Emptily, Illgram stared at the smoldering wreck that had been a rakish drakenboat. His lips formed the name painted on the prow: Ollauth. It had been one of his three ships.
'A shame,' the tall man beside him said. 'Pure misfortune, Greatness.'
'Incompetence!' the practicus said bitterly. 'Neophyte Lykros had orders to wait. But no, the fool was overconfident and forgot about the guard. An expensive boat and many golems lost.' He heard the man at his side murmur in sympathy and knew the other was laughing at him. They all did. Anger made his blood boil, but he needed Pardoc now and kept himself in check. An idea took form in his mind. He glanced at the man at his side. Pardoc was a routewatcher, an independent spy of the Order. The man had contacted him in Gromarthen with the news about this new disaster. This alone proved he didn't lack courage.
Illgram pursed his lips as he thought. Pardoc walked the route from Yanthemonde to Virmaul, so he must be familiar with the road along the Yanthe. He felt the man at his side lose some of his assurance. As it should be; a watcher was a speck of dust compared to a high-ranking practicus.
'I've got a few ideas, Pardoc. First, my other two boats. You are faster on the road than I am. You know that little cove just before Yanthemonde?'
The routewatcher nodded. 'With those three pine trees.'
'Yes. There you will find my other boats. Warn the two neophytes I need them. They can leave the boats behind; those are far too conspicuous now. Bring the men and their golems to me. Where is the nearest place I can stay for the night?'
'Two miles up the road is Odirath, Greatness. There's a tavern. Nothing fancy, but discrete. From Gromarthen, there's only one road. It goes parallel to the river and passes through the village. There's no other way, unless the travelers are mountain goats.' Pardoc smile at his own jest. ''The King's Road splits only ten miles beyond Odirath, at the Climbing Clawerd inn.'
'Good. Hide the golems and their masters in the neighborhood and warn me. I'll be in the tavern.'
The other bowed. 'Your will, Greatness.'
'Oh, and Pardoc? Don't use the road.'
The routewatcher started to say something, but he clearly thought better of it and bowed.
When Pardoc had gone, the sorcerer rubbed his hands. Now I need an ambush. He looked at the sky. Almost midnight. Flickering torches appeared from the village. The guard! He hurried back to his horse. On to Odirath, bath and bed.
Ghyll slammed the door closed behind him and fell into a chair. He buried his face in his hands.
'What do we do now?' Olle asked, pacing up and down the room.
'I don't know.' Ghyll's voice sounded muffled behind his fingers. 'It's all so... strange. I can't understand it. Why was Tinnurad destroyed? They didn't even plunder it.'
Olle stopped walking. 'If it wasn't for loot, the only target must have been Tinnurad itself or someone in the castle.'
Ghyll clenched his fists. 'The castle stopped being a threat years ago. It was important only to us who lived there. Uncle Jadron... I don't know why anyone would want to kill him.'
'Would he have had enemies?'
Ghyll looked in surprise at his foster brother. 'I can't imagine who. He never spoke of anyone hating him enough to do this butchery.'
'Who else is there? Not the people, they had all been there for ages. The guests? Even your uncle didn't know for sure who was coming until they arrived. Who's left? Damion?'
'The kid is far too young to be a target. As are we.' Ghyll slammed the table in frustration. 'Dammit, no one knows us.'
'Then there's Haspen.' Olle resumed his pacing. 'A flyspeck of a place. The only one killed, apart from the soldiers, was an orphan, an unknown fellow of our age. Coincidence?'
Ghyll raised his head. 'I don't know. Do you see a connection?' He understood Olle's anger; this was not something he could solve with his muscles and a big sword. His foster brother wanted action, a visible enemy to fight, and these elusive happenings made him irritable.
'Blast me for a fool,' Ghyll cried suddenly. He pulled his saddlebag to him and placed the old document case on the table. 'I forgot! Maybe there's something in Uncle Jadron's papers that will tell us more.' With shaking hands, he undid the fastenings. The cover flew open and three stiff parchment rolls tumbled over the table. Ghyll grabbed them and put two back in the case. The thickest he unrolled and laid it flat on the table.
'Hmm, this looks official. To the Most Noble Jadron thu Tildryn, Baron of Halwyrd, Lord of Tilder and Wryll, Greetings...' He slid his finger down the lines and frowned. 'What a miserable handwriting, almost unreadable. I think it says that Uncle Jadron had to guard something or someone of "great significance to the kingdom". Only it doesn't tell what it is. Well, I never noticed anything of importance. There are four signatures at bottom of the letter, each under a personal seal. The writer put the names below, in the same undecipherable hand.'
'Is that why?' Olle asked. 'The castle was attacked for something your uncle had to guard?'
Ghyll slammed the document down and the big seals rattled. 'I don't know.' Frustrated, he put it away and grabbed another letter. As he unrolled it, he recognized his uncle's crisp handwriting. His hands shook and his sight blurred. 'It's for me!'
Impatiently, he wiped his nose on his sleeve and read in silence.
Dear Ghyll,
When you receive this letter, I will have died before your eighteenth birthday. So be it; death holds no fears for me. My only regret is that you must fend for yourself earlier than I intended.
Be strong, my boy.
Many things I cannot tell you. One thing, however, you must know. Although I love you like the son I never had, we are not family. I was your grandfather's best friend. He was a fine man and a great soldier, and I have always been proud to serve under him in battle. After his death, your father had my loyalty and friendship. Sixteen years ago, your parents left this life through a fatal accident. The people in charge entrusted you to my care, with Castle Tinnurad as our residence. I have never regretted this, for you have become very dear to me, Ghyll.
All those years I have tried to prepare you for the future that must be yours, and I know you are wise enough to use what you have learned.
I decided to raise you and the boy Olle together, and that worked admirably well. He has grown into a sincere young man, with more qualities than he realizes. It is good that you have a friend you can rely on and with whom you can share the difficulties on your path.
Now I charge you with a last task.
You must visit four persons; I enclose letters of introduction to each of them. They are the guardians of the King's Regalia.
1. Count Mynos Ballady in Theridaun
2. Magistra Lazalda doErgomil in Din-Werdzom
3. Medeus Baron Polfer in Zholder
4. Garender Duke Kyssander in Rhidaun-Lorn
I was the fifth guardian and my part was this gold signet ring. You must show the ring to the four persons I named, and to no one else.
Remember the rhymes I had you memorize. Each of the four will ask you for one of them. Your correct answer, along with the ring and the sealed letters, are proof that you are indeed Ghyll, the ward of Jadron Halwyrd. The first three on the list will hand you the other Crown Jewels, which you will then bring to Duke Kyssander.
I cannot tell you more.
With this letter you will find my testament. Since I have no relatives left in the world, you are heir to my estates at Halwyrd, Tilder and Wryll.
The last document is for Olle. In all those years, he has shown himself a loyal friend, almost a brother to you, and I think this is an appropriate reward.
My dear boy, I wish you well. May the Gods stretch their protective hands out over you. Trust in them and in yourself. Your loving uncle,
Jadron thu Tildryn,
Baron Halwyrd, Allodial Lord of Tilder and Wryll.
Ghyll stared in bewilderment at the letter in front of him while he tried to recollect his thoughts. Uncle Jadron was not his uncle. A strange, lonely feeling rose in him. He had no memories of his parents; but there'd always been his uncle. Now Jadron was a stranger. Then who am I? He knew Olle was looking at him, but what could he say? Nothing. Nothing had changed. Uncle Jadron remained who he was, with or without blood ties.
With his eyes half-shut, he looked at the four letters his uncle had mentioned. Each bore a name and a place: Theridaun, Din-Werdzom, Zholder, and Rhidaun-Lorn. A long journey, an almost impossible journey. No, dammit, not impossible! Again, he studied the superscriptions. There was a name he recognized – Mynos Ballady, the legendary hero. Knight and Defender of the King, Countless stories and ballads proclaimed his deeds. I'm supposed to go and speak with Mynos Ballady? He shook his head and picked up the last document. It, too, had been written in Uncle Jadron's clear handwriting, with at the bottom the so familiar Halwyrd seal. Al-though it was addressed to Olle, he could not resist a glance and a fleeting grin appeared on his face. He saw his foster brother watching him, undoubtedly burning with curiosity, and he pushed the last parchment over the table.
'Here, this one's for you.'
'What... What is it?' Olle stared at the roll as if it were a hissing snake.
'It's a letter granting you the Lordship of the Manor of Maubyn. My uncle wanted to reward you because you are my almost brother. Congratulations, Lord Olle.'
Olle sat with the document in his fists, his face empty in shock. His dark eyes stared at Ghyll. 'Impossible. I am not a noble.'
'No, and this letter will not make you one, either. Patents of Nobility come from the King. This is the next best thing - Lord at Maubyn, hereditary title to all rights and duties, etc. It is a sub-fief from Halwyrd. As I remember it's a fortified house with fields and pastures, three farms, a chapel to the Gods and a tavern.'
Olle's helpless look was almost comical. 'But... a sub fief? Who's the liege lord?'
In spite of all, Ghyll had to grin. 'Halwyrd. That's me now, my brother. You owe me one knight's fee yearly.'
Olle sniffed. 'I'll come myself, then; that's cheaper.' He shook himself as a dog coming out of the rain into a warm room. 'Speaking of money, I haven't got a copper to spend. Do you?' His strong fingers caressed the Letter Patent until he saw Ghyll looking at him. Then he colored and tucked the document away.
Ghyll smiled as he drew the leather bag towards him. It was as big as a fat pheasant and weighed a few pounds at least. 'It's heavy enough for a mountain of coppers. Let us see how many there are.'
Carelessly, he emptied the bag on the table. Then he saw the rolls of coins, each wrapped in a strip of cloth, and he goggled.
'Those aren't coppers!' Carefully, he peeled some of the cloth away. 'They're gold, by Dragos!' The candlelight reflected on a row of thick yellow-colored coins. 'Gold crowns!' His voice faltered. 'Dear Gods, there are twenty of those rolls.' With trembling hands, he touched the crowns, and the silver half-crowns, bronze pennies and halfpennies. 'Newly minted, too,' he whispered half to himself.
'How do you know?' Olle said, surprised.
Ghyll looked up. 'That's easy, they all bear the last king's head, Halfraud IV.' Indeed, each coin displayed the same
Olle took one between thumb and forefinger, and frowned at the profile of a man with a curly beard.
'That is the last king?' he repeated. 'The one who was killed? I never noticed the heads on what little coins I had.' He took a deep breath. 'What can you buy for that much money?'
Ghyll looked at him in some surprise, but Olle stared back without expression. 'Eighty gold crowns get you a warhorse like Ulanth. Uncle Jadron's new armor cost him seventeen crowns. Twelve hundred crowns is the annual pay for an officer of Davall's rank.'
'Ah,' Olle said with a crooked smile. 'A peasant gets three half-pennies a day. You can rent a small cottage for five silver pennies a year.'
Ghyll nodded. 'I know,' he said. 'But we are not peasants. Besides, none of our people lacks anything. They have food and fresh water, proper housing, schooling, health care, the lot.'
'The baron was a good liege lord,' Olle said. 'Not all nobles are like him, though.'
'No, but I can't change that,' Ghyll felt suddenly irritated. He returned rolls of gold crowns to the leather bag and began dividing the lesser coins into four heaps.
'Maybe you can't,' Olle said, while he eyed the bearded head on the coin pensively. Then a rare grin appeared on his face. 'Here, don't forget this one.' He flipped the crown at his foster brother.
Ghyll caught the coin almost without looking. He had made four heaps, half of the money in one pile, the other half into three equal portions. One of these he pushed across the table to Olle.
'Pocket money,' he said. 'And this is for expenses on the road.' The biggest pile he put in a pouch at his belt, while he slipped the remaining two each in a different pocket.
Now the only thing left on the table was a small wooden box. Ghyll clicked the lid open with his thumb and stared at the signet ring that gleamed at him. 'Those arms!' he said softly. With trembling fingers he took it from its box. It was heavy; almost solid gold.
'This must be it,' he said, with a feeling of awe. 'This must be what Uncle Jadron had to guard.'
Olle peered at the ring. 'What is it?'
'The Royal Seal. It must've been King Halfraud's ring. Would someone commit wholesale murder for this?'
'Perhaps,' Olle said slowly. 'Falsifying old deeds or whatever. I can at least image that more than someone wanting to kill you or Damion.' He hesitated. 'Did your uncle...?'
Ghyll returned the ring to its box and picked up his uncle's letter. 'I'll skip over some private parts,' he said awkwardly. 'But I'll give you the main points.' Then he read aloud the part about his task.
'So that's it,' he said when he was done. 'I'm to collect three more of those royal trappings and bring them to a duke in Rhidaun-Lorn.'
'A duke! You're rising in the world, man!' Olle plucked at his old tunic. 'We can't see those people in these clothes. Do you have coins enough for a tailor?'
'How many tailors?'
Olle raised his eyebrows. 'How many do you need for a tunic?'
'In your size? Three or four.'
Olle gave his foster brother a playful push that launched him almost across the bed. Ghyll jumped to his feet with clenched fists and the light of battle in his eyes. He knew well that he could never win from Olle, and as always, he ended flat on his back. Panting, they put the chairs back up and walked down for the evening meal.
That night the bad dreams stayed away. In their place, Ghyll felt a heavy restlessness; an urge to act so fierce he tossed and turned until morning came.