Either he lied, or Admon Faye has changed his plans,” He turned to look thoughtfully at his squire. “Would you care to wager that he’s riding hard toward the forest?”
“Couldn’t we cut him off?” the boy wondered.
“Not a chance. He knows the Great South Fir better than a tree gnome.
I should have jailed that barman.”
“Because he lied to us?”
“Yes or because he lived to suffer for telling us the truth. Probably dead already. We’ll camp here.”
The young man wrinkled his nose in confusion. “I don’t follow.”
“We’ve come this far, and the slaver isn’t ahead of us. We’ll camp and wait. He may surprise me and ride into a trap. Summon my staff. I want an ambush set up within the hour.”
Three hours passed, and Joss dismissed the idea of trapping Admon Faye.
But as the sun was setting, his squire raced to him with great excitement. A single rider had been spotted approaching from the north. Joss mounted his charger and rode out to meet him.
Joss did not come to his lofty rank by battle alone. He had risen through the Golden Army on the strength of his disciplined mind and a memory that held a tight grip on detail. Had he never met Rosha before, he still would have recognized the young warrior, for Bronwynn had described him at great length. But Joss had met Rosha in Dragonsgate, only a few hours after the conquest of the dragon. And there was no doubt. This was the man.
Rosha rode through Cbaomonous with an arrogance born of innocence. He was, after all, a hero, and heroes never travelled any other way. When he saw General Joss waiting for him in the road, he drew Thalraphis and saluted with it “Greetings, my friend,” he called, and he reined in his charger thirty yards from the General.
“Greetings, Rosha mod Dorlytb,” the General replied, his face fixed in a smile.
“You know me?” Rosha said, flattered. He urged his war-horse forward a few yards.
“Of course I know you,” Joss called gravely. “But I see that you do not remember me!”
“Do I know you?” Rosha asked suspiciously. “But of course you do. I am from the court of the Queen!” Joss watched the lad closely as he said these words. He was pleased with the boy’s reaction.
“Bronwynn?” Rosha touched his horse gently and the animal trotted to within a yard of Joss. Rosha eyed the General, then nodded in recognition. “Yes. You were the man who took her from the pass.”
“I am.” Joss smiled. “Where is she?” Rosha demanded. “Why, in Cbaomonous, I believe,” Joss said smoothly. “I’m I’m surprised. I didn’t expect you to put her on the throne so quickly. I expected to be ah needed, somehow, in the struggle.”
“The Queen,” Joss responded with a sly grin, “came to the throne quite unexpectedly. I humbly confess that the Queen has been most appreciative of my assistance.”
“The Queen,” Rosha muttered, trying to accustom himself to seeing Bronwynn in that light. “That sounds quite good.”
“But, of course,” Joss said, “her problems are not at an end. It seems that Admon Faye has rescued the false Queen from the dungeon and plots to place her on the throne of the land.” The General found he was enjoying this deception.
Rosha seized the pommel of Thalraphis with a fierce frown. “I am aware that Admon Faye is still abroad in the land. I met two thugs in Dragonsgate who told me so.”
“Oh, then he is there.” Joss nodded.
“No, only those two. They told me he’s somewhere here, in Chaomonous.”
Rosha drew Thalraphis again and held it out before him. “I ride to pledge my sword to the Queen,” he said, “to help to rid this land of the plague of Admon Faye.”
Joss smiled broadly. “I can think of nothing that would please our Queen more.” For the first time in many days Joss felt the urge to laugh aloud. He resisted it, as he led the proud young warrior into his camp.
Rosha was pleased. Throughout the ride to the capital city his tongue had not stumbled once. In fact, it had wagged as freely this day as any day in his memory. He heard himself telling General Joss of personal things he’d never revealed to anyone before. Of course, there was no harm in that. After all this was the man who had placed his Bronwynn on the throne.
Joss was a patient, attentive listener. His interest in Ros-has background never seemed to flag. When Rosha exhausted one area of discussion, Joss would ask a pointed question that would open up a whole new area, then would nod encouragement to the young warrior and listen for another hour. Rarely did Rosha have an opportunity to ask Joss a direct question, so skillfully did the General steer the conversation away from himself. He also tended to avoid conversation regarding Bronwynn. Joss’ standard reply to any question regarding Rosha’s beloved was, “That will be known when you meet with the Queen.”
Rosha talked at length about his attitude toward Bron-wynn’s crown.
“Perhaps it would appear unseemly to you for someone of my rank to aspire to marry your Queen. But the crown of Ngandib-Mar doesn’t pass from generation to generation as your crown does. Bronwynn told me that the throne of Chaomonous always passes to the oldest male heir.
Isn’t that correct?” Joss would only nod. “But Ngandib-Mar isn’t so well organized,” Rosha went on. “It’s ruled by a confederation of chieftains, who must agree who will rule in the High City of Ngandib.”
Joss smiled grimly, his eyes on the road ahead. “And how well does that system work? Does it prevent war?”
“Prevent war?” Rosha asked, surprised. “Not a chance, But it’s a rare Man who wants to prevent war.”
“I had heard that.” Joss nodded.
“My father does but since the dragon’s death, I’ve dined with above fifty of the Man chieftains, and most of them encourage battle.”
“To what end?”
“Why to have the opportunity to test one another and to gain glory in victory,”
“And what if they lose?” Joss asked, cocking his eyebrow.
“Then they wait impatiently for the next battle, for a chance to redeem themselves.” Rosha grinned over at Joss. “The discussion over who should be King provides plenty of opportunity for battle.”
“Then I would imagine you Maris have a new King every year.”
“Oh no. Pahd mod Pahd-el, the present Lord of the High City, is the third Pahd mod Pahd to rule as King. And he’s been King since he was my age.”
“It sounds as if the Pahds have gone far toward establishing their own dynasty. The family of Pahd must be very strong.”
“Not really,” Rosha shrugged. “My father says Pahd is a very powerful swordsman on his own, but he’s not an especially strong ruler. He’s King now because, whenever the confederation of chieftains tire of fighting one another, Pahd seems a harmless enough compromise choice.
Besides, he’s already moved into the palace, and it would take a considerable army to crack that citadel.
“What I’m trying to say is that any Mari can aspire to wear the crown.
He may not be powerful enough to take it and it may be worth little to him if he does but it means there is no royalty in Ngandib-Mar and a person can marry whomever he chooses.”
“Are there no slaves in Ngandib-Mar?”
“Of course there are! All of my father’s vassals are freed slaves.”
“Then there is a royalty in Ngandib-Mar,” Joss said quietly. “It consists of any who are free.”
Rosha thought. “What you say is true,” he replied grudgingly. “But not royalty as you speak of it.”
“Perhaps not.”
“You don’t think it will cause any problems for me to marry Bronwynn, do you?” Rosha asked.
Joss did not meet the young warrior’s eyes. Calmly, he replied, “That will be known when you meet With the Queen.”
Rosha made a face. “And when will that be? It appears Chaomonous is much further away than I thought.”