The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [32]
Some knights had come from Toloria, sent by Queen Ivalaine, and Grace wasn't certain whether to be surprised or not. From what Lirith and Aryn had told her, the Witches intended to work against the Warriors of Vathris. However, Ivalaine was a queen as well as a witch, and Toloria was Calavan's most ancient ally. Surely she had had no choice but to send some of her knights—though their number was few, only thirty.
Galt had sent a similar number of knights. We are hard-pressed to guard the passes through the highlands, King Kylar wrote in his missive to the king. The dark knights of Eredane grow restless, and they seek a way south. Would that we could spare more men for you, but to speak the truth, we cannot spare even these I do send.
Queen Inara's news was just as bleak. She wrote of dark clouds gathering to the north in Embarr, and of unrest in her own Dominion. As a result, she had sent just twenty knights, though she also granted Boreas five of her Spiders in addition to Aldeth. May they help you in ways a warrior cannot, Inara wrote.
Grace appreciated Queen Inara's gesture, but she wondered if it was really a good idea to have so many spies in one castle; there was no telling what they were up to. The Spiders were as hard to pin down and bring together as drops from a spilled bottle of mercury.
Then again, if the Spiders could discover the location of the Duratek agents who had destroyed the castle's towers, then Inara's gift would be great indeed. Except one of Inara's own keeps had blown up, and the Spiders hadn't been able to stop it.
Then maybe Travis will, Grace. If anyone has the power to keep Duratek from reaching Eldh, he does.
But even if Travis succeeded, Duratek was hardly the only peril facing the Dominions. The Raven Cult had been reborn stronger than before. The Onyx Knights still controlled Brelegond and Eredane, and surely they would make their move on Embarr soon. Feydrim and wraithlings stalked the land. All the signs pointed to one thing: The Pale King would soon ride again.
Amid all this cold and gloom, one spark of unexpected hope had come a few days ago, when a band of twenty men in gray robes arrived at the gates of the castle. They were runespeakers from the Gray Tower, and while they seemed either woefully young or overly wizened, they were led by All-master Oragien himself.
Oragien was a tall and surprisingly hale man despite being well into his eighth decade. His blue eyes were keen beneath shaggy white brows as he greeted King Boreas in the great hall.
“We are not what we once were,” Oragien had said in his resonant voice. “But we have been learning since Master Wilder left us. Our forebears created the Rune Gate that bound the Pale King in Imbrifale. It is only right that we stand in Shadowsdeep when that gate opens once more.”
“I welcome you and your runespeakers, Oragien,” Boreas had said in a gruff voice. “Would that more remembered their call to duty as you do.”
Even with the addition of the runespeakers, it was a small and motley force that had gathered in answer to Boreas's call to war: some eighty knights, the single Tarrasian company, plus the handful of Spiders and the twenty runespeakers. As she watched the missive from the emperor burn, Grace searched for something, anything cheerful she could say.
“What of your own men, Your Majesty?” she said, hitting on the first topic that came to mind. “How many men has Calavan been able to raise?”
Once again, she had miscalculated. Boreas's visage darkened, and his hands became fists. “It seems even my own barons grow stingy these days. They think they can fulfill their oaths of fealty by sending me but seventy knights and two hundred foot. All the more reason my son and Lady Aryn must wed quickly. I would have at least one baron who is loyal to me.”
Grace had at least hoped for good news