‘What’s it about?’ he asked.
‘Just follow me,’ said Alsadair, herding the men out of the food line and guiding them toward Daralor’s tent. As usual, Daralor’s pavilion had been hastily erected at the rear of the encampment, close to the river they had been following north. It took Daralor’s men less than half an hour to erect it, practicing the feat to perfection every night of their journey. A handful of guards milled outside the entrance to the tent, stepping aside as the newcomers approached. Lukien recognized most of the guards, soldiers he had got to know during their journey. Inside, he heard the eager voices of others who had already gathered. Alsadair pushed aside the flap of the tent and stepped inside, revealing the big, stark interior. Though the sun had already gone down, the tent glowed with warm lamplight. A long, flat table had been brought in to accommodate Daralor’s guests, all of them his closest advisors. The men spoke nervously among themselves as they passed along the pitchers of wine and beer. Among them sat Aric, abstaining from the drink. Young Aric brightened when his eyes caught Lukien’s, motioning for him to sit in the chair he had saved for his friend. At the head of the table sat Daralor himself. The prince looked imperious, not saying a word as his gaze jumped from man to man. He greeted Lukien and the others with a cursory nod, his maimed hand awkwardly cupping a tankard. On the right side of Daralor sat Trayvor, his trusted lieutenant. Daralor rarely made a move without Trayvor. On the left side of the prince sat a man Lukien had never seen before. From the looks of him he was not a Nithin, either. As Lukien took his seat beside Aric, he noted the man’s heavy red beard and puffy blue eyes. The man looked exhausted, his grim clothes dirty from riding. To Lukien, he had the dangerous look of an assassin.
‘Who’s the stranger?’ Lukien whispered as he sat beside Aric.
‘Don’t know,’ said Aric. ‘I just got here.’
Ghost took the seat beside Lukien. ‘What’s this about?’
Aric shrugged. ‘Don’t know that either.’
Lorn found an empty chair on the other side of the table, directly between two of Daralor’s aides. He spied the red-bearded stranger suspiciously, refusing a drink offered by the soldier to his left. The old king looked uncomfortable, as if dreading Daralor’s news. Lukien felt a similar shiver. None of them spoke, waiting for the prince to explain things. At last Daralor cleared his throat and got to his feet.
‘You want to know why you’re here. You can probably imagine why. We’re just days out of Liiria now. It’s time to plan.’
There was steel in Daralor’s voice. Every man around the table straightened.
‘By the end of this week we will be at the border. We’ve marched for miles and our journey is nearly ended. We are strong and we are ready to fight, and it’s time for all of us to get right with our hearts and with our heads.’ Daralor looked around the room at each of them. ‘We’re not all coming back.’
The men nodded quietly. At his side, Lukien felt Malator squirming within the Sword of Angels.
‘Horatin, stand up, please,’ said Daralor. He gestured to the stranger with the red beard. The man stood, his arms at ease at his sides. Daralor continued, ‘You’ve all noticed him. His name is Horatin. He’s a Reecian, a member of Raxor’s Red Watch.’
The prince waited for a reaction. It came quickly in gasps from the men. Lukien reared back a little, stunned. As one who’d fought the Reecians for years, he knew a thing or two about the Red Watch. They were indeed assassins, and the best spies on the continent. At once a hundred questions leapt to Lukien’s mind. Daralor stayed them with a raised hand.
‘He came this morning, in secret,’ said Daralor. ‘From Raxor himself. The Reecian King has prepared himself for battle.’ Prince Daralor gave a smile to Aric. ‘He’s kept his promise to us.’
‘I knew he would,’ Aric whispered faintly.
‘Horatin has risked his life to come here. Others of the Red Watch weren’t so lucky. He’s brought news with him from Liiria you all need to hear.’
Ghost leaned into Lukien’s ear. ‘He must be a good spy,’ he chirped. ‘I didn’t see him come in. You?’
Lukien shook his head, hushing Ghost. Daralor turned to the Reecian, bidding him to speak. In his weary voice, Horatin began, ‘My king sends his greetings, and his thanks. He is grateful to brave Nith. My country and king have suffered greatly, and we are grateful to have your help. I left my king three days ago. His army is at the river Kryss, waiting to cross the border into Liiria.’
‘He doesn’t know about us yet, not for certain at least,’ Daralor piped in. ‘But news of our army coming north has reached Liiria.’
‘Right,’ said Horatin. ‘We heard about you not even a week ago. My king sent me down to find you, and to find out if you were really coming north.’
‘King Raxor has been waiting for us, apparently,’ said Daralor, a bit ruefully. ‘And not very patiently, either. Horatin has told me that his king is. .’ The prince hesitated. ‘Let’s say he’s unwell.’
Horatin grimaced at the description. ‘King Raxor has lost his son. And thousands of other men, too. The people of Reec demanded he move against Baron Glass. They love Raxor and have rallied to him. He’s ready to die for them, but now he waits to see if the rumours of Nith coming to help are true.’
‘So he’s ready to fight?’ Lukien asked.
Horatin looked at him, then at Daralor. The prince said, ‘You can answer him.’
‘Yes, my king is ready,’ said Horatin to Lukien directly. ‘What is your name, sir?’
Lukien stood. ‘My name is Lukien of Liiria.’
Recognition flashed on Horatin’s face. He grinned wildly. ‘I thought as much.’
A charged moment passed between the two old adversaries. Daralor put himself between them quickly, saying, ‘I’ve told Horatin about all of you. Even you, King Lorn. But we will get to that. More importantly, Baron Glass has been making ready for us. He has his armies dug in around Koth, especially around the old library.’
‘Glass is obsessed with the library,’ said Horatin. ‘He’s making every effort to protect it this time.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Lukien. ‘Library Hill is better fortified than Lionkeep, and a lot higher. Aric and I have fought from Library Hill. It’ll definitely give Thorin an advantage this time.’
Aric nodded uncomfortably. ‘That’s right. Horatin, how many men does my father have?’
‘It’s hard to tell,’ replied the Reecian. ‘We’ve had spies in Koth, but too many of them have been captured or killed. Not many Liirians have come to Glass’ banner. They’re Norvans, mostly. And there’s a new man with Thorin, a duke from Hanging Man named Cajanis.’
Lorn grunted in disgust. ‘I know him. He’s loyal to Jazana Carr.’
Horatin said, ‘He’s brought an army of at least three thousand with him, and more are on the way.’
‘And what about Jazana Carr?’
The question, of course, came from Lorn, who could not contain himself any longer. Horatin turned to Lorn, seeming to recognizing him. Daralor nodded as if to confirm the Reecian’s suspicions.
‘You are King Lorn,’ said Horatin. ‘Then you most of all will want to know this. The rumour you have heard about the Diamond Queen is true. She is dead.’
Lorn sat frozen in his chair. ‘Dead. You are sure?’
‘There is no doubt of it. I myself was sent to kill her at Richter, along with Baron Glass. But the queen wasn’t with him, and Baron Glass discovered our plot. Two good men of the Red Watch died that night by the baron’s own hand.’
‘And Jazana Carr?’ pressed Lorn. ‘What of her?’
‘A few days later she was dead,’ said Horatin. ‘When Baron Glass returned to Lionkeep he beat her. I don’t know why; no one knows why. After that she killed herself.’
‘You’re sure of this?’ asked Lukien.
‘There is no doubt of it, Sir Lukien.’
The news left Lukien strangely empty. In the years he had spent in Jazana’s service, she had always been kind to him. Her conceits were legion, but her heart was bigger than her brain. Seeing Lorn’s glee over her death angered Lukien.