Michael Stackpole - Of Limited Loyalty

“That’s a bit hyperbolic, but this is Rivendell we’re talking about.”

“True, Highness. By your remark, I take it you’ve read the book?”

“Several times, in several editions.” Again Vlad reveled in the surprise on Rathfield’s face. I hope you do not gamble, sir, for you certainly will lose. “I suspect my aunt would be even less enamored of Haste’s latest pamphlet The Blood of Liberty. ”

“He has new work available? You’ve seized it, of course, and destroyed the press.”

“Hardly.” Vlad refrained from mentioning he’d financed the first print run. “One cannot kill an idea by suppressing its publication, Colonel. One can merely mount a counter-offensive through reasoned discussion. This, however, is a point we may debate more fully at a later time.”

“Yes, Highness.”

“If you don’t mind, I will invite Captain Strake to join us. Your mission will require an expedition, and he has particular insights into these things.”

“Highness, I was told this information is to be held in the utmost secrecy.”

Vlad smiled easily. “I know, Colonel, that you do not mean to suggest you doubt the soundness of my judgment as to Captain Strake’s character or intellect, nor that you understand the administration of Her Majesty’s affairs here in Mystria better than I do.”

“No, Highness.” Rathfield half-turned back toward the closed doors. “Shall I fetch him?”

“You’re very kind.”

Within three steps toward the doors, Rathfield had regained his composure. He strode with a certain grace, reminding Vlad of the effortless power with which a jeopard moved through the Mystrian forests. Perhaps he is like the saber-toothed cat, strong enough to be deadly and, therefore, not required to be too clever. If the story of Rondeville was even half-true, the man would be implacable in combat, and just intelligent enough to learn what his masters wanted, yet not so bright as to question their need for that information.

The two men returned, Rathfield a half a step ahead of Owen. Vlad offered his friend his hand, then clasped Owen’s in both of his. “Wonderful to see you again, Owen. I didn’t realize you were in town.”

“I rode in this morning. There was the Wattling affair to take care of.”

“Resolved satisfactorily?”

“I hope so. I left him with Caleb. Mr. Dunsby and I escorted Colonel Rathfield here.”

“Please tell Mr. Dunsby I am pleased to learn he has returned. Baker will be happy to have his help with Mugwump again.” Vlad slapped Owen on the shoulder, then released his hand. “Colonel Rathfield tells me that there has been a petition sent to the Queen concerning a new settlement in the west. Colonel, what do you know of the petitioners?”

Rathfield again hid his hands at the small of his back. “Highness, we know very little. No one signed the petition per se. It was signed in the name of the True Oriental Church of the Lord. No one in Launston seems to know who or what that organization is.”

“Owen, have you any insights?”

“Nothing about that group, Highness, but most of the villages and towns in Temperance Bay and Bounty started when churches had doctrinal splits and half the people moved away. Caleb once mentioned that he had second cousins who helped found the town Humility over in Bounty. I also seem to recall Makepeace Bone mentioning a group heading west a couple years ago-’62 maybe, or ’61-to escape the corruption of the coast.”

“How long would it take to mount an expedition to survey such settlements?”

Owen frowned. “No honest way of knowing, Highness, without a clue as to where to start looking.”

“They want to call their settlement Postsylvania, and want it to run from the Argent to the coast, west of the mountains until they hit water.”

Owen nibbled his lower lip. “I see the problem. That narrows it down slightly. A month to the mountains, perhaps, several more hunting, then a month back. Head out in two weeks, be back in time for your son’s birthday. Six men, including the Colonel here: Hodge, Makepeace, Nathaniel, Kamiskwa, and me.”

Vlad nodded. “I believe we have a working plan. Would it inconvenience you, Captain, to host Colonel Rathfield? Given the confidential nature of his mission, housing him on your estate would be prudent. It makes him easily accessible to me. And while I am certain Mr. Dunsby will acquit himself well, might I suggest you offer Count von Metternin a chance to join you?”

“Of course, Highness. I should have thought of that.”

Rathfield lifted his chin. “Highness, I’m not certain that this expedition, as outlined, fulfills the dictates of my orders. Horse Guards and the Queen were most keen on the idea of bringing any settlement back within chartered territories. I was thinking I could take a company of the Life Guards and that you might scare up a company of colonial scouts and skirmishers to guide us.”

“I will certainly read your orders carefully, Colonel, to make certain we are not in violation of them. Captain, would you care to explain to Colonel Rathfield how long his expedition would take?”

Owen shrugged easily-a mannerism he’d picked up while living in Mystria. “We’d be wintering somewhere out in the mountains, and be lucky to make it back here by spring. Folks in the settlements would agree to head back to the coast, but would just reoccupy things after we left for the next settlement.”

“Then we should have to burn their settlements.”

Owen shook his head. “You don’t understand. You’re thinking of towns in Tharyngia or Norisle, but settlements out here aren’t like that. Folks will have cabins spread all over, five to ten miles from the church, trading post, or tavern they consider the heart of their settlement. You’d never find them all, and they’d warn others. You’d grow more settlements than you’d stomp out.”

“I believe, Captain, your assessment misses the fact that I act with the Crown’s authority.”

Vlad held up a hand. “Gentlemen, this is a subject we can discuss on the road west. I have a cart coming at noon. Colonel, if you and Mr. Dunsby see to your luggage, it can be loaded into the cart. Captain Strake’s home is adjacent to mine. We will ride ahead and see if we can settle things.”

“As you wish, Highness.”

“Good. Please, you’ll find Mr. Dunsby waiting outside, won’t he, Captain?”

“Yes, Highness.”

“Tell him to collect your things. Godspeed.” Vlad nodded toward the door. “And, Owen, a word, if I might.”

“Of course, Highness.”

Rathfield saluted the Prince smartly, then turned on his heel and marched from the chamber. Vlad waited until the door closed behind him, then looked at Owen.

“Tell me, Owen, truthfully. Do you want to go on this expedition because you wish to guarantee success, or do you just want to get away from your wife?”

27 March 1767 Government House, Temperance Bay, Mystria

O wen hesitated before he answered, less because of the question’s direct nature than the insight behind it. “My only wish, Highness, is to be of service.”

The Prince smiled. “I hoped that was the case. I asked because you are a friend. I wish you only the best.”

Owen glanced toward the floor. “I know that. Had you not asked, I would have convinced myself that service to the Crown is my only concern. However, it is…”

“The sailing season, I know.”

Catherine Strake had never abandoned the idea of returning to Norisle, even when she was told she would be friendless and humiliated. If anything, that seemed to heighten her desire to go back. As spring gave way to summer, she would spend more time in their rooms in Temperance and become increasingly insistent that she be allowed to leave. The edge in her voice would grow, and her glances would become more venomous.