Through Wolf's Eyes (71 page)

Certainly a young woman of twenty-three—one who had
been her mother's cat's-paw for her entire life—should be expected to
rebel at some point. Melina should be grateful that Sapphire had chosen
to discard a piece of jewelry rather than, say, one of the numerous
titled young men Melina had betrothed to her, only to break the
engagement when one more advantageous seemed possible.

He told Melina as much and her rage was so great that
he deemed a retreat advisable. Calling for Rook to saddle the red roan,
Newell went out to look for signs of war.

Things seemed promising. From Keen, who was
recovering from his cut face hidden in a tavern in Good Crossing,
Newell had learned that Bright Bay's troops were nervous and
demoralized, trusting no one, not even—as the five days following the
first battle with Stonehold produced no sign of Queen Gustin or her
young husband, King Harwill—their own monarchs.

Allister Seagleam's role as commander in chief
provided the troops no particular comfort. The duke had no great
reputation as a warrior on land or at sea—although he had done nothing
of which to be ashamed, either. Moreover, they resented
him
somewhat. The Stalwarts had marched out on a mission that should have
been mostly play, to escort the Pledge Child to his uncle. Never had
they dreamed that they might need to fight and, though Duke Allister
was not responsible for the current situation, they blamed him
nonetheless.

Additionally, knowing too much about a strong
opponent was never a good thing for any army—and Bright Bay's Stalwarts
of the Golden Sunburst knew far too much about Stonehold's Rocky Band.
After all, until a slight eight days before, Stonehold's troops had
been not only comrades under the same banner, but also the source of
most of Bright Bay's noncommissioned officers: the sergeants and
corporals who made things work when idealistic officers gave impossible
commands.

The Stalwarts must feel, Newell thought, cupping his
hand around his pipe and striving to light it despite a freshening wind
from the north, rather like children who suddenly found themselves
challenging their teachers. He liked the image and played with it as he
gave up on the pipe and cantered Serenity along a road running west
then turning south along the edge of the rough foothills west of Good
Crossing.

If Stonehold was bringing in reinforcements, they
might be visible from this general direction. Stonehold's border with
Bright Bay was the Fox River, a river as broad and difficult to span as
the Barren itself. Indeed both the Fox and the Barren had their source
in Rimed Lake, high in the mountains to the west. The same volcano
whose eruption long ago had split Rimed Lake into two fat lobes had
spilled molten rock down its eastern side, creating the Barren Lands, a
place where nothing grew but those determined plants that could subsist
on dirt caught within crevices in the basalt.

Even at the foot of the flow, where Newell now slowed
Serenity to a more cautious pace as the road roughened, the volcano's
influence could be seen, but here trees had managed a roothold and a
struggling forest had grown up. He felt secure continuing south under
the cover of the trees, knowing that Hawk Haven had posted scouts
throughout this area.

Moreover, the day was pleasant. Here, away from the
river's immediate influence, Newell noted a kiss of autumn in the air.
Good campaigning weather, but the harvest would be ripening, making
foraging easier for both sides.

He was thinking about how he would handle an extended
campaign through this area when a flicker of motion caught his eye.
Drawing Serenity up, Newell was poised either for flight or to take
cover when a rather grubby woman stepped from cover. She wore the green
uniform of the scouts, her arm banded in Kite blue with a chestnut
stallion embroidered upon it.

Newell didn't recognize her, but she clearly knew him.

"Prince Newell," she said, her voice was rusty, as if
she hadn't spoken for hours. "I am Joy Spinner, scout under the command
of Earle Kite, posted to this point. May I ask your business here?"

"I came to check the situation," Newell said
honestly. "I grew restless in camp. There were no signs that Stonehold
would make a major push today so I decided to see if there were any
signs of why they were waiting."

Finishing his speech, Prince Newell unscrewed the top
of his wine flask and offered Joy Spinner a pull of the dry white wine
within. The scout accepted, then looked at him squarely with eyes the
color of violets.

"Your timing is fine, sir," she said. "My ancestors
must have put you on the road. You see, not long ago I spotted
something interesting to the south. I don't dare leave my post to
report it—we've had trouble with Stoneholders trying to slip through
here—but I think King Tedric and Duke Allister should know."

"And your relief?"

"Not due for hours. Even the officer who's checking the posts isn't due for a while."

"What have you seen?" Prince Newell asked, a tingling
in his breast making him certain that this very moment was the
beginning of his time to be a hero, even as he had dreamed.

"Let me show you," Joy said. "Your horse will be safe here."

They crept through the brush to the basalt outcropping
from
which Joy had been keeping watch. It was a good lookout, set higher
than much of the surrounding area but offering perfect concealment. Joy
checked something with her long glass, then handed the glass to Newell.

"Look there, just where I was. Site along the road as
it leaves the field along which Stonehold is encamped. The road itself
vanishes when the land dips, but it heads roughly south, bending a bit
east. I won't say more—I want to know if you see what I do."

Prince Newell did as Joy had requested, finding the
road easily enough. Over the past five days he had pored over the
superior interior maps of Bright Bay supplied by Duke Allister over the
grumbling protests of some of his advisors. These maps, added to the
information Newell had already memorized from Hawk Haven's own maps,
came to him as he obeyed Joy Spinner's instructions.

One of the reasons that the Fox River made such an
effective barrier between Bright Bay and Stonehold was that it flared
out into a broad marshy delta many miles before it met the ocean. In
the summer these marshes bred disease. Even in the winter one had to be
an expert to navigate them without grief. No large force, especially
one with horses and armored troops, could cross through them.

The middle stretches of the Fox were too broad and
deep to be forded, even in the autumn when there was no snow-melt to
augment the flow and when irrigation of fields had lowered the river
further. The Fox was bridged in several places, the nearest of which
was due south and east of Good Crossing.

Mason's Bridge was hardly close—indeed, miles of
Bright Bay–held lands lay between their current battlefield and the
bridge. Reports from the south, however, informed them that Stonehold
had secured Mason's Bridge before the local Bright Bay pickets—hardly
more than toll collectors—even knew there was trouble between the
countries.

Since then, the other bridges across the Fox—or at
least their northern ends—had been secured or destroyed by troops sent
out from Silver Whale Cove. These now patrolled the Bright Bay side of
the Fox, reducing the chances that
Stonehold
would abandon their attack on Good Crossing and strike for the capital.
This necessary expenditure of troops had further reduced those
reinforcements which Bright Bay could bring to the immediate battle and
had increased the low morale of the Stalwarts, who once again found
themselves the lesser part of an army defending their own country.

Now Newell traced the road more by memory than by
sight, quickly spotting what Joy Spinner had seen. The Stoneholders
weren't foolhardy; they knew that the less their opponents could see
the better. The troops marching along that road showed no metal that
might flash in the sun; their wagons were tarped over to conceal what
they carried. The road they traveled was packed, but even so many feet
raised a thin column of dust.

Prince Newell drew in his breath with a sharp hiss.
"So Stonehold sends reinforcements to augment those who currently hold
the ground south of Good Crossing! Surely Bright Bay's people will rise
against them!"

Joy Spinner spat eloquently. "The folk of Bright Bay
look to the ocean, not the land. Too long have they relied on Stonehold
mercenaries to keep Hawk Haven from claiming their lands for our own.
All those poor farmers and herders will look to defend will be their
harvest and flocks. If Stone-hold's Rocky Band will cross and leave
their livelihood unmolested, then they will let them pass."

"And judging from the supply wagons," mused Prince
Newell, "the commanders are wise enough to not give the common folk of
Bright Bay reason to turn soldier. Stone-hold's Rocky Band is well
disciplined. They won't loot the lands through which they
pass—especially if they know that supplies await them at the end."

"And with the supplies being protected by columns of
troops," Joy added, "no farmer will be tempted to turn bandit. They've
thought it through all right. Some of their reinforcements may travel
more slowly, but everything will get here intact."

Prince Newell handed Joy the long glass and turned back toward where Serenity waited.

"I wonder," he said thoughtfully, "just when those wagons
started
their trip?" He shook himself. Now was a time for action, not
speculation. "Scout Spinner, trust my horse and myself to carry the
message as swiftly as we can. I think the time for stealth has ended."

Joy nodded. "Good. I will keep my post. Ride safely,
Prince Newell. Doubtless someone else has seen the signs, but we may be
first."

Newell smiled. "First or last, the news is still important."

As Newell swung into the saddle, Serenity pawed the ground, catching his rider's excitement and eager to be away.

"I will see you in Hope!" Newell cried. Touching his heels to the red roan's flanks, he was away.

He did not look back, nor did he doubt in the least that he cut a perfectly dashing figure.

S
ERENITY WAS NEARLY FRESH
,
for the morning's ride had been easy and the gelding was in good
fettle. Newell pressed his mount to speed wherever the road permitted.
No matter what he had said to Joy Spinner, he wanted to be the first
with the news. Even if he was not, eagerness would count for something.

Both Newell and Serenity were nicely sweated and
covered with road dust when they arrived outside of the commanders'
pavilions in the encampment outside of Good Crossing's walls. Stumbling
from the saddle on legs tired and sore, Newell tossed Serenity's reins
to the first guard he saw. Then he gasped:

"The king, where is he?"

"Within," the guard replied, "in consultation. What . . ."

Newell looked sternly at him. "Tend my mount, good man. My news is urgent and for King Tedric's ears alone."

Such vagueness was certain to start rumors. Prince
Newell trusted that his dutiful discretion would have the troops
swearing to each other that Stonehold was arriving within the hour,
armed with war machines meant to batter the walls of Good Crossing
until one stone did not stand on another. Why else would a prince ride
so hard and look so grim?

Sir Dirkin Eastbranch paused in his steady pacing about
the perimeter of the king's pavilion to nod to his subordinate.

"Let the prince pass," he said.

Pleased, Newell pushed back the curtain door, knowing
that in a few minutes he would be able to collapse into a comfortable
chair while servants pulled his boots off his aching feet and put a
glass of wine into his hand. Such pleasures were good indeed,
especially upon what might well be the eve of war.

T
WO MEN LISTENED WHILE
Prince Newell gave his report. It was a small enough audience, but as
one of these men was King Tedric and the other was Duke Allister, the
prince felt sufficiently rewarded for his hard ride. He even forgot
that his aching feet had not been tended. King Tedric had apparently
dispensed with servants for the moment.

When Newell finished his report, King Tedric frowned:

"Estimated numbers?"

"I'm not precisely certain, Your Majesty," Newell replied.

"I was catching glimpses through the trees. Several
companies, well armed, I believe. I'd guess that when they're added to
those Stonehold has pulled from their recent service throughout Bright
Bay they'll be a match for what we have gathered here."

"Your report," the king said, "confirms speculations
that we have had from our spies—reports that to this point have been
but rumors. You have done well, Newell."

The prince bowed and tried to look humble rather than gloating.

Duke Allister managed a wry grin. "Evidently Generals
Yuci and Grimsel doubted that Stonehold could defeat us with those
forces they already had in place so they risked our own reinforcements
arriving while they brought in their troops."