Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [4]
Sergeant Baiter came running up and saluted the general. “Five minutes until the men are ready, sir.”
Paz nodded. “The emperor’s horse?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve attended to it myself. And my own mount will go to the empress.”
Elandra swung around, the tears on her face forgotten in her gratitude. “Sergeant—”
“Nonsense,” Paz snapped as though she had not spoken. “We need all the able-bodied fighting men possible. Keep the assigned order. Sergeant. Make no changes. And tie on the emperor’s saddlebags for him.”
“Sir!” Saluting, Baiter cast Elandra a swift, apologetic glance before he strode to the emperor’s side.
Still sunk in thought, Kostimon looked up at the sergeant. “Lord Sien has come?”
“No, sir. Which saddlebags have you selected to take?”
“Am I to run for my life like a pauper?” Kostimon roared loudly enough to make everyone pause and look. “Great Gault, is it not enough that I was convinced to fall back when I should have held? Is it not enough that I was persuaded to save myself when my men have died without me? Is it not enough that I abandoned wife and concubines for expediency? Is it not enough that I cower down here in a hole like a damned mouse while those murdering brutes pillage and sack my own palace? And now, am I to flee without the means of preserving anything I have built all these centuries? Am I to run like a beetle seeking a new crevice, without my treasures, without my maps, without my literature, without my possessions? Be damned to you! I shall not go!”
“Perhaps, Majesty,” Baiter ventured nervously, “if each man were to strap one item behind his saddle—”
“No,” Paz said. “Begging your Majesty’s pardon, but fighting men cannot be burdened with nonessentials—”
“Nonessentials!” the emperor shouted. “Murdeth and Fury, man, why don’t you say I am a nonessential? These foolish objections do nothing but delay us. Where is Sien? Sergeant, see that he comes at once.”
Saluting, Baiter hurried away as though glad to escape.
Vysal reappeared, hurrying through the cluster of guardsmen. He looked increasingly pale beneath his bandage. Concerned for him and his injury, Elandra wished the others would have more consideration than to send him running back and forth like an errand boy.
“Majesty,” he said, saluting the emperor and sounding out of breath. “Lord Sien is—is not at leisure to come. And I think the Madruns are in the temple.”
Kostimon received this news with a deepening scowl, but Paz stepped forward.
“I told you she would lead them to us, and she has!” Paz said, glaring at Elandra as he spoke. “There is no time to spare. Captain, mount the troops.”
Vysal swung away and beckoned to Baiter, who came running back. “Mount the troops.”
“Sir!” Saluting, Baiter spun about and bawled orders at the men with such vigor his voice echoed from the ceiling.
The men scrambled to line up, each one standing at attention with his hand on his mount’s bridle. Fifteen men, not counting the emperor or her or the officers, and only twelve horses. Elandra counted them again to be sure, and with a sinking heart wondered who was to be left behind.
Baiter’s experienced eye ran along his meager troops, and he nodded in curt satisfaction, then walked over to personally check the emperor’s saddle. He tightened the girths another notch, retied the strings holding the heavy saddlebags, and next turned his attention to the general’s mount.
By the time he’d finished this, the emperor was coming with Paz in tow.
“Mount up!” Baiter shouted, and the men with horses obeyed. The rest stood by, impassive and ready for war, their gauntleted hands resting on their sword hilts.
“Here, Majesty,” the sergeant said to Elandra, leading a raw-boned sorrel up to her. He handed her the reins. “I’ll shorten the stirrups for you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
But the general pointed his whip at the sergeant. “Stop that!” he commanded. “Captain Vysal, withdraw this man.”
The captain’s face tightened visibly beneath the bandage. It was plain to Elandra how loathe