Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

“Yes, Majesty,” one of the soldiers answered. “Count Sarrow has agreed to a parley if you will guarantee his safety.”

She sent them off with assurances for Sarrow's welfare and started toward the village. A barricade had been moved aside to allow her and a detachment of her soldiers to enter. Captain Drathan met them inside.

“Count Sarrow is on his way, Majesty.”

“Very good. I hope we can clear up this trouble.”

Captain Drathan escorted her to the village square, where the population had gathered. There were over a hundred people in sight, many of them in the same shape as Elser's village. Lord Therbold stood beside the man in scale armor, who was taller than the lord, with a rangy build. That must be his son.

As she approached, the swordsman removed his helmet, revealing a younger face than she anticipated. He looked to be about her age. He watched her with eyes like blue ice as Lord Therbold spoke in his ear.

Captain Drathan cleared his throat. “I present Empress-”

“Josephine.” The swordsman knelt on one knee. “We thank you, Majesty, with all of our hearts. Your arrival is most welcome.”

Josey bit her tongue as the villagers knelt as one, and even Lord Therbold and his men knelt again. “Please,” she said. “Stand up. My Lord Therbold, this is your son?”

The nobleman put a hand on the swordsman's shoulder. “This is Brian, my heir.” He looked around the village. “He held off the count's entire band until we could arrive.”

“Not just me.” Brian shrugged off his father's hand. “Every man here stood bravely.”

“Aye,” Therbold agreed. “But it was you who put the steel in their backbones.”

Hoofbeats sounded from behind, and Josey turned to see three men ride into the village. The center figure was a man with receding gray hair and sharp hazel eyes half-hidden beneath heavy bags. His sword had a silver handle topped with a polished green tourmaline as big as a quail's egg. A squad of Captain Drathan's men followed the trio at a respectful distance.

“Sarrow!” Therbold shouted. “You will pay for the damages you've caused here, and I will not forget this insult.”

The older rider regarded Therbold with a perturbed frown. “It is I who have suffered your insults for too long. I will not suffer them any longer! If not for this interruption, I would have taken back what is mine by rights.”

Interruption? Josey suppressed a curse. She would not be ignored on her own soil. She caught Drathan's eye and nodded firmly.

“Dismount at once,” he called out, “in the presence of Her Imperial Majesty!”

Count Sarrow pursed his thin lips and, taking his time, got down from his massive warhorse with the help of his aides. He did not kneel, however, but made only a nod in her direction. “Highness,” he said without emphasis.

Josey contemplated pressing the point, but decided to invoke her better nature. “I greet you, Count Sarrow, although I wish it could be under other circumstances.”

“Do you mean the circumstance,” Sarrow said, “by which you stand with the man who has stolen my property, abused my villains, and spit upon my family's honor?”

“Take out your sword!” Therbold roared. “We'll settle this right now!”

As the nobles reached for their weapons, Captain Drathan moved between them. “The man who draws a blade in Her Majesty's presence will suffer for it.”

Both men backed off, but they glared at each other with evident hatred.

“My lords,” Josey said. “I am calling for a halt to all hostilities between your fiefs.”

Lord Therbold snorted. “That would be my greatest pleasure, Highness. If this pig would keep his men off my lands.”

“Lands you stole from me!' Sarrow retorted. “After you burned down two of my mills.”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“You lie!”

Josey tried to stand up in the stirrups, but couldn't find purchase even on her tiptoes. Frustrated, she shouted, “Shut up both of you!”

Sarrow and Therbold glowered at each other, but they remained silent. Brian had a hand on his father's arm.

Josey cleared her throat and tried to ignore the villagers staring at her. “Now, it is growing late, and my camp is far away.”

Sarrow looked to his rival. “I would be happy to provide an escort for you-”

“Thank you, my lord, but that will not be necessary.” She smiled. “You and I will both be guesting with Lord Therbold this evening.”

Therbold's mouth hung open. “Highness, that would be-”

“That is a command, my lord.” Josey looked to Count Sarrow. “For both of you. Therbold will play host and we shall sit down like level-headed men and women and solve this problem. Together.”

Lord Therbold muttered something under his breath, and then said, “I will not allow this mongrel in my house, Highness. I would rather-”

Josey glanced over Count Sarrow's shoulders. Lord Therbold's words died away as Hirsch approached on his small mare, followed by a company of crossbowmen. The soldiers' arrival had a profound effect on both noblemen. After a quiet conference with his officers, Sarrow announced he would be glad for a chance to settle their differences. Therbold was not so effusive, but he bent his stiff neck and mumbled a half-hearted welcome.

As the two sides set out on the road, leaving the villagers in peace, Josey rode up beside Hirsch. The adept smiled beneath the crumpled brim of his hat. “Making new friends, lass?”

“Not so much.” She leaned closer. “Your timing is excellent, Master Hirsch.”

“So I've been told, but it looked like you had things well in hand.”

It didn't feel like it. “Thank you. Any news from Argentus?”

“About finding a crossing? Nothing new. He has scouts on both sides of the river, but my guess is we'll be stuck here at least another couple days.”

“Just what I didn't need to hear. Can't you”-Josey wiggled her fingers in front of her-“wizard up some way for us to cross?”

He looked at her out of the sides of his eyes with one brow arched.

“All right.” Josey puffed out her cheeks. “Send a message back to camp, telling them where we'll be. In the meantime, I'll see if I can get these two old bulls talking.”

“I think browbeating them was an auspicious start.”

Josey glared until Hirsch winked, and they both started laughing as they rode down the muddy path.

“What the fuck is that?”

Caim steered his steed around Dray for a closer look. A low structure sat off to the side of the road amid the clumps of colorless grass-an oblong, semi-flat stone about eight feet long laid across two plinths like a crude table. Brown stains marred the surface of the long stone, and three severed heads were displayed on leaning pikes behind it.

Caim's horse shied away when they got within a pace of the display. He held the animal steady while he studied the heads. The victims had been Northmen, judging by the wisps of wheat-colored hair blowing in the wind. Their skin was blackened and ripped. The eyeballs shone in the lantern light like orbs of ice.

“What's it supposed to mean?” Malig asked.

“It means stay the hell away,” Dray answered.

Caim swung his steed around. Egil caught his nod and took off down the trail again. Caim rode up in front with him while the others filed behind. The road was harder to pick out, having shrunk over the past two days to a narrow dirt path little more than a hunting trail. They'd been riding over a monotonous plain of snow and pale grass, past menhirs and over bone-white creeks.

“You see a lot of those shrines out here?” Caim asked.

“Some. Mostly up north.”