The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [9]
Thorn frowned. “Why the extra precautions?”
The adviser waved one hand dismissively. “Truth be told, I’m a touch ashamed of this production. There’s been a few rumors. Nothing confirmed. Hardly even credible.”
Steel stirred in Thorn’s grip. Then why the effort?
The question was already on Thorn’s lips. “It seems like a great deal of work for a threat you don’t actually believe in.”
Cadrel shrugged. “His highness has been troubled of late, and he demanded the extra effort. I do whatever I can to comfort my prince.”
That seemed plausible enough. While Thorn hadn’t spoken much with Prince Oargev, she’d spent a great deal of time around the young prince over the course of the past two weeks, and he had seemed to become increasingly agitated as they drew closer to the Brelish capital. “What about these rumors, then? What’s the nature of the threat?”
“An embarrassment to us all. You’ve spent enough time among us to know just how passionate the young prince is about restoring Cyre. But there are those among his scattered subjects who expect him to work miracles … as if he could somehow lift the mist from the Mournland with a wave of his hand.”
Thorn nodded. Oargev worked closely with the lords of the Five Nations. But ever since the Day of Mourning, there had been those who were unsatisfied with his diplomatic efforts. Breland had given refugees a place to live, but many among them wanted a true kingdom of their own, and some were angry Oargev hadn’t made it happen. “I’ve heard about the riots in Stormreach and Fairhaven,” Thorn said. “But you think that some of the refugees might actually attack the prince? What would that accomplish?”
Cadrel spread his hands sadly. “Who can decipher the whims of madmen, my dear?”
“How solid is this? Do we have a sense of numbers and organization?”
“Not at all, I fear. Truly, Shield Thorn, this is more a matter of intuition than anything else. I collect rumors, and I’ve heard many since we arrived in this fair city. Cyrans speaking angrily in a Riverside tavern. An officer’s blade from the Fifth Crown turning up in a flea market. An accusation that some among the King’s Wands are selling arms to dissidents. I’ve heard a dozen other tales, and there’s no reason to assume that any of them are connected. And yet … I’m a storyteller, my lady. To weave a fine tale, you always start with disparate threads. It’s bringing them together that makes it art. And here, tonight … I see a group of elite soldiers, trained in the use of sword and wand. I see powerful weapons gone missing from the king’s own arsenal. An appointment our lord cannot pass up, and an attack on the royal carriage. Most likely just a fanciful tale, but his highness likes a good story, and he doesn’t want to see this one come to pass.”
Seems a little farfetched, if that’s really all he’s got, Steel said. There’ve been tales of corruption within the Wands for the last century. Nonetheless … the Fifth Crown is an urban strike force, trained to make assaults deep within enemy territory.
Thorn tapped Steel’s hilt thoughtfully. She’d clashed with the Fifth Crown at the end of the war, well before she’d received Steel. She’d been lucky to survive the experience. A resentful group of former soldiers, selling all they could to raise enough gold to buy mystical weapons on the black market … it might be unlikely, but she could see why Cadrel would be concerned. “What’s the plan?”
“Gal will take the prince’s place in the royal carriage. The house guards will join him there, so anyone who knows our staff will see them. His highness will travel in this coach, disguised and guarded solely by you Brelish. We’ll follow Blackmarket, and take the King’s Bridge—a foolish route, to be sure, but that’s the point. A merchant envoy, bringing goods to Brokenblade Castle.” He glanced at her black clothing and the vambraces of blackened mithral protecting her forearms. “Do you have something in gray?”
“I think I can find something suitable.” She closed her eyes and let her fingers pass down