Allegiance (River of Souls 3)

“Not a problem, my lord.”

Raul glanced up. “How so? Did you—? You did, you miserable dog. Am I right?”

Ault grinned. “You are, my lord. Ada Geiss waits a day’s ride east of here.”

They discussed a few more possible complications, then which guards were best suited to which roles. Ault set off for a walk around the perimeter, while Raul Kosenmark summoned the three he and Ault had agreed on. The first two, Markou and Soubz, had served the duke in Valentain for a dozen years before accompanying his heir to the capital and later Tiralien. Both women knew Duenne and the family. The third was a younger man named Bayt, recommended by Ault, who had entered Kosenmark’s service four years ago.

“I have two difficult assignments for you,” he told them. “Difficult and dangerous ones. Are you willing?”

None of them hesitated. “Tell us only what you need, my lord,” Markou said.

I need a kingdom we can both serve honestly.

That, however, was a different matter, for a different day.

“You and Soubz must ride to Duenne,” he said to her. “Go directly to my father’s household in the northwest quarter. You remember the street? Good. There is no letter, just a message. Tell my father…” He paused to consider how to word this message. “Tell him, I come as promised. Make certain you give that message to no one but him. Remain in his household until you receive word I have spoken with the king, and the outcome of that interview. Then return at once to here. Start at sunrise tomorrow. Take our fastest horses.”

He clasped their hands and exchanged salutes. Once they were out of hearing, he gave Bayt his orders.

“You will make camp and wait,” he told the young man. “Whatever news they bring, good or bad, you will ride east, taking the same route as before. If they do not appear within the week, you do the same. You will meet Ada Geiss. Tell her what has happened. Can you do that?”

The young man saluted. “I can and I will, my lord.”

“Good. Go to our stores for provisions, gear, whatever you need for the week.”

Later, he would consider the great gift of trust and loyalty these three gave him. He could not now. If he did, he might never have the courage to proceed.

* * *

MARKOU AND SOUBZ were away as the sun was lifting over the horizon. Within another hour, the others had erased all signs of their camp, while Bayt removed himself, his horse, and his gear to a higher, more secluded site.

With Ault in the lead, and Raul riding at the center point, the remaining company descended along a well-worn path that joined up with a highway running from the southeast provinces. By the middle of the second day they had entered the central plains. It was a vastly different landscape from the Gallenz Valley. Like a golden sea, it extended without any visible end toward the west.

Two, three more days until Duenne’s city gates. If he circled around and continued west and south, he would come to Valentain in six more weeks. Another week beyond that lay Hanídos and the mountains dividing Veraene from Ysterien and the other coastal nations. It was tempting, he thought. He might ride and ride forever, leave behind this kingdom with its tangled politics and a king too weak to resolve the very problems he had created.

I must not. I cannot.

It was as though he had considered abandoning himself. He did not even need to think of Soubz and Markou delivering his message, and his father waiting in vain.

And so the company continued forward across the next bridge to the broad highway whose course echoed that of the Gallenz River. They spent a night in a riverside inn, crowded with merchants and freight caravans and other travelers. No one questioned their presence. The next morning, they rose before dawn and set off at a quick pace.

By the time they passed the first settlements outside Duenne, the sun hung midway between the zenith and horizon. Much had changed since Raul last came this way. The farmland had given way to sheep pens, butcher shops, and several enclaves with ceramic and iron works. Carts and makeshift tents lined the highway itself. Vendors shouted at Raul, waving bits of cloth, or lifting up strings of gems that glittered in the sun. Raul had to maneuver his horse carefully through the crowds to keep from trampling the unwary.

He signaled for Ault. The other man pressed forward until they rode side by side.

“We take the lead,” Raul said. “No, no arguments. Let the others keep close behind, but I must be first through the gates.”

“A symbol?”

“A warning,” Raul replied. “The king will know how to decipher that.”

“As will Markus Khandarr. A dangerous move, my lord.”

“So be it. I intend to make others. They can be friends, all my dangerous moves.”

Ault smiled wryly, but said nothing more.

Their progress was slow, but eventually they reached the gates. A dozen guards in the king’s livery stood watch on the ground. More patrolled the walls above. It was well before sunset, and people passed through the gates freely as they moved between the city and the outer markets, but the guards watched closely. One of them sighted Raul. He spoke to his companions. Now all dozen stared warily at them.