Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [99]
It was the same morning that Commander Brynd Lathraea was bringing the new Empress to Villjamur, and a large contingent of the Fourth and Fifth Dragoons was riding toward the city through the mist. The horses’ hooves thumped on sodden tundra, leaving a muddy trail. It wouldn’t be at all difficult for anyone to follow, but there were so many troops in attendance that you need not fear a surprise attack. Brynd rode directly alongside the carriage in which Rika sat with the windows veiled. Apium was astride his horse, one of those pulling the vehicle, while Nelum and Lupus were riding directly behind. All around them on either side, keeping pace precisely, were columns of Dragoons.
The Lady Rika herself was the center of all this.
Brynd eyed her frequently, but couldn’t tell much from her expression. He suspected she understood exactly what was required of her in her new role, with its responsibilities. He also knew she had not seen Villjamur for several years. Its daunting walls and the three entrance gates had been there seemingly forever, but there were now differences, inside and out. The ice age was upon them, with thousands of refugees huddled outside. Families were being torn apart, there were suicides and murders daily.
And her father, the Emperor, was dead.
“Your breath, Randur Estevu, smells as if a horse has just passed wind. I trust you’ve a decent reason for entering my presence in such a state?” Eir folded her arms as she examined Randur.
“And what would you know of a horse’s bodily functions, a pretty little rich girl like you?” Randur slumped into a chair in the minor chamber he had commandeered for dancing lessons. The fire was spitting rather too loudly for his liking, even though tapestries covered the windows in an attempt to exclude drafts. Randur was at least grateful for the dim lighting, since his head pounded even when confronted with a candle. His pupil was today wearing one of her green silk numbers, something he had to admit she looked particularly attractive in.
If only she could shut her mouth for more than a second.
Placing his head in his hands, he began to massage his scalp. “Oh, Bohr.”
“And may I ask how you managed to end up in this state?” Eir inquired.
“You may not,” Randur groaned, glancing up at her. Her face displayed an expression of disgust he wasn’t used to seeing from women. He was a man of style, after all, so maybe things weren’t looking so great.
“Do you realize who you’re talking to?” Her tone was indignant.
“Sure I do,” Randur replied.
“Yet you obviously have no respect for me?”
“I’m sorry.” Randur stood up, gave her as sarcastic a bow as he could manage, given the pain in his head. He wasn’t in the mood for this formal nonsense.
Her expression suggested that she wasn’t sure whether he was being serious. “I thought you requested for a drummer to help us with the timing?” she persisted. “Maybe he has got himself into Astrid-knows-what trouble, like yourself.”
“I wasn’t in any trouble,” Randur protested, rubbing his eyes. “I can handle myself just fine on these streets.”
“I’m sure you can,” Eir said tartly. “Now I demand that you tell me where you were and what you were up to.”
“Caveside, if you must know.” He began to pace around the room in the hope of walking off his headache, occasionally stepping over to the window. Right now the cool air was the freshest he’d ever breathed.
“Caveside?” Eir said, frowning. “Whatever were you doing down there? While you’re in residence here, you ought to conduct yourself with more decorum. It’s a bit reckless, don’t you think, fraternizing with all those thugs? I’ve heard stories about serving girls who ventured down the wrong street and—”
“D’you have any idea what actually goes on down there?” Randur snapped, glancing despairingly at her. He shook his head. Bohr, how damn spoiled are people around here?
“Well,” Eir replied, “I have been told of all sorts of thieves and murderers. Soldiers gone bad.”
“Yeah, well maybe there are some of those,” Randur admitted. They were so