Amaury gave the newcomer a second look, and frowned. Something about him was familiar. “I know you,” he said.
The man nodded. “Sergeant Barnot, as was,” he said.
Of course, Amaury thought. Thinner, a bit older, and clearly not enjoying a prosperous retirement from military service, but it was indeed Barnot, Guillot’s former sergeant and one of his right-hand men. Amaury gave Luther a crooked look.
“You know who I am?”
“I do, your Grace,” Barnot said.
“There’s nothing to worry about. Sergeant Barnot’s fallen on hard times, and I said we could help him out, if he was willing to help us.”
Barnot looked up at Amaury with the eagerness of a puppy hoping for affirmation from its master. Amaury noticed the pallor of his skin, the drooping bags under his eyes, and a few other signs of long-term dream-seed addiction. It was common in old soldiers—that and the bottle. Once, Barnot had been Guillot’s fiercely loyal retainer. Now? Now Amaury had leverage.
“I’ve told Sergeant Barnot that we need something he’s in the unique position to obtain for us,” Luther said as Barnot sat down.
“Have you told him from whom?”
Luther shook his head. Amaury glowered at him. He’d expected all his dirty work to be done, given what he was paying Luther. He let out a breath. “Guillot dal Villerauvais has something that the king needs. I suspect Luther has contacted you because he reckons you’re the only man who’ll be able to get close enough to dal Villerauvais to get it. I think he’s probably correct.”
He studied Barnot, whose once-solid face now looked wilted, for a reaction. The more time he had to consider it, the more Amaury realised that Luther had happened upon a plan that might very well succeed. Guillot had always been a trusting fool, and Barnot had been one of his most loyal men. He wouldn’t be able to imagine Barnot betraying him. Whether they could get Barnot to do that was an entirely different matter.
“You will be well paid for your time and effort,” Amaury said. “Doing the king this service will put you in his favour, and I can speak from personal experience in saying that is a transformative thing. There won’t be many opportunities for you to pull yourself out of the rut you’re in,” he said, an edge to his voice. “This could likely be the last chance you get to turn things around. The item in question is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. The details are unimportant. Suffice to say, Guillot will barely notice it’s missing. Keeping hold of it is a matter of stubborn pride for him. In reality, it’s doing nothing but hurting himself, the king, and Mirabaya.”
Amaury didn’t want to lay it on too thick, but men who had spent their lives soldiering under the king’s banner had deeply ingrained notions of honour and duty. Even one fallen so low as Barnot. Barnot might not be willing to act to help himself, but the thought of having value, of being able to serve his king again, might stir him to action.
“What do you want taken from him?” Barnot said. “You have to tell me that much, at least.”
Amaury pretended to think for a moment. He had constructed the lie while giving Barnot time to consider things.
“It’s a small cup made of Telastrian steel. Other than the value of the metal itself, its worth is entirely sentimental. It was stolen from an individual at court—not by Guillot, I hasten to add. I’m not sure how it came to be in Guillot’s possession.”
Barnot smiled.
“In any event, Guillot has it, the king needs it, and we think you are the man best positioned to get it for us. Will you help us? Will you answer your king’s call one more time?” Amaury glanced at Luther, wondering if he had overdone it, but Luther showed no reaction.
“I just need to take this cup from him? Nothing else?”
“Absolutely nothing else,” Amaury said. “We’ll even have a courier waiting for you to hand it over to.”
Barnot nodded slowly. “I can do that. I’ll do it.”
Amaury smiled, and looked over at Luther, who leaned back in his chair with the confident expression of a man who had once again delivered a suitable candidate for a tricky job. There was something else playing on Amaury’s mind, however. What provided leverage could easily become a major problem. Relying on a dream-seed addict to deliver for you was foolish. The healers in the Order could deal with that. He cleared his throat as he tried to choose the right words.
“I can’t help but notice your … problem. I think I can be of help with that.”
CHAPTER 9
Guillot dined alone, not wanting to have to make small talk with the villagers, and ruminated over how he was going to break the news of his decision to help the villagers to Solène. His meal finished, he trudged up the stairs to her room, still with no clue as to how to broach the matter. After talking with Edine, Gill had written an advert that would be put in Trelain’s morning news sheet, seeking candidates to join his nascent dragon-slaying company, and thus committing himself to this course of action. He hoped a few suitable candidates would present themselves over the course of the following day. As he thought it over, it was difficult not to start having second thoughts. The first dragon had nearly killed him, and that had been only one. How he could hope to face three?
“You’re looking better,” he said as he entered her room, mustering as much cheer as he could. He still had no idea how receptive she would be to the plans he had made for her, without her consultation. Anything seemed better than trying to console her. He hoped she would help him. The focus on something else might help her push her feelings over killing out of her mind. If not, perhaps doing some good might help her come to terms with it. If they turned their backs on this request, others would suffer. Burden though it might be, there was never a choice but to do what needed to be done, or to at least try. Not if you wanted to be able to live with yourself afterward, that was.
“I’m feeling much better,” she said. “I need to get up and about.”
“Speaking of that,” Gill said, sitting on the chair by the door. “Something’s come up.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Word of what we did has gotten out, and it seems the dragon we killed isn’t the only one.”
The newly returned colour drained from her face. “What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath. “There’s a village called Venne. It’s being attacked by dragons.”
“Dragons?” Her eyes widened.
“Three,” Guillot said, matter-of-factly. “From the sounds of it, they aren’t fully grown. Although that seems to be changing pretty fast. Some of the townsfolk are here and have asked me to help. I said I would.”
“You really want to do all of that again? Three more times?”
He shrugged. “No, but what choice do I have? I’m the only man alive who’s killed a dragon. I’ll need your help, though.”
“What can I do?” she said. “You killed the last one, all by yourself.”
“That ceremony with the Cup—it needs to be carried out every time, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “I think so. But I can’t help you, Guillot. I wish I could, but really, I can’t. There are things I have to do. Things that can’t be put off. That’s clear to me now. It’s why I’m feeling a bit better.”
This wasn’t the response Gill had been expecting. He knew it was unlikely she’d take it well, but what was this?
“I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do,” he said, “but if I don’t help, a lot of people will die. Just like at Villerauvais.”
She gave him a sad smile. “If I go, I’ll probably die.”