Until his last comment, Owen was prepared to open fire on the Bishop, too. Genuine compassion issued through his voice, checking Owen's anger. "I believe, sir, both of you would have benefited from that experience. Contrary to what you may have read, the Mystrian Rangers did make you all proud."
The Bishop raised his glass. "To their health and salvation."
Owen drank, wishing for more of one than the other.
Talk turned from things philosophical to local, so Owen excused himself. The Bishop promised to invite him to dinner upon his return. Owen accepted in advance and left them in the yard. He fully intended to head to his room, but as he cut through the darkened dining room, he caught sight of Bethany sitting alone in the front yard.
She looked up as he appeared before her. "Good evening, Captain. Would you like to sit?"
"Thank you." Owen looked at his hands. "I might be mistaken, Miss, but did Bishop Bumble upset you during dinner?"
Bethany sighed. "He has preached from the Gospel according to Rivendell before. While you spoke of the war, he was praising God that Norisle had brave men like you to defend it. You see, most of the Rangers were indifferent about Church and not all of them were sober when he offered his blessing."
"Was your Ira among them?"
She shook her head. "Ira attended every Sunday. At college he was studying for the clergy. The Bishop had offered to go with the Rangers. My uncle put it to a vote. The soldiers said no. They said Ira was the only minister they needed."
Things began to fit together more clearly. "I see. And Beecher, was he a bother?"
"Harmless. A puppy." Bethany smiled. "He's enchanted with Lilith. He'll never win her. Better men have tried."
"Better men like Nathaniel Woods?"
"Woods? Ha!" Bethany shook her head. "The Bishop would have Woods burned for a witch if he came near her. And Nathaniel would gladly jump into the flames."
"I didn't have the impression you disliked her."
"I hide things very well, Captain Strake." She laid both her hands on his forearm. "On your journey you will see many wonderful and dangerous things. But in no greater jeopardy will you be than you were this evening."
"I don't understand."
"You were being measured to be Lilith's husband."
Owen held up his left hand and flicked his thumbnail against the ring. "But I'm married."
"Mystria is home to the ambitious, Captain." Her eyes grew dark. "They find the ends justifying the means, so there are no lengths to which they will not go."
"You suggest many horrible things, Miss Frost."
"More so than you know, Captain." Bethany squeezed his arm. "Be careful, please, as you go, and especially as you return."
Chapter Thirteen
May 2, 1763
The Frost Residence, Temperance
Temperance Bay, Mystria
O wen got up before dawn, dressing himself by candlelight in his uniform, from his tri-corner hat with blue cockade, to boots with polished spurs. He filled his pack with extra clothes, rolled his blanket and put that on top, and pulled the pack on. He then donned his ammunition pouches, slid the pistol into a holster at his right thigh, and shouldered his musket-the bayonet for which hung from a sash at his left hip.
His duty rituals consisted mostly of caring for his weapons. The musket, when placed with the butt on the ground, ended up three inches taller than he was-the bayonet added another foot and a half. The steel barrel alone was forty-two inches long. It ended in a curved brass fitting made of two pieces. The centermost bit could be unscrewed and removed, revealing a narrow hole at the barrel's base and a hollow in the large brass piece. A firestone would be set in that hollow, then tightened down with the center-bit. A hole in the retention collar allowed a portion of the firestone to protrude, so he could thumb it and magickally ignite the brimstone.
The long gun he'd drawn from stores had seen better days. He'd cleaned it, washing, swabbing,, and oiling the barrel inside and out. He'd also cleaned and oiled the stock, then tightened down every screw he could find and replaced those he could not. He made sure the ramrod would remain in place while he traveled. Without it, he couldn't load the gun, changing the musket into a club.
The Frosts, minus Caleb, had risen early enough to see him off. Mrs. Frost handed him a loaf of bread and some cheese all wrapped up in cloth. Bethany gave him an envelope with two quills just in case of disaster. He thanked them both, his throat tightening.
His reaction surprised him, and it took him a moment to figure out why. Though they were strangers to him, they'd fed him, repaired his clothes, sewed up his wounds, and otherwise seen to his welfare. They'd done it out of a sense of duty to the Crown. And because they are just nice people.
Ultimately they had treated him more kindly than his family ever had, and when they wished him a safe journey, he knew they actually meant it.
Doctor Frost walked him to the gate. "I have enjoyed our all-too-brief association, Captain Strake. I very much look forward to your return."
"You and your family have been wonderful. I hope I have not been a burden."
"Nonsense, sir, it has been a delight." Frost drew a small book from his coat pocket. "I know you don't want extra weight on your trip, but I thought you might find this intriguing."
The tiny volume had been bound in black leather with the title "A Continent's Calling" incised in gold on the cover. Doctor Frost smiled carefully. "It was written by Samuel Haste. It inspired our debate on whether or not Mystria would be better off as its own nation. Some of your countrymen would take it as a work of treason, but I hope you find it to be something else. Mr. Haste truly loves this land and dreams of all it can become. You should understand that, and that many people share his dream."
"Thank you, Doctor." Owen slipped the book into his coat pocket. "I expect to be back before September. I would call upon you then."
"Captain, we insist you stay with us upon your return." The man smiled. "In fact, I think Major Forest might be heading north around that time, so I shall see to it that you are reacquainted."
"Most kind." Owen gave the man a brief salute. "Until then."
Owen headed off along Diligence quickly, planning to meet Woods at Westgate as the sun rose. Out toward the city's edge, where the prosperous built their stately homes, no one stirred on the broad streets. Down toward the docks the sounds of the city waking echoed through alleys and crowded neighborhoods.
The day had started with a bit of crispness in the air, but it would burn off quickly. Still, it made for easy walking and Owen couldn't help but smile. His brief trip out of the city had hinted at how much there was to explore, and he was anxious to get started.
"Walk your legs clean off at that pace, Captain."
Owen spun, leveling the musket. "Woods!"
"Thinking I was Rufus?"
"I didn't expect… I thought we were meeting at Westgate."
Wood detached himself from shadows. "So'd some other folks. Word got out."
"I told no one."
"Never 'spected you did." Woods yawned and jerked a thumb to the left. "We'll head over to Justice and go out through the pig yards."
Owen shouldered the musket again. "Are you afraid Rufus is watching us?"
"Ain't 'fraid, just cautious. Careless word here, a word sold there, might be finding trouble we ain't needing."
Owen followed him. "Are you suggesting that the Tharyngians are actively spying in our colonies?"
"Are you believing they're not?"
"No, Mr. Woods, I would imagine they are. I was asking, to be more precise, if you have any knowledge of Tharyngian spies in Temperance Bay."
"Don't suppose I do." Woods looked back over his shoulder at Owen. "Don't know that I care. Ryngian and Norillian fights don't much concern me."
"How can that be?" Owen's eyes narrowed. "What the Ryngians want to do to us should be every man's concern."