Devlin's Justice (22 page)

Captain Drakken lifted the wine jug, and with a “By your leave,” poured glasses for herself and Didrik.

“I made inquiries in the market. The first speaker tells me the regional proctor is riding circuit and is not expected back for several days,” she said, pitching her voice so he could hear her over the babble of conversations around them. Of course doing so also meant that any listeners would hear confirmation that Stephen and his companions were just who they said they were.

“That is unfortunate,” Stephen said. “I suppose we could wait—”

He let his voice trail into silence.

“The speaker was kind enough to tell me that the main encampment is a dozen leagues north of here. If your cousin is not there, they will have records of where he has been sent,” Captain Drakken said. “Of course it is your choice, but it might be pleasant to rest in an inn for a few days.”

The boy returned, balancing four trenchers on his thin arms. He set the dinners down before them, then returned a moment later with cutlery. It was indeed pork, garnished with dried apples, accompanied by slices of fresh bread.

Compared to their journey rations, this was a feast. Only good manners prevented them from falling upon their food. As it was, they made swift work of their portions, and Didrik summoned the boy over to bring him a second serving.

Only after they had satisfied their hunger did Captain Drakken return to the topic of their earlier conversation.

“Have you decided to stay and wait for the proctor? If so, I will inform the innkeeper and let the stable hand know that he needs to store our provisions,” she said.

He wondered what she expected him to say.

“It seems a shame to travel and leave behind such fine fare,” Didrik said. His face, at least, Stephen knew how to read. Didrik’s words urged that they stay, but his eyes said otherwise.

“I see no reason to dally when my cousin may be so near to hand,” Stephen said. “We will press on in the morning.”

“As you wish,” Captain Drakken said.

After a few moments he and Oluva excused themselves. Captain Drakken and Didrik stayed behind, to see what local gossip they could pick up. Normally that would have been a task that Stephen excelled at, but not now. Not when he had publicly declared his connections to the occupying forces.

Oluva pulled off her boots, then stretched out on the bed that dominated the tiny room, propping her head up on one hand. She patted the empty right side of the bed with one hand in invitation, but Stephen shook his head and began to pace.

Declaring Oluva his wife had seemed a brilliant inspiration this afternoon. Certainly the patrol had been convinced by the tale he had spun. But that had been on an open road, in the clear light of afternoon sun. Now, in this tiny room, lit only by lamplight, he was beginning to have second thoughts. Oluva was a fine-looking woman, and if she were anyone else, he might have seen this as an opportunity. But since the earliest days of their acquaintance Oluva had made it quite clear that she viewed him as if he were a younger brother. It was ironic that he was forced to pretend affection for the one woman who had made it quite plain that she wasn’t interested in him.

He knew that Oluva could sense his nervousness, but fortunately she put it down to the strain of their mission.

“Relax, you did fine. There is nothing to worry about,” she reassured him.

“There is everything to worry about,” Stephen said. And the knowledge suddenly distracted him from Oluva’s presence.

It had been weeks since Devlin had disappeared, and who knew what might have happened to him during his captivity? If the mind-sorcerer was indeed involved somehow in Devlin’s disappearance, then what did that mean? Why had he chosen to capture Devlin rather than trying to destroy him as he had before?

Stephen glanced over at the corner where Devlin’s great axe stood. The blade was covered now, but he had made a ritual of checking it every morning when he arose and every night before he retired. Assuring himself that Devlin was still alive.

And Devlin was not his only concern. Solveig had refused to leave Kingsholm, despite his entreaties. She’d promised that she would return to Esker when she felt the dangers outweighed the possible rewards of having a set of eyes and ears at the court, but it would be easy for her to misjudge the situation. The same mistake his mother might have made, when she and Madrene found themselves detained in Selvarat.

Stephen would never forgive himself if anything happened to his family while he was searching for Devlin. But he could not give up the search for the Chosen One. Didrik and the others were skilled warriors, it was true. But they did not have Stephen’s faith. They had mourned Devlin as dead and would have abandoned him to his fate.

Stephen would never forsake his friend. No matter how dim the hope or how far the trail led. If he had to pursue Devlin on his own, he would. He would find Devlin and trust in the Gods and his own strength to free him. And then, let their enemies beware.

The Selvarat army had established an encampment on flat meadowland along the banks of the Floryn River. The river provided easy access to supplies and reinforcements from the sea, while the flat open plain provided perfect defensive conditions. It would be impossible to approach the encampment without being seen.

From the hillside overlooking the valley, they had observed what they could of the camp. It was laid out in a grid pattern, with neatly ordered rows of tents of various shapes and sizes. The smallest of the tents housed the soldiers, while the largest in the center were probably for the officers and the administration. Captain Drakken had estimated that there might be as many as five hundred soldiers in the encampment. Along with space for horses, wagons, provisions, and all the baggage of an army in the field.

It fell to Stephen actually to enter the camp. The sentry on duty had summoned a messenger to take him to see the camp commander. Oluva was not allowed within, so with promises to return swiftly, he left her and their horses at the camp entrance. Drakken and Didrik had been left two leagues back, concealed in the thin pine forest. Just in case entering the camp turned out to be a trap.

General Bertrand was too busy to see Stephen, but his aide proved the talkative type, and it was some time before Stephen could take his leave. The aide insisted on walking Stephen back to the camp entrance and being introduced to his wife.

Oluva’s face brightened when Stephen appeared. No doubt she had been wondering if he had been taken prisoner or exposed as a fraud.

“Did you find him?” she asked.

“Alas, no. It seems we were misinformed. There is a Lieutenant Hayden who has since been dispatched to Myrka, but he is from Vrital,” Stephen said. “Major Willem, may I present my wife Oluva? Oluva, this is Major Willem, who has been so gracious as to make time to answer my questions.”

The Major bowed, and Oluva executed a credible curtsy. “It is an honor to meet you,” she said.

“A pleasure to meet such a reasonable-minded pair,” the Major said. He turned back to face Stephen. “Remember your cousin may well be en route here to assume his new posting. New troops are expected before fall, and he may well be among them. If he is, I will give him the scroll that you left.”

“You are kindness itself,” Stephen answered. “And, of course, should your duties take you to Rosmaar, you must promise to call upon me. I promise to show you the best that this land has to offer. Our home is near the town of Somerled, just over the border in Rosmaar. Ask anyone in Somerled, and they can direct you.”

“Of course, we would welcome you and your friends. At any time,” Oluva said. If her voice held a touch of hesitation, hopefully it would be put down to anxiety over whether or not their home was grand enough to receive such an important guest.

After another exchange of compliments they were finally able to depart. They rode slowly away, careful to give no sign of haste, nodding politely and drawing their horses to one side as a patrol rode in toward the camp. Gradually the road rose up into the hill, and the flat plain gave way to a few scrubby trees, which thickened almost imperceptibly into a pine forest. They waited until they were well out of sight of the camp and the road had curved behind them before turning off into the trees and backtracking to where they had agreed to meet their friends.

The campsite was empty when they came upon it. Stephen felt a moment’s alarm, then Captain Drakken stepped forward from her hiding place.

“Were you followed?”

“No,” Oluva said.

“Not that I can tell.” Didrik’s voice came from behind them. “All’s quiet along their back trail.”

“Good. Did you get what we needed?” Drakken asked.

Stephen nodded.

He and Oluva unsaddled their horses and picketed them with the others. Unwilling to risk giving away their position by a fire, they made a cold camp, eating dried meat and washing it down with the contents of their waterskins.

“What did you find out?” Captain Drakken asked.

“He’s there,” Stephen said.

“How can you be certain?” Didrik asked. “Did you see him?”

“No, I didn’t. But there is one tent set apart from the others, guarded by two sentries. Major Willem did not name the prisoner, but he did say that Prince Arnaud had been there that morning to question him.”

“It could be anyone,” Drakken said.

“It is Devlin,” Stephen insisted. “Major Willem did not refer to him as
a
prisoner. He called him
the
prisoner. There is only one who would warrant that distinction.”

Captain Drakken appeared unconvinced.

“The axe led us here. And this is the only tent with guards. The only one,” Stephen added. He did not understand why they did not share his excitement.

“You did not see the entire camp,” Captain Drakken argued.

“I saw enough,” he said. True it would have been helpful if the axe could have led them directly to Devlin, but he could hardly carry an enchanted weapon through the midst of the enemy camp. Still, where magic failed, reason prevailed. “Devlin is a valuable prize, and where better to keep him than in the very heart of their encampment?”

“I agree with Stephen,” Oluva said. “But now that we have found Devlin, what do we do next?”

Captain Drakken sighed. “We have to enter the camp, make our way unseen to the very heart of the encampment, disable two sentries, free this prisoner, then make our way out of the camp, before any one of the five hundred hostile soldiers raises an alarm,” she said.

“And we have to be prepared for the fact that Devlin may be unconscious or injured,” Didrik added.

At least they had ceased denying that Devlin was there.

“If we stole a uniform and darkened his hair, Stephen could pass as one of their own,” Oluva said. “And while I waited at the gate, I saw carters allowed to pass in and out of the camp, delivering goods. The cart would be searched, but as long as we had no visible weapons they should have no reason to be suspicious.”

“So we need a uniform. A cart, and a load of goods that will pass inspection,” Captain Drakken said. “Anything else?”

“The Gods’ own luck,” Didrik answered.

“Luck is for fools,” Drakken counted. “I’ll put my faith in ourselves.”

It was just after dusk when Stephen made his way through the camp, Oluva at his side. His scalp itched from the coarse dye in his hair, and the pants of his borrowed uniform dragged on the ground, threatening to trip him unless he kept tugging his belt up. Still, in the darkness, with only widely spaced torches for illumination, he should be able to pass as one of their own.

Oluva had no such worries. Her costume deliberately showed all of her features, as befitted the role she was playing. Stephen blushed as he glanced over, then hastily averted his eyes.

They had chosen to attempt their rescue at dusk, when the camp would be lulled into quietness after the evening meal. It had taken three days to make the preparations for the rescue attempt—time Stephen spent torn between the desire to sneak off on his own to rescue Devlin and his desire to rage at Captain Drakken for her overcautious approach. He was all too conscious of the nearby river. At any hour a ship could arrive to transport Devlin to Selvarat, and they would have lost him. Yet even in his impatience, a part of him knew that she was wise to take such care. They would get only one chance at this, and they dared not fail.

Still, he could not help wondering what Devlin was enduring in these three days, while his friends plotted his rescue. Could he somehow sense that they were near? Or did he think himself friendless and abandoned?

After weeks of searching, in a few short moments he would come face-to-face with his friend. It was difficult to contain his excitement, but he forced himself to stroll casually. As he passed a pair of soldiers playing dice, he nodded in greeting.

“Care to share the riches? We’ll gamble you for her,” one called out.

“Let me find out what she’s worth first,” Stephen said.

Captain Drakken’s gold had purchased the dress worn by the village speaker at her wedding. It was at least two sizes too small for Oluva, and the neckline had been altered with a dagger, but such only reinforced the impression of a whore aping her betters. He would never have dared suggest that she wear such a thing, but it seemed Oluva was determined to play her part to the fullest.

“She’d better be quick,” the second soldier said, with a disapproving glare. “Remember the rule; the natives have to be out by sunset. If the general finds her here, you’ll be digging latrines until you’re old and gray.”

Stephen tugged Oluva’s arm. “Come now,” he said in the trade tongue.

She grabbed his head and pulled it down for a surprisingly lusty kiss. After a moment’s astonishment, he responded enthusiastically. Clearly this was no sisterly affection, and he had a moment’s fleeting regret that he had not taken advantage of his earlier opportunities. He reached up to embrace her, but she broke the kiss and took his hand in hers, towing him away from the fire.

He was embarrassed at having forgotten himself, if only for a moment. He could feel himself blushing, the soldiers’ laughter ringing in his ears as they continued onward, deeper into the camp.