“She’s been attacked,” the servant said. “King Ravin’s people are supposed to be taking her south toward one the bridges. The king is gathering all the knights. He has sent messages to the Spur.”
“Gathering knights?” Rodry said, springing toward the stand where his armor lay. “And how long will that take?”
Too long, that was the obvious answer. His father was a king, which meant that he would move slowly, gathering assent, gathering troops. Always preparing, never acting. Like with the ambassador.
“My father will waste time,” Rodry said. “He will let them get away, and if they make it south, he’ll say that my sister is lost.” He looked over to the servant. “How was Lenore even attacked? Where were Vars and his men?”
“I… no one knows for sure, your highness,” the servant said.
Meaning that Vars hadn’t been there when he should have been. Anger flashed through Rodry at that, but also guilt. He should have argued more when his father sent Vars to accompany Lenore, should have insisted on guarding her himself. He should have been there.
Well, he would be now. Rodry looked around at his friends. They were not the Knights of the Spur, but they had been on enough hunts, trained with weapons enough times. They were here, and they were all he had.
“Seris, find the others, as many as you can, and as quickly. Tell them what has happened, and tell them that I need them. Mautlice, get us horses waiting. Bribe the stable hands if you have to. Kay, get together the weapons.”
“We’re joining your father’s forces?” Kay asked.
Rodry couldn’t contain his anger then. He struck the wall beside him, and the others flinched back.
“My father won’t be fast enough!” he shouted. “A small group can move faster. No, I’m doing this myself. I’m going to go and get my sister back, and get her safe. Kay, if that girl you like is one of her servants, she’ll be in danger too. Don’t you want to help?”
“I…” Kay nodded.
“All of you,” Rodry said. “You say you want to be knights. You say you want to prove yourselves. This is how you do it. We do the things that only knights can do. We protect those who need protecting.” He looked at them, imploring them. “Please. I’m asking this not as your prince, but as your friend. Help me save my sister.”
There was no reason for them to, of course. They should go to his father’s forces, should wait to take action along with the rest. Instead, Rodry felt relief as they nodded, one by one.
“I’ll find more people,” Seris promised. “I think I saw a few down in the long gallery earlier. Maybe a few guards, or knights…”
“Halfin and Twell might come,” Rodry said. “But the knights owe their first loyalty to my father.” He paused. “I’ll not pretend that this is safe. Even if we succeed, my father might still be angry with us for what we do. But I have to do this. I can’t stand by.”
The others nodded.
“Here, let me help you with your armor,” Kay said.
Rodry threw on the chain shirt himself, but he needed his friend’s help with the straps of the breastplate and the pauldrons. The gorget and the gauntlets came next. Ordinarily, Rodry wouldn’t have ridden like this, but he didn’t want to get close to his sister’s pursuers, only to have to stop and ready his protection.
“We need to hurry,” he said. “There’s no time to lose.”
The others rushed off about the tasks that he’d set them, and Rodry readied his weapons: sword and spear, dagger and mace. He started off through the castle, and servants moved out of his way. Perhaps they sensed the anger that still boiled inside him, pushing him forward.
By the time he got down to the stables, Mautlice had already succeeded in gathering horses for them. More of his friends were already gathering round, along with half a dozen guards, so that there were perhaps twenty in their company in total. Some of them were as armored as Rodry, but others wore only light leathers or chain, as if they’d thrown on whatever they could find close at hand. Would it be enough?
It would have to be, because there was no time for more. They had to get to Lenore.
Rodry’s own horse was at the head of the line. He put a foot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle. The gates of the castle were open ahead, showing a view down into Royalsport.
Rodry looked back at his group of men. For a moment, there in the sun, they looked as though they might actually be knights. He didn’t know how they would fare against the kind of soldiers King Ravin sent, but he had to hope that they could be fast enough, could do enough, to save his sister. He drew his sword, then gestured forward with it.
“Onward!”
As the wedge of their horses rumbled into galloping motion, Rodry just hoped that they would be in time.
CHAPTER FOUR
Devin staggered back toward Royalsport, still not quite able to believe what he’d seen, what he’d found. How could he have spotted a dragon, when they had not been seen in so very long?
It was more than that, though; right then, he wasn’t even sure who he was. The dreams that had come to him had hinted that he was someone else, someone from a strange place that wasn’t the Northern Kingdom. Devin didn’t know what to think of that, didn’t know who he was meant to be. Where did what he’d done against the wolves fit into it all, too? He’d done magic, but what did that mean?
As he reached the city, his feet turned automatically on the route that would take him over the city’s many bridges, toward home. He’d gone a dozen steps through the crowds of the city before he realized that he didn’t have a home to go to, not anymore. He couldn’t go back to the House of Weapons either, because he didn’t work there anymore, so what did that leave?
He looked out over the city, caught in the mid-morning sun that made it seem as though the mists of the day before had never happened. Its thatched houses spread out between the streams that filled the city the way spider-web cracks might spread across a mirror. Devin could make out the districts, noble, then poor, then poorer, down to the spot where Devin’s home sat… his former home, he corrected himself.
The people there bustled along cobbled streets, toward the businesses in which they worked, or toward the great forms of the Houses that stood over the city. The House of Weapons was already belching smoke from its forges into the sky, while the House of Scholars sat aloof from the cacophony of the city. The House of Merchants squatted at their heart of the city’s markets, while the House of Sighs was quiet during the day, the last of the patrons from the night before already gone. The smell of the city was a mixture of smoke and sweat, the press of people impossible to ignore.
Devin looked past all of that, toward the solid, gray-walled block of the castle. Rodry would be there, and the prince might help him. Master Grey might be there, and this time Devin might be able to get answers from him. Were Princess Lenore not off on her wedding harvest, there might have been a chance to catch a glimpse of her, and the thought of that made Devin’s heart ache even though he knew he should ignore that feeling.
He set off for the castle, his slender form weaving through the crowds on the streets. Being taller than most people, he could pick his route easily enough, steering clear of the stalls that lined the side of the thoroughfares, where the press was thickest, and looking on toward the network of streams that crisscrossed the city. Devin brushed dark hair out of his eyes, wondering if the streams would be low enough at this hour to wade. He thought better of it; even if the fine clothes he’d borrowed from Sir Halfin now had mud on them from the forest, it seemed better not to encrust them with more. At least, not if he wanted to get into the castle.
Devin took the bridges instead, hurrying over one stone and wood span after another, rising up toward the castle. On another bridge, he saw a small troop of horsemen charging their way through the city, clearly in a hurry. Devin thought he caught a glimpse of Rodry at their head, but they were too far away for him to call to.