Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [219]
The man must have been with the Halverics, then.
“What’s Captain Talgan’s nickname among the troops?” Kieri asked. “The one you think he doesn’t know?”
The man flushed. “It’s … not polite … sir.”
“I know that. Most nicknames aren’t. Come now, tell me.”
“You won’t tell him I said it?”
“No,” Kieri said.
The man knew the nickname and came out with it, still red in the face. “And it’s only because that time old Sergeant Manka, that’s been retired these five years, saw him in the—”
“I know,” Kieri said. He sighed. “Beldan, I now believe you are in fact a Halveric soldier, but I am not certain you aren’t also a traitor. Why is your pouch wet?”
“I told Sir Garris—it was the snow, falling off the trees and landing on the saddle. But the inside’s not wet; I opened it to check before I went to the jacks.”
“Well, Beldan, we have a problem. You’re a Halveric veteran or someone who knows more about Halveric Company than anyone not in it should. You’ve got plausible answers to my questions. But I lost five men and women this evening to an assassin and was nearly killed myself, so you will understand why I am cautious.”
“Yes, my lord, but—but can I have some water?”
“Certainly.” Kieri glanced at Garris, who poured a mug of water. Kieri sniffed it carefully before holding it to Beldan’s lips. The man sipped.
Sier Halveric came to the door. “Sir King—oh—Beldan!”
“You know him?” Kieri asked.
“Of course,” Sier Halveric said. “Aliam uses him as a courier between Halveric Steading and Chaya. What has he done?”
“Perhaps nothing,” Kieri said. “You can vouch that he’s been with Aliam a long time?”
“Years,” Sier Halveric said. “And honest.” He beckoned Kieri nearer the door. “But not very smart,” he murmured.
“Then it’s his misfortune that he arrived the same evening as an assassin,” Kieri said. He stood up. “Release him, Garris.” To Sier Halveric he said, “I grant this man to you as armsman, Sier Halveric. Keep him close with you, if you will, until Aliam’s troops arrive; he can accompany them to the north.”
“Gladly, Sir King.”
As Sier Halveric led the man away, Kieri heard him say, “That wasn’t the king—that was Duke Phelan! I’d know the Duke anywhere!”
Kieri shook his head at Garris’s expression. “It doesn’t matter … if he’d seen me crowned, he wouldn’t have understood. We had a man in my company who called his new sergeant by the first one’s name for years.” He stretched. “And now I’m hungry, and we still have to read that message.”
Garris pulled it out, sniffed it. “Just water, as he said.” He handed it to Kieri.
The report was clear enough: Pargunese troops had come across in boats, under cover of darkness, and set fires. Talgan’s troops, rangers, and Royal Archers had fought them back to the river, but more were preparing to come over.
“The fire seems natural,” Talgan wrote. “But the wind may not be. Prisoners speak of ‘scathefire’ that will burn all to the bare rock, but will not say what it is or when it will be used. In the dawn-light, as I write, I can see boats and fires along the far shore, but not how many soldiers the Pargunese have. One prisoner said the old king was disgraced and only fools followed him, that the weavers’ Lady was with his king—” Talgan had included a sketch of the boats and his best guess at the line of defense, which wavered inland in multiple places.
“So the worst is yet to come,” Kieri said. More Pargunese would be coming across the river, and his troops had not been able to clear the riverside. At least one courier was missing completely, probably killed by the assassin, who had been ahead of Talgan’s messenger.
“Our people are holding, at least,” Garris said.
“I want the Pargunese back in Pargun,” Kieri said. “We can’t just hold—we must push them out.”
“Sir King, there’s a meal ready—”
“Good.”
The Council members looked frightened again. Kieri exerted himself to reassure them: he had not been harmed, he was fine, and though Talgan was undoubtedly facing a difficult night, with more Pargunese coming across the river, the situation