The Queen of Thieves: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Three Read Online Free PDF Page A

was not about the miles covered.
                No, her time was too
important to babysit, no matter the import of the girl and her child.
                Shawford Crale and
the Crown of Kings. That was her business. Her part in the battle to come.
                Decided, she let the
magic come from her body. Let loose a secret that Roskel Farinder could not
know. Not yet. Ethereal light flowed from her eyes, until the light caressed
her entire body, like a sheen of red water. She became thin , and then
she was gone. Gone to Shawford Crale.
     
    *

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    Durmont's bones were old and the
growing cold of winter reminded him of his age most every minute that passed,
despite the fire that burned in his hearth.
                Most of his teeth
were gone (leastways, the useful ones, it seemed), and yet his mind was still
sharp. Sharp enough to see the Lady's hand in the new orders he drafted for the
Council of Ten - the assembly of Thanes, although since Roskel had killed one
of their number it was only strictly a Council of Nine. A replacement had yet
to win out in Orvane Wense's old seat of power, with in-fighting and
assassinations rife. It meant the country was weakened in its defence against
Drayman incursions. But then the Draymar nation had not invaded for many years.
Sturma's barbaric neighbours were quiet, and that suited Durmont just fine. The
passes through the Culthorn Mountains in the west would still be manned, were
still manned - he had made sure of it - and that would have to be enough.
                Sturma had bigger
concerns than the Draymar.
                The Hierarchy were
coming.
                For a moment, at the
thought, Durmont felt an even greater chill in his bones, and shuddered, as
though he were outside in the falling snow instead of beside a roaring fire.
                That Thanedom would
be next to useless in the coming battles. The southern Thanes, however, would
answer a call to war, whether they were to muster east along the coast to wait
for the invaders there, or north along Thaxamalan's Saw.
                The northern Thanes,
too, recognised the Steward's power. They would answer the call...reluctantly,
perhaps, but they would march.
                So, they could count
on Naeth's standing army, and the two remaining northern Thanes...they would be
able to muster soon. Word would take time to reach the six southern
Thanes...Redalane, Durmont's old friend and liege among them.
                Redalane, he knew, was
a warrior born. Roskel was canny enough, but he knew nothing of war. Redalane
was a veteran of the War of Reconciliation.
                Yet he had the
furthest to travel, from the Castle of Light in the Spar, Sturma's southern
most region.
                He might well be late
to the party, thought Durmont grimly.
                It might present a
problem, too, as the northern Thanes would march before the south would even
receive word of the imminent war. The coming winter would play its part.
Messages would be delayed. The armies marching would be hampered by the snow
that would inevitably drift its way south as the year wore on.
                In the north, the
power struggles ever present would surface. Old tensions would come to the fore
and there would be the usual jostling for power and influence.
                Durmont wished his
liege Lord, Redalane, the most powerful of the southern Thanes, would arrive
first. In name alone were the Stewards rulers...the Thane of Spar, Redalane,
alone had the force of will to hold an alliance between the Thanes together.
                Durmont permitted
himself a small sigh as he sealed the last missive, this one to Redalane, with
a personal message attached for his Lord, and his friend. Muster east, along
the coast. Their entire force. The assembled might of nine Thanedoms,