Moving along the balcony, he sat down on a carved wooden bench and, resting his head back on the cool stone, looked out towards the haze-obscured northern horizon.
A small movement caught his eye, gliding amongst the trees in the parklands at the edge of the City. Even at this distance he knew it would be Sylvriss. She had been an intractable problem over the years, but persistence conquers all, he thought. Now she was simply grateful to be allowed to nurse her husband after he had stabilized his condition. So grateful. Even taking an interest in ‘her’ Mathidrin. Stupid stable girl! A doubt floated into his mind as the distant figure disappeared from sight, but he dismissed it. There was no spark left in the ashes of her resistance that could flare up and rekindle the spirit that had been King Rgoric. Closing his eyes Dan-Tor listened to the faint noise of the City floating up to him.
Through the streets a group of Mathidrin were marching. Periodically they stopped and one of them would nail a notice on a door or a tree. Following the eclipse of the High Guards by the Mathidrin, Dan-Tor judged that the notice was unlikely to cause anything more than talk. If perchance the High Guards reacted violently then they would condemn themselves. If they did not, so much the better.
The sun shone on the side of his brown face and made him feel uncomfortable even though the breeze at that height was strong and cold. As he stood up to leave the balcony, he noted again the Queen riding to and fro across the distant park.
An inconspicuous figure studied the notice painstak-ingly, nodding as he did so. It was a very simple notice. Another Edict. It disbanded the High Guards for their repeated and continuing acts of lawlessness against the King’s officers in the execution of their duties. In deference to past services, the Guards were to be allowed to return unhindered to their homes to pursue their civilian occupations, but the wearing of uniforms, congregating or drilling was forbidden on pain of imprisonment, as was failure to report such incidents. Apparently irrelevantly, the notice went on to urge the co-operation of all Fyordyn in these times of threat from enemies both abroad and at home.
The figure moved quietly away from the notice and walked slowly down the street. He had to seek out his old friends. Something had to be done now, definitely.
A Mathidrin patrol came round the corner, but they did not see the figure. He had faded into the shadows and stood now watching them. Although he had been retired from active service for some years, part of his Oath was ever before him. His ears had heard it, his mind had registered it, but his training and experience had merged it into his very nature.
‘Yatsu, you will be Goraidin until death and beyond.’
Chapter 32
The guard shifted his feet impatiently while Arinndier performed his daily ritual of suspiciously examining the meal and interrogating the slouching young servant who had just brought it. The delay was irritating but he had learned from experience that it was pointless to remonstrate as this was liable to start the four of them talking, and prolong the waiting even further. Let them have their games. No point in making trouble.
‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’ Arinndier asked the servant. ‘Yes, Lord,’ said the boy. He was about to continue but a cough from the guard stopped him. Arinndier overruled the cough with a smile. ‘What’s happened to the other one? Fallen sick after eating our food, has he?’
Eldric chuckled and laid down a book he was read-ing to watch the exchange.
‘No, Lord,’ replied the boy, risking a nervous smile. ‘He’s been promoted. He’s over in… ’
No cough this time. ‘Boy,’ said the guard sharply. ‘Be silent.’
The boy’s mouth dropped open and he looked from Arinndier to the guard and back in bewilderment.
‘My fault, guard,’ said Arinndier. ‘I forgot.’ Then, uncertainly, he replaced the last dish cover. ‘There now. I suppose it’s all right. Would you serve it out for us please?’
‘Well,’ said Darek when the servant and the guard had gone. ‘That lad’s not much, but he’s an improve-ment on that surly oaf who used to fetch our food. Fancy him being promoted. The only rise in life I’d ever imagine him getting would be on the toes of someone’s boot-preferably mine.’ Uncharacteristically, he laughed. ‘His face was enough to poison most food, Arin. I hope they’ve not put him in charge of anything perishable.’ Arinndier smiled at Darek’s unusual levity, but Eldric seemed preoccupied. ‘Something’s on the move,’ he said thoughtfully, sitting down at the table.
‘What do you mean?’ Arinndier said.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Eldric, idly pushing a knife to and fro. ‘But Darek’s given you half of it. Who’d promote that sour-faced lout? Kick him out certainly. But promote?’
Arinndier was unimpressed. ‘Eldric, the Geadrol’s been suspended. We’ve been arrested and imprisoned without charge and for no crime. The wrongful promotion of a servant is hardly significant against that background, is it?’
Eldric did not reply, but Darek chuckled. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Arin. You should study your history more. Kings and Princes come and go, but the servants, the officials, the secretaries-they go on forever. Eldric’s got… ’
Eldric waved a hand gently to silence him. ‘Some-thing about that boy,’ he said, frowning. ‘But I can’t pinpoint it.’
Hreldar looked up from his meal and stared at El-dric’s worried face. Then he looked at the table. His eyes narrowed. ‘Look,’ he said, spreading his two hands towards the table.
‘Look. That boy lumbered round as if he’d got two left feet, but look at how he’s laid this. It’s immaculate.’ He paused. ‘How many times have you seen some little one standing by this kind of handiwork, waiting for your judgement?’
‘Of course,’ said Eldric. ‘Junior cadets and their party pieces.’ He leaned back and clapped his hands together. ‘It seems such a long time ago. Little shining faces.’ Then he laughed. ‘Elementary field craft to learn how to survive in the wilds of the mountains, and elementary house craft to learn how to survive in the wilds of society.’
Abruptly his expression became sombre, and a look of determination came into his face, so grim that the others stopped eating and watched him in silence. ‘Ask yourselves, Lords,’ he said. ‘Why would a miserable servant be promoted and replaced by a young lad, a junior cadet who, if I’m any judge, would probably be on the point of entering the Cadets proper?’
Arinndier looked at the table. It seemed a weighty deduction from such flimsy evidence, but the neat array in front of him did indeed look like the grading display of a junior cadet. And the lad had done it with wilful awkwardness. Then, too, he had volunteered the information that his predecessor had been promoted.
The four men sat silent and the low buzz of the globe light filled the room.
‘Could he be a spy?’ Arinndier offered the suggestion unconvincingly, to break the silence.
Darek shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Who’d spy on us? Dan-Tor? He knows we wouldn’t discuss anything important in front of a servant. Besides, I don’t think he gives a night-bird’s hoot for what we might say.’
Arinndier nodded, and started eating again.
Eldric too started to eat but, almost immediately, he stopped. ‘We’ve no idea what’s happening outside,’ he said. ‘But we must still have friends out there or Dan-Tor would’ve disposed of us in some way by now, I’m sure.’
‘Maybe,’ said Arinndier. ‘But we’ve seen no sign of them so far.’
‘Yes,’ said Eldric, ‘that’s true. But think what it means. They’ll presumably have tried various legal remedies and met with no success for one reason or another. We know we’re in the Westerclave and that it’s being used as Headquarters for these Mathidrin, so we can’t reasonably expect an armed assault to rescue us. So someone, somewhere, will be tying to contact us. And now this boy comes along. Slouching and acting stupid, but doing this little cadet exercise for us, neat as neat.’ He gestured over the table.