Michael Stackpole - At the Queen_s command

Doctor Frost removed his spectacles and rubbed them on the hem of his coat. "Bethany, dear, get our guest a chair. Mr. Woods, I would have the whole of the story from you. As much as you can tell."

Nathaniel accepted the chair, but waited to speak until Caleb returned with yet another chair having given his to his sister. Bethany sat at her father's right hand, clutching it. Caleb leaned forward, expectant, and she hung back, fearful.

He told them of the trip in every detail, omitting only the idea that du Malphias could raise the dead. When he talked about the fighting, he showed them his thumb and the blood beneath the nail. He didn't need to embellish Owen's role or prowess. The Frosts took pride in their guest's abilities. Doctor Frost especially liked the endorsement his family's firm had gotten in Hattersburg and offered to send a note to the Bone family to tell them of Makepeace's situation.

The telling had gone through the pealing of four and five, but they didn't notice. At the bottom of the third hour, two younger boys hauled a small table out into the yard, and Mrs. Frost appeared with a tray, teapot and cups. She poured wordlessly, then departed, though the door did not close fully after her.

Bethany looked at her father. "They cannot just leave him out there, can they? Someone has to go after him."

Doctor Frost patted her hand. "Bethany, Mr. Woods had told us the Prince will make arrangements. This is how things are done between nations. It may be slower than we like, but we must be patient."

She looked at Nathaniel. "Couldn't you go in and get him?"

"Well, Miss, it is as your father says. The Prince, he has hisself a plan."

Her eyes became slits. "In all the stories of the Magehawk, I've never heard cowardice mentioned as one of his characteristics."

"Bethany Frost!" Hettie Frost appeared through the doorway. "Mr. Woods may be an unrepentant sinner and a man of dubious moral character, but this gives you no right to insult him. As much as you might not care for him, and as little as I care for him, I will not tolerate such behavior. You will apologize this instant!"

Bethany looked down. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Woods."

"Ain't no apology needed, Miss." Nathaniel rested his hands on his knees. "I ain't a coward. Ain't no man alive what's been three days deep in the wilderness that is. But I reckon it does seem like I'm acting like one. I don't like it. Fact is, the Prince, he's one smart fellow. He reckons that anyone walking on in to Anvil Lake territory is a fool who is like to get hisself killed dead. And if they go to get Captain Strake out, they'll get him killed too." And ain't none of us want to be dead there.

"I will, however, tell you this: Captain Strake is a strong man. Stronger than you imagine. Stronger than I suspected. I know, God as my witness, he's going to come through your front gate. Afore long you'll all be having a laugh about things. Until that time, and preparing for the war that will come, me and Kamiskwa is going to be going back to learn what can be learned. I swear to you we'll be back to tell you all everything we know."

Nathaniel settled a reassuring smile on his face. "I'm thinking you should all know he set a great store by all of you. Didn't have anything but a kind word for you all. And plenty of them. The Prince is going to have the journal copied for you. Owen was looking forward to your reading it."

Distantly came the sound of the front door's heavy knocker. One of the younger children came out the door and spoke to Mrs. Frost. She turned on her heel and re-entered the house.

Bethany looked up, her eyes wet. "What did he say, Nathaniel, when he sent you away?"

"He said it was up to me to see that you were all safe." Nathaniel nodded. "That was important to him. Worth all the risk and pain."

Her gaze focused distantly, then Bethany produced a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Her father slid his arm around her.

Nathaniel stood. "Please be thanking the Missus for the tea. Hain't never had better."

"Wait, Mr. Woods."

Hettie Frost had returned, and behind her came a man dressed very fancy, complete with a powdered wig, white hose, white gloves, and luxurious moustaches. Hettie turned to her guest. "This is Mr. Woods."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Woods." The man's Norillian came clipped and precise, with an accent he couldn't quite place. "I am pleased to be Count Joachim von Metternin."

"I imagine you are."

"We have just arrived today. We have asked after a team of horses for our coach. At the livery, I admired your mount and was told it belonged to Prince Vladimir. They said you had come to town to deliver a message to the Frost family."

Nathaniel nodded. "Done and delivered."

"Then I should beg of you an indulgence." From inside his white and gold brocade jacket, the man produced an envelope. "This is a message to the Prince. If you would deliver it, we would be most grateful."

Nathaniel accepted the sealed packet of papers. "I'll be putting it in the Prince's hand straight away."

"Very good, thank you." Von Metternin smiled. "And please tell him that my lady awaits his reply, and is very pleased to be his wife."

August 16, 1763

Prince Haven

Temperance Bay, Mystria

"S he is my what?" The Prince stared at the packet Nathaniel offered. His mouth had gone dry and he didn't want to accept the packet. "Wait, just wait."

When Nathaniel found the Prince and Kamiskwa in the Prince's laboratory, the two of them were working on the miniature model of du Malphias' fortress. Kamiskwa was cutting and carving sticks into the right length for the palisade wall while the Prince was shaping clay into an approximation of the terrain. Grey-brown mud coated his hands and streaked his apron.

The Prince looked about for a cloth upon which he could wipe his hands, and settled for the hem of his apron. "You obviously know more than you're telling."

Nathaniel couldn't hide his smile. "Well, 'pears the packet boat Swift limped into North Portland up Summerland. Lost the main mast in a storm. Two weeks late or so. Boys down to the docks mentioned it. I figure the wedding notice must be on it."

"You're probably right." The Prince rubbed his forehead and realized too late he'd smeared clay on it. "Blast and damn. It's one thing to tell me I'm to be married, but to only send notice bare weeks before the woman sets sail?"

He looked at his hands and then wiped them on his pants. "Please, the missive."

Nathaniel handed it over and the Prince broke the seal. Inside he found three smaller packets, each similarly sealed. He opened the one from the Home Minister, Duke Marbury. It had been folded in thirds and thirds again, but imprecisely a mark of the slovenly attention to detail which described Marbury.

Vlad scanned it quickly. He groaned and tossed the other two onto his desk, hoping they would be disappear. "This is not good."

"I would never pry, Highness."

Vlad laughed. "Typical Marbury. 'If it pleases you, Highness…' Of course it does not please me, but I haven't anything of a choice in the matter. My aunt, in her wisdom, has decided that having the Kingdom of Kesse-Saxeburg join an alliance focused on Tharyngia is to her benefit. Granting that Kessians are the most martial of the Teutonic nations this might not be a bad idea, but she's determined to solidify this alliance by marrying me off to Princess Gisella. The child is half my age, doubtlessly has been schooled in needlepoint and blushing on cue, and has been raised in a world filled with creature comforts the like of which have never reached these shores."

Nathaniel cracked a sunflower seed and fed the meat to the Prince's caged raven. "Well, you could marry her to Kamiskwa here, and then take his sister as your wife. Your aunt would be getting two alliances instead of just one."