Michael Stackpole - Of Limited Loyalty

Chandler, the Prince’s man, conducted him to the Prince’s private office. Ian had not met with him there before. Usually they used the audience chamber, but it had been reconfigured for the Colonial Assembly. The Prince’s throne had been pulled out and desks had been arranged. Ian felt certain the Bishop’s announcement of the Shipping and Commerce Act would fill the Assembly with oaths and plotting, but he did not believe the potential for rebellion was the reason the Prince had summoned him.

The Prince waited for the door to close before he spoke. “I should ask you for two things, General. The first is understanding, and the second is forgiveness. I realize that social niceties dictate that I spend longer earning each from you, but I fear we have not very much time with which to work. I’d like you to take a look at this.”

Removing his hat, Ian approached the Prince’s desk. The image of a strange creature almost twice as tall as a man, with claws and horns appeared sketched in a notebook next to the silhouette of a man. “Yes, Highness?”

“I know you’ve not seen one of these before. This is an image Owen Strake drew. It is a creature he and the others saw in the ruins, in the Temple, on their return journey.”

Ian lifted his chin. “Highness…”

The Prince held up a hand. “I do not need you to tell me that this creature cannot exist. I have it on very reliable authority that one was slain last Thursday. It will be back here soon. It exists; it is not the last of its kind. It is the harbinger of a coming disaster which the Crown has already informed me it does not accept as real and will not provide funding to defend against.”

The Prince then proceeded to explain to Ian all that Strake, Kamiskwa, and Woods had learned from the point when Rufus Branch grabbed Ian and Ian ceased to remember anything. Ian stood there, listening to point after point, cataloguing everything. Not only were things odder than he could have imagined, but he learned the Prince had withheld from him information that would have proved valuable in his report to the Crown.

“Yes, I know, General, that I did not tell you everything. Consider my position, however. You were a witness to none of this. While you might have reported it, you could not confirm it, which would have made it even easier to dismiss. Not that the Crown needed your help in this regard.”

“You could have told me once I’d sent my report in.” Ian fought to keep his face impassive. “I am a trained military man, Highness. You could have used my expertise to plan a defense. We’ve wasted the winter.”

Vlad snorted. “Not to be insulting, sir, but if I had asked you to help me plan on how to defeat monsters from beyond the mountains based on hallucinations caused by a Shedashee ritual-which point to a previously unknown people using magicks which we know cannot exist-I suspect you would have been less than forthcoming with your best effort on my behalf.”

“I must admit, Highness, that this all still sounds highly improbable.”

The Prince nodded, then clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve calculated that Happy Valley was approximately two hundred miles, west-southwest from here.”

“I am aware of that.”

“And you know the date you were felled, and the date you woke up at Prince Haven, yes?”

Ian nodded.

“Did it never occur to you to ask how you got back so quickly?”

“Traveling two hundred miles in ten days is hardly unheard of, Highness.”

“On the Continent, perhaps, where there are roads.” Vlad exhaled slowly. “To demonstrate the gravity of the situation we are facing, I am going to share with you a confidence which I shall consider you honor bound to keep.”

“Of course, Highness.”

“It did not take you ten days to return.” The Prince smiled slightly. “You made the journey in five hours.”

Ian’s jaw dropped. “Five hours is impossible.”

“Not if you are flying on a dragon.”

Ian dropped his hat. “A dragon. Flying.”

“I flew there myself and brought you back. You and the girl.”

“Your wurm has wings? This is why you have never invited me to see him.”

“In part, yes.” The Prince shrugged. “Since Happy Valley Mugwump has been a bit testy. He’s been growing, molting several times. I’d planned, in another month, to expand the wurmrest.”

Ian shook his head. He’d seen many a wurm in the army, but none had wings or could fly. He wanted to think the Prince was having him on, but the gravity underscoring the man’s words did not allow for humor. If Horse Guards knew… Suddenly Ian’s promise to keep the Prince’s confidence choked him.

The Prince nodded. “I know. My exacting a promise from you was not at all fair. If we are able to resolve the situation in the west, I shall release you from it. I make that offer freely, and do not hold it as a condition of your agreeing to help me.”

Ian bent and retrieved his hat. “What would you have me do?”

“Assuming the Shedashee tales are true, the Norghaest will attempt to establish a colony in the west. I am attempting to determine where. Our job will be to find it and destroy it. Because we only have one dragon, it will be up to us to prove as hazardous to the Norghaest as were dragons of old. If we cannot do that, and the Norghaest emerge from their subterranean nests, we’d best hope that they can neither swim nor sail. If they can do either, Norisle shall be their first victim in Auropa, and far from their last.”

1 April 1768 Bounty, Mystria

Owen firmly clutched the knob on the side of the rectangular surveying box, leaving his thumb free to stroke the single string stretched across the hole in its top. He waited for Hodge Dunsby, who stood a hundred yards further to the west, to raise his left hand. Once Hodge gave the signal, Owen raised his own left hand and strummed the string, producing a mid-range tone. Hodge paced to the south, then back to the north, and on a five count, Owen strummed the string again.

Hodge lowered his hand and took up a position about five feet to the south of where he’d started from. He brought both hands up, then returned them to the survey box hanging around his neck. Owen raised his hand, Hodge followed, and the mid-range tone sounded from Owen’s survey box. As Owen stepped south, the tone became higher, then returned to its original middle-C. He paced north and south again, narrowing the field down to the line on which the tone shifted. He stopped on it and the note remained consistently high.

He raised both hands. Hodge aped him, then each man stuck a stick in the snow. Hodge came trotting back to Owen, as Owen shucked his survey box and plotted the points on his map. He looked toward the horizon in both directions and estimated the angle in regard to landmarks. He added notes in his notebook, then pulled mittens on.

Hodge smiled proudly. “That’s a strong one.”

“Yes it is.” Owen smiled. “The Prince, he’s a fairly smart fellow.”

“I don’t like having much truck with Ryngian methods, but I do like being out here doing surveys.” Hodge nodded as he looked around. “Might learn to do surveying, I think.”

“I don’t know if I can spare you, Hodge.”

“Oh, I’ll always be there for you, sir.” Hodge looked away for a second. “It’s just, well, since being back, I’ve been seeing some of Felicity Burns there in town.”

Owen dimly recalled a slender slip of a girl, sitting with her family in Church. “Her father is a bookseller, yes?”

“Yes, sir; that’s where I bought the journals for this journey and last. Her brother Virtue courted Bethany Frost for a bit. I was thinking that if I had a career, then I might be able to ask her father for her hand, and he’d not think ill of me.”