‘How goes that war?’ asked Kaspar.
‘Last I heard Muboya had forced Sasbataba to surrender, and was now battling some bandit lord named Okanala for control of the next bit of land he wants.
‘I’ll give the boy Raj credit though: after his army leaves, the lands left behind are almost as quiet as they were before the Emerald Queen’s war. Wish he’d send some of his lads up this way to calm things down between here and the Hotlands.’ Seeing Kaspar’s mug was empty, Sagrin said, ‘Another?’
Kaspar pushed himself away from the bar. ‘In a while. First let me feed my horse and make sure there’s adequate water.’
‘Staying?’
Kaspar nodded. ‘I’ll want a room.’
‘Pick any one you like,’ said Sagrin. ‘I’ve got lamb on the spit and the bread was baked yesterday.’
‘That’ll be fine,’ said Kaspar. He left the common room.
Outside the night air was cool; it was winter in this land, but he was far enough north and close enough to the Hotlands that it never got truly cold. He went to the stable and got a bucket, filled it at the well, and made sure the trough was full. He put a nose-bag on his horse and took some time to inspect the animal. He had ridden it hard and he wanted to make sure the gelding was sound. He saw an old currying brush sitting on the shelf next to some worthless old tack, and he picked it up and started brushing the horse’s coat.
As he hurried, Kaspar became lost in thought. Part of him had wanted to return here, to build a new personal empire; but these days the stirrings of ambitions were muted in his heart. But they were never gone entirely. Whatever effect the influences of the mad sorcerer Leso Varen had been on Kaspar, the former ruler of Olasko’s basic nature was still ambitious.
The men who were bringing order out of chaos on this continent were men of vision as well as desire. Power for its own sake was the height of greed; power for the benefit of others had a nobler quality he had only just begun to appreciate as he observed men like Pug, Magnus and Nakor, men who could do amazing things, yet only sought to make the world a safer place for everyone.
He shook his head at the thought, realizing that he had no legal or ethical foundation for building an empire here; he would just be another self-aggrandizing bandit lord carving out his own kingdom.
He sighed as he put away the currying brush. Better to find General Alenburga and enlist in the Raj’s service. Kaspar had no doubt he would quickly win promotion and have his own army to command. But could he ever take service in another man’s army?
He stopped, and started to laugh. What was he doing now? He was serving the Conclave, despite the fact he had never taken a formal oath of service with any of them. Since bringing Pug and his companions word of the Talnoy and the threat Kalkin had shown him of the Dasati homeworld, Kaspar had been running errands and carrying out missions for the Conclave.
Still chuckling as he reached the door to the inn, Kaspar decided that he was serving this land, as well as the rest of the world, and his days as a ruling lord were over. As he pushed open the door he thought: at least life was interesting.
Ten days later, Kaspar walked his horse through the crowded streets of Higara. The town had changed in the last three years; everywhere he saw the signs of prosperity. New construction was turning this town into a small city. When he had last passed though Higara, it had been a staging area for the Raj of Muboya’s army as they readied an offensive southward. Now the only men in uniform to be seen were the town’s constables. Kaspar noted they wore colours that resembled the regular army’s, a clear indication that Higara was now firmly part of Muboya, no matter its previous allegiances.
Kaspar found the very inn where he had spoken to General Alenburga three years previously, and saw it had been restored to its former tranquillity. Instead of soldiers everywhere, a boy ran out of the stable to take charge of Kaspar’s horse. The boy was roughly the same age as Jorgen had been when Kaspar had last seen him, reminding him of why he was making this trek. Putting aside a growing sense of futility in finding one boy and his mother in this vast land, Kaspar handed the boy a copper coin. ‘Wash the road dirt off and curry him,’ he instructed. The boy grinned as he pocketed the coin and said he would.
Kaspar entered the inn and glanced around. It was crowded with merchants taking their mid-day meal and others dressed for travel. Kaspar made his way to the bar and the barkeep nodded. ‘Sir?’
‘Ale,’ said Kaspar.
When the mug sat before him, Kaspar produced another copper coin and the barman picked it up. He hefted it, quickly produced a touchstone, struck the colour of the coin, then said, ‘This will do for two.’
‘Have one for yourself,’ said the former duke.
The barman smiled. ‘Little early for me. Maybe later. Thanks.’
Kaspar nodded. ‘Where’s the local garrison these days?’
‘Don’t have one,’ said the barman. He pointed in the general direction of the south road. ‘There’s a garrison down in Dondia, a good day’s ride. They pulled all the soldiers out of here when Sasbataba surrendered. We get a regular patrol up here once a week, and there’s a company of town militia to help the constables if needed, but frankly, stranger, things around here are quiet to the point of being downright peaceful.’
‘Must be a welcome change,’ said Kaspar.
‘Can’t argue about that,’ said the barman.
‘Got a room?’
The barman nodded and produced a key. ‘Top of the stairs, last door on the left. Got a window.’
Kaspar took the key. ‘Where’s the local constable’s office?’
The barman gave Kaspar directions and after finishing his ale and an indifferent lunch of cold beef and barely warm vegetables, Kaspar headed to the constable’s office. Walking the short distance, he was assailed by the sounds and sights of a bustling trading centre. Whatever the previous status of Higara, it was now clearly a regional hub for the expanding territory. For a brief moment Kaspar felt a twinge of regret; Flynn and the other traders from the Kingdom would have found the riches they sought in such a place as this. The four traders from the Kingdom of the Isles had been responsible for Kaspar coming into possession of the Talnoy, each of them dying ignorant of the part he had played.
Thinking of that infernal device, Kaspar wondered if he should set himself a limit on how long he’d look for Jojanna and Jorgen.
He found the constable’s office easily, and pushed open the door.
A young man wearing a tunic with a badge looked up from a table that served as a desk. With the air of self-importance that only a boy recently given responsibility could manage, he said, ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’m looking for someone. A soldier named Bandamin.’
The lad, good-looking with light brown hair and a scattering of freckles, tried to look as if he was thinking. After a moment, he said, ‘I don’t know that name. Which company is he with?’
Kaspar doubted the boy would have any idea where Bandamin was even if Kaspar knew that. ‘Don’t know. He was living outside a village up north and got pressed into service.’
‘Pressed man, huh?’ said the youngster. ‘Most likely he’s with the infantry south of here.’
‘What about a boy? About eleven years of age.’ Kaspar tried to judge how much Jorgen would have grown since he had last seen him, and held up his hand. ‘Probably about this high. Blond hair.’
The young constable shrugged. ‘There are lots of boys coming through the city all the time, caravan cooks’ monkeys, luggage rats, homeless boys, runaways.