CHAPTER 17
Gill and Solène reached Castandres, the village dal Ruisseau Noir had chosen, after dark on their second long day of walking. It had taken time for the river to carry them clear of the city and for them to extract themselves from the water. Gill had thought it better not to risk the main roads and any larger settlement. Unable to acquire horses, they had had no option but to walk. For many hours.
While they walked, Gill had plenty of time to ruminate over all the little things he’d neglected while planning their mission into the palace. If only he had had more time to prepare.… Money, horses, and a change of clothes topped his list, but despite the time he spent picking over the details, he could not escape the spectre that was lurking in the back of his mind. He was the one who had messed it all up. Him alone.
He should have killed Amaury straightaway, without so much as a “Remember me?” or a “Prepare to die.” But he hadn’t been able to leave all the things that boiled around in his head unsaid, and even then he’d not got even half of it off his chest. Because of his delay, the Cup had been used. Pharadon’s only hope for his species was lost, and Amaury, who hungered for power like no other, had as much of it as he could handle.
He couldn’t even bring himself to think of Val. Why hadn’t he refused to allow the lad to come along? He knew the answer—he’d been in battles as a squire himself. Friends of his had been killed in those battles. It was normal for men who desired a life by the sword. It didn’t make the loss any easier to bear, though.
By night, Castandres resembled an army encampment, with numerous flickering campfires spread across its fields. Gill hoped dal Ruisseau Noir and his Intelligencier comrade had reached it, as planned. They had not seen dal Ruisseau Noir or his comrade since they’d leapt into the river, as the Vosges’s fickle currents had sent the two pairs down opposite sides of the Isle.
Gill could see pickets when they drew near. He and Solène looked like a pair of vagrants, but the soldiers were on edge enough to see everything as a threat, particularly at night. That was probably a good idea, Gill thought. Now that Amaury had used the Cup, he was unlikely to tolerate rebellion for long. He was unlikely to tolerate Gill for much longer either, so a rebellious army struck him as a good place to see out his days. It might even give him the chance to cause Amaury a few problems before he met his end. If that was all he could hope for, it would have to be enough.
“Who goes there!” came a challenge from one of the pickets.
“Friends,” Gill shouted back. “We’ve come to meet with someone here.”
“Who?”
Gill wasn’t sure if dal Ruisseau Noir would appreciate having his name shouted about, but equally, Gill didn’t appreciate the thought of being stuck with a crossbow bolt by a trigger-happy guard.
“Hugo dal Ruisseau Noir.”
“Wait there.”
The pickets consisted of whatever this army could get their hands on at short notice. There were stacked-up sacks of meal, overturned carts, crates, and hastily built palisades. It wouldn’t stand up to a determined assault, but it probably gave the men inside a little more confidence, which made it worthwhile for that alone.
They were left waiting awhile. Gill suspected they’d sent someone into the village, to find out if anyone knew who Hugo dal Ruisseau Noir was. Eventually someone who looked like an officer appeared.
“I’m here to bring you through. Banneret dal Ruisseau Noir arrived this morning.”
The soldiers wrestled with a section of the picket to move it out of the way. The design was so hasty it seemed no one had given any thought to making ingress and egress possible. Everyone was in a hurry these days. The officer, a young banneret who looked full of the excitement of his first campaign, greeted them.
“Banneret Guillaume dal Coudray, at your service.” He couldn’t hide the look of disgust on his face when he caught smell of them.
“Banneret of the White Guillot dal Villerauvais. I’m afraid we had to take a swim in the Vosges. A change of clothes would be very much appreciated.”
“I’m sure we can rustle something up,” dal Coudray said.
“Whose army is this?” Gill said.
“His Lordship, the Count of Savin, cousin of the king.”
Gill nodded. He’d never heard of the man.
The tent camp around the village held all the sights, smells, and sounds of an army—soldiers lounging by their campfires, smoke and cooking, ribald chat and laughter. Gill scanned what he could see and reckoned there were two, perhaps three thousand men mustered there. Whoever was in charge would need quite a few more before facing Amaury’s forces, but it was a solid start.
Spotting dal Ruisseau Noir walking toward them, Gill raised a hand in greeting.
“I’m glad you made it out of the city,” the former fencing master said, coming up to them. “I lost sight of you once we got to the Isle.”
“We ended up going down the other side,” Gill said. “Not the nicest spot for a swim. Has Pharadon brought the king?”
“Not yet. I was hoping he’d have arrived by now. I’m starting to get worried. The king needs care that Pharadon can’t give him. You definitely trust him?”
Gill nodded, with genuine sentiment. “I dare say Pharadon is a little hesitant to come anywhere near a village packed with soldiers.”
“True,” dal Ruisseau Noir said. “I wasn’t expecting there to be so many.”
“Can’t say I was either.”
“The last I heard, Savin was the only one of the king’s cousins who hadn’t raised in rebellion, he was only gathering forces to maintain order in his lands. This village is in his county, and it’s why I chose it. I thought it would be quiet and safe.”
“Well, not anymore. You say all the king’s cousins have rebelled?”
“It seems so, but only Aubin and Chabris were serious before. I’m going to ride out to see if I can find Pharadon if you’re interested in coming. I can delay a few moments longer if you want to get a quick bite to eat and a change of clothes first.”
“At night?” Gill said.
“The king’s condition is dire.”
It was the last thing Gill wanted. He’d been dreaming about clean clothes and a hot meal for more hours than he could count with his fingers. Still, he could hardly say no.
“Give me a few minutes,” Gill said.
“Coudray will sort you out,” dal Ruisseau Noir said.
A quick wash with a damp cloth, a change of clothes, and a few scraps of food had Gill on the way to feeling like a new man, but he knew it would take at least ten hours of sleep and a proper hot meal before he got there. He and Solène rode with dal Ruisseau Noir on horses borrowed from the count’s troops. The count himself hadn’t arrived yet—the army was being mustered up by a few of his senior noblemen—and in his absence, dal Ruisseau Noir seemed to be able to exert quite a bit of influence. Everyone was scared of Intelligenciers, even now when most of the Mirabayan ones were dead.
“Where are we heading?” Gill said. He’d seen nothing of Pharadon since he flew out of Mirabay with Val and the king. There was no reason to think there was a problem, though. He would have been away from the city far faster than they were—it was only a matter of reuniting with him.
“Back in the direction of the city,” dal Ruisseau Noir said. “No one in the village has reported seeing anything out of the ordinary, so I don’t think he flew this far. I don’t expect it’ll take us long to find them.”
The countryside was open pastures and farmland. There were pockets of forest, but most of the land in the region had been cleared for generations. The thick oak forests that Mirabaya was famed for were all but gone, this close to the city. As nice a night as it was for a ride, Gill could think of a great many places he would rather be, beginning with being tucked up in the Wounded Lion with all of this nothing more than a bad dream.