Rage of a Demon King (26 page)

Karli came down the stairs and asked, “Are you coming to bed?”

“Yes,” said Roo, “in a few minutes.” As his wife started to turn away, he observed, “You seem to like Helen and her children.”

Karli said, “Yes, I do. Her people and mine came from the same village, and we have a lot in common. And her children are sweet.”

An idea came to Roo. “When the Midsummer Festival has passed, what do you say to having the
Jacobys out to the estate for a few weeks? The children can swim in the stream, and ride horses.”

“Roo, they’re too little to ride.”

“Well then, we’ll get them some pony carts.” He stood up. “The weather will be beastly hot and it will be much nicer out there.”

Karli said in a guarded tone, “You’re not trying to get me out of the way, are you Rupert?”

Alarmed that she might suspect his affair with Sylvia, Roo took her in his arms. “Not that. I just think I’d like some quiet time with my family, that’s all.”

“Having four children in the house instead of just two is hardly my idea of quiet,” said Karli.

“You know what I mean,” he said, playfully swatting her bottom. He kissed her, and she responded, “Let’s go to bed.”

While somewhat distracted by worry, he was still able to please Karli, and after their lovemaking she lay asleep in his arms. He found himself visited by an odd confusion, for as was often the case he was thinking of someone else while making love to his wife, but this time he found himself thinking not of Sylvia Esterbrook but rather of Helen Jacoby.

Remembering Gwen, the serving girl back in Ravensburg whom he had lost his virginity to, he silently said to himself, “Gwen’s right; we are all pigs.”

Fatigue drove away this moment of lucidity, and Roo fell into a deep sleep.

Erik read the orders and said, “We’re recalled to Krondor.”

Corporals Harper and Reed both saluted and moved out briskly, calling out commands to the soldiers spread out in the hills.

Erik wiped his brow and calculated. He knew that most of the men in the hills were among the last to be trained, the last to be considered for the critical task of limiting the ability of the invaders to expand their front anywhere except where Prince Patrick and his advisers permitted. Most of these men would be assigned to the defense of the city, and if Erik judged things rightly, those garrison units slated to defend in the hills would soon be moving along in small groups, patrols ostensibly, so the Emerald Queen’s agents would have little to report.

Erik admired Knight-Marshal William’s plans, for it now looked as if all units scattered throughout the West were being recalled for the defense of the city.

Erik squinted at the sun. Midsummer was less than two weeks away, and he knew the Emerald Queen’s fleet must be nearing the Straits of Darkness. It was hotter than usual for this time of the year, and he knew that meant it was likely to be a miserable summer.

As the men gathered, he considered that even if the weather were perfect, it would be a miserable summer. Still, by the time the invaders reached these mountains, it would be late fall, and if they could hold them until the winter snows, the Kingdom would survive.

Harper returned, saying, “Word’s been passed, Sergeant Major, and we’ll be ready to march within the hour.”

“Very good,” said Erik. “Have you spotted Captain Greylock in the last few hours?”

“About an hour ago, that way.” The Corporal pointed down the road.

“When they’re ready, don’t wait for me, start them for Krondor.” He glanced around the hills. “We have four hours of sunlight left, and I want a good ten miles behind us before we think about making camp.”

“Yes, Sergeant Major.”

Erik mounted his horse and headed down the road to find Greylock by the side of the road, reading a map.

“Owen,” said Erik as he rode up.

“Erik,” said Owen. “Are you ready to march?”

“In the process,” said Erik, as he dismounted. “The corporals are getting them ordered and they should be under way in the next few minutes.” Erik sat heavily on the side of the road and said, “I guess we’re done up here.”

“Done with training,” said Greylock. He let his horse crop grass at the roadside as he sat with Erik. “Next time we’re up here, we’ll be doing it for real.”

Erik said, “I’ve wished a thousand times for a few more days, a week, anything, to get these men into better shape.”

“You’ve done wonders,” said Greylock. “Honestly, I can’t imagine anyone could have gotten more from the men than you did, Erik. Not Calis, not Bobby de Loungville.”

“Thanks for that, Owen.” Erik sighed. “I still worry that it’s not enough.”

“That hardly makes you unique, my young friend.”

“Has Lord William told you what we’re going to do?”

“Yes,” said Greylock. He nodded back up the road. “At least our part of it. I can guess the rest.”

“We’re going to lose Krondor, aren’t we?”

“Probably,” said Greylock. “You’ve seen what happens to cities that resist the Queen, but we’ve got to hold her at Krondor long enough so she gets into the mountains late.”

Erik looked up at the high, pale blue sky streaked with faint clouds far above. “If this weather holds, it could be a long summer.”

Greylock sighed. “I know. Prince Patrick has had some magicians with weather sight trying to gauge that, and they all say a long summer is likely.”

Erik said, “I keep wondering about those magicians. The Queen uses them. Why don’t we?”

Owen smiled. “I expect we’ll have a few magical surprises in store for them. But do you remember Nakor’s explanation of why you don’t use magicians in warfare? He repeated it often enough.”

Erik laughed. “Yes, I remember. ‘First magician throws spell in battle, then second magician throws counterspell, then third magician try to help first magician, and fourth magician try to aid second, then army shows up and chops them all while they’re throwing magic around,’” he mimicked.

Greylock laughed. “You do a terrible impression of Nakor.”

Erik shrugged. “But the point is, if we don’t do something to counter her magicians we let them have a terrible advantage.”

Greylock stood. “Ah, my bones are getting too old for all this riding over the countryside.” As he pulled his horse away from the grass at the roadside, he made a display of being old. Erik laughed. Greylock put the reins over the horse’s head, then set foot into stirrup and mounted. Once in the saddle he
said, “Erik, the more you talk, the more you sound like a Knight-General instead of a Sergeant Major.

So don’t be asking those sorts of questions around the Prince, or he might promote you.”

Erik laughed. “In other words, keep my mouth shut.”

“As I said,” continued Greylock. “The Prince has some surprises up his sleeve, I’m sure.”

Erik mounted. “I’ll see you when I get the men back to the city.”

“Good,” said Greylock. “Oh, and one other thing.”

“What?”

“The local commanders are being called in for a last-minute council. The cover story is they’re coming in to celebrate Banapis with the Prince, but we know why. So that means de Beswick will be in Krondor.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Good. The festival in Krondor is nothing like what you’re used to.”

Erik nodded. Since coming to the Prince’s service, he had managed to be out of the city every Banapis. He had never seen the city celebrate the Midsummer Festival. “I’ll try not to get too distracted.”

Erik rode back toward where his men should be mustering. He hadn’t encountered de Beswick since leading this second company into the mountains. But the suspicion that he could be one of Mathilda von Darkmoor’s agents was not lost on Erik. Besides, Erik had four reasons to keep an eye on the man even if he wasn’t.

Erik stood stiffly at the rear of the room, the only non-titled non-officer in the room. Captains Calis and Greylock, the only men he knew well, were across the room with Knight-Marshal William, the Duke of Krondor, and the Prince, the only other men he was familiar with.

He recognized some of the others, members of the Prince’s court, officers of the palace, local nobles, though he had spoken to only a few of them, on rare occasion. He knew within an hour or so he’d be dismissed and he could squeeze out some personal time before having to get back to the orders that were sure to be waiting for him.

Patrick stood. “My lords, and gentlemen. I’m pleased to see you all in attendance. You will be given a full briefing in select groups. It’s no secret a hostile army is heading our way, and we’ve spent the last several months in preparation for this coming invasion.

“Some of you know a great deal more than others, and for reasons of state security, I command you not to speculate among yourselves or share information. Assume that the man next to you is as knowledgeable as you, no more or less, and cannot give you any more information than you already have, so don’t ask questions.”

Some of the nobles seemed a bit taken aback by the order, but no one made a comment. A few glanced around the room, attempting to measure the reactions of others.

“Now, to the general situation. This is what you must all know before hostilities begin.” The Prince motioned to two squires, who removed a large cloth hanging from the wall. Behind the hanging was an
immense map of the Western Realm, from the Far Coast to Malac’s Cross. The Prince picked up a long pointer and moved at once to the far left edge of the map. “Here,” said Patrick, pointing to the Straits of Darkness, “we expect the enemy’s fleet within the next week.”

A few nobles muttered to one another, but the room quickly fell silent. “Between then and when they reach here”—he pointed north of the city of Land’s End—“we need to be fully mobilized. Therefore, you will spend the next week before Banapis in meetings, getting orders, and making ready. We shall all celebrate the Midsummer Festival as if nothing were amiss—we can’t alarm the populace, and already rumors are starting to circulate. Lord James?”

The Duke of Krondor said, “I have agents in the city right now, adding to those rumors. We’re not trying to deny the possibility that war is coming to Krondor, but we are giving the impression the trouble springs from Great Kesh. As Krondor hasn’t seen a Keshian army in over two hundred years, the population is currently more concerned about rising taxes and the possibility of travel to Shamata and Landreth being curtailed than about any immediate danger.”

James’s expression darkened. “That will quickly change. When ships due in from the Free Cities and Far Coast fail to appear because of the invaders’ fleet, word will quickly circulate from the docks to the outlying farms that something is coming from the west. When that happens, we’ll have to lock down Krondor.”

“Martial law?” asked one of the local nobles.

“Yes,” said Prince Patrick.

Duke James said, “Our enemy is dangerous, far more so than many of you can imagine. By the time we’re finished with all our meetings this week, you’ll have a better appreciation of that danger, but until then accept what I say: Krondor has never faced a trial such as the one coming.

“We will impose curfew and, if possible, permit an orderly evacuation of the city before it is encircled. But once the enemy has landed, we will close the gates and Krondor will have to hold.”

“Hold?” said another noble. “What about help from the East?”

Patrick put up his hand. “Silence. As I said before, we will tell you only what you need to know. You will obey.” His tone indicated there was to be no debate on this matter. If any of the nobles present felt slighted, they hid the fact.

The Prince said, “So we are clear on the chain of command. First of all, Knight-Marshal William is now commander of the Armies of the West.” He held up a document. “By order of the King.” A few nobles looked interested, but no one seemed shocked. By tradition, the Knight-Marshal of Krondor held rank equal to that of a Duke, and occasionally in the past, the Duke of Krondor had held both offices. Patrick then pointed to Calis. “Captain Calis has the acting rank of Knight-General of the Kingdom.” Patrick held up another document. For a moment, the significance of what he had just said did not penetrate; then the jaws of several of the nobles dropped in astonishment, reflecting Erik’s own shock. Knight-General of the West would have placed him second in command of Principality troops. But Knight-
General of the Kingdom put him second in command to Knight-Marshal William, and the superior of any Duke in the Kingdom.

Calis said, “I prefer to be referred to as ‘Captain,’ in any event.” Pointing out Erik, he said, “My second in command is Sergeant Major Erik von Darkmoor. Despite his modest rank, assume he speaks with my voice when he comes to you with orders.”

This set up a resentful muttering in the room. Patrick wasted no time in ending it: he struck the table with the pointer, letting the loud crack silence the nobles. “This special unit will operate independently of the traditional order of the Armies of the West, but if at any time you find yourself in a situation where you must decide if you are required to follow the orders of an officer of that special unit, let me make it clear: you will obey orders from any officer of any rank from that special unit as if they originated with the Crown. Is that abundantly clear?”

That left no room for misunderstanding. “Yes, Your Highness,” said several of the nobles.

“The units of the Special Command, under Lord Calis, the Royal Krondorian Pathfinders, and other special auxiliaries are all included in those orders. You will be provided with a complete list of those units before you depart for your own commands.”

Erik glanced around the room. Several of the Dukes in attendance were close to enraged at the orders, and hid the fact poorly. Patrick showed the training of his office by slamming the pointer on the table hard enough to break it. “My lords!” he said in a loud but controlled voice.

Then he lowered his voice. “When this is over, you will understand why the creation of special units and
the operation outside the traditional organization of the Armies of the West are imperative. I needn’t remind any of you what history taught us during the Riftwar: that a unified command is essential. As I have only one Knight-Marshal, I must leave it to him to decide how the troops under his command will be disposed.”