Tol nodded absently. They had looked all over for the Red Robe. There had been no trace of the wizard among the prisoners, either in the citadel or anywhere else.
“These messages are in Valaran’s hand!” Tol exclaimed. Egrin’s graying eyebrows lifted in surprise and Tol added, “Don’t you see? Wornoth was playing both sides. He was spying for the empress, while ruling in the emperor’s name.” The duplicity of the man was incredible.
“Then why would he arrest Helbin? He knew they both served the same mistress.”
Tol shrugged. “Maybe Wornoth was duping Valaran, betraying her trust to Ackal V. If so, the last thing he’d want around would be a loyal servant of the empress.” Tol tossed the letters back in the drawer. “Helbin could tell us more. He’s probably dead, but continue the search for him anyway.”
He left Egrin to finish examining Wornoth’s secret papers. Queen Casberry was departing, and Tol wanted to see her off.
Egrin waited until his friend and commander had gone, then picked up certain of the bundles again, riffled through them, and extracted a sheaf or two. These he burned in the flame of his lamp, watching the doorway all the while.
Tol, Casberry, and her bearers were just inside the north gate of Caergoth. Evening had come and Luin was rising, casting its pinkish light over the open landscape.
Tol asked the kender queen about her escort and received the breezy assurance that both Royal Loyals and Household Guard were “around somewhere.” She had already turned down his offer of an armed escort, saying she might not be heading directly home. Kender were afflicted with wanderlust, and the queen was the most kenderish of them all.
Front and Back hoisted the heavy sedan chair onto their shoulders, seemingly without effort. As usual, Queen Casberry offered a steady stream of advice to the duo on the best way to carry the chair and, as usual, the men ignored her. Tol smiled. They were certainly an odd threesome.
When he thanked her again for her assistance, she patted him on the head. “You’re a good fellow, for a human.” Putting her little prune face close to his head, she added, “You’re getting a bald spot up here, you know that?”
Tol cleared his throat and stepped back. He was past forty now, and it was true. Age was beginning to tell on him in many ways.
“Okay, boys, pick up your feet!” she said, and Front and Back headed for the open gate.
“Oh, your Majesty!” Tol called. “Where should I send the payment you were promised for your troops?”
Casberry lifted both arms and waved. Her arms, from wrist to elbow, were covered with gold and silver bangles.
“Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of that!” she said, cackling.
The little party seemed so lonely, so vulnerable, Tol found himself following them out. The bearers kept to the center of the white-pebbled road, which curved away to the northwest. Before Casberry had gone a quarter-league, however, small shadowy figures joined her out of the darkness. Kender. More and more appeared as she progressed, falling in behind their clever, rapacious queen.
The cryptic phrase Casberry used so often-”no kender is ever alone”-was, Tol knew, true enough. He also knew the treasure recovered from the nomads was by now somewhat diminished. It didn’t matter. The kender had earned their “found” valuables.
Tol walked back into the city, and the guards closed the gate. He rode through the darkening streets, now empty of the crowds of refugees. Trash blew along the wide lanes, last reminders of the thousands who had crowded into Caergoth to escape the chaos outside. On their own initiative, a brigade of street sweepers had organized to clean the city. Before long Caergoth would once more be a byword for cleanliness in the empire.
Daltigoth lay forty leagues southwest, a ride of five or six days on the Ackal Path. Daltigoth was his journey’s end. All Tol’s goals were there, he reflected, with Valaran his prize. So wrapped up was he in thoughts of his distant love, that Tol didn’t notice a caped figure emerge from an alley as he passed. But after a few paces, he said (without turning around), “Did you find her, Tylocost?”
The elf chuckled. “Your senses aren’t bad for a human, my lord.”
“Your sandals creak.”
Tol had dispatched Tylocost to find the Pakin princess, Mellamy Zan, reported by Hanira to be in Caergoth.
“I found her,” Tylocost said, putting back his hood. “I believe she will accept my protection. Her advisors were against it, but she overruled them. She seems remarkably intelligent and accomplished-for a human.”
“Remember where your allegiance lies, General.”
With irritating Silvanesti aplomb, Tylocost inclined his head gracefully. “I remember, my lord.”
Tol offered his hand. As Tylocost clasped it, Tol said, “Thank you. And now you’re free, General. You are no longer my prisoner.”
Tylocost’s eyes widened. “But so much remains to be done!”
“I know, but I also know that I may not return from this last ride. You’ve done amazingly well by me, and I’m grateful, so I give you your freedom.” But he tightened his grip until Tylocost winced. “That does not excuse you from the duty I expect you to perform.”
“Of course not. I would wish you luck, my lord, but you seem plentifully supplied already, so I’ll give you a warning instead: be certain of nothing.” Pale blue eyes bored into Tol’s brown ones. “You stand in the center of events so complex and loyalties so tangled that even I cannot see all the threads. Make certain your will is as hard as that steel blade you carry, and trust no one.”
Smiling a little, Tol asked, “Not even you, General?”
The elf’s expression was grim. “Not even I.”
Before Tol could say more, Tylocost was gone, melting into the darkness. Instinct told him he would never see the Silvanesti again.
It was very late when Tol retired to his room in the Riders’ Hall, but hardly had he lain down when someone slipped into the room.
“Peace,” said the figure, and he recognized Kiya’s voice. “I wish to sleep here tonight.” ¦
He was dumbfounded. Not in twenty-odd years together had they ever been so intimate, despite Kiya’s status as his wife.
He stuttered rather incoherently for a moment and she hissed, “I’ve not come to seduce you! My father snores so loudly, I can’t sleep in the room he shares with his men. Move over, Husband.”
He complied, but felt oddly shy. Kiya lay down with her back to him and muttered, “Don’t get any strange ideas.” There seemed no safe answer to that, affirmative or negative, so Tol said nothing.
He was just dozing off when someone else entered the room. “Husband, I-Kiya! What are you doing here?” Miya demanded.
“Trying to sleep! Shut up!”
“Both of you shut up,” Tol growled. He was exhausted, and in no mood for sisterly wrangling.
Miya elbowed her way in next to Kiya. “You think I can sleep with Father’s snoring? And I’m certainly not leaving you two here alone.” Kiya told her she had too much imagination.
With the two tall forester women in the bed, there was scarcely room for Tol. He slid off onto the flagstone floor. While the sisters sniped at each other, he claimed a blanket and curled up beneath it.
Twenty years together, and now his wives wanted to sleep with him. The prospect was so daunting he vowed to get the final drive to Daltigoth underway as soon as possible.
The day dawned cloud-capped and windy. Before sunrise, the Army of the East marched out of Caergoth and formed on the great road to the capital-the Ackal Path. Virtually every Rider in the city had joined Tol, giving him a total strength of forty-four full hordes, six demi-hordes, and the two hordes of Juramona Militia, the only foot soldiers in the Army. There was great disaffection among the imperial warriors for their poor treatment by the emperor and the emperor’s deputy, Governor Lord Wornoth. The proud Riders were ready to march on Daltigoth and present their grievances to Ackal V in the most direct manner possible-at sword point.