Lhors had rehearsed the tale often on the journey here. A boy of his class would be given little time for an audience with a lord, however important his message. The more he ran the words through his mind, the less the words themselves would hurt. You must tell what happened as quickly and clearly as you can, and if the lord permits, you must ask his help.
He ran through the words once again as he turned the corner. “They must be stopped. They destroyed our village and now are more confident. Ifthey burn every village in the hills, then they will believe nothing can stop them. Then they will turn on the plain, perhaps even the king’s city. Better toend their terror with Upper Haven.” He stumbled over a badly angled cobble andglanced around furtively. No one was watching him, fortunately. “Upper Haven wassmall, but honest,” he continued to himself. “We paid the king’s tax every year,and we provided goods for the baron’s hunting lodge. Perhaps the coin is smallcompared to that of a town like New Market, but join our tax to that of the other villages…” And there I pause, Lhors told himself. Let Lord Mebree seethe answer himself, as my father would say.
He bore south at the wall, fingers trailing over its greened stones. The way was narrower here and the wall very tall and sturdy looking. On his right was a long row of joined buildings that might be houses, but they had few windows or doors, and there was no sign of people anywhere.
As the wall curved away to the left, he came upon a small baker’s shop where the smell of fragrant bread filled the air. His stomachrumbled, and he fingered the twist of fabric that held a silver and three copper pieces in his right pocket. He’d left the hill garrison with three silver piecesthe captain had pressed upon him-more money than he’d had for himself in all hislife. It appalled him how quickly it had gone, frugal as he’d been and as littleas he’d eaten. And there was still the return journey. But it would be foolishto come so far and faint from hunger at the king’s feet. He eyed the display,finally choosing a plain roll for a single copper.
The baker’s wife eyed him appraisingly as she took the coin,then split the roll and spread a generous dollop of runny cheese on it for him. “You’re too thin, lad,” she told him severely and waved him away when he triedto pay for the extra. “Most young ’uns as lean as you are would try to stealtheir bread. I appreciate honesty in a boy.”
He thanked her as graciously as he knew how, suddenly grateful for Bregya’s lessons. Odd, though, he thought as he walked away withhis mouth full of soft bread and spicy cheese. It would never have occurred to him to steal food.
The tough little loaf would have been almost enough by itself. With the addition of the cheese, his stomach was properly full, and he felt alert for the first time in days.
He drank from a fountain where water poured from the mouths of oddly shaped stone fish. There were more guards here and the long row of houses gave way to a series of pens and stables. Two horsemen, helmets eased back off their faces, rode past him at a slow amble, heading in the direction he was going. Some paces on, they dismounted, handed their reins to a barefoot boy who led the horses into a fenced enclosure close by and began unsaddling them. The men vanished, and moments later, Lhors could see the broad opening that breached the innermost wall and beyond that, the high wall.
He hesitated at the intricately wrought metal gates that gave entry to the lord’s courtyard. There were two armored and armed men flanking theopening. They looked at him sternly. To his surprise, once he’d stammered outhis name and village, they’d conferred by hand signal, then simply passed himthrough.
Once inside, he slowed to look around, but there wasn’t muchto see. The grounds were raked dirt and gravel or sand-clean, plain, andutilitarian. A few plain benches of hardwood or stone were scattered here and there, but there was no other ornamentation.
The keep was smaller and much plainer than he’d haveexpected, but then this was not a king’s palace. Still, it rose high above hishead-four sets of windows, one above the other with a guard-walk above that. Thewalls went straight up, the stone dressed so smooth there were no visible handholds anywhere. Two mail-clad men paced back and forth on the roof above the parapet. The lower windows appeared to be set at random, but their sills were deep and the openings so narrow that he couldn’t have squeezed through theentry. Structures such as this were for siege fighting, his father had told him. Archers could shoot from reasonable safety, and a small force could hold off an entire army.
But there had been no such siege warfare in Cryllor in long years and with the gods’ blessing, there would not be again. Lhors smiled as hiseye caught the large blue banner snapping in a suddenly brisk breeze. Lharis had worn that same patch of blue on the breast of his jerkin. He had been very proud of that bit of blue.
“I won’t shame it or you, Father,” Lhors whispered. “I swearit.”
He could see a walkway along the wall he’d just come through,with enclosed towers on the corners where guards could shelter from harsh weather.
The grounds were busy. Someone was hauling a cart away from the near stable. A boy steadied a nervous ass tethered to a wagon that was piled high with dull green hay while two men in grubby leathers forked the feed into tubs for other boys to carry inside.
Half a dozen men paced between the gate and keep. Three were in full armor, but the rest appeared to be servants, clad alike in dark blue trousers and shirts.
Four men lounged on a bench, and just beyond them, two servants were working on a saddle. At their backs, a boy in roughspun clothes sat cross-legged near a pile of stirrups. He was busily polishing one to a gleaming bronze and audibly groaned when a middle-aged fellow wearing only loose, greasy leather pants dropped another load of stirrups atop the pile. The older man laughed raucously, then pulled a polishing cloth from his pocket and settled down to help.
Other soldiers hovered at the buttery, drinking from leather cups. Lhors eyed them sidelong. Many of them were older, hard looking, and not all wore the blue patch. I wonder if any of them knew my father, Lhors thought wistfully. But he felt suddenly shy. He wouldn’t know what to say to such men,and likely they’d ignore him.
There were two guards at the broad step leading to the main door-a massive, bronze reinforced slab of wood that stood open. Lhors swallowedpast a very dry throat and walked up to them. The guards drew two swords each and stepped to block his way.
“Name, affiliation, and business,” one of them snapped.
“Affiliation-that means what village you’re from,” the secondadded with an unpleasant grin.
“Be polite, Efoyan,” the first chided, but he was grinning,too.
Efoyan simpered. Lhors blinked. He hadn’t expected their kindin the lord’s employ-young men who were full of themselves and what little powertheir duties gave them. Well, the trick was to keep his irritation in check. If they couldn’t get him angry, they’d give over.
“I am Lhors, son of Lharis,” he said, “of the village UpperHaven to the north. I bring the Lord Mebree word of danger.”
“‘Son of Lharis’, indeed!” Efoyan smirked. “Imagine, Doneghal!Here’s a peasant who believes he can name his sire!”
Lhors decided to let the insult pass. He would never receive an audience with the lord by quarreling with guards. He waited. Doneghal finally waved him to continue. “Some nights ago,” Lhors said, proud that his voice didnot tremble at the memory, “Upper Haven fought giants-”
Both men broke into spluttering laughter, again silencing him. “Giants?” Doneghal jeered. “There are no giants in Keoland!”
“What? Did you attack the brutes with torches and scythes, ormerely feed them bad village stew and ale?” Efoyan snickered.
Lhors set his jaw and grimly plunged on. “We did fight. Myfather was once a guard here in this very city, and he trained us boys.”