Devlin's Luck (35 page)

He turned then to the First Councilor. “And Lady Ingeleth, surely you have seen the factions of the court. There are many nobles who are looking for someone to lead them. Who knows what unlikely candidate they will find as the centerpiece of their schemes? Not that there is any risk that they would attach themselves to one such as I, but surely my absence from the capital during these unsettled times would do more good than harm?”

Behind him he heard a snort of laughter. So at least one councilor appreciated the beauty of the trap that Devlin had laid, though he dare not turn around to identify his unknown ally.

“You are either very wise or a fool,” Lady Ingeleth said. “But I agree that there is no reason for you to remain here, where your presence may…confuse…those whose loyalties are unclear.”

Duke Gerhard nodded. “I, too, see no reason for you to remain. But I do not know if I approve of your taking a squad of the Guard. They are sentries and lawkeepers. I do not see how their skills can serve you.”

“Then give me a squad of your Royal Army as well, and we will see who can best serve,” Devlin said.

The Duke nodded. “I believe I can spare them. If you would permit, Your Majesty?”

King Olafur waved his hand. “Go. Go then, and trouble us no more,” he ordered.

Devlin bowed. “It is my pleasure to serve,” he said, hardly able to believe that he had actually done it. His gamble had paid off. He began to back away.

As he reached the door, Duke Gerhard asked, “Where are you bound?”

“Rosmaar to start,” Devlin said. “And then wherever my oath and the Kingdom’s needs take me.”

He reached the door, and made good his escape.

Twenty-one

IT WAS THE DAY AFTER THE COUNCIL MEETING, AND Devlin was methodically checking lists and ensuring all was in readiness to leave on the following day. It would not be a simple journey, as it had been when he and Stephen went to Esker. No, this time he would journey with over two dozen followers, and this multiplied the complexity of the journey a hundredfold.

Devlin felt dismayed at the size of the task before him. He was no war leader. How was he to decide if the guards were to be issued long swords or short swords and shields? Was it better to take fewer soldiers so they could move swiftly, or a larger force, which would reduce the risk that they would find themselves outnumbered by their foes? How was he to make these decisions? He had neither the training nor experience needed to fill this role, and yet guards who should have known what he lacked turned to him for guidance.

Devlin raised his head as Lieutenant Didrik entered the clerk’s office, which Devlin had commandeered as his own.

“I have the roster of names. All are volunteers. Most of them you will know, though there are three green recruits who joined up only this past month.”

Devlin scanned the list, nodding as he saw familiar names. As he had requested, the guards selected were of the junior rank, having served less than five years. He smiled as he saw Behra’s name on the list. So Behra had finally been released from duty at the gaol, his punishment for letting Devlin slip away that midwinter night.

“Sergeant Henrik is to lead? A good choice,” Devlin commented. Henrik was a twenty-year veteran, and his experience would prove a steadying influence on the young guards.

Lieutenant Didrik cleared his throat. “Actually I am to lead.”

Devlin leaned back in his chair. “No. Captain Drakken needs your experience here. Why else do you think I asked for the novices, those whose skills will be missed the least?”

Lieutenant Didrik drew himself erect and thumped his right fist on his chest in the Guard’s salute. “I serve as my Captain commands. It would dishonor the Guard to send you forth with only a sergeant, when the Royal Army will surely send an officer with their men.”

Devlin snorted. “What you meant to say is that Captain Drakken fears that without an officer to lead them, the guards will find themselves under the command of the Royal Army.”

“It is not my place to speculate on the reasons behind her orders.”

It was a reasonable concern. When he had first conceived this journey, Devlin had had no intention of inviting the Royal Army along. He knew well the rivalry between the army and the Guard, and that to mix the two would be awkward and potentially dangerous. Then in the council chamber, Devlin had realized there was no other way to gain Duke Gerhard’s approval of the plan. And so he had made the offer, and the Duke had accepted. Now it was up to Devlin to make this work.

Perhaps it would be best to have Lieutenant Didrik along. Should something happen to Devlin, the guards would need a strong leader who could assume command.

“You may tell Captain Drakken I am grateful for her assistance,” Devlin said.

“It is an honor to serve the Chosen One,” Lieutenant Didrik replied. It was impossible to tell if he was serious or mocking.

Devlin glanced down at the paper-strewn desk, and began leafing through the parchments till he found the list from the quartermaster. “Here is your first assignment,” he said, handing the list over to the lieutenant. “Make sure each guard has drawn supplies from the quartermaster, according to this list. Each horse is to be newly shod, and I want you personally to inspect their harness and tack. Then go to the guards and inspect their weapons. Any that are unprepared should have their names struck from the list, and substitute another. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord Chosen One.”

“And if you call me my lord Chosen One again, I will take it upon myself to teach you better manners,” Devlin growled.

“The lieutenant wishes to remind the Chosen One that he is still your master at the sword,” Lieutenant Didrik said.

There was a knock at the door, then it swung open, revealing an Ensign in the blue-and-scarlet uniform of the Royal Army.

For a moment Devlin felt unease, as he recognized the hated uniform of his conquerors. For the Ensign wore not the dress uniform of the court, but the field uniforms that were worn by those who had conquered Duncaer, and who now maintained control through their garrisons and fortresses.

“Ensign Greger Mikkelson,” he said, entering the room, and saluting in the manner of the Royal Army, placing his hand on his heart and inclining his head. He was in his midtwenties—old still to be only an Ensign in the Royal Army, with its many officer ranks.

Ensign Mikkelson held the pose for a long moment, then straightened as he realized that Devlin had no intention of returning the salute.

“You are late,” Devlin said. “I had expected you at first light.”

Ensign Mikkelson blinked. “I came as soon as I had my orders, and I made all haste in doing so.”

Didrik and Devlin exchanged glances. “So they could not decide who would be their sacrifice. Tell me, Ensign, what mistake have you committed? Whom did you offend to be named to this assignment?”

“I do not understand your question,” Ensign Mikkelson said, drawing himself even more stiffly erect, if that were possible.

Devlin shook his head. “You will need to be a better liar if you are ever to advance beyond your present station. Didrik, show the Ensign how it is done.”

Didrik’s eyes danced with laughter. “It is an honor to serve the Chosen One,” he said straight-faced.

“See? That is how to lie properly,” Devlin said.

The Ensign said nothing, but confusion was written plainly on his face. There was no sense in tormenting him any longer, so Devlin began to give his orders.

“We will leave at noon tomorrow. If you and your troops are not here by then, we will leave without you.”

“But—”

“Do not interrupt me,” Devlin said. “Here is a list of supplies that each soldier will require. You will personally ensure that all is in readiness. Any soldier who lacks proper equipment or supplies will be left behind. I want fourteen soldiers and one officer, no more. Two packhorses will carry supplies, but that is all. There are to be no servants, no luxuries. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Ensign Mikkelson said stiffly.

He knew he had offended the Ensign, and it was a poor way to begin this journey. But neither did he have time for soothing ruffled sensibilities or coddling those who had not the wits to cooperate on their own.

Devlin rose from his seat and unbuttoned the collar on his tunic. “Do you see this?” he asked, the fingers of his right hand tracing the faint scar left behind by the garrote.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. My orders may seem strict, but I want you to understand that this journey is no lark. I fully expect that all of us will see fighting before we are done.”

“You mean we will be attacked?”

“Of a surety. I am the Chosen One, and I cannot even go to a tavern without risking my life. This scar on my neck is a reminder of just how much my enemies wish to get rid of me. If you journey with me, you will become targets as well. And if we do not encounter assassins, then there are always outlaws, border raiders, pirates, and hellborn creatures waiting for us.”

“But Korinth is a peaceful province,” Ensign Mikkelson protested.

Ah. Devlin had been wondering just how much the treacherous Erling had revealed of their plans.

“Korinth is but one of the provinces I wish to inspect,” Devlin replied. This was the story he had agreed on with the others. Only a handful knew the truth. And should his instincts be proven false, after journeying to Korinth there were other provinces to the south and east that could use the help of the Chosen One.

Devlin unrolled the map. “Come, see,” he said. “We will begin our journey here, and then travel till we reach the coastal provinces. From there we will journey through Arkilde, Rosmaar, and then into Korinth,” he said, his finger tracing the border of the Kingdom. “Beyond Korinth we will continue along the borderlands until we reach Myrka. And if any of us are still alive by that time, we will turn west toward Denvir and Tamarack.”

Ensign Mikkelson swallowed hard. “This is no easy journey you propose.”

“The Kingdom is crumbling around us,” Lieutenant Didrik said. “We have no time for pleasure jaunts. And should the task prove beyond your abilities, no matter. We of the Guard know the meaning of service.”

“Even the least of my soldiers is more than a match for any of yours,” Ensign Mikkelson said hotly.

“Enough,” Devlin said. “You do not have time to quarrel. It is past noon, and you and your soldiers have less than a day to prepare for the journey. If I were you, I would take this list of supplies and leave at once.”

Ensign Mikkelson gave one hard look at Didrik and turned back to face Devlin. “As you command, Chosen One,” he said.

After he left, Lieutenant Didrik shook his head slowly. “I do not trust him. There is going to be trouble.”

A part of Devlin agreed, but as the leader of the expedition he knew it was up to him to set the tone. “It takes two to quarrel. If there is trouble, I will punish both guards and soldiers alike. There are to be no training accidents, no so-called jokes gone awry. You will give Ensign Mikkelson and his soldiers the respect they deserve, or I will send the lot of you back to Kingsholm and continue alone.”

“We will not start trouble,” Lieutenant Didrik said. “But—”

“There are no buts,” Devlin said. “Think with your head, not your pride. If it comes to open warfare, Jorsk will need all of her warriors, both guards and soldiers, to work together. How can you expect to save the Kingdom if you cannot manage to journey in peace with a mere Ensign and a squad of soldiers?”

Lieutenant Didrik’s face colored with embarrassment. “I understand. But will he?”

“I do not know. But we will give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.”

Stephen watched as Devlin and Captain Drakken moved among the guards, ensuring that all was in readiness. He could not hear what they were saying, but from time to time Devlin nodded, as if he were receiving last-minute words of advice. Once he glanced toward the sun, but if he was concerned that the Royal Army troops had not yet appeared, he made no sign.

From the palace tower the noon bell began to ring, and was then echoed by the bells in the city below. Devlin walked over to the groom that held his horse. “Mount up,” he ordered.

Stephen mounted his horse, while the guards, after pausing to exchange final embraces with lovers and friends, did the same. Then Devlin led the procession from the courtyard. Stephen guided his own horse just behind Devlin’s, and Lieutenant Didrik drew alongside him, followed by the fourteen guards.