‘I will not mince words.’ The High Prince of Devall regarded his hands, clasped in jewelled elegance on his knee. ‘Captain Mysh kael came in from an unspecified errand, his clothing still wet from the moat. There, we are also given to understand, the seeress who started the rumour of Anja’s disappearance had been drowned. Her corpse was recovered soon afterwards. Scarcely proof,’ he admitted. His brass-coloured eyes flickered up to meet Taskin straight on. ‘Perhaps those events suggest grounds for an inquest, at your discretion, of course.’ His scalding censure suggested that in Devall, no ranking captaincy was ever made the prize of a public contest at arms.
Throughout, the commander maintained his taut patience. ‘Sessalie’s small, remote, and at peace for so long, our instinct for warring has atrophied. The Lowergate garrison in fact patrols the streets for thieves and disorderly conduct. An unsavoury pursuit, on our best days, and the crown’s pay for the job is a pittance. Not having strife, without conquests or prospects for further expansion, we’ve maintained the summer tourney as hard training to mature the ambitious younger sons of our nobility. We have never, before this, attracted any foreigner, far less one approaching Captain Mysh kael’s martial prowess. Believe me, the upset has caused dog pack snarling aplenty, and no small measure of chagrin.’
‘But now Sessalie has a missing princess, a tragedy also without precedent.’ The High Prince of Devall held the commander’s regard, no easy feat even for a man born royal. ‘Dare you trust her life that this is a coincidence?’
Taskin cut to the chase. ‘You’re asking me to allow your men leave to lead inquires below Highgate?’
His Highness eased at once with relief. ‘Can that hurt? You would benefit. If your garrison man is innocent, my outside observation will clear him. I, in my turn, seek relief from helpless worry. I can’t pace the carpet through another sleepless night! Not when we speak of the princess I would cherish as my wife, an intelligent partner befitted to rule Devall as a crowned queen at my side. Anja will raise the heir who carries my rule into the next generation. Her worth to me is beyond all price. Why should Sessalie stand on ancient pride, and refuse to acknowledge the fact that my future’s at risk?’
‘The authority you ask for must come from the crown,’ Taskin said, unequivocal. ‘Why did you come here, and not to King Isendon?’
‘Have you seen the press in the audience hall today?’ the prince’s delegate broke in, scathing. ‘His Majesty has been closeted with subjects all morning. Everyone from wealthy merchants’ hired muscle to uncultured farmhand’s sons—you have the whole countryside importuning the council for their chance to shoulder the adventure.’
‘Princess Anja is beloved,’ Taskin allowed. ‘Is Devall’s crown advocate surprised that Sessalie’s people should respond in heartfelt concern?’ He shifted his regard back to the distraught prince, then made his summary disposition. ‘I’ll give you one of my royal honour guards with a writ for Collain Herald. That should advance your Highness’s petition to the head of the line.’
The commander stood, a clear signal the interview was ended.
Yet his Highness of Devall made no move to arise. His page exchanged a surreptitious glance with a lackey, and the advocate stared primly straight ahead.
‘What else?’ Taskin’s frigid question met a pall of strained quiet.
Then, ‘His Highness, Prince Kailen,’ the heir apparent broached. Discomfited enough to have broken his poise, he twisted the rings on his hands. ‘I’m sorry. Bad manners. But Anja is threatened. Her safety demands forthright speech.’
Taskin’s mien softened, almost paternal with encouragement. ‘Say what you’ve seen. Where lives are at stake, plain words will do nicely’
The Prince of Devall quieted his fretful fingers, then unburdened himself in appeal. ‘Kailen went down to a Falls Gate tavern to make inquiries after his sister. He was still there, and sober, when the servant I sent to buy wine for my retinue saw him. That meeting occurred some time after midnight.’
Taskin absorbed this, each item of testimony set against the report from the rigid-faced guard at his back. The commander was, if anything, too well informed on the outcome of that disgraceful affray: Prince Kailen had been plucked from the Cockatrice Tavern by Mykkael’s duty sergeant, making his rounds. The royal person had been turned over to the palace guard, whence Sessalie’s longsuffering seneschal had seen his Highness to bed.
Devall’s heir apparent squared his neat shoulders, loath to dwell on the indelicacy. ‘I realize Kailen likes to prowl like a tomcat. I also know him as a friend. To speak plainly, he has too much intelligence for the confines of his station. He acts frivolously because the peace and isolation here don’t grant him any chance to test his wits. Appearances aside, I would credit his maturity this much. He loves his sister and this kingdom too well to have drunk himself into a stupor last night.’
‘I would have thought so,’ Taskin agreed, even that trifling confidence divulged with a reluctance that crossed his straight grain. ‘On that score, my inquiry is now being delayed. Let me dispatch an honour guard to see you—’
But the High Prince of Devall raised a magnanimous palm. ‘Spare your guardsmen, commander. I will seek Collain Herald myself.’
Taskin nodded. In person, the heir apparent would make himself heard, and receive the king’s ear without help. Forced to acknowledge the young royal’s earnestness, he unbent and ushered the contingent from Devall to the head of the balcony stair.
While the party made their way out through the wardroom, Taskin watched from the gallery railing. Once the lower door closed and restored his broached privacy, he addressed the guardsman his orders had held at attention throughout Devall’s interview. ‘What do you think, based on those facts you know?’
The man cleared his throat. ‘Facts only? No one saw where Captain Mysh kael went after he slipped our charge at the Middlegate. Prince Kailen was drunk when I set him on horseback. Sergeant Stennis had his Highness borne back to the garrison keep by two men culled from the street watch. No unusual report there—they’d scooped the prince from the arms of a whore, merry on too much whisky. The tavern was one of his usual haunts. Nobody mentioned him, sober.’
The commander held his stance, rod-straight and unspeaking as his survey combed over the vacated wardroom. Reassured that no bit of armour was out of place, and that each weapon rested keen on its rack, he attended the unfinished detail at his back with his usual cryptic handling. ‘Very well, soldier. For your incompetence last night, ride down and find Mysh kael, soonest. On my orders, you’ll tell the garrison captain he’s to see me in person and address each point where his report failed to meet my satisfaction.’
Taskin spun and prowled back to his desk, the buffed braid on his surcoat a scorching gleam of gold, and his censure as painfully piercing. ‘An unnecessary summons, had you kept your watch, soldier. You’ll suffer the fire of that desert-bred’s temper as your due penalty for slacking. If the creature is contrary or difficult, and he should be, keep your professional bearing in hand. Your orders stand: make sure the man comes. Recall that I hold the outstanding matter of the captain’s overdue punishment. When Mysh kael is finished with making you miserable, and only after you’ve brought him to heel through the Highgate, you can sting his pride with that fact, as you choose.’
‘You want him sent into your presence well nettled?’ the guard ventured, then caught Taskin’s glare, and leaped in chastened strides towards the doorway.
The Commander of the Guard subsided behind his gleaming marble desk. He restored the papers sequestered beneath the brick, then finished his vexed thought in solitude. ‘I’ll pressure