Dragon Bones (Hurog #1)(51)

Garranon looked around the training grounds. Though the ancient room was empty, he said, "Let's walk." That way no one could listen in.

The old man stiffened. "You play games."

"I grant you that. But I'm the one at risk if the king finds out why I've approached you. Please, walk with me."

After an insultingly long hesitation, Haverness sheathed his sword and gestured for Garranon to lead the way.

Garranon didn't talk as he strode down the halls that would bring them, eventually, to the gardens where the sound of running water would cover their voices. No one they passed looked twice; their weaponry and sweat gave answer to why the newly named Champion of Oranstone would walk with the king's favorite.

The smell of sweet blossoms was almost overwhelmingly strong when they left the musty halls for the gardens at the heart of the keep. It was early yet, and the gardens were deserted.

"Are you serious about taking a hundred men to defeat the Vorsagians?" asked Garranon abruptly.

Haverness's eyebrows rose in mild inquiry. "I am his majesty's most obedient servant." If the old man felt bitterness, Garranon couldn't hear it in his voice.

"Who is going?" Garranon almost winced after he asked the question. That hadn't been what he'd meant to ask, and he wasn't surprised when Haverness's face went blank.

"My clerk has a list, but I can't recall offhand."

Garranon waved his hand in dismissal and sought another course. "What I wanted to know is, do you have space for me? In my father's day, Buril had three hundred trained men. I cannot do so well, but there are sixty arms-men, and I can gather another hundred raw recruits."

"Oh, is that what you think I'm doing?" whispered Haverness almost to himself. His features hardened into a cold mask.

"It's what I hope you're doing," replied Garranon steadily. "It doesn't matter if the king knows it or not, though he seems to be more concerned with his queen's affairs right now. He cannot withdraw his approval now."

They paced once around the outside of the garden before Haverness spoke again. "You look like your father."

"Yes."

"Askenwen refused to consider coming." Askenwen was the richest of the Oranstonians, a young man who relished court life. "He likes Tallven just fine. Oranstone is too wet, he said. Do you know what his father was called during the war?"

"The Direwolf," replied Garranon with a thin smile. "The Direwolf stood off an entire army with a score of men for three days to let our armies disperse so we could retreat to our holds and protect our families after we knew the war was lost. His son prefers to get drunk in Shade-town at Black Ciernack's tavern."

Haverness shook his head, his mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "Don't get excited about winning this war. Jakoven has done too good a job of gelding our young men. I suspect we'll all be valiant martyrs for use as rallying cries when Jakoven finally decides to defend the Kingdoms."

"Being a martyr is highly overrated," observed Garranon. "Useless lot for the most part - my father included, begging your pardon, sir." He took a deep breath. "Askenwen's younger brother, Kirkovenal, started a fight yesterday."

"Indeed?" Haverness sounded lost in his own thoughts.

"He was fined for disturbing the peace, as the king did not find defending the honor of Oranstone a sufficient reason to beat the stuffing out of a pair of loyal Tallvenish subjects." Garranon let his gaze linger on a small pond where lilies floated. "He has been running Grensward for his brother since he was old enough to hold a pen."

"He's a boy."

"Eighteen. Old enough to hold a sword, eh?" Garranon reminded Haverness gently. "Old enough to rally Grensward...against her enemies." Not just Vorsagian enemies.

Haverness caught the leading pause. "The Rebellion is dead."

Not as long as I live, thought Garranon. He said, "Yes. But if we don't defeat the Vorsag, Oranstone will be dead, too. I can help."

Haverness started to say something, but he was interrupted by a royal page.

"My Lord Garranon, sir," panted the boy before he stopped to get his breath. "The king requires your presence at his breakfast in his rooms."

Garranon watched Haverness's face freeze and could have cursed. The old man had been about to accept him before the page reminded him who Garranon's bed partner was.

Garranon drew a deep breath and sent the boy on his way with a few courteous words. Before Haverness could speak, Garranon said, "The streams in here are a marvel, do you not agree. A tribute to Jakoven's skill."

"A tribute to the king's mages."

Garranon shook his head and met Haverness's eyes firmly. "No, a tribute to the high king. He has his secrets, our Jakoven; do not underestimate him. Now, King Kariarn of Vorsag would like you to think he's a wizard, but he's not. He does have, however, at least four adept mages in his employ."

Haverness swallowed the information about Jakoven but said, "There aren't four adept mages in the whole of Vorsag."

Garranon shrugged. "Nonetheless, four adepts serve Kariarn, according to Arten, Jakoven's archmage. I have other information you might find useful...if you bring me with you."

Haverness nodded thoughtfully, his eyes hooded. "I'll consider that."