Updated 7/14/24

Chapter 20

Rebekah

Rebekah-as-Tomas-Bekh scowled at her bodyguard, K’dan.

After her run-in with outlaws during the year’s early-thaw, and two other close shaves, it had become abundantly clear the roads were getting more dangerous. Too dangerous for an increasingly prosperous merchant, such as Bekh, to travel alone. Worse, being accompanied by one or two lads seemed to make her a bigger target. After all, if her business was big enough to have two assistants, she must be rich.

Or, rich in comparison to those who were down on their luck.

As she had no experience of hiring bodyguards, she had turned to others within Licht Gegen to find someone suitable. That resulted in her current companion.

K’dan was no longer young, but he was strong, very good with a sword and – for the most part – semi-reasonable company. The two boys travelling with her liked him, perhaps a little too much. Both had professed interest in becoming knights, but were almost glamoured by her protector. She feared they might be enticed into following this mercenary’s path, instead of Jonathan’s.

K’dan never let up. His eyes were always roaming about, looking for potential dangers. Always. That was, probably, a good thing when they were on the road.

It was an awful thing when she was trying to sell a plow. Having him hang around, even in the distance, put people off. He was big. He glowered. He openly wore armor, complete with a brace of throwing knives worn diagonally across his chest. The sword on his hip was large. Its scabbard worn. The puckered scar across his forehead, cheek, and left jawbone made him completely unapproachable. And he periodically crossed his arms, making him even more unsociable.

As for trying to gather or impart intelligence, he was a nightmare. Several contacts had seen him in the distance and veered off, refusing to meet.

And then there were Sabbaths, when she had to remove her disguise to prevent scarring, or worse. He would sit outside her room, unmoving, all day long.

She had tried addressing some of her concerns, without success. But after eleven days, including two Sabbaths, she was at her wits’ end.

Sitting in the front of the cart, the reins of its two horses in her hands, she beckoned K’dan over. Her lads were asleep in the back.

He was upon his horse. A fine animal whose customized saddle dripped with weapons. There was a two-handed sword, two quivers of arrows, a short bow, a longbow, a two-handed battle-axe, plus who-knew-what else. The only thing he seemed to be missing was a shield out of some tale only told to small children.

“This is harming my business,” Rebekah-as-Tomas began. “While you are keeping away ruffians, you are also frightening would-be customers.”

“I saw,” was all he replied.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any suggestions?” Rebekah asked, unable to get through to him.

“Replace me.”

“What…?” She was caught off-guard. It was not what she’d expected. “Why?”

“I was told to keep you alive.”

“I am not following you.”

“At any cost,” he added.

“I am still not following you.”

“I was told you have enemies and secrets. Told not to pry.”

“That’s a good thing.” She did not understand what he was trying to tell her.

“You need subtlety. I am an axe. You need a stiletto.”

“Um… yes?”

“Fall back behind me,” he instructed, urging his horse into a canter, extracting his longbow and two arrows, then stood up in his stirrups.

Four men thundered out of the bushes ahead, swords drawn. Their leader roared, “Stop the cart or di—”

The man’s words were curtailed by the arrow shaft protruding from his throat.

The man beside him was struck in the shoulder by another arrow.

“Boys!” Rebekah roared. “Bandits front.”

K’dan bellowed something, dropped the bow, then drew the two-handed sword. He was still standing tall his stirrups as his horse burst into a gallop.

Two horsemen were still coming.

Rebekah urged the cart’s horses to go faster. There was no place to turn. Exposing her back could be fatal.

The elder lad appeared at her right, sighting along a crossbow.

K’dan’s horse wheeled left. He crouched lower onto his saddle, bracing himself. His blade arced out, decapitating the third highwayman.

The lone man’s face was turned to witness his companion’s demise when a crossbow bolt whistled past his head. Looking at the oncoming wagon, his eyes wide, the horse beneath him darted to his right, taking him back into cover.

“Did I miss something?” the younger lad muttered sleepily.

“No, go back to sleep,” Rebekah replied.

The elder lad chuckled, as he cranked the string back on his crossbow.

Rebekah focused on the two boys, slowing the cart’s horses to a walk. There was no need to see what K’dan was doing. It was obvious.

Despite the dead – or soon-to-be dead – men’s actions, she whispered a prayer to J’shua for them. Somewhere, someone would grieve for their loss.

K’dan returned leading three horses, passing his longbow and two-hander to the elder lad. “Clean them.” Then, he focused on Rebekah. “Next town. Replace me. You need two young men. Not me.”

“Can you make any recommendations?”

“Yes.”

She was tempted to ask more, but doubted it would be useful.

***

Rebekah-as-Tomas-Bekh’s eyebrow rose when K’dan led her into an upmarket brothel.

“The Chins here?” he asked.

The madame, a woman only in her late twenties, looked at him, shook her head. She then crooked her finger and had them follow her into a private office, where she closed the door. Then, she walked up to the mercenary and kissed him. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Working.”

“Always the chatterbox.” The madame kissed him again. “And who is this?”

“Client.”

“Yours or theirs? I’ll not have any rough stuff here. If you’re looking to hurt them, do it elsewhere.”

“Mine now. Theirs, maybe.”

“You are bringing them work? Why? Is the client too hot? Do they need extra protection? Or, are you offloading them for some other reason.”

“Bad fit.”

The madame finally looked past the mercenary at Tomas. “What do you do?”

Unable to help herself, Rebekah responded, “Merchant.”

“Now, now. K’dan is permitted such answers. He’s family, aren’t you, husband?”

“Yes,” he replied.

The first emotion Rebekah had seen crossed his face as he smiled.

“So,” the madame resumed, allowing herself to be pulled into her husband’s arms with her back resting against his chest, “what kind of merchant are you? Would I have heard of you?

“I am Tomas Bekh.”

“Of Bekh’s Bold Bargains? Really?” The madame beamed. “Perhaps we should give you the friends-and-family rate. Your newly opened store in Fairness Crossing is a wonder. It provides things we need for, uh, all tastes.”

“I own it. I don’t run it. I sell plows, and—”

“And scout out new business ventures, find opportunities where others do not see them. I am told it is as if you shine a light into the dark, then find wonders there. Or so a little bird told me.”

Rebekah’s hackles rose, wondering if this was a trap. Just because people from Licht Gegen in the north had vouched for K’dan, did not mean he wouldn’t sell her out. “I am not sure I am worthy of such praise.”

“Nonsense, in a world full of darkness, you shine a light against it, Rebekah,” the girl said grinning from ear-to-ear.

“What…?” Rebekah was dumbfounded.

“It would seem my disguise is almost as good as yours. The last time you saw me was when you taught us to make candles in Frei Forest.”

“Della? But you should be eighteen. You look a decade older.”

“Make-up can do many things. Who would think of a young girl passing herself off as an aging whore?”

“You don’t…?” Rebekah asked, aghast at the thought of the girl prostituting herself.

“No, she does not,” K’dan answered, his voice sounding more educated than she had ever heard it.

“You were playing a role too?”

“Of course,” he replied. “There are places it is not safe to openly go as a Knight of J’shua. However, mercenaries are welcome everywhere. I do short-term bodyguard jobs. There has always been an informal network of such people, becoming known to it was as easy as beating one of their best, but not too easily. Then, given the scar on my face and a very few words, I was in. Between the brothel and a few of us working as mercenaries, we gather a great deal of information.”

Rebekah shook her head, trying to clear it. “Then why not tell me this when Licht Gegen hired you to work with me up north?”

“There are those amongst its leaders who worry that you might give yourself away, by accident. They appreciate everything you have done, but Tomas Bekh is becoming well known. Perhaps too well known for their peace of mind. And while there are women who occasionally spend time with you, you have never visited a brothel or had a woman for an entire night. Nor is there a wife that you return home to. Questions are being raised.”

“So,” Della took over, “we decided to answer them. The brothel is larger than it seems, connecting to two other buildings by underground tunnels, and to a warehouse. Whenever Tomas is in Fairness Crossing, Tomas will stay here, using the entrance set aside for special clients.”

“But my mail goes to the Golden Canary.”

“It did. We came to an arrangement with them. They will collect your mail, and hold rooms for you permanently from now on. They do the same thing for several other businessmen. It makes them appear wholesome and of modest means. As for the warehouse I mentioned, it is owned by Bekh’s Bold Bargains. And there is a rumor floating around town that your company owns this brothel too.”

“Is the brothel real?” Rebekah asked.

“It is. It has taken several moons to set up, to work out who to bribe, and how much to bribe them so we are left alone. We also have the most beautiful harlots. We have made it known that we pay better and offer opportunities others do not.”

“What do you mean?”

“For those who want to get out of this trade, we create new identities so they can disappear.”

“And security?”

“The local militet do not bother us, nor do the local guardsmen. To reinforce their reluctance to disturb us, this place is also known to be a haven for mercenaries.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Several of those mercenaries are always from Licht Gegen.” Della elbowed her husband in the ribs.

“I was chosen as your first bodyguard because my cover persona would be a bad fit. If you were ever captured, you know so much about this organization it could be the end of us. Therefore, I was instructed to be… difficult. To see how you would react, and how long it will take to fire me.”

Rebekah chuckled. “Did I pass?”

“Yes,” Della responded. “But I have been instructed to tell you that there need to be some changes. Tomas Bekh’s Sabbaths will be spent indulging himself in worldly pleasures. This is not the only such place that has been set up. For security reasons, I do not know the names of the others. That means you’ll have more than a single unguarded door to keep you safe.”

“That will be a pleasant change. What else?”

“Tomas needs to hand over the plow business to others, or at least start to. Due to this, you will be accompanied by your two apprentices. A pair of brothers in their early twenties.”

“Who are they?” Rebekah asked.

“Although it is very rare, there are young men who do not complete their training as Knights of J’shua. The brothers Della referred to are such men.”

“Why didn’t they…?”

“They were good scholars, both excellent with a sword, but did not feel the calling. In such cases, the knights find other ways for them to serve. For the last couple of years, they have worked as mercenaries. Started off with me, have made reputations of their own, but always blathered on about getting out and doing something honest. Buying Tomas’ plow selling business will be believable to those who know them.”

Rebekah nodded. There had been moments since early-thaw when she had wondered how long her luck could hold.

The way is clear when it is needed.

Chapter 21

Caileagh

Caileagh paused, checking her reflection in the mirror. Yes, it was perfect. Just one or two locks of hair were out of place, ruining her usually immaculate presentation. Her face was set, as if holding back strong emotion, the slightest frown across her brow.

Happy that she would project exactly the image she intended, she opened the final door leading from the chambers in which Parynna was being cared for. Striding back out into the public corridors of Castle Lorness, she hesitated for a moment to speak to the guard. He was new. “No man, no matter who, must pass through these doors. While our guest’s health is somewhat better, her mind is… fragile. No one, not even my husband, the Lord of Lorness, must be allowed to enter. Should they do so…’ She shook her head, lowering her gaze to fixate on the flagstones.

The guard nodded. “I have heard the stories, Countess. It was most brave of you to stop her from jumping to her death. Is… is there any hope?”

“There is always hope, but the path back is likely long and fraught with danger. Ensure the guards who replace you know of my instructions.”

“Yes, Countess.”

Caileagh strode away, slower than she usually walked, to indicate the toll this was taking on her. She was pleased by the stories circulating throughout the castle and the surrounding town. There were times it was a good thing to be seen to be a caring friend. It also undermined the occasional talebearing servant who spoke too openly.

Only once, of course.

Caileagh’s network of spies and agents saw to that. Then the foolish man or woman became the centerpiece of more… sacrificial… practices. Again, only once. There were always gods that she could please, whether it was one of their special days or not.

She had been spending many hours each day making a show of Parynna recover from her ordeal. As far as the world was concerned, the poor woman was unable to cope with even the sight of a man, which sent her into terrified fits of screaming. One exquisite occasion, they had orchestrated Parynna running for the window in her tower room.

Those watching from below had heard the scream and witnessed the Countess of Lorness and other servants drag the madwoman back from the ledge, risking their very lives to do so.

On the two occasions Drake had ridden to Lorness to see for himself how his wife was recovering, Caileagh had done her very best to prevent him from encountering Parynna. The first time, he had acquiesced, upon hearing her through the door, “No! I can’t bear to see him. I’m not ready!” On the second, he had bulled his way past the guards…

…leading to the perfectly executed suicide attempt.

Drake was beside himself. “What’s wrong with you that you would kill yourself?” he yelled.

To which, she burst out crying, “I can’t go back! I can’t go back! I couldn’t bear it.”

In its aftermath, Caileagh had guards take a dejected Drake down into Gaelib’s Hall. It had been emptied of everyone but her husband, Drake and herself. Once the man calmed down, she had excused herself, leaving the matter to be resolved by them.

Gaelib had been amply prepared over the preceding weeks so Drake had found his old friend, Gaelib, warm and comforting. She left them to commiserate and drink well into the night.

Gaelib

Gaelib smiled at Drake, who was almost completely drunk. This was the second time his childhood friend had visited Lorness to see how Parynna was recovering. To help, they had retreated to a quiet tower room where no one – other than Gaelib’s guards – would interrupt them.

“Shhhheee wooden ev’n seeee meee,” Drake slurred, slamming his cup onto the table beside him, sloshing half of it onto the floor.

‘These things take time,’ Gaelib consoled from a nearby seat. “Caileagh has brought in women trained to assist in such matters. She has told me that the first steps have been taken on the long road to recovery, but…”

“Whhaaaat?”

Gaelib waved away what he had been about to say. “She is strong. She will recover.” Only to hesitate, then offer, “There is little more that we can do, unless…”

Drake stood, lurched forward, then grabbed Gaelib’s tunic and pulled him to his feet. “Whhaaaat?”

The Lord of Lorness’ hand signal prevented his guards from intervening. “I know it is not your way, as a follower of J’shua, but Parynna might recover quicker if those who attacked her were brought to justice, or…”

“Or, whhaaaat?” Drake’s alcohol-laden breath was overwhelming.

“Or we give them the justice they deserve.”

“Hooow?” Drake released Gaelib, took an unsteady step backward, only to fall onto his chair. Then he leaned forward, his teeth bared. “Theeey muuusht paaay.”

Gaelib nodded. “Then we should forget the courts. They take too long. Worse, the names of their victims – including Parynna’s – would have to be disclosed—”

“Nooo! Shhhheee haaaash shuuufferred ‘nuf.”

“Then we should handle this privately?” Gaelib asked.

“Yeees. Theeey muuusht paaay.”

Leaning back in his seat, Gaelib frowned, nodding a few seconds later. “I am an earl. You are the son of an earl. It should be made clear to the scum that did this, that touching anyone directly connected to a noble will lead to their death. Not cleanly by hanging or the axe man, but in the vilest exaggeration of the crime they committed.”

“Yeees. Yeees. Weee dooo thaaat.”

Gaelib reached for the jug, but there was almost nothing left in it but the dregs. He put it aside and gestured for another, then scratched his nose.

The serving boy appeared promptly, refilling Drake’s cup. Only Drake’s cup.

After his guest had quaffed half of it in one gulp, Gaelib continued, “If we are going to do this, it must be done legally.”

Drake’s head nodded, slowly. The drugs were taking effect.

“Quill, ink and parchment,” Gaelib ordered. They were delivered promptly. Then he wrote a few lines, and handed the document to the bleary-eyed Drake. “If you are happy with my wording…”

But Drake was already scrawling his name, then held it out to return it.

Gaelib grasped the document. “I am only doing this because you are a good friend and I cannot bear to see you in such pain.”

The loud snore that emerged from Drake indicated he may not have heard the last line in Gaelib’s performance. It was a pity to have such an ungrateful audience. Still, the signed paper – signed only by Drake – gave Gaelib carte blanche to hunt for Parynna’s attackers throughout the Earldom of Caswell.

It also gave him the right to execute them in any manner similar to the way in which they had broken the law. There was a rather perverse brothel owner who had supposedly trained dogs to… but it might only be a rumor. And if it turned out to be false, there was always the pillory and the abundant options it offered.

Drake was snoring steadily.

Gaelib rose, then walked to the guards. “Return him to his guest chambers. Ensure he comes to no harm from anyone. There are two ‘maids’ awaiting his return, to ensure his dreams are sweet. Have my personal healer prepare wine laced with laudanum, place it by his bedside. He is exhausted. Only sleep will aid his recovery.”

“Yes, lord.”

Acknowledging the guard was unnecessary, so Gaelib did not. Descending to his private office, he dealt with the mundane matters of the kingdom until Caileagh arrived.

“Parynna is… recovering. As you instructed,’ she praised.”

“It is just as the Warrior said it would be,” Gaelib gloated. “I am grateful as to how well you are adapting. It would be wasteful to have to replace you and train another. Once, your small spirits helped you guide me to the Warrior. Now that I have his full power at my command, I am supreme. You exist to do my bidding, to assist me. Just as the Warrior assists me. I am without equal.”

“That is true, my lord and husband.”

“Yes, as you often told me, I will be the most powerful man in the world. I can feel the Warrior’s power flow through me. Yet, even the most powerful can be brought down by acting rashly. I shall not. Drake has signed the paper. I want culprits found.”

“Forgive me,” Caileagh knelt before him, “may I ask a question? I have not been blessed with such clarity of vision.”

“You may. You always may,’ Gaelib indulged her. “I comprehend what you once predicted. That, with the Warrior’s full power at my command, I see the consequences of actions ripple outward as clearly as if Freislicht was a pond I stood next to. What do you want me to clarify?”

“You said that you wanted culprits, not the culprits. Or, did I misunderstand?”

“As always, Caileagh, you are delicious. It does not matter if we find the real culprits or merely a few that we can plausibly pin these actions on. But whoever I present to Drake must not have an alibi or anything that could later suggest their innocence. I seek two, three, four or more rapists and thieves.”

“And what of the two ladies who were with her?”

“They are mere details. Are they not? They are not related to anyone famous, rich or powerful. There is no one who will miss them overly if they, say, disappear. Is there?”

“There is not, my lord and husband.”

“See? The Warrior provides. Are they already in your custody?”

“One is. One is not, but shall not be difficult to lure away. It will be simple to spread rumors that she is with child. She was unmarried. Her family are disgraced.”

“Excellent. The fates have arranged everything perfectly.”

“I have discretely reached out to see if the Black Robes and discovered that the family will not object if she disappears. Remaining with them casts them as pariahs. The girl is sensible enough to know that she requires a new start. Somewhere she is unknown. Somewhere she can claim to be the widowed wife of some soldier.”

“And what shall you really do with her?”

“There is always a need for sacrifices.”

“As always, you arrange things perfectly,” he praised. “I shall leave the matter with you. Now, I hear the Warrior whispering to me. I require time alone to commune with him. To see what futures might arise from Drake’s misfortune.”

Caileagh

Caileagh did not care about what came next as long as it left Drake ashamed of his weakness and betrayal of his marriage vows. Both of which would keep him far from Lorness until his wife was fit to return home.

For the sake of her sick friend, Caileagh had brought in four women trained in the healing arts. Trained at her expense. Or, that was what was known publicly about them. And, in fact, they did have extensive knowledge of the mysteries of the female body, of herbs, of potions, and many other things.

However, they were also high-Tranking priestesses within the Order of the Black Robe. They were experienced in the ways of inducing pain, and pleasure. Each had been rescued from a brothel they had been sold to, but only after their spirit had been broken. This was important for, like Caileagh, each had been introduced to guiding spirits that had stitched their fractured personalities back together.

Each was so grateful for their rescue and unexpected elevation; they were willing to do anything asked of them. Already acquainted with degradation within the whorehouse, where callous men and women had used them, doing so to others was nothing more than the Great Wheel turning, grinding another beneath it. Another who, unlike them, was destined for such a fate.

At first, Caileagh had expected that, to be remade as she desired, Parynna would have to be broken and then rebuilt. As she had been. As the four women healers had been.

But Parynna was different.

Parynna was already driven, hungry and willing to do whatever was necessary to carve out her place in the world. The place that she deserved. Caswell, as it existed, was too small and provincial for her. Hence the changes she had made to its circle house. Changes she had cloaked in the words of J’shua, but were diametrically opposed to what the followers of that false god believed.

This was not a woman to be broken, she only had to be…encouraged.

Encouragement that had begun on Parynna’s very first trip to Lorness.

The trauma Parynna had already experienced had bonded her to Caileagh. The very thought of turning around after days of travel from Caswell to Lorness, only to head back immediately had been uncouth, uncivilized, puritanical. Thus, Caileagh’s suggestion of a two-day stay had stretched into three. A horse became lame, making it five. Inclement weather had extended that to eight.

Those were days when Parynna dressed as a noblewoman should, in the finest silks, satins and furs. Jewels around her throat. Delicate shoes upon her feet. Her hair done up in fantastical showby maids who waited on her hand and foot. And she was transformed into a beauty who was fawned upon, for the first time in her life.

And then, it had been necessary for Parynna to return to Caswell. She had loathed to doing so. It meant stuffing the butterfly back into the chrysalis. But only for a time. For they had devised a plan.

Parynna’s two ladies-in-waiting had been kept separate from their mistress during the entire stay. One excuse after another had kept them too busy and distracted to learn what was happening. The rumors they did hear were all carefully selected.

Caileagh had considered having Parynna’s carriage ambushed, with everyone but the future Countess of Caswell killed. But she decided it was too risky. Although, she did make offerings to her spirits and asked them to intercede.

And then, they did so.

Not as she had asked or anticipated. But the potential witnesses to Parynna’s initial conversion were… neutralized. No one would listen to tales from women who – everyone was sure – had been defiled. Or, such were the rumors Caileagh’s spies were spreading.

Parynna’s return to Lorness was fortuitous. Yes, she was physically harmed. And, yes, she had lost the babe. But her eyes had been re-opened to the casual cruelty of men such as those who had assaulted her, her uncle who had all but sold her in marriage, and a husband who cared more for his flock than his wife.

And, as Parynna’s body mended, Caileagh helped her find the power she had lacked.

The power to manipulate.

The power to control.

The power to call on spirits that would intervene. Not the stand-offish J’shua who had to be asked, but never answered. Spirits Parynna could see, talk to and interact with. Spirits who told her of plots and plans against her. Spirits like those who guided Caileagh.

Parynna

Parynna remembered very little of her ordeal. She relied on the women caring for her and Caileagh for the details. But Caileagh had helped her find the truth.

When she’d first laid eyes on Caileagh Melazera, watched her work, she fell in love—or, rather, lust. Not for the woman, but for the power she wielded, for the way she drew every eye to her as she entered a room, for having her every whim catered to. Men and women fawned over her, lavished praise on her, and—it was whispered—would do unseemly, unspeakable things to gain a single moment’s favor from her.

Parynna wanted to be Caileagh—yearned to be—ached to be.

The week they had spent together had changed Parynna forever. Her eyes had been opened to things neither Caswell nor Lexandria had seen. Drake was blinded by his faith in a false god that demanded its followers live small mediocre lives. Uncle Gregory was blinded by gold, as all Lockes were.

As she had once been.

It was nice to have money. It was a useful tool.

What was important was power. And that could be established anywhere, even in Caswell.

For all that Caileagh had shown her demonstrated that there could be only one power in any one place. Caileagh’s was Lorness. Caswell would be Parynna’s.

But there was so much to learn, and so little time. As soon as she was healed, Parynna would have to return to Caswell. And she was not yet ready. Thus, the two noblewomen had come up with a scheme, something that could allow Parynna to stay as long as she wanted.

And so the story was spread. Parynna’s defilement had left her unable to see a man without screaming. Those in the castle and the township ate it up. There were bouquets of flowers, notices that circles were praying for her and other such nonsense. All of which she received as if it was water poured onto a dying flower.

She relished the attention, even if it was somewhat vicarious.

Then Drake had forced his way into the room. Caileagh’s improved, “Don’t jump!” had told Parynna what to do. And together with other women in the room, they had put on a scene that had increased everyone’s concern for her.

And their condemnation of Drake, for his insensitivity.

It buoyed her soul. It was wonderful.

As for her horror of men, a small part of that was true. It took weeks before she was willing to play with one, tease one, then deny him. She enjoyed that greatly.

Nor were her sensual needs neglected. She was introduced to many mysteries of the female body, almost all delightful.

That was Caileagh’s word. It was wonderful. But Parynna would have to find her own. Not that there was any rush.

On the final night of her recovery at Lorness Castle, Parynna was escorted into a private room where Caileagh was waiting. What occurred that night was something she never spoke of to anyone, but six assistants trained by the Order of the Black Robe followed her home, plus two of the women who had helped nurse her back to health. The former she inserted as managers throughout her household to report back to her everything they saw and heard. The latter tended to the women of Caswell, earning their trust and respect.

In the moons that followed, Parynna made changes in Caswell. Her eyes were open to a world of intrigue, endless possibility, and limitless advancement as Caileagh had taught her the hidden wisdom of the Alte Regieren.

Parynna’s future would be bright. She would make it so.

On the first sabbath after her return, Parynna entered the room she’d chosen for her private ministrations. Servants had prepared it with comfortable furnishings. Well-made, plush, but understated to show a godly prosperity. She would use the wisdom she’d learned to gather her own flock.

The six men in black backed into the shadows of the room, barely noticeable. Parynna prepared the libations. Then she made sacrifices as Caileagh taught her and waited.

An hour later, three of the wives that she’d invited entered the room. She offered them food and drink and spoke kindly to them. She heard their concerns and desires. She determined how to alleviate them. She laid hands on them and gave each a word of prophecy. To the first she whispered. “You will prosper greatly this week. You have been under a bondage too great to bear, but the spirit will relieve it. The spirit of the lord is with us when we gather. Simply serve the spirit about you now. The fullness you feel is his touch. The spirit is well pleased with you. Seek him.”

The look of adoration these women gave her, thrilled her soul.

“You may each bring a worthy friend next week. It must be someone who is as pious as you are. For we will spread the charity of the spirit.”

After the women were gone, the six followed Caileagh out. As she returned to the inner castle, she nodded and they slipped away.

Perhaps Caileagh will show me more uses for the unworthy.

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

David

David Otual had re-entered Freislicht from Mestelina near South Fort. He had been there for several moons, then met up with his fiancé who was working on the border for a week. They planned to marry soon.

As he moved eastward toward Lexandria, he began catching up on the news of what had occurred during his time away. For the most part, it was gossip. This noble, upstart or ne’er-do-well had eloped with that nobleman’s daughter. Farms and outlying settlements had been raided, crops burned and people killed by the Mestels. Bandit attacks were on the rise, and becoming so brazen they had attacked small merchant caravans. All of it was just variations on stories he had heard before, only more exaggerated.

Even though travelling alone, no one attacked him. Thus, he had no idea if the talk was true, or if the thieves were unwilling to attack a Knight of J’shua.

When he was in the outskirts of Lexandria, he heard a new rumor. Highwaymen had become so bold they had attacked a nobleman’s carriage. The details were sketchy and, no doubt, had grown ever more dire with the retelling. Yet, it was when he heard the words, “…it carried Caswell’s crest plain as day on its side…” that his ears pricked up.

Beckoning the barmaid over, he asked, “What’s this about a Caswell carriage?”

“Never mind them. They’ve been telling that story for weeks. It seems they’ve a dislike for the Caswells, so that tale gets told every night once they’re drunk enough. Each challenging the other with ever more gory details.”

“What happened?”

“Little is known for sure. It is said the a Caswell carriage was waylaid on its return from Lorness. The supply wagons travelling with it, supposedly, got stuck. Some say they were bribed to lag behind.” She nodded at the men still exchanging gruesome aspects of the assault. “The guards who should have been escorting the countess stayed to help the waggoneers. Or, perhaps, they were ordered to do so. Who knows? In any case, almost in sight of Caswell, the carriage was forced to stop by a downed tree. A group of brazen highwaymen – a dozen or more, it is said – emerged, killed the driver, his apprentice and the luggage boy. Then they… had their way… with the women inside the carriage, including the noblewoman.”

“Did she live?”

“Some say yes. Most,” she nodded at the loud bunch of drunkards again, “say no. Some have even said she was taken to Lorness, so witches with strange knowledge could save her life, at the cost of her unborn’s… and all her future children.” She shuddered. “Perhaps I should not have told you that last part, but it is whispered by the old women who understand the feminine mysteries. Women I’ll not cross by gainsaying them.”

“Thank you.” He tipped her for the information and considered approaching the rowdy men. But their voices carried well enough to catch most of what they were saying. It was too late to travel further, so he sat, ate and drank. As he did so, a pit opened within his stomach. If only a tenth of what he heard was vaguely accurate, his ‘uncle’, Drake Caswell, was in despair over his wife’s condition. Whatever that turned out to be.

It was a long-standing tradition amongst the knights that everyone have family support. In the case of a new knight that had no brothers, at graduation a brother knight would bond to him as a brother in a solemn ceremony so that all his offspring would have an honorary uncle to guide them should anything happen to their father. Upon graduation Drake became the brother of David’s father, Jonathan Otual, and honorary uncle to David upon his birth.

Drake took his oath very seriously and bid his father travel with him on many missions as knights. David had been there several times and could remember his last visit to Caswell when his father took him to Esthlanis to the Gorum horse farm. He had fond memories of Uncle Drake.

Early the following morning, he made his way to the markets. He had enough baden to buy provisions, so did so. He did not want to have to hunt along the way. Caswell was northwest through thick forests that were, according to rumor, home to gangs of bandits, thieves and feral boys.

The weather was kind, thank J’shua, and he made good time.

No one interfered with him, although he was aware of others paralleling him for a time. However, flicking back his cloak so the sword worn at his waist was obvious caused them to depart soon afterward.

The day he arrived at Caswell, the heavens opened and rain torrented down. Even with his hood raised and his cloak wrapped tightly around him, David was soon drenched.

The guard at the entrance to Caswell Castle barred his entry. “Off with you, we have no place for travelers who would sop up the Earl’s generosity.”

“I am David Otual, Drake Caswell’s nephew. Please let him know I am in the city and would see him. Is there an inn nearby where I can get warm? This place has grown since my last visit.”

“Off with you!” the guard repeated.

“Hold,” another intervened. “Did you say Otual? Like the outlaw with the Mestels?”

“The person accused of that is Jonathan Otual. I am David Otual.”

“You could be a relative,” the second voice suggested.

“He is,” a third voice intervened, walking up behind the second guard, and slamming his head into a stone wall. “David, it has been too long,” the grey-bearded Captain of the Guard added. “Come inside.”

The first guard snapped to attention and moved out of the way.

David walked past.

The captain instructed the first guard, while gazing down at the second, “Strip him of his uniform and throw him out into the rain. I have warned that fool for the last time.”

“But he is related to—”

“He is not of Caswell. He was brought in from Lorness, but has made trouble since the day he arrived. Let him return there. He has no further place amongst the guard, not while I am its captain. And, while you are moving him, do not be gentle. Remember what he did to…”

The first guard’s face lit up with a nasty smile. “If I might have leave to summon assistance, we shall see he is driven beyond Caswell’s borders. Should be fall prey to bandits, that would be too bad.”

“Yes, wouldn’t it just?” the captain agreed with a smile. “Bring others to take over your post.” Then he turned back to David. “We have had trouble in recent weeks. Have you heard about the Drake’s wife?”

“I have heard a dozen different tales. All of which claim to be true.”

“Step into the guard’s room. There,” the captain pointed, “get warm. Once replacements have arrived, we shall talk.”

David entered the indicated room. Its fire warmed him, even through his cloak. Shrugging it off, he dumped it on the drying rack, then proceeded to get out of his sodden clothing. Sadly, everything in his pack was soaked too. But there were furs and other garments laying around, so he donned them and settled before the fire. Above it was a stew pot, so he served himself a bowl and ate.

Sometime later, the Captain of the Guard woke David, who had been lulled to sleep by the fire’s warmth. “Your clothes are dry. I have informed the Drake of your arrival. He is busy at present, but suggests you get warm and dry, then asks you to join him for dinner.”

“How is he?”

“He dines alone too often, and drinks too much. You being here will be good for him.”

“And his wife?” David asked.

“In Lorness, still recovering. It is whispered that she was violated. It is known she nearly died, and would have if the luggage boy had not run for help.”

“I heard he’d been killed.”

“Both drivers were. Her two lady’s maids were forced to watch as… I led the guards that went to their rescue. I sent my best trackers after the culprits. Despite the rumors, there were only two, maybe three. The fools left a trail behind them that a blindman could have followed as they took the carriage’s six horses. We recovered them in the first hamlet we came to, arrested the man who had bought them, then strung him up in its square. He still had the horses in his possession, so there was no doubt of his guilt.

“Nor were the locals upset. His wicked ways were known to many, but none had been able to prove he was a horse thief and worse.

“Another rogue had bought the countess’ jewelry. He was arrested and interrogated, providing very good descriptions before he succumbed to his wounds.

“As for the woman who bought the countess’ and her maids’ clothes, the last time I enquired she was still “helping the investigation” in some dungeon.’

“Clothes?” David asked.

“Surely, you heard all three women were found naked?”

“I dismissed it as exaggeration.”

“It was not. The younger of the two assailants – the one who did the raping – intended to enjoy all three women, but his partner dragged him away. A pity. If he had, uh, enjoyed even one of the maids, we would have caught him. As it is, those woods have been scoured of bandits and thieves.”

“And the tales of boys living rough out there?”

“True, but they do not harm anyone. And they have driven bandits into our ambushes, so we ignore them.”

“It’s good that there is some good news,” David responded.

“It’s what the earl lacks most. This has been a bleak hard time for him, even his faith wavers. Not so most would see, but I have served his family all my life. Indeed, once the  attackers are brought to justice, he has asked me to hand over my post to a younger man. I am too old to chase bandits across the countryside for days on end. Instead, he wants be to become one of his advisors. I have accepted.”

“More excellent news, and I have some of my own.” David smiled. “I am getting married in the next few months. She has accepted and her father has given consent.”

“Tell the Drake. That will lighten his mood enormously. Have you decided when and where the marriage feast will be held?”

“In Caswell!” Drake announced from the doorway. “You are my nephew. You must let me do this for you, and for all Caswell. We all need some good news. What better is there than the joining of two people together?”

“Uncle,” David began, only to be cut off by the Captain of the Guard.

“That is a magnificent idea. A proper wedding feast that everyone, highborn and low, can participate in.”

“But Cynthia and I had intended—” again, David got cut off.

“To hold the ceremony in some barn or field?” Drake dismissed the idea. “That will not do at all. No, it shall be held here in Caswell. It might even help Parynna’s recovery if she had something glorious to prepare. She is so good at the shiny things.”

“Uncle, I could not possibly—”

“Afford it? You shall not. It shall be my wedding present to you both. Surely, you would not deny your godfather such a boon, such an endeavor to lift my spirits and those of all Caswell? Of course not. Who are the girl’s parents? Where are they to be found? I shall write to them immediately.”

“They are missionaries who—”

“Who would prefer such profligate spending not be wasted on a single day’s extravagance? I understand. Thus, for every baden spent on your wedding, I shall donate two to their cause. Did J’shua not say to put others’ needs before thine own? And, in this way, I shall.”

“I do not think they shall accept your largesse, uncle,” David offered, hoping to find a way to nix this idea. All he and Cynthia wanted was a small wedding.

“But it shall not be my largesse. Mine is the largest circle in Freislicht. While I shall contribute to the wedding, it is they who will arrange and co-ordinate everything. What’s more, our circle has been looking for noble causes to support. Due to its size, we have almost an embarrassment of riches. Sharing them will bring J’shua’s blessings to all.”

David smiled. Cynthia had whispered to him of her dreams of being wed in a castle. She knew how unlikely it was, but only hoped to have the ceremony conducted within its walls, within an established circle. Caswell was all those things. It was more. And its circle wanted to support her parents’ work. Efforts that could desperately use more funding.

“I shall have to discuss it with my bride-to-be—”

“Then it is settled,” Drake declared, hugging his nephew.

“Of course, uncle,” David replied. How could he take such joy away from a man so in need of it.

“There is one potential hitch,” Drake’s brow furrowed. “No, it is easily fixed.”

“What—”

“There are those who think your father involved with the Mestels attacking across the border. It is, of course, nonsense. However, there is no need to risk spoiling you and your bride’s special day. We shall hold the wedding on the first day of the Royal Annual Hunt. In that way, all eyes will be focused on Farr Castle, none on Caswell.”

David just nodded. They had not set a date, let alone a location. Now, he had both. Plus, funding for her parents’ efforts, and the raising of the spirits of his uncle and an entire town. All dependent on his agreement. Therefore, the only answer was, “Yes, uncle.”

Chapter 24

Sarah

Locke Estate, Lexandria

Sarah leaned back on her elbows, dangling her feet in the garden pond, the little fishes tickling her toes, while she listened to Melyssa carry on about Kel’shan.

“Kel’shan is so handsome. His dark skin glows and his brown eyes are so deep. When I woke up this morning, I remembered the most beautiful dream. I was surrounded honeysuckle and primrose flowers and Kel’shan was there. I think it means something.”

Sarah giggled. “It means you like Kel’shan.”

Melyssa laughed. “Well, yes, that’s true. But does it mean I will marry him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But don’t base a choice like that on a dream alone. Ask J’shua.”

“I will. What do you dream of, Sarah?”

“Well, it is silly. I dream the same dream, but lately I remember more of it. I am carrying a bright sword—”

“Of course, you’d be carrying a sword.” Melyssa chuckled. “Everyone thinks it strange that you wear a wooden sword.”

Sarah laughed. “I know. I don’t care. It’s part of me. I miss it when I can’t wear it. But this is a different kind of sword, a magical sword. It gives off light and the people I stab with it are healed.”

“Healed? Do they jump up on their feet when moments before they were dying?”

“Sometimes. Other times, they stop crying and begin to smile. Do you think such a sword exists? Perhaps I will go on a quest to find this sword. Oh, but I am not alone. I am a queen and my king is beside me. What do you think?”

“You can’t have Kel’shan though.”

“I am not interested in your Kel’shan. I would never do that. I’m not old enough to be a queen yet. I am sure it’s way in the future, who knows how many kings will meet by then.”

The sun had lowered a few more degrees making there shadows grow into the water when they saw a servant approaching. Each girl noticed the other rolled her eyes and burst out laughing as the servant drew close.

The middle-aged servant’s face pinched. “Lady Melyssa, your mother the duchess is seeking you and miss Sarah.”

“What for,” Melyssa asked.

“She didn’t tell me that. It is enough that she calls for you to attend her.”

Melyssa sighed loudly. “Come, Sarah, Let’s go see what new torture she has planned for us.”

[Why? embroidery? Protocol. ]

Chapter 25

Blackhawk

Steven Blackhawk rubbed his temples, trying to get rid of the notion that had plagued him for the last day. It was normal to hear rumors while patrolling the road from High Keep to Fairness Crossing and back. Everything from fanciful tales of lads living wild in the woods, to robberies, to assaults, plus the occasional scandal.

The latest story was of some insane thief who gave away his ill-gotten gains to those less well off than himself. It was a ridiculous story, yet many swore by it. Just as many were still speaking of what had happened in Caswell. As usual, the tales were long on exaggeration and all-but-devoid of fact. He was sure they all had some grain of truth, even the stories manufactured by his patron, Gaelib Melazera contained a grain of truth. But how to pull the grain from the baked loaf?

Yet, a noble being accosted and badly wounded had everyone – up to and including Commander Taelor – on edge.

And that was what where his headache had originated. A conversation overhead along the road of someone saying that Taelor would soon be replaced for his failure to protect the powerful.

He’d trained his men to pay attention to the tavern gossip as they stopped along the long dusty road and report it to him.

It was nonsense. There were no patrols that visited Caswell regularly. It was an earldom that did not abut any of Freislicht’s main roads. Nor was it alone in that fact. Almost every noble’s castle or keep was in a similar situation. Indeed, only High Keep, Farr Castle, Lorness, and Lexandria had permanent roads leading to them. The first two cities belonged to the king. While the third belonged to the most powerful noble in Freislicht, and the fourth to its richest. Indeed, there was only one other large township on Freislicht’s roads, Fairness Crossing, which was the only major trade hub on the East River.

Five cities.

Only five, and even that was being generous. It included Fairness Crossing.

Yet the comment stayed with him.

And his anxiety worsened when he overheard two very drunk Black Robes on his first night in Fairness Crossing. “Taelor is done. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Shhh, lower your voice,” his companion slurred back at him.

“Why? Because some of these louts might overhear us? Let them. They should learn to obey their betters. We can read and write. What can they do, plow a field?”

Blackhawk considered intervening, then recalled Gaelib’s warnings about getting involved with Black Robes, some or all of whom belonged to Caileagh. Then again, he was not in uniform, so there was nothing tying him to the Army.

He stood and walked over to the bar. “Do you have a backroom I can hire for a couple of hours? I have friends who’d like to have a drink in private.”

“We have two,” the barman replied. “Both are vacant. One is better insulated than the other. It is also slightly larger. Five baden per hour.”

Blackhawk put thirty-two on the bar. “Three hours. Plus, two more baden for as much cheap ale as that’ll cover. And another fifteen so we’re not disturbed. At all. Once the door closes behind my two friends and I, no one interrupts us until we all come out. Clear?”

“For three more baden I can provide a roast chicken and better ale.”

Steven put another five on the bar. “You understand my instructions?”

“Of course, sir. And for ten more, I will forget your face forever.”

Blackhawk scowled and put another twenty on the bar. “If that is not everything, the two Black Robes over there are going to be very upset with you.”

“I had not realized you were referring to them.” The barman pushed twenty-five baden back across the bar. “No one will disturb them until they come out because you were never here.”

Pushing the baden back to the barman, he nodded, grabbed a jug of ale waiting on the bar, then turned to the Black Robes with an enormous smile on his face. As he crossed the floor to them, he staggered a little, spilling some. When he got to their table, he put the jug down on it, between them, then leaned forward and hissed, “The two of you are a disgrace to the Order. Assuming you don’t want to end your lives as Lady Melazera’s sacrifices, you will quietly get up from this table and follow me into the back room. Do anything to draw more attention to yourselves and you’ll not live long enough to regret your hangovers.”

“Who the dreck do you—” the loudmouth began.

The other slammed his hand over the first’s mouth. “We are sorry, docent. We meant no harm. What do you want us to do?”

“Have I not told you that already?” Blackhawk demanded, hoping his air of authority alone would be enough to get them into the back room.

Blackhawk stood up, woozily, slurring his words, “Theeze good men ‘av ‘ad too much ta drink. Letz get yah inta tha beck room and sober ep. Barkeep food and… shtuff.” He grabbed ‘Loudmouth’ by the scruff of his neck and dragged him to his feet.

The second man picked up the new jug, and the partially filled one still on the table, then followed Blackhawk into the back room.

Food was already there, plus three jugs of swill. Its color was not a healthy tan or brown, but more khaki as if something green had been added to it.

If this was the “better stuff” Blackhawk did not want to know what the cheap stuff was like. He’d picked the tavern at random after dismissing his men. He’d walked to the far end of town, then picked the first establishment he’d never visited before.

Dropping ‘Loudmouth’ into the farthest corner from the door, Blackhawk indicated the second Black Robe should sit beside his companion. He took a seat near the door, but without his back to it. These fools could have friends, or others, watching out for them. “Explain yourself.”

“I… I don’t know where to start,” the second Black Robe muttered, eyes focused on the table, as his friend let out a snore.

“It would seem you need to come up with some answers. If I had not been alerted to your previous poor behavior, I would not have taken the time to seek you out.”

“Honestly, the last time was exaggerated. It really was nothing.”

“And yet,” Blackhawk paused, leaning forward in his seat, “it was taken seriously enough by your superiors to be reported to me.”

“Then… then you aren’t a mere docent?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he shook his head. “Do not be ridiculous. You should not even be using that title in public. Yet, you did so in front of witnesses, out in the bar. It is… possible… I can save you, if you prove to be useful. As for your… I do hope he was not a friend.”

“No. No, sir, he’s just someone I drink with… too often.”

“If you are aware of that, why are you endangering your own life – which I do not care about in the slightest – and the Order’s goals?”

“I… oh…”

“You will now explain to me, in detail, what that,” Blackhawk gestured at the snoring ’Loudmouth’, “has said in public in recent days. And remember, I already have testimony as to what has been overheard, so leaving anything out will not bode well for you.”

The conscious black-robe gulped. “I… uh… before he was a member of the Order, he was in the Army and cashiered out for stealing. He has the lash marks on his back to prove it. He blames Taelor. So, when we heard about his downfall…”

“Details. If I was interested in tavern gossip, I would have a barmaid on my knee. Not only would she be more informative, she would be better company. Do you need a drink before we continue? Or, perhaps food?” Blackhawk pushed the chicken towards the man, then pointed to the empty mugs beside the greenish-brown ale. “The barkeep’s best. Kept only for very special customers.”

The black-robe poured himself a drink.

“Details first,” Blackhawk insisted.

“Taelor is soon going to lead a patrol down from High Keep to Fairness Crossing. In the latter part of that trip, after visiting the Lion & Tiger Inn, his horse will sicken. The animal will have to be put down. As will many others. They will blame it on bad feed. That will get the Twin Kitties shut down. Then—”

“I said details, not your nicknames for things.”

“But that is what our docent calls it.”

“Do I look like someone as junior as your petty docent?” Blackhawk roared. He couldn’t give the other man time to think. He had to keep pushing, as long and as hard as possible. As for what he would have to do to these two, he pushed that out of his mind, again. He’d not survive if he left witnesses behind.

“I am sorry, Lord Docent. I—”

“What did I tell you about using the Order’s titles?”

“Not to do so… sir.”

“Better,” Blackhawk relented slightly. “Continue.”

“A side benefit of the plan is to get the Lion & Tiger Inn shutdown. The Order does not control it, has been unable buy it, nor drive the owner out. However, if the Army lost a large number of horses due to bad feed there, they would bypass it. Soon, others would do the same. Then the Order could set up replacements.”

“Where are those new inns to be?”

“I do not know, Lor… that is, sir.”

“Good. You should not know such details. Continue.”

“With at least half Taelor’s patrol on foot, they’ll have only three choices. Double-up riders and risk killing even more horses. Walk the horses back to base. Buy or commandeer more horses.”

“That does not explain Taelor’s death,” Blackhawk pointed out, his frown deepening.

“Whichever option he chooses, he will not walk. He will ride, alone. And whichever horse he gets on will be dosed. Minutes after eating the laced apple, the beast will become uncontrollable. It is possible it will throw and trample him. I may just throw him. Regardless, he will not survive the fall and its aftermath. If he is alive, he too will be poisoned.”

“And all of this has been blabbed in the last few days?”

The Black Robe’s eyes narrowed as his lips pressed tightly together. “Yes.”

“Drink,” Blackhawk instructed.

The man downed the entire mug then refilled it and downed a second.

“That is… almost… correct. It is disappointing that you have left things out.”

“I… oh… it was only mentioned once.”

Blackhawk raised his left eyebrow.

“The poisoner’s name… Tolli… Toolleev…” The Black Robe clutched at his throat, which was ballooning out to twice its size under the man’s hands. His eyes widened, then rolled up in his head as he collapsed back onto his snoring friend, waking him.

“What the…?” ‘Loudmouth’ pushed the bloating body off himself.

“Sit,” Blackhawk’s voice lashed out like a whip.

“I… oh dreck.” He raised his hands and sat at the table, with the overly controlled motions of someone who was seriously drunk.

“Your… colleague’s… answers were incomplete,” Blackhawk stated in a flat tone. “Worse, they attempted to conceal critical details that others have witnessed. If you are to have any chance at survival, you will be completely honest with me. Is that clear?”

“I… yes, but this is a misunderstanding.”

“How so?”

“I was sent to test him. Yet, any question you have, I will answer.”

Blackhawk nodded, wondering what the hell he’d stepped into.

“I have spent the last two moons establishing myself within his cell, reporting to his… advisor, while keeping my own informed.”

“Better than your predecessor. You did not use any of the Order’s titles.”

“I was horrified when he addressed you so. I do not know your rank within the Order, nor do I need to. You have handled this according to protocol, even to obtaining the poisonous greenish beer. How did you get him to drink it?”

Blackhawk smiled. “I am interviewing you, remember?”

“Thank you for confirming that. Had you answered my question, I would have known you were an imposter. Yet, I am surprised that your tone is so light.”

“Again, I am doing the questioning. As to what was overheard?”

The Black Robe looked at the table’s surface for several seconds. “Oh… I apologize.” He moved from the table and got down on his knees. “I had not appreciated… someone of your rank cannot be after this dead fool. Nor am I important enough to be your target. What has my docent done to displease you, lord?”

“The tale that was spun of assassinating Taelor was not approved.”

The Black Robe’s eyes widened. “I did not know. I could not know.”

“And that is why you are still alive. Taelor is becoming a problem. Not one that needs to be resolved, yet. However, rumors of plots against him will put him on guard. The weeding out of some petty acolyte will have consequences. It does not matter that the details of the moves against Taelor, and who will be involved, are wrong. It compromised long-standing preparations. Payment must be made for the inconvenience caused.”

“I… of course.” He stood and drank directly from the green-tinged beer.

Blackhawk watched him die. His mind churning. Somehow, the barkeep had identified him as a senior member of the Order of Black Robe. Perhaps it was their exchange. Perhaps it was with the baden passed back and forth. Whatever it had been, it was fortuitous.

There was, or would be, a plan to remove Taelor.

Part of Blackhawk wanted to rush north and meet the commander on the road. He knew that Taelor had planned to depart five days after Blackhawk had. But if this was a trap, and it felt like one, doing so would close its jaws on him.

No, that was not going to happen.

However, first thing the following morning, he would visit the local Herald Station and see what the most important outstanding warrant was. It could well be Jonathan Otual. Then again, that was unlikely this far south. Regardless, instead of his troops getting a three-day leave, they would be riding out at midday loudly proclaiming they had information on a notorious outlaw.

That it would turn out to be false was regrettable, but it happened. And even those in the Army got to share in the reward if they captured a criminal, so there would not be too much grumbling from the men.

After all, the way is clear when it is needed. Just as it had been this night.

Chapter 26

Parynna

Caswell Castle

Preening to ensure that her hair, dress, and understated jewelry were perfect, Parynna sighed at her reflection. Their first guest would arrive all too soon.

All she knew was that Cynthia Gardonet would be married to Jonathan Otual’s son, David, in three days’ time. The girl was pretty enough, if a little mousy, from what she’d been told. A suitable bride for a penniless Knight of J’shua.

Thankfully, Caileagh had taught Parynna how to wean Drake away from his relationship with J’shua by keeping him focused on superficial religious efforts. The Knights were not yet outlawed here, but it was inevitable. Their beliefs were in opposition to the Melazeras. Therefore, they had to go. Not that she’d permit their demise to affect Drake—or her. She’d worked too hard to ensure her husband’s position and good fortune.

That brought her thoughts back to hosting the ill-conceived wedding. Blast Drake. He sprang it upon her as if it was some wonderful surprise.

It would have been wonderful if she had known in advance, to alert Caileagh. Delivering David’s mother, or better yet, his father would have reaped bounteous rewards. They still would if Parynna could find some way to capture them.

She could not do so openly; it would cause a scandal, a blot on the Caswell name. No, that would not do at all. Worse still, Drake was being unusually close-lipped about whether David’s parents would attend. He had that abominable boyish glint in his eye that showed he thought he was doing something clever. And not even her best attempts to pry it out of him had worked. She feared he had more unpleasant surprises in store.

Then it struck her. She could turn this to her advantage without involving David directly. As a knight, the boy would inevitably leave his bride all too soon to go off on some pious quest. That would leave his new bride all alone.