, but from the forest below her. Kyra froze stock-still. There wasn’t nearly as much cover for her in the winter. She hoped whoever was coming would not think to look up.
It turned out to be another one of Willem’s forest patrols. Kyra stayed silent as the men passed below her, and they were none the wiser. She watched them gather on a plot of farmland just outside the forest boundary. There they stood, waiting. Some tended to their weapons, while others simply milled about. After a while, Kyra turned her attention away from them and resumed watching the main road.
It wasn’t until a second group came and joined the first that Kyra began to wonder. And then a third, fourth, and fifth group came as well. Soon there were a hundred men standing on that field. Kyra watched as a man came walking from the opposite direction—the owner of the farm, Kyra guessed, and she was suddenly scared for him. The gathered soldiers had also noticed the farmer, and one of them went out to meet him. Words were exchanged. Kyra couldn’t hear them, but they were obviously not friendly. The soldier drew his weapon and Kyra stifled a gasp, but he didn’t strike. The farmer retreated.