You will ride to Kreppes with your army. You will beg an audience with the king and throw yourself on his mercy, pleading with him to forgive your anger on the day your son died. Grief and your distrust of the Fey drove you mad, you will say. Remind him of his own son and how he would feel should Prince Dorian perish.
But you have had time for that first rage to pass. You are a Celierian, and loyal to your king. You request the honor of fighting by his side. Above all, you beg to be near because you do not trust the Fey.
Remind him of how they lied to him, how they manipulated him into believing what they wanted him to believe. Are those the actions of a loyal race? Trusted allies? No, they are not. Lord Barrial may trust the Fey implicitly, but would it not be better for the king to keep at least one advisor by his side who is not so blind to the possibility of Fey duplicity?
Lord Sebourne’s army reached the perimeter encampments around Kreppes before the tower watch struck nine silver bells. Campfires burned across the fields around the fortress, illuminating the rows of neatly ordered tents, both Celierian and Fey. Amongst the Celierian tents, pennants from the King’s Army fluttered alongside those of the Border Lords who’d sent troops in answer to their king’s call, Great Lord Barrial, the new Great Lord Darramon, all of the lesser lords from hundreds of miles around.
Dervas noted the familiar crests as he left the bulk of his army waiting at arrow point on the outskirts of the encampments while he and a personal guard of six men rode, under escort, towards the city gates.
And if the king does not grant me an audience?
You’d better hope he does, umagi. Else you will cause such a scene you will get thrown in the castle jail. One way or another, I want you inside that fortress where you are supposed to be. Where you would be had you not ridden off in a fit of pique after the Fey killed your son. Yes, master.
Good. Now, Primage Nour gave you a necklace when he visited you in Old Castle Prison, did he not? Fetch it.
Torches burned on the sides of Kreppes’s great gates. Bowmen stood at attention on the tower, their arrows nocked and aimed at Dervas as the gatekeeper and his companions approached.
“I am come to see the king,” Dervas informed the gatekeeper with cold command. “Tell him Great Lord Sebourne requests an audience.”
The guards at the gate made him wait. Two pikemen blocked the way while a runner went for permission to admit Great Lord Sebourne and his entourage into the castle.
Dervas sat tall and proud in the saddle, staring down his nose at the king’s men. He had come garbed for war, but that did not stop him from looking as resplendent as a Great Lord ought. His armor gleamed to a mirror polish. A thickly furred cape attached to his epaulets, flowing back in regal splendor over the scale-armored rump of his mount. A thick gold chain circled his neck, the heavy, jeweled links carved with symbols of protection, each link growing larger and more elaborate as it neared the jewel’s set piece—two gleaming white stones, one round and a smaller, crescent shape to symbolize the Mother and Daughter moons, set above a sparkling amber crystal surrounded by a ring of stylized waves suggesting the radiance of the Great Sun’s corona.
You will keep this necklace with you at all times. Waking, sleeping, in the bath. You will not take it off for any reason, understood?
Yes, master.
Good. There is one particular danger you must watch out for. The Tairen Soul keeps one who was once dahl’reisen by his side.
Yes, master. Gaelen vel Serranis.
They say he can detect Mage Marks. If they discover you are Mage claimed, they will either put you to death or put you under such great guard as to be useless to us. So if vel Serranis is summoned to check you for Mage Marks, speak the wordGamorrazto activate the larger of the two white stones.
What does the stone do? Is it a weapon?
Of a sort. Just keep it close and use it if you must to keep from being discovered. The amber crystal will let me hear your thoughts, while warding against all but the most deliberate attempts by others to do the same.
The runner returned and whispered in the gatekeeper’s ear. The gatekeeper turned to Lord Sebourne and said, “His Majesty will grant you the audience you have requested, Great Lord Sebourne. But you and your men will not be permitted to bring weapons into the castle.”
Sebourne drew back. “I’ve come to defend my country against invasion, and I am not permitted to carry a weapon?”
“I’m sorry, my lord, but not into the castle. Your weapons will be stored in the armory and returned to you in the event of an attack. His Majesty prays you will understand the precaution.”
Dervas caught sight of a Fey warrior beyond the gate. The Fey was clad for war, his black armor bristling with a full complement of silvery Fey blades. “A Great Lord of Celieria must surrender his weapons, but Fey wander the castle freely, carrying enough steel to slaughter an entire regiment? Where is the sense in that?”
The gatekeeper didn’t even have the courtesy to look embarrassed. “King’s orders, my lord. You must surrender your weapons here at the gate.”
Dervas capitulated with ill grace. He turned in the saddle and nodded to his men. They all immediately began unbuckling their sword belts. Dervas tossed his to the gatekeeper, then bent down to remove his boot daggers and hand those over as well.
“Two swords. Two daggers. Shall I surrender my shield, too? Who knows, I might bludgeon someone with it in a fit of rage.”
The gatekeeper ignored the sarcasm and answered with studied politeness, “If you wish us to hold your shield, my lord, we would be happy to do so.”
“Bah.” Dervas waved a gauntleted hand.
“If you and your men will dismount, my lord, we will stable your horses.”
Dervas dismounted and handed his reins to one of the guards. With his men at his heels, he walked through the gates of Kreppes.
