“They’re here to protect us from the citizens of Mirabay? From the mess you’ve made.”
“Tread carefully, Kayte,” the Prince Bishop said. “If you give me the chance to fully apprise you of the situation, you’ll understand.”
“I find that very hard to believe,” dal Drezony said.
“Dragons,” the Prince Bishop said. “We’ve just received word that three more have been sighted. The people need the Order now, more than ever. Once the news spreads, which you can be assured is happening as we speak, they will embrace the Order with all their hearts.”
Solène had to stifle a laugh. She’d known about the other dragons since before leaving Trelain. She’d thought a man as well informed as the Prince Bishop would have also. She liked the feeling of knowing something he did not. Moreover, it gave her hope that he wouldn’t find out what she had truly been up to. It seemed he didn’t have eyes in quite as many places as he’d like people to think.
“If the people are about to fall in love with us, why the hired muscle?” dal Drezony asked.
“We’re going dragon hunting, so we need the extra manpower. We’ve also lost most of our military command: Leverre, Gamet, Dreue. Soon the Order will ride out in full array, and I want a few men filling out the ranks who look the part. We need some battle-hardened veterans, which these men most certainly are. I’ve appointed Banneret Gassot here as acting chancellor, and Banneret Vachon as acting marshall.”
They each gave dal Drezony a nod. She responded with only a curt smile.
“I need you to make a list of the most competent mages we have left, and any others who might be useful in a support role,” the Prince Bishop said.
“I think we really need to sit down and talk, your Grace,” dal Drezony said.
“Indeed, but at the moment, there isn’t time. There’s an expedition to prepare. I expect that in a few days the dragons will move on from the area they’re in, so there’s no time to waste.”
“You do remember what happened the last time we sent people after a dragon? It’s the reason you’ve had to hire Bannerets Gassot and Vachon.”
“Unfortunate, but a valuable learning experience thanks to Leverre’s reports. This time will be different. We know far more now, and these dragons are smaller—juveniles, by the sounds of it. The perfect proving ground for the Order, and excellent experience, should dragons become a recurring problem. Anyway. Vachon is up to speed, so he can brief you on my instructions.” He turned his attention to Solène. “I need you to stay here,” he said. “I’ve an important job for you.”
Dal Drezony frowned.
“Don’t worry, Kayte,” the Prince Bishop said. “I simply need her to help me find something.”
CHAPTER 22
When Guillot went into the taproom early the next morning, Beausoleil, Cabham, and Val were waiting for him, swords sheathed and expectant looks on their faces. They were wearing armour—plate cuirasses, pauldrons, and vambraces, with articulated lamellar tassets that extended to the knee, allowing freedom of movement while supplying good protection to the upper leg. There wasn’t too much decoration, and their harnesses looked well maintained, things that gave Guillot confidence.
Val wore an old chain-mail hauberk that he must have picked up during his rushed preparations in Trelain. It was ancient, but looked like it had been reasonably well maintained, and was serviceable. The boy had the earnest look of one who was willing to do whatever was expected of him, while Beausoleil and Cabham both looked more serious. They knew the reality of what was to come. Gill gave them a nod, and gestured for them to follow him to his room. He grabbed a fresh pitcher of water and a fork from the bar as he passed, and waited for them to join him.
“What happens now?” Beausoleil said.
“I’ll administer it to myself first, so you can see what is involved, then to any of you who still want to go ahead with it.” Taking their silence as agreement, Guillot filled the Cup with water. Holding the Cup in one hand and a fork in the other, he reviewed the words in his mind, then started to speak. The others watched in silence and Gill did his best to ignore their presence. The words said, he dipped one of the fork’s tines into the water, then let a single droplet fall on his tongue. He swallowed and smiled to show that he was all right. He didn’t feel any different, but he couldn’t recall noticing anything in particular after the last time. So long as he didn’t die in magically induced agony, he was content.
“Who’s first?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.
“Me,” Beausoleil said.
Gill suppressed a smile as he saw the curl of frustration on Cabham’s mouth. Neither wanted to go first, but neither wanted the other to go ahead of them. Gill could see a look of trepidation on Beausoleil’s face as he approached. If the man was having second thoughts, now was not the time to express them—the loss of face would be too much for any self-respecting banneret to bear.
Beausoleil presented his tongue like a child about to be given a dose of bad-tasting medicine. Gill recited the words and placed a drop of water from the Cup on the younger man’s tongue. He shut his mouth, and Gill could tell he was holding his breath. He let it out a moment later, doing his best, but failing, to hide his relief.
“That was hardly anything,” he said.
“There’s not much to it,” Gill said. “The old Chevaliers had this administered to them every time they went out on a hunt. Now, who’s next?”
Gill repeated the process with Cabham, and finally Val.
“I don’t feel anything,” Cabham said, when it was done.
“I think that’s the point,” Gill said. “Particularly when you’re having fire breathed on you.”
“There’s not supposed to be any … sensation?” Beausoleil said.
“No. You’ll probably feel something when we get closer to the dragons. Almost like a tug, but that’s it. If you’re unlucky enough to get hit by flame, you should be impervious. That’s all there is to it, so unless you want some more breakfast, we should be on our way.”
They rode out of Venne minutes later, under the curious gazes of the soot-stained villagers. There were casualties. Gill’s insistence on getting people into the church had saved many lives, but until the village was rid of the dragons, he couldn’t waste any time congratulating himself.
The village was a hive of activity; the other adventurers were preparing to head out themselves, while the townspeople were making efforts to assess and repair the damage the dragons had caused. Buildings, or what remained of them, still smouldered, and Gill wondered how many concealed charred bodies. The fight against the flames had gone on much of the night, but Gill and the others had slipped away early, to get some rest for what they had to do.
His trick of the night before seemed to have worked. He struggled to contain a smile as he imagined the dragons scrabbling around in the dark trying to pick up the coins with their talons. He expected Edine would have a difficult time explaining the missing tax revenue to the duke’s steward, but considering everything that had happened, he reckoned the excuse would be acceptable.
Guillot had hired an extra horse to carry the spare lances, but he thought it best if they were ready to fight the moment they left the village. The lances seemed well turned and true and the Telastrian tips were securely fitted. Though he did his best not to look around as they rode out of Venne, it was impossible not to think of Villerauvais. He didn’t just want to slaughter the dragons. Before they died, he wanted them to know how foolish they had been to meddle with humanity.