we were on showed signs of civilization beyond its massive battlements. It breathed unassailable authority from its granite bulk. I shifted uneasily in my saddle as the thing got closer, filling the horizon and looming over us like storm clouds.
Renthrette had raised the beaver of her helm by the time we approached the huge gatehouse, but her face gave so little away that she might as well have kept it down. She had been like that since the battle: quiet, watchful, uncertain. It was weird and a little scary. If the raiders could leave her unsure of herself, then their powers had no limits.
She had ridden ahead to announce our coming, since it took about ten minutes to get the massive porticullis open, and by the time we got there, soldiers and townsfolk had gathered along the walls to watch our entry. I think they were cheering. I dismounted, tethered my horse to the back of the wagon, and climbed inside, where I felt less exposed. Garnet rode out to the front looking brave and stalwart.
An expensive-looking wagon bearing a silversmith’s arms was stuck in the roadway, trying to get out of the city and head north. The old man driving it paused to cheer us on. He wore a silver pendant at his throat shaped like a sun disk with a huge blue stone in the center. The cheering increased, muting only slightly as the corpse wagons passed over the bridge and into the city.
Duke Raymon had left his litter and stood before us, shaking Mithos by the hand and beaming conspicuously to the crowd. He was dressed in turquoise silk with a fur mantle and looked regally impressive. There was a touch of swagger in his gait, which may once have merely been his size but was now part of his politician’s confidence. On either side of him stood Arlest, count of Shale, and Edwyn Treylen, governor of Verneytha. In a voice meant to be heard throughout the region, he said, “Welcome, thrice-noble Mithos and your honorable companions. Today you have shown the people of Greycoast that there is yet hope. The ruthless enemy of our people, the enemy indeed of the free world, will be vanquished. This cargo is of great import to us, but more so is this victory over the crimson tyrants who rape our land. Together we have shown them that we will not submit to their barbarism. Greycoast and its allies stand firm and will give no quarter to those who persecute the innocent. We will sorrow for those who fell, but we will also celebrate the dignity of their ends, for their blood has been turned to gold by the service they have performed for their country. We salute you all for your stand against evil.”
The crowd exulted and waved their Greycoast flags. They threw flowers and their petals fell about us like snow. The injured remnants of our escort smiled proudly and shouted back words of triumph and determination. God help them.
Only when we reached the palace did the duke’s smile slip away. He began to scowl at us irritably before finally slamming his fist on the great walnut table before him and roaring, “Sixty-five dead and thirty injured? Three wagons destroyed and the contents of one other all but burnt up? You incompetent fools!”
I stared at him in astonishment as he released the chain clasp at his throat and shook off his fur mantle, his face red and ugly with sudden anger. Arlest was watching uncertainly, his features drawn and his eyes weary. The weaselish Treylen looked out of the window, as if stepping out of the room.
Mithos said, in a deliberately measured tone, “We brought the majority of the cargo to Ironwall as requested. The casualties we sustained were . . . regrettable, but apparently unavoidable.”
“Unavoidable?” bellowed the duke, his mouth wide through his beard, the fat in his cheeks quivering. We were in his throne room, a large stone chamber surrounded by guarded archways from which his words echoed.
“Now, Raymon,” said Arlest, conciliating. “I’m sure the party did what it could—”
The duke cut him off, continuing to berate us as if the count weren’t really there. “You are professionals,” he snorted, his voice full of derision, “but you can’t protect a few wagons with a hundred men? How is it possible that you could have lost so heavily? And how is it possible that you pathetic mercenaries emerged unscathed?”
At these random insults and queries I saw Garnet, his