“Tarwain tells me that your second, Wesnon, is a good man.Reliable.”
Xyrath looked up and Ussin followed his gaze to see Queen Satia in one of the windows, her Bondmaidens mere shadows behind her.Xyrath turned his head and lowered it, as if looking at the horse’s foreleg.“My Queen is a good woman, Captain.But she sometimes oversteps in her eagerness.”Xyrath tilted his head up, his blue eyes gleaming.“You know how women are.”
“Aye,” Ussin felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he cautiously agreed.
“So, just to be clear,” Xyrath straightened, still keeping his face turned from the watchers.“Only my orders are to be carried out.None of hers, whatever they are.Is that understood?”
“Aye,” Ussin said.
“Good man,” Xyrath stepped back from the horse, and waved a greeting to his Queen as the Palace gates rumbled open.
“Ah,” Xyrath turned.“This will be Forterran.”
Ussin watched as the carriage rolled in and a group of Chained Mages got out.The last, a large man in red robes emerged, looking…furious.
“Forterran,” Xyrath called out with enthusiasm.“I applaud your willingness to purge the treachery of one of your guild members to our House.”
If looks could kill, Ussin was fairly sure that he, the King, and everyone for a mile around would be smoking ash.But the Guildmaster merely tilted his head, as if in obedience.“The least we could do, Your Majesty, once the Queen informed us of the situation.”
“Good man,” the King said sunnily.“I’ll leave you to be about it.”He patted Ussin on the back and strode off toward the main doors.
Forterran gestured to his people, who took their positions.“I will re-open the portal at sunset,” he growled at Ussin.“Be there.”
Ussin gave him a nod, thinking the less said the better.“Mount up,” he ordered.
He held his own horse’s bridle as the portal formed, snapping into place, the white circle with the curtains that shimmered in an unseen breeze.He braced himself to lead the way.Only then did he mount to lead the way.Only fair, if the mage was going to drop them into the sea, that he go first.
Ussin urged his horse forward, sending a brief prayer to the Sun Lord before plunging in.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The Black Hills
Jerrold wasn’t surprised when the first one through the portal was a soldier.But from his muffled snort, Orval was.
Jerrold looked down from his horse at the Lord High Baron, perched on his goat cart.“Something?”
“Captain Ussin,” Orval muttered as he smiled and lifted a hand in greeting.“He’s known to me.A good man, but he follows his orders.”
“Ah,” Jerrold said, assessing the man.Armed with a mace and a shield.Wearing a tabard with the wyvern arms over leather armor.A warrior, intent on a mission.
More men emerged from the portal, ten more, all clearly warriors.All wearing tabards in red and black.They formed up behind Ussin, scanning for threats.
No matter; Jerrold’s people were well hidden.
There’d been long arguments about that, with Roth shouting quite a bit and stomping around.But Lord High Baron Orval had stuck to his position.He’d greet the visitors with Jerrold at his side, and no armed escort.He’d be seen to expect peace and offer peace.“It’s about statuary, not war,” he’d said.
Of course, that didn’t mean Jerrold couldn’t place people in the trees and along the road.
A wagon rumbled through the portal.Someone familiar to Jerrold was seated next to the driver, and five young lads seated among the parcels in the bed.
“Ah,” Jerrold sighed.
Orval glanced up.“Something?”
“Master Sculptor Muris,” Jerrold said.“He’s known hereabouts.”
“Well?”Orval asked as he gathered up his reins.
