Child of Flame (Crown of Stars 4)

Matto puffed up considerably, proud to know something his companion did not. “The court attracts petitioners, and petitioners attract bandits.”

“Aren’t these Duke Conrad’s lands? I’d have thought he’d have put a stop to banditry.”

“So he might, if he were here. He hasn’t even come to the king’s feast and celebration! The Eagle sent to his fortress at Bederbor said he wasn’t in residence. No one knows where he’s gone!”

What was Conrad up to? No doubt the duke was capable of almost anything. But he could hardly ask this lad that kind of question. They came to a stream and slowed for their mounts to pick their way across. Where a beech tree swept low over pooling water, he let Resuelto drink while he waited for his mother. Although she had the pony for a mount, she refused to ride. Still, she caught up quickly enough; she was the strongest walker he’d ever met. The goat balked at the water’s edge, and his mother dragged it across the rocky shallows impatiently. She had formidable arms, tightly muscled. With the sleeves of Liath’s tunic rolled up, the tattooed red snake that ran from the back of her hands up her arms seemed to stretch and shudder as she hauled the goat up the far bank. Matto stared at her. Sanglant couldn’t tell if the boy had been afflicted with the infatuation that strikes youth as suddenly as lightning, or if he had suddenly realized how truly strange she was.

“What’s your name?” Matto blurted suddenly.

She looked up at him, and he blanched and stammered an apology, although it wasn’t clear what he was apologizing for. Her reply was cool and clear. “You will call me ‘Alia.’”

Sanglant laughed curtly before reining Resuelto around and starting down the road again. ‘Alia’ meant ‘other’ in Dariyan.

o;What happened to your wife, then?”

Grief still chafed him as bitterly as any chains. “My wife is gone.”

The sergeant softened, looking back at the infant. “May the Lord and Lady watch over you, friend. Need you an escort? There’s another sentry post some ways up the road, nearer to the palace, and then the palace fortifications to talk your way through. I’ll send a soldier to vouch for you.”

“I’ll take one with thanks. If you’ll give me your name, I’ll see that it’s brought to the king’s attention.”

The sergeant chuckled while his men looked at each other in disbelief. “You’re as sure of yourself as the rooster that crows at dawn, eh? Well, then, when you take supper with the king, tell him that Sergeant Cobbo of Longbrook did you a favor.” He slapped his thigh, amused at his joke. “Go on, then. Matto, be sure you escort them all the way to Captain Fulk, and give him over to none other. The captain will know what to do with them if they’ve lied to us.”

Matto was a talkative soul. Sanglant found it easy to draw him out. They rode on through the orchard and passed into another tangle of forest, where Jerna took advantage of the dappled light to drop down from the trees and coil around Blessing’s swaddling bands. He could sense her cool touch on his neck and even see the pale shimmer of her movement out of the corner of his eye, but Matto, like most of humankind, seemed oblivious to her. He chattered on as Sanglant fed him questions. His mother was a steward at a royal estate. His father had died in the wars many years ago, and his mother had married another man. Matto seemed young because he was young. He and his stepfather hadn’t gotten along, and he’d left for the king’s service as soon as he turned fifteen.

“I’ve been with the king’s court for fully six months now,” he confided. “They put me to work as a stable hand at first, but even Sergeant Cobbo says I’ve got a knack for weapons, so I was promoted to sentry duty three months ago.” He glanced back toward Sanglant’s mother, perhaps hoping she’d be impressed by his quick rise, but nothing about humankind interested her, as Sanglant had discovered.

“You’ve got a hankering to see battle, haven’t you, lad?” Sanglant felt immeasurably ancient riding alongside this enthusiastic youth, although in truth he wasn’t even old enough to be the lad’s father.

Matto sized him up. “You’ve seen battle, haven’t you?”

“So I have.”

“I guess you were part of the group that went south to Aosta with Princess Theophanu. It was a miracle that Captain Fulk kept as much of his company together as he did, wasn’t it? What a disaster!”

“Truly.” Sanglant changed the subject before Matto discovered that he hadn’t the least idea what disaster had befallen Theophanu’s expedition in Aosta. “Why so wide a sentry net?”

Matto puffed up considerably, proud to know something his companion did not. “The court attracts petitioners, and petitioners attract bandits.”

“Aren’t these Duke Conrad’s lands? I’d have thought he’d have put a stop to banditry.”

“So he might, if he were here. He hasn’t even come to the king’s feast and celebration! The Eagle sent to his fortress at Bederbor said he wasn’t in residence. No one knows where he’s gone!”

What was Conrad up to? No doubt the duke was capable of almost anything. But he could hardly ask this lad that kind of question. They came to a stream and slowed for their mounts to pick their way across. Where a beech tree swept low over pooling water, he let Resuelto drink while he waited for his mother. Although she had the pony for a mount, she refused to ride. Still, she caught up quickly enough; she was the strongest walker he’d ever met. The goat balked at the water’s edge, and his mother dragged it across the rocky shallows impatiently. She had formidable arms, tightly muscled. With the sleeves of Liath’s tunic rolled up, the tattooed red snake that ran from the back of her hands up her arms seemed to stretch and shudder as she hauled the goat up the far bank. Matto stared at her. Sanglant couldn’t tell if the boy had been afflicted with the infatuation that strikes youth as suddenly as lightning, or if he had suddenly realized how truly strange she was.

“What’s your name?” Matto blurted suddenly.

She looked up at him, and he blanched and stammered an apology, although it wasn’t clear what he was apologizing for. Her reply was cool and clear. “You will call me ‘Alia.’”

Sanglant laughed curtly before reining Resuelto around and starting down the road again. ‘Alia’ meant ‘other’ in Dariyan.

Alia walked up beside him. The goat had decided to cooperate and now followed meekly behind the pony, with Matto bringing up the rear. “Why are you not telling those soldiers who you are,” she asked in a low voice, her accent heavy and her words a little halting, “and demanding a full escort and the honor you deserve?”

“Since they don’t know me, they would never believe I am a prince of the realm. In truth, without a retinue, I’m not really a nobleman at all, am I? Just a landless and kinless wanderer, come to petition the king.” He hadn’t realized how bitter he was, nor did he know who he was angriest at: fate, his father, or the woman walking beside him who had abandoned him years ago. Blessing stirred on his back and cooed, babbling meaningless syllables, attuned to his tone. “Hush, sweetheart,” he murmured. Resuelto snorted.

“Look!” cried Matto. The road was wide enough that he trotted past them easily. He had a hand at his belt, where hung a knife, a leather pouch, and a small polished ram’s horn.

Up ahead where the ground dipped into a shrubby hollow, the stream looped back and crossed the road again. In the middle of the ford stood a hag, bent over a staff. Strips of shredded cloth concealed her head and shoulders. The ragged ends of her threadbare robe floated in the current, wrapping around her calves.