are agreed. To deal with the Order we call out the provincial levies—enough of them to outmatch the rebels."
The room was silent. The southern lord spoke first.
"Spring planting's mostly done. I can raise a half levy without hardship. Two hundred men."
The man next to him, younger, stood.
"Three hundred."
The King looked around the room.
"Lord Stephen?"
"We plant later. And Harald's news means men on watch the length of Borderflood, more behind. I could send a hundred perhaps—but not soon or far."
"Brand?"
The scarred man spoke. "Like Stephen. I can send men if Your Majesty commands it, but that strips the border."
The count went on, southern lords more willing than northern. The King turned at last to Harald.
"Two thousand men—more with two lords not yet to Council. A half levy of my own lands makes another thousand. The levy of the Vales is, I think, two thousand. Bring half. Facing four thousand the rebels must yield; our troubles are done with no more killing."
Harald looked up.
"I fear your Majesty has been misinformed."
"You did not bring twenty cacades of cataphracts to my father's last war with the Empire?"
"Indeed I did, Your Majesty. But the Northvales, as your father in his wisdom recognized, are no more a province of the Kingdom than the Kingdom is a province of the Empire. I brought an army across the Northgate to the support of my allies, not a levy in service to my king."
"I care little what you call it, so long as you bring it."
"Your Majesty is less than prudent. Thirty years the Empire has been held off by an alliance of three parts—Kingdom, Vales, Order. You tell me now that one of my allies makes war on the other, and ask me to join the fray. If I bring the host of the Northvales across the mountains, how sure are you which side it chooses? Better we stay home. Better yet you make peace with the Order."
Harald sat down. The room fell silent until at last the King spoke.
"The hour is late; tired men quarrel. We discuss these matters, the two of us, tomorrow day, call Council tomorrow even. With fortune Estfen and Estmount will be here by then."
Words
Courteous greeting
Then courteous silence
That the stranger's tale be told.
He woke in a bed, sheets, a rough blanket. It took most of a minute to work out why it wasn't a bedroll under a tree. He pulled the shutters open. His own bedroll was in the corner; he remembered retrieving it from under a bench in the great hall. There was a basin and a ewer of water on the table—luxury indeed. Harald washed hands and face, unbarred the door, crossed the castle yard to the stable.
Both horses had fresh water, clean feed. He pulled down saddle blankets and armor padding, checked that they were dry, folded them, put them back on the shelf, apologized for having neglected to bring apples. One set of saddlebags went over his shoulders back to his room, where he changed into fresh clothes and set off for the great hall in search of breakfast.
Sitting by himself, Harald broke a chunk off a convenient loaf, ate it with sausage, cheese, bites from a withered apple out of the winter's store. When he finished he looked around. At one table Stephen, Brand, and a random collection of both men's guard were finishing breakfast. Stephen caught his eye, got up, headed for the door. Harald waited until he was through it before rising to follow.
The two ended on an empty stretch of the west ramparts, looking out over slope and forest to the central plains and the west range beyond, peaks blurring white against a clear sky. Stephen spoke first.
"With eyes twenty years younger you could almost see home."
"Through rock? Never that good."
They fell silent, Harald waiting. Finally Stephen spoke.
"I said we hadn't seen anything but trade crossing the fords. Truth, as far as it goes. Hoofprints. Groups of five or ten riders, not an army. Odd prints."
The stone they were leaning on, hollowed by the wind, had collected a
The room was silent. The southern lord spoke first.
"Spring planting's mostly done. I can raise a half levy without hardship. Two hundred men."
The man next to him, younger, stood.
"Three hundred."
The King looked around the room.
"Lord Stephen?"
"We plant later. And Harald's news means men on watch the length of Borderflood, more behind. I could send a hundred perhaps—but not soon or far."
"Brand?"
The scarred man spoke. "Like Stephen. I can send men if Your Majesty commands it, but that strips the border."
The count went on, southern lords more willing than northern. The King turned at last to Harald.
"Two thousand men—more with two lords not yet to Council. A half levy of my own lands makes another thousand. The levy of the Vales is, I think, two thousand. Bring half. Facing four thousand the rebels must yield; our troubles are done with no more killing."
Harald looked up.
"I fear your Majesty has been misinformed."
"You did not bring twenty cacades of cataphracts to my father's last war with the Empire?"
"Indeed I did, Your Majesty. But the Northvales, as your father in his wisdom recognized, are no more a province of the Kingdom than the Kingdom is a province of the Empire. I brought an army across the Northgate to the support of my allies, not a levy in service to my king."
"I care little what you call it, so long as you bring it."
"Your Majesty is less than prudent. Thirty years the Empire has been held off by an alliance of three parts—Kingdom, Vales, Order. You tell me now that one of my allies makes war on the other, and ask me to join the fray. If I bring the host of the Northvales across the mountains, how sure are you which side it chooses? Better we stay home. Better yet you make peace with the Order."
Harald sat down. The room fell silent until at last the King spoke.
"The hour is late; tired men quarrel. We discuss these matters, the two of us, tomorrow day, call Council tomorrow even. With fortune Estfen and Estmount will be here by then."
Words
Courteous greeting
Then courteous silence
That the stranger's tale be told.
He woke in a bed, sheets, a rough blanket. It took most of a minute to work out why it wasn't a bedroll under a tree. He pulled the shutters open. His own bedroll was in the corner; he remembered retrieving it from under a bench in the great hall. There was a basin and a ewer of water on the table—luxury indeed. Harald washed hands and face, unbarred the door, crossed the castle yard to the stable.
Both horses had fresh water, clean feed. He pulled down saddle blankets and armor padding, checked that they were dry, folded them, put them back on the shelf, apologized for having neglected to bring apples. One set of saddlebags went over his shoulders back to his room, where he changed into fresh clothes and set off for the great hall in search of breakfast.
Sitting by himself, Harald broke a chunk off a convenient loaf, ate it with sausage, cheese, bites from a withered apple out of the winter's store. When he finished he looked around. At one table Stephen, Brand, and a random collection of both men's guard were finishing breakfast. Stephen caught his eye, got up, headed for the door. Harald waited until he was through it before rising to follow.
The two ended on an empty stretch of the west ramparts, looking out over slope and forest to the central plains and the west range beyond, peaks blurring white against a clear sky. Stephen spoke first.
"With eyes twenty years younger you could almost see home."
"Through rock? Never that good."
They fell silent, Harald waiting. Finally Stephen spoke.
"I said we hadn't seen anything but trade crossing the fords. Truth, as far as it goes. Hoofprints. Groups of five or ten riders, not an army. Odd prints."
The stone they were leaning on, hollowed by the wind, had collected a
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