Chapter Thirty-Eight
In the Palace of Xy
Captain Ussin was unhappy.
The Palace courtyard had been cleared, the men were gathered, as was Master Sculptor Muris and his journeymen, who also looked unhappy.
Ussin checked the cinch on his saddle for the tenth time, letting his eyes flicker over the ten men who had been placed under his command for this…expedition.
They looked eager.
Too eager.
Ussin tightened the cinch, and buckled it again, and huffed a breath at himself. He was in charge, they were under his authority, but the unease in his gut was still there.
“Morning,” came a cheerful bellow, and King Xyrath strode into the courtyard, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, drawing all eyes.
He looked very pleased, as he stopped to greet the craftsmen, who bowed and scraped before him, holding their caps.
It looked like the Master Sculptor Muris was attempting yet again to convince the King that only his journeymen needed to go to the Black Hills.
Ussin grunted. Xyrath was not known to change his mind, once it was fixed.
“Ussin,” the King called out as he walked over, dismissing Muris with a wave of his hand. “Forterran not here yet?”
“No, my liege,” Ussin said.
“He will be,” Xyrath grinned, teeth white in the sun. “Or Satia will have his head and balls.” He looked around the courtyard. “Looks like you have a good crew.”
“These are not my men,” Ussin rumbled.
“Yes, about that,” Xyrath patted the horse’s neck. “They were hand-picked by Lord Marshal Tarwain at the Queen’s request.”
“Ah,” Ussin said, his unhappiness growing.
“Tarwain tells me that your second, Wesnon, is a good man. Reliable.”
Xyrath looked up and Ussin followed his gaze to see Queen Satia in one of the windows, her Bondmaidens mere shadows behind her.
Xyrath turned his head and lowered it, as if looking at the horse’s foreleg.
“My Queen is a good woman, Captain. But she sometimes oversteps in her eagerness.” Xyrath tilted his head up, his blue eyes gleaming. “You know how women are.”
“Aye,” Ussin felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he cautiously agreed.
“So, just to be clear,” Xyrath straightened, still keeping his face turned from the watchers. “Only my orders are to be carried out. None of hers, whatever they are. Is that understood?”
“Aye,” Ussin said.
“Good man,” Xyrath stepped back from the horse, and waved a greeting to his Queen as the Palace gates rumbled open.
“Ah,” Xyrath turned. “This will be Forterran.”
Ussin watched as the carriage rolled in and a group of Chained Mages got out. The last, a large man in red robes emerged, looking…furious.
“Forterran,” Xyrath called out with enthusiasm. “I applaud your willingness to purge the treachery of one of your guild members to our House.”
If looks could kill, Ussin was fairly sure that he, the King, and everyone for a mile around would be smoking ash. But the Guildmaster merely tilted his head, as if in obedience. “The least we could do, Your Majesty, once the Queen informed us of the situation.”
“Good man,” the King said sunnily. “I’ll leave you to be about it.” He patted Ussin on the back and strode off toward the main doors.
Forterran gestured to his people, who took their positions. “I will re-open the portal at sunset,” he growled at Ussin. “Be there.”
Ussin gave him a nod, thinking the less said the better. “Mount up,” he ordered.
He held his own horse’s bridle as the portal formed, snapping into place, the white circle with the curtains that shimmered in an unseen breeze. He braced himself to lead the way. Only then did he mount to lead the way. Only fair, if the mage was going to drop them into the sea, that he go first.
Ussin urged his horse forward, sending a brief prayer to the Sun Lord before plunging in.