The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars #5)

The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars #5) Page 375

As the camp went up in a huge half circle around the town, he sat down under an awning and held court. No man could stand out in the sun’s glare for long without succumbing to dizziness and fainting and, indeed, the report of his chief healer and head stable master made him feel light-headed with concern.

“Five men have died since we came out of the mountains,” said the healer. “I swear to you, my lord prince, this heat is worse than the cold of the eastern plains. I’ve a hundred men or more with blistering burns and a fever, or who have collapsed on the march.”

“I wonder if the Aostans have as many words for heat as the Quman do for cold. What of the livestock?”

The stable master had dire news as well. “We’ve lost twenty-two horses over the last ten days, my lord prince. While it’s good that we’re digging in so as to keep the river within our lines, there’s so little water trickling down from the higher ground that I’m wondering if the queen’s forces haven’t diverted it upstream. We just don’t have enough water for the livestock.”

“There’s a drought on this land.”

“Truly, there is,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead, “but if this is the same river we rode beside yesterday and the day before, it had a great deal more water in it then. It would be good tactics on the queen’s part to deprive us of water, especially if they’ve access to a spring within their walls.”

“Lord Wichman.” Sanglant called the duchess’ son forward. “Will you take fifty men and venture to find this dam, if there is one, and destroy it?”

“With pleasure!”

“Do you think that wise?” asked Hathui as Wichman strode out of the gathering, eager to get on the move. “He’ll be alone in enemy countryside. The heat is ruinous.”

“Then I’m rid of him and the trouble he causes, or he solves our water shortage. Captain Fulk?”

The captain stepped forward. “We’re setting up our perimeters on both sides, my lord prince, and digging two rings of ditches, one facing out and one in. That bluff to the north holds one flank. The spot where the stream meets the river fortifies the second. We can’t do anything about an attack from the sea, if one comes, but we’ve set the wagons in line as a palisade. I’ve got a score of men strung out as sentries well into the countryside. We’ve heard a rumor that King Henry marched east many months ago into Arethousan country—a region called Dalmiaka. If it’s true, his army lies east of us. If not, he could come up from the southwest.”

“Very good.”

“I pray you, Prince Sanglant.” Lady Wendilgard of Avaria came forward with a dozen of her best soldiers at her back. Although her nose and cheeks had been burned red by the sun, her face had the pallor of a woman held under a tight rein. “We have come from the forward line.”

When she knelt before him in an uncharacteristic show of humility, he smelled trouble. The way she had set her mouth, teeth clamped shut and lips pressed thin, bode ill. “I pray you, go on.”

In the distance he heard the griffins shriek. Lady Wendilgard remained silent too long, and when she spoke, she spoke too quickly.

“I have been to the forward line, my lord prince. I have seen the walls of Estriana. My father’s banner flies beside that of Aosta. He rides with Queen Adelheid. I cannot fight against him.” For once she could not look him in the eye, knowing what he was: bastard and rebel. “I cannot.”

Silence was a weapon, and she employed it better than he did.

He spoke first. “It may be a feint. How do you know your father himself rides with the queen?”

Like her parents, she was proud and with a few breaths regained her composure enough to look him in the eye. “I called out to the guards on the wall, my lord prince.” Such formality from a woman who was near enough his equal in rank condemned him. He knew what she would say next. “My father was summoned. I saw him on the walls, hale and alive.”

He tapped a foot on the dirt, stilled it; a surge of energy coursed through him but he had to remain seated and in control. “So,” he said, temporizing, but he had already lost this battle and it was too late to change the course of the defeat.

“So be it,” she replied, again too quickly. “I gave you my oath, my lord prince, which I will not forswear. I will not draw my sword against you. Yet I must remain loyal to my father. I and my Avarians will withdraw from the army and return home.”

XXXI

THE LOST

1

HE could not let it be. The lady and her soldiers rode out in the late afternoon while Adelheid’s men gathered on the walls of the town and jeered those who remained, although the griffins prowling between ditch and wall gave the enemy pause. One man shot an arrow which fell harmlessly short of Domina.