Brotherhood of the Wolf (52 page)

Faintly, a voice in the back of Borenson's mind whispered that he had helped to create a monster, and that now he should destroy it, if possible.

Yet he could not bear the thought. Even if he'd still had his endowments, even if he thought himself capable of fighting Pashtuk, Ha'Pim, and Mahket, he did not think himself capable of killing Saffira.

No man
could
manage it.

And she did not deserve such rough treatment. Saffira was innocent, not evil.

Even if he had thought her evil, he knew that he would never have been able to lift a finger against her.

30
THE BOON COMPANION

It was well after sunset when Iome reached Castle Groverman. Both Binnesman and Jureem rode the fine mounts. that Raj Ahten had graciously provided them a week before, and Myrrima rode Sir Borenson's mount, as swift a beast as Mystarria could offer. But the force horse Iome had been constrained to take from the King's stables had
been a simple guardsman's mount with only three endowments.

It gave out after a hundred miles of hard running, so Iome was forced to slow until they could get to Bannisferre and buy a fresh mount.

Still, the stars shone brightly and the air up here high in the Dunnwood was cold and fresh, so that the evening ride was pleasant.

Once they arrived at the castle, Iome went off in search of the King. She took a retinue consisting of Jureem, Binnesman, and Myrrima, as well as her Days and the clubfooted boy.

With a few words to a captain, she caught up to Gaborn in Duke Groverman's Keep, where he had retired for dinner with a number of other lords.

Iome proceeded from the hall to the Duke's audience chamber. She was about to open the red curtains at the entrance to the Great Hall when she heard someone addressing her husband in a harsh voice. “This is a travesty, Your Highness!” a knight said too loudly. “You can't let them turn back
now,
not before the chase has even begun! This speaks of cowardice!”

She knew the whiny voice. It was Sir Gillis of Tor Insell.

A deep-voiced fellow roared, “Your Highness, I will not be called a coward by this man, nor will I have my king named one! I demand an apology!”

Iome motioned for those behind her to stop. She parted the curtain a bit. Duke Groverman had set a fine banquet, and Gaborn and three dozen lords crowded around a table that should not have held two dozen.

In the center of the room stood a young man with a pimpled face, Theovald Orwynne's son, fourteen-year-old Agunter.

Word had spread along the road of the day's events. Iome knew that King Orwynne and his son Barnell had been slain by the Darkling Glory. Agunter would be next in line for the throne. She'd also heard that Gaborn had lost his endowments.

At Agunter's side stood a big bear of a man, Sir Langley, and at his back counselors waited.

“I demand an apology from this lout…” Sir Langley roared at Sir Gillis, “or satisfaction!”

With a tone of wry amusement, Gaborn turned to his left, where Sir Gillis sat at the table, several places down. “What say you, Sir Gillis? Will you apologize for your insult, or will we all get to watch Orwynne's champion yank your tongue from your mouth?”

Red of face, Sir Gillis threw down a swan's leg he'd been gnawing at and glared over his dinner plate. “I say it again! Orwynne swore fealty to the Earth King, and if Agunter and his knights choose to depart now before the battle, then I say they are cowards all! Rip out my tongue if you can, Sir Langley. Though it wriggle on the floor, my tongue will still declare the truth!”

Sir Langley glared at Sir Gillis, and his hand strayed toward the dagger in his belt, but he dared not draw steel in the Earth King's presence.

“If you please, Your Highness!” one of Orwynne's counselors shouted. “It was not milord Agunter's wish to return to his lands. I have sought all day to persuade him that this is the most prudent course!”

“Speak on,” Gaborn told the counselor.

“I… I merely point out that Agunter is but fourteen, and though he has the size of a man about him—and a courage to equal that of any man in this room—today his kingdom suffered a tremendous loss. With King Orwynne dead, along with his oldest son, the royal family of Orwynne is now in a tenuous position. Agunter's nearest brother is but six years old, and if by some fell chance Agunter continued south and died in battle, his brother would be incapable of ruling in his stead. With our kingdom at war, we need a proper lord to lead us. For this reason alone, we petition you for leave to return to our homes.”

Gaborn sat back in the shadows, with Duke Groverman to his left and Chancellor Rodderman to his right. Now he leaned forward in his chair.

“For young Agunter here to leave is one thing,” Sir Gillis said. “But must he take his entire retinue? Five hundred knights?”

Iome was torn at the thought. Agunter's father had indeed mounted five hundred of his best knights for this campaign, and with Heredon's forces so decimated, such knights would be sorely needed. While it was only prudent for young Agunter to turn back, it seemed excessive for him to take all of his men.

Sir Gillis was right, she decided. More than common sense lay behind Agunter's request. Agunter was sorely afraid—and with good reason.

Gaborn's father had stood up to Raj Ahten and been murdered for his trouble, as had her own father. Agunter's father was slain most terribly, crushed by the Darkling Glory right before Agunter's own eyes.

Agunter spoke now, voice shaky. “I think that to take all of my men
would
be excessive, but for the news my father bore last night: Reavers have surfaced in North Crowthen and again to the south in Mystarria. World worms shake the earth as they burrow beneath the Dunnwood. My kingdom borders the Hest, and we've spotted many signs of reavers this past summer in the mountains. How long will it be before they come at us en masse?”

“Hah! I call it robbery!” Sir Gillis said. “The Earth King saves your whole nation and gives two thousand forcibles to make Sir Langley our champion, and then you think to ride off on your merry way with the booty. Shall Orwynne be named a boon companion?”

Young King Agunter glared menacingly at Gillis. If his champion was afraid to draw steel before the Earth King, Iome saw that Agunter was not. Though Agunter might fear Raj Ahten, that fear didn't extend to such men as Sir Gillis.

A boon companion, indeed.

Iome bit her lip. If young Agunter does not like hearing such jibes to his face, she thought, then in a year or two he'll positively loathe what is said at his back. It would be churlish for the boy to withdraw his support completely.

Gaborn had sent two thousand forcibles to Orwynne so that Langley could receive endowments. It was a tremendous investment, and Iome could see from his stance alone that Langley was receiving endowments through his Vectors. He stood tall even with his mail shirt on, and he moved with incredible fluidity and swiftness, as only a man with great endowments of grace and metabolism could do.

Langley was becoming a potent warrior, minute by minute, as Orwynne's facilitators drew attributes in his behalf.

It would be churlish of Agunter to withdraw Langley from the coming battle, churlish and foolish. Iome would not have allowed it, would have pounded the table and demanded Orwynne's assistance. Instead, she watched to see how Gaborn played the lad.

Gaborn leaned forward and cleared his throat. As he bent into the wan light of a candle, Iome felt astonished by the transformation she saw in his features since only this morning. His eyes were dark and hollow, his face pale. He looked ill or weary nigh unto death. Such was the havoc that losing his endowments wrought upon him.

“Sir Gillis, you owe young King Orwynne an apology,” Gaborn said. “I have looked into his heart. It is full of wrath at Raj Ahten, and it is as difficult for him to turn aside from this conflict as it will be for you to watch him go.”

Addressing the young king, Gaborn said, “Agunter Orwynne, by all means, take your men home with my blessing. Rofehavan needs Orwynne to hold the west, and to be strong against all enemies—whether they be Raj Ahten's troops or reavers. Take your father and brother home for burial. Take your knights, and may the Powers ride with you.”

Iome couldn't believe it. Gaborn was riding to battle with far too few men as it was. He shouldn't be acquiescing to a coward's demands.

“But—” Sir Gillis let out a strangled exclamation.

“I ask only one boon of you,” Gaborn told Agunter. “Let Sir Langley come to fight as your champion. It is my hope that he will still avenge both my father and yours. If he
does, I will be forever grateful for your aid.”

Iome suddenly realized what Gaborn was doing. Agunter could not bear the thought of facing Raj Ahten. He was so terrified that he dared not even ride home alone.

But perhaps by declaring that the boy had courage, Gaborn lent Agunter some. At the same time, Gaborn appealed to whatever dignity the young lad had left. No child could fail to try to avenge a murdered father. If Agunter did not let Langley fight, he would never be able to live with the scorn that his people would heap upon him. Surely Agunter saw this.

Yet Agunter trembled as he said, “Take
him
then… along with a hundred knights.”

Gaborn nodded, as if surprised and impressed at the young king's graciousness.

Agunter turned and stalked from the Great Hall, his counselors and his Days flapping at his tail, eager to flee Castle Groverman, eager to return to Orwynne.

Iome stepped back from the audience chamber to let Agunter pass with his retinue.

Of all Agunter Orwynne's men, only Sir Langley stayed in the audience chamber.

He eyed Agunter's back thoughtfully for a moment, and no one in the room spoke. When Agunter was good and gone from the keep, Sir Langley bowed to Gaborn. “I thank you, Your Highness, for letting the lad go.” Then he bowed to Sir Gillis. “And you, good sirrah, for reminding him of his duty.”

Gaborn smiled in amusement. Sir Langley obviously wanted to fight Raj Ahten far more than his king did, and though Langley might defend his king's honor to the death, he saw the lad for what he was and felt relieved to have his lord's permission to ride south.

Langley, too, turned to leave the room.

“Stay if you will,” Gaborn said. “There is more than enough room at the table.” It was an amusing statement, for lords were crammed elbow to rib at Groverman's table.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Langley said. “But I fear
that when my king rides off, it will weaken the morale of your troops. If you would allow me, I'd like to take my dinner there, so that I can reassure them somewhat.”

“That would be appreciated,” Gaborn said.

Langley began to march for the exit, but Gaborn stopped him. “Sir Langley, you should know that your king is a decent lad. He has a man's body, but not a man's heart—yet. In a year or two, I suspect that he will find his courage.”

Langley glanced back over his shoulder. “I pray he does not find it too late.”

Iome let Langley pass, then proceeded into the Great Hall with Myrrima, Binnesman, Jureem, and her Days at her back. The clubfooted boy remained in the audience chamber to play with the pups.

Upon seeing her, Gaborn rose and invited Iome to sit next to him. Iome kissed him, studied him as she did. He looked ill, she decided.

She took a seat beside him when Duke Groverman offered his own chair. Iome squeezed Gaborn's right hand with her left.

She had not even settled in her chair when a page announced a messenger from Beldinook; it was the first messenger to come from Beldinook since Gaborn had been crowned as the Earth King.

Beldinook was an important nation, the second largest and wealthiest in all of Rofehavan. It bordered Mystarria on the north, and thus was a strategic ally. More than that, old King Lowicker, a frail man given to fits of indecision, had long been a friend to Gaborn's father. Gaborn needed Lowicker now, in part because Gaborn's small army would have to pass through Beldinook to reach Carris. But since Gaborn had to travel quickly, he was not able to carry all of the supplies he would need for battle.