‘Thoughtful, brother?’
Lyam had pulled his own horse up and was now beside Arutha, who shook his head and smiled faintly. ‘Just envious of you.’
Lyam smiled his warmest at his younger brother. ‘I know you wish to be going, but Father’s orders were clear. You’re needed here.’
‘How needed can I be where every suggestion I make has been ignored?’
Lyam’s expression was conciliatory. ‘You’re still disturbed by Father’s decision to name Fannon commander of the garrison.’
Arutha looked hard at his brother. ‘I am now the age you were when Father named you commander at Crydee. Father was full commander and second Knight-General in the West at my age, only four years shy of being named King’s Warden of the West. Grandfather trusted him enough to give him full command.’
‘Father’s not Grandfather, Arutha. Remember, Grandfather grew up in a time when we were still warring in Crydee, pacifying newly conquered lands. He grew up in war. Father did not. He learned all his warcraft down in the Vale of Dreams, against Kesh, not defending his own home as Grandfather had. Times change.’
‘How they change, brother,’ Arutha said dryly. ‘Grandfather, like his father before him, would not have sat behind safe walls. In the two years since the war began, we have not mounted one major offensive against the Tsurani. We cannot continue letting them dictate the course of the war, or surely they will prevail.’
Lyam regarded his brother with concern mirrored in his eyes. ‘Arutha, I know you are restless to harry the enemy, but Fannon is right in saying we dare not risk the garrison. We must hold here and protect what we have.’
Arutha cast a quick glance at the ragged townspeople behind. ‘I’ll tell those who follow how well they’re protected.’
Lyam saw the bitterness in Arutha. ‘I know you blame me, brother. Had I taken your advice, rather than Fannon’s …’
Arutha lost his harsh manner. ‘It is not your doing,’ he conceded. ‘Old Fannon is simply cautious. He also is of the opinion a soldier’s worth is measured by the grey in his beard. I am still only the Duke’s boy. I fear my opinions from now on will receive short shrift.’
‘Curb thy impatience, youngster,’ he said in mock seriousness. ‘Perhaps between your boldness and Fannon’s caution, a safe middle course will be followed.’ Lyam laughed.
Arutha had always found his brother’s laughter infectious and couldn’t repress a grin. ‘Perhaps, Lyam,’ he said with a laugh.
They came to the beach where longboats waited to haul the refugees out to the ships anchored offshore. The captains would not return to the quayside until they were assured their ships would not again come under attack, so the fleeing townspeople were forced to walk through the surf to board the boats. Men and women began to wade to the boats, bundles of belongings and small children held safely overhead. Older children swam playfully, turning the event into sport. There were many tearful partings, for most of the townsmen were remaining to rebuild their burned homes and serve as levies in the dukes’ army. The women, children, and old men who were leaving would be carried down the coast to Tulan, the southernmost town in the Duchy, as yet untroubled by either the Tsurani or the rampaging Dark Brothers in the Green Heart.
Lyam and Arutha dismounted, and a soldier took their horses. The brothers watched as soldiers carefully loaded crates of messenger pigeons onto the sole longboat pulled up on shore. The birds would be shipped through the Straits of Darkness to the dukes’ camp. Pigeons trained to fly to the camp were now on their way to Crydee, and with their arrival some of the responsibility for carrying information to and from the dukes’ camp would be lifted from Martin Longbow’s trackers and the Natalese Rangers. This was the first year mature pigeons raised in the camp – necessary for them to develop the homing instinct – were available.
Soon the baggage and refugees were loaded, and it was time for Lyam to depart. Fannon bid him a stiff and formal farewell, but it was apparent from his controlled manner that the old Swordmaster felt concern for the Duke’s older son. With no family of his own, Fannon had been something of an uncle to the boys when they were growing, personally instructing them in swordsmanship, the maintenance of armor, and the theories of warcraft. He maintained his formal pose, but both brothers could see the genuine affection there.
When Fannon left, the brothers embraced. Lyam said, ‘Take care of Fannon.’ Arutha looked surprised. Lyam grinned and said, ‘I’d not care to think what would happen here should Father pass you over once more and name Algon commander of the garrison.’
Arutha groaned, then laughed with his brother. As Horsemaster, Algon was technically second-in-command behind Fannon. All in the castle shared genuine affection for the man, and deep respect for his vast knowledge of horses, but everyone conceded his general lack of knowledge about anything besides horses. After two years of warfare, he still resisted the idea the invaders came from another world, an attitude that caused Tully no end of irritation.
Lyam moved into the water, where two sailors held the longboat for him. Over his shoulder he shouted, ‘And take care of our sister, Arutha.’
Arutha said he would. Lyam leaped into the longboat, next to the precious pigeons, and the boat was pushed away from shore. Arutha watched as the boat dwindled into the distance.
Arutha walked slowly back to where a soldier held his mount. He paused to stare down the beach. To the south, the high bluffs reared, dominated by Sailor’s Grief, which stood upthrust against the morning sky. Arutha silently cursed the day the Tsurani ship crashed against those rocks.
Carline stood atop the southern tower of the keep, watching the horizon, gathering her cloak around her against the sea breeze. She had stayed at the castle, bidding Lyam good-bye earlier, not wishing to ride to the beach. She preferred that her fears not becloud Lyam’s happiness at joining their father in the dukes’ camp. Many times over the last two years she had chided herself over such feelings. Her men were soldiers, all trained since boyhood for war. But since word had reached Crydee of Pug’s capture, she had remained afraid for them.
A feminine clearing of the throat made Carline turn. Lady Glynis, the Princess’s companion for the last four years, smiled slightly and indicated with a nod of her head the newcomer who appeared at the trapdoor leading down into the tower.
Roland emerged from the doorway in the floor. The last two years had added to his growth, and now he stood as tall as Arutha. He was still thin, but his boyish features were resolving into those of a man.
He bowed and said, ‘Highness.’
Carline acknowledged the greeting with a nod and gestured that Lady Glynis should leave them alone. Glynis fled down the stairway into the tower.
Softly Carline said, ‘You did not ride to the beach with Lyam?’
‘No, Highness.’
‘You spoke with him before the left?’
Roland turned his gaze to the far horizon. ‘Yes, Highness, though I must confess to a foul humor at his going.’
Carline nodded understanding. ‘Because you have to stay.’
He spoke with bitterness, ‘Yes, Highness.’
Carline said gently, ‘Why so formal, Roland?’
Roland looked at the Princess, seventeen years old just this last Midsummer’s Day. No longer a petulant little girl given to outbursts of temper, she was changing into a beautiful young woman of thoughtful introspection. Few