Morio had one final shot. “I pray to the One she is never put to that test,” he said.
“Such grand words of support for my hikui cousin, Father,” Raidu commented. “If only you had the same confidence in me.”
The mildness of Raidan’s tone stood in sharp contrast to the irritation he felt. “I have always supported you, even when you’ve given me ample reason not to,” he replied.
After the war council, Raidan had retired to the chamber he shared with Raidu and Kaisik to prepare himself for bed. Both his sons had accompanied him, but while Kaisik seemed eager to seek his pallet, Raidu remained alert and restless.
“Morio was right, Father. The people won’t accept Jelena as queen, even if there’s no one else for the job. Besides, she’ll never get the chance. We’re going to win this fight and you’ll take your rightful place as king.” Raidu’s smile reminded his father of a young wolf’s toothy snarl.
“Our uncle’s not dead yet. Stop talking about him as if he were!” Kaisik snapped. He had already undressed and now lay on his pallet, a light blanket pulled up to his chin. He glared at his older brother, his brown eyes uncharacteristically stern.
“Easy, Little Brother,” Raidu soothed. “I meant no disrespect to our uncle.” He turned to look at Raidan. “I can’t sleep now, Father,” he announced. “I’m going out.” He strode to the door and departed before Raidan had a chance to object.
The elder prince sighed in annoyance. Raidu was a grown man, no longer bound by the strict rules governing his younger brother. He could come and go as he pleased.
No doubt he’s spotted a comely servant girl and has gone off to find her. A quick tryst in a corner somewhere and then he’ll return…
Raidan, still dressed in his dusty undertunic and breeches, removed his boots and lay down on the big bed. He doubted he would get much sleep this night.
The prince turned his head to stare at his younger son’s face. The boy’s eyes were closed, as if he had already fallen asleep. The prince thought about the stark differences between his two sons, and about what he believed their relationship to be like.
Raidu had always been protective of Kaisik, and yet, they seemed more like master and servant than brothers. Raidu commanded, Kaisik obeyed; most folk would agree that this was the proper way of things. Still, it pleased Raidan to see Kaisik speak up to scold his brother.
Raidan made the decision to work harder to encourage his younger son’s independence.
“Kaisik,” he called out softly.
The boy’s eyes popped open. He had not been asleep after all. “Yes, Father?”
“Tomorrow, I want you to ride out with the scouts to reconnoiter the pass,” the elder prince said.
“But, Father, Raidu is going up to the west ridgeline. He’ll want me to go with him.”
“I don’t care. It’s time you had some experience on your own. Raidu can do without you for one day. He’ll just have to fetch and carry his own gear, now won’t he?”
“Yes, Father,” Kaisik murmured, but Raidan couldn’t tell if he heard relief or worry in the boy’s voice.
A sudden noise broke the quiet. Someone pounded on the outer chamber door, shouting with great urgency. Kaisik sat up on his pallet, eyes wide with alarm. Raidan jumped up and reached the door in three quick strides. He jerked it open to reveal a man dressed in castle livery, standing at the threshold.
“My lord Prince, come quickly! There’s plague in the castle! My lady needs you now!” the man cried. His fear stung Raidan like a cloud of angry hornets.
The prince rushed to pull his boots back on. “Stay put!” he growled, jabbing his finger at Kaisik, then turning back to the servant he ordered, “Take me to your mistress!”
The servant led the way through a series of darkened back corridors into the part of the castle frequented only by the staff. Muttering about “the end times” and wringing his hands, he kept glancing over his shoulder as if to assure himself Raidan still followed.
The two men rushed through the castle’s cavernous kitchen, lit only by the crimson glow of banked fires, and came to a hallway lined with wooden doors, most of them thrown open to reveal plain, serviceable furniture. At the far end, a whispering, weeping clutch of castle folk clogged one of the doorways.
“Step aside!” cried Raidan’s guide. “Step aside for his Highness!” The servants melted against the walls, their heads bowed. The air thrummed with their fright. Raidan stepped into the room, and Odata greeted him with a curse and a question.
“Goddess’ tits! What are we going to do now?”
A Prince No More
This is not good, not good at all,” muttered Sen Sakehera. He paced the length of Odata’s small study in quick, jerky strides. “You’re the physician, Raidan. Is there anything we can do to stop this from spreading?”
“Yes, but it’ll make defending Tono nearly impossible,” the prince replied. “We’d have to seal up the castle.”
In total, three castle dwellers had already fallen ilclass="underline" a housemaid, a kitchen drudge, and the guardsman Raidan had been called out to examine.
“What if we isolate the sick and anyone who came in contact with them?” Odata suggested.
Raidan nodded, impressed with the lady’s grasp of the basic scientific principle of quarantine. “Yes, that would be ideal, but there’s no way to know how many people may have been exposed, since we still don’t know exactly how this disease is spread. It would mean losing most of your kitchen staff and at least half of the castle guard. No, it’s just not practical.”
“What if all the lords and their staffs move out and set up camp outside the walls,” Sen said. “That way, at least, we’ll lessen the risk to the most vital among us.”
“I agree,” Raidan replied. “The castle guard will stay inside, of course, as will most of your serving staff, Odata. The only persons allowed to go in and out will be us three.”
“Then let’s get started,” Sen said.
The evacuation of the castle proceeded without any problems. The large tent Raidan shared with Raidu and Kaisik became the new command center.
After he had settled in, the prince’s first order of business was to survey all the captains about any unusual sickness they may have observed among their units. Fortunately, none had anything out of the ordinary to report, but this did little to ease Raidan’s mind. The exact nature of the contagion remained a mystery; despite the many hours the prince had spent trying to unlock its secrets, he found himself no closer to understanding when and why the plague would strike. He had to assume the entire army stood at risk, even though, so far, no soldier had actually fallen ill.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, submerging the valley in muggy darkness, small groups of scouts assigned to the high ridges moved out of camp, winding their way across empty fields that should have been sown weeks ago. Even if the elves prevailed, hunger would stalk the land like a gaunt specter, for there would be no harvest come summer’s end.
In the royal pavilion, Raidan, Sen, young Kaisik, and Sen’s son Sadaiyo sat down to a cold dinner of roasted duck and apples. Several of the prince’s aides had also been invited, including Mai Nohe. The day had been long and hot, and all were weary, none more so than the prince himself. So many tasks remained to be done. One last war council had be convened and all the lords given their final orders; a fresh source of fodder for the army’s horses had to be found; there were dispatches to be written and sent back to Sendai-Raidan feared he would never sleep again.
“I’ve made my choice of who is to command the diversionary force at the pass,” the prince announced after everyone had filled their plates. He turned to look at Sen.