“I think we should get back to the Priory,” she said quietly.
Dal Drezony frowned. “Why?”
“A man over there’s been staring at us for a while now. I don’t like it.”
Though dal Drezony restrained herself from looking, Solène could see her grow tense. “We’re finished here, so there’s no reason to linger. Shall we?”
Solène nodded eagerly, but as she stood, so did the man who had been watching them. “He’s coming over,” she said as he stepped toward the two women.
Dal Drezony turned to face him. “Can I help you?” she said.
“You’re them, aren’t you?” he said.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” the seneschal said.
“Them. The king’s new order. Them that killed the dragon. I saw the sigil on your robes—a golden spur. That’s the king’s new order, isn’t it?”
Solène could tell that dal Drezony’s confusion was not feigned. The man pointed through the window. Across the small square, a town crier stood on a dais with a small crowd gathered around him.
“It’s all they’re talking about,” the man said. “Is it true? That you use magic?”
If dal Drezony was shocked by the question, she didn’t show it. Solène did her best to hide her surprise.
“I’m sure I don’t have the first idea what you’re talking about,” dal Drezony said, casting Solène a glance that said it was time to get going. “Good day to you, sir.”
They had gone some distance at a quick pace before either of them spoke.
“How did he know?” Solène said.
Dal Drezony pulled a letter out of her cloak, broke the seal, and opened it. She stopped to read, then sighed.
“This arrived during the night. I’d like to say I forgot about it, but the truth is I’ve been ignoring the Prince Bishop as best I can lately. Stupid, juvenile behaviour, but … He’s worrying me. More than I’d like.” Solène was surprised to see fear on dal Drezony’s face. “Don’t trust him, Solène. Never trust him, and always be careful dealing with him. He’s a dangerous man.”
She looked down at the paper again.
“Anyway, it seems he revealed the Order to the people this morning. Let’s go over there,” dal Drezony said, gesturing to a town crier farther down the street. “I want to hear what he’s saying.”
The tension on the streets was palpable. It reminded Solène of Trelain when news of the dragon had first spread and people tried to determine if they were in imminent danger. It was a perilous time, as emotions were high and precariously balanced, teetering in the direction of panic and violence. The women listened in silence, part of a transfixed crowd. The town crier sounded hoarse, no doubt from repeating the news over and over since it had reached him.
The report started well. The dragon had been slain. A great hero was named—Guillot dal Villerauvais, Chevalier of the Order of the Golden Spur. Knowing the situation, Solène was surprised to hear Gill being given credit. All became clear when it was said he was a member of the Order, thus allowing the Prince Bishop to claim the plaudits for himself. She wondered if Guillot was aware that he was now a Spurrier. She herself was not mentioned, to her relief.
With the details of the slaying dealt with, more unsettling news was delivered. The people had been saved by the Order of the Golden Spur. The king had deemed it necessary to permit them to use magic to carry out the difficult and dangerous missions he tasked them with. There were gasps from the crowd at mention of this, then silence as disbelief took hold. Solène looked about as surreptitiously as she could, wondering what would happen next, how the people would react.
The jeers started with one, unconfident voice that would have been drowned out were it not for the silence. Others joined it, until no individual could be distinguished any longer, and the volume was deafening. As if of a single mind, Solène and dal Drezony moved away. It looked as though it might be some time before she got to enjoy her new favourite chocolate cake again.
“That didn’t look good,” Solène said, as they hurried away.
“It wasn’t,” dal Drezony said. “And these things only get worse. What was he thinking?”
Solène presumed the question was rhetorical, so didn’t answer.
“We’re simply not ready for this. There could be an angry mob forming outside the Priory right now. We need to get back there and see what’s happening. Let the others know if they don’t already.”
They hurried through the streets, robes bundled up in their arms, not making eye contact with anyone. Though their clothes were unmarked, tunics and britches were unusual outfits for women, so they drew more inquiring glances than Solène liked. She was terrified. All it took was for one person to denounce them as sorcerers, and mob rule would prevail. She shuddered to think of the consequences if she was forced to defend herself. She still couldn’t control her magic. If she had to use it, she would prove people were correct to fear mages.
The sight of the Priory’s walls came as an overwhelming relief, so great that she almost burst into tears. Thankfully, there was no angry crowd gathered outside. Perhaps people hadn’t made the connection between the Priory and the Order. However, it wasn’t until they were safely past the gates, with them securely bolted, that Solène was able to properly relax.
“That was a very unpleasant ending to the day,” dal Drezony said. “I have to call in the officers and get everyone prepared for the possibility of an attack. We can talk later.”
Solène nodded, and was about to take her leave when the Prince Bishop appeared, accompanied by a number of men she hadn’t seen before.
“Seneschal dal Drezony, I’ve been looking for—” His eyes widened when he saw Solène. “Nice to see you. I’ve been wondering where the seneschal was hiding you.”
“We’ve been busy with my training,” Solène said with a glance at dal Drezony.
“Well, I hope you’ve been making good progress,” he said.
Her voice dripping with sarcasm, dal Drezony said, “Thank you for consulting with me before making the announcement.”
Without a pause, the Prince Bishop replied, “Things moved at a rather quicker pace than I was expecting. I had to react quickly.”
Dal Drezony let out an incredulous laugh. “Try telling that to an angry mob coming to burn you at the stake.” She frowned, and cocked her head, fixing her gaze on the men with the Prince Bishop. “Why are they wearing Order robes?” she said.
It was only then that Solène noticed that all the men wore the Order’s cream garb beneath their riding cloaks.
“With the losses we’ve sustained over the past few weeks, I thought it prudent to draft some additional manpower. They don’t have any talent, of course, but that’s not what they’re here for. Think of them as bodyguards, just as the old bannerets were to the Imperial mages.”