Disciple of War Disciple of War (Art of the Adept #4) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,133

been spending most of his resources shoring up his defenses there.”

Bug blanched at that. “We’re going there next. If it’s as you say, the walls will probably glow in the dark with all the wards.”

“That’s for the future,” said Will, rising and pacing around the room. Tired and anxious simultaneously, it was hard for him to sit still. “Were you able to test the foundations?”

The young sorcerer grinned. “It’s stone and bedrock directly beneath the city, but it isn’t protected, and just a short way out from the walls it turns to hard-packed soil.”

“So, we can do it?”

Bug nodded. “We might not have quite enough earth elementals, but—”

“—they can use spells for the easy part and conserve the elementals for the stone,” said Will, finishing his student’s sentence.

“How will you keep them from seeing what we’re doing?” asked Bug. “There’s nothing but flatland out here. They’ll see us when we start digging, unless you plan to begin half a mile away.”

Will shook his head. “We’ll start as close to the walls as possible. There’s no time to waste.”

“But if they see or hear us, they could bring the tunnel down on our heads, or at the very least bottleneck us.”

“They won’t see or hear us.”

“But how?”

“That’s for me to worry about. Trust me. They’ll be far too stressed and distracted to pay attention to the real threat,” said Will.

Bug stared at him for a moment, his eyes pensive. “Don’t you trust me, sir?”

Will stopped pacing. He’d gotten to be fairly good friends with Bug and many of the other student sorcerers while training them before the war. He liked to think he’d built a rapport with them. “I do trust you, Bug, but this is different. Lives depend on this, and I’ve already seen my plans leaked to the enemy before…”

“But that wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t think it was. I’m just extra cautious now. I still don’t know exactly how they’re getting their information, but if I don’t tell anyone more than they need to know, I don’t have to doubt people if it somehow gets out. For all I know it could be a spell, but if I tell someone and then they discover it I’ll have to start giving my friends hard looks. Does that make sense?”

The sorcerer sighed, barely hiding his disappointment. “I suppose. I could understand if it was Emory after all, but me?”

He grinned. Will and Bug shared certain sentiments, since they both came from common households. Emory was nobility, and most of the other students from Wurthaven were at the very least from rich families. Bug’s family was dirt poor. His father was a tenant farmer, and if it hadn’t been for a sponsorship from the lord that held their land, Bug would never have been able to attend the college. “You still don’t like Emory? I thought he was growing on you.”

“I don’t hate him,” Bug clarified. “We’ve been working together a while and I can respect what he’s accomplished, but I don’t think we’ll ever be real friends.”

“He seems to feel differently,” offered Will.

Bug shrugged. “’Cause he’s rich. It’s easy for him to overlook the differences.”

Will understood. It was something only a poor man could really understand, being surrounded by the rich and the privileged. They weren’t even aware of their fortune, but for someone like Bug, it would be constantly in his face. Rich clothes, money, and a thousand other little privileges that he would never be party to. Will felt guilty thinking about it, because now that he’d married into royalty all those things were his—and every day he got more used to them.

He gave Bug leave to get some rest, then moved on to the next major task of the day, trying to parley with the leader of Maldon. As in Klendon, he sent out men with flags, hoping to get a response. Someone emerged from the city, and within half an hour, Will had his answer.

Lord Fraelis wouldn’t meet with him. There would be no discussion at all.

“Pompous prick,” muttered Will. “People’s lives are at stake and he won’t even discuss it.”

“He’s probably worried that it’s a trap,” suggested Lieutenant Renly.

“After Klendon they should know me better,” said Will. Rising to his feet, he strode outside.

“Where are you going now, sir?” asked Renly.

“To talk to him.”

Will walked until he stood in front of the city in plain view, though he took care to remain well out of bowshot or spell range. At two hundred yards he figured someone with