Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(63)

Hal nodded. “What about mages? Have any of them come over?”

Matelon rubbed his chin. “Not many, and most of those are collared, so it’s hard to predict what they might do in a battle situation. It’s hard to argue with a collar.”

“How are we doing for ordnance?”

“I’ve been building a stockpile, but our allies have not been particularly forthcoming.” Matelon grimaced. “Each man wants to hold on to what’s his. It’s not just the war with Jarat that they’re concerned about, it’s after. But there’s someone I want you to meet. She’s been sourcing weapons for the crown for a year or two, and she thinks she can help us with magical ordnance.”

“She’s been working for the crown?” Hal raised an eyebrow. “Do you trust her?”

His father laughed hoarsely. “She’s a practical sort,” he said. “Our money spends as well as any, and right now we’re the ones who are buying.” He looked toward the door. “There she is now.”

The girl who’d just entered shook rainwater from her dark curls and looked around the room. When she spotted them at their corner table, she shed her cloak and draped it over her arm, signaled to the barkeep, then crossed the room to them. “Lord Matelon,” she said. “Good to see you.”

“Barrowhill,” Hal’s father said. “We were just talking about you. Please join us.”

Years of his mother’s training kicked in. Hal stood, bowed, and pulled out a chair for her. Barrowhill slowly turned her head and looked him up and down as if he were a creature she’d not seen before. Then plucked at her skirts as if they were the fanciest of ball gowns and lowered herself into the chair, ruining the effect by squirming a bit to get settled. The server plunked a pint of bingo down in front of her.

A pint? Hal thought. That would put any teamster on his back in short order.

She raised her glass in a toast. “I see that the rumors are true, Captain. Welcome back from the dead. Tell me what it’s like on the other side.”

Hours later, when Hal went upstairs, he knocked at Robert’s door, hoping to settle him a little. There was no answer. He knocked again. His brother was usually a light sleeper. Finally, he pushed the door open.

The bed was empty. Robert was gone.





25


POINT AND COUNTERPOINT


Corporal Talbot’s timely arrival was both a blessing and a curse, as far as Evan was concerned. The news about the attack on Chalk Cliffs supported parts of the story that Evan was telling, but it also meant that his warning had come too late. The fact that Celestine already had a foothold in the east made him feel crowded. It made him want to keep traveling west until he reached the edge of the world. And maybe jump off.

It also meant that his movements were limited now. It didn’t help that he and his crew were locked up together in a suite of rooms. It was like being penned in with a pack of nervous cats. Not even the ritual of tay would settle their nerves.

He wondered if Destin knew about the attack on Chalk Cliffs. If he didn’t, he would hear about it before long. Would that make Evan’s job easier or harder?

Evan was almost grateful when the wetlanders called him into the queen’s small hall for questioning. His crew, not so much.

“What if you never come back?” Brody said, shifting from foot to foot in his agitation. “What will become of us?”

“We should fight our way out,” Jorani said, producing a dagger from some hidden place. Evan half-expected her to come up with a bow and a quiver of arrows and a trebuchet as well.

“If we try to fight our way out, I will be killed, and you won’t,” Evan said. He brushed at his fine breeches, which by now were looking less fine. “How is that helpful?”

She seemed stumped by that question. After a moment’s pause, she stowed the blade away.

The bloodsworn turned Stormborn were the fiercest, most loyal crew he’d ever known, but they were like children in some ways. They could be led, but they weren’t skilled at making decisions on their own.

Celestine probably likes it that way, he thought, but I don’t. I could use a little help.

When Evan arrived at the small hall, his interrogators were waiting for him. All the faces were at least marginally familiar. The wolf queen. Captain Byrne. The queen’s niece, Lady Barrett. The queen’s sister, the princess Mellony. Lord Bayar, the High Wizard. Hadley DeVilliers. The upland mage, Shadow Dancer. Corporal Talbot, who’d brought the news of the fall of Chalk Cliffs. And, of course, the healer—Prince Adrian sul’Han, who sat in the corner nearest the hearth, his face in and out of shadow.

In Ardenscourt, sul’Han had always worn drab healer’s colors, so it was a bit of a shock to see him dressed in velvets and satin. The prince had his mother’s eyes, with a bit more blue in them, and a hint of her coppery complexion below his coppery hair.

Evan was beginning to realize that there was no way to win over the queen if he didn’t win over the healer. Sul’Han was the son of the queen, after all, and blood trumps everything else. Even if she believed what Evan had to say, when it came to a choice, she would choose her own blood. That was the way the world worked.

But winning over the healer was going to be like climbing a mountain from deep underground. It would help considerably if Evan could convince him that Jenna was still alive.