Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,361

more, Deanna focused on the immediate task at hand, that of convincing Kreignik to go out from Warchester. She was about to try another course, when Brind’Amour abruptly stopped laughing.

“That is it!” the old wizard shouted in Kreignik’s face.

The cyclopian backed a step, its expression twisted with confusion.

“Do you not see our opportunity?” Brind’Amour shouted, and danced about the corridor. “We can take the offensive, Kreignik,” he explained. “We will go out onto the field and utterly destroy them. And we will catch this Crimson Shadow fool, and the fool Brind’Amour, too, if he is among their ranks. Oh, what gifts will King Greensparrow give to us when the Eriadorans are delivered to him!”

Kreignik didn’t seem to buy it, though the brute had trouble hiding its intrigue at the possibility of such glory.

“We have no choice in the matter,” Deanna quickly put in. “By all reports, there is a second Eriadoran army rounding the southern spur of the Iron Cross. If this army at our gates gets bogged on the fields outside Warchester, we can expect the second group to join up with them. Or worse, both armies will bypass Warchester altogether and march straight on to Carlisle.”

“We will pursue them then,” reasoned Kreignik. “We will catch them from behind and squeeze them against Carlisle’s walls.”

Brind’Amour draped an arm across the brute’s wide shoulders. “Would you like to be the one who tells King Greensparrow that we willingly allowed the Eriadorans to get all the way to Carlisle?” he asked quietly.

The brute stood straight, as if slapped. “Catch them on the field!” he proclaimed. “Ten thousand Praetorians will go out this night!”

Brind’Amour tossed a wink Deanna’s way, and the woman managed a slight nod and smile before Kreignik turned back to her. She noticed then that Brind’Amour went suddenly stiff, the grin flying from his face. He looked all about frantically, and Deanna had no idea what was so suddenly causing him such distress.

“The Fairborn wine,” the old wizard stammered. “I must . . .” He gave a wail and ran off, leaving Deanna mystified.

Until a moment later, when King Greensparrow stalked around the corner at Deanna’s back, flanked by an escort of five Praetorian Guards.

Deanna nearly fainted. “My King,” she stuttered, dropping a respectful curtsy.

“What preparations have you made, Duchess Wellworth?” Greensparrow snapped. “And why have you not returned to Mannington, guiding the fleet against the Eriadorans?”

“I . . . I did not think so small an Eriadoran flotilla would prove a problem,” Deanna explained. “My captains are more skilled . . . and Duke Ashannon will sail across the channel, no doubt.” Deanna hardly knew what she was saying, was desperately trying to improvise. “The more immediate threat seemed this army. The speed and sureness of its approach has been remarkable—I could not leave Warchester unattended.”

She noticed a frown grow on Kreignik’s ugly face. The brute was not stupid. How could Deanna have been in on a “test” with Theredon, as the duke had claimed, yet now claim she thought Warchester had been unattended? Deanna’s heart beat faster; it could all come tumbling down right here, right now. The undercommander said nothing, though, probably too afraid of Greensparrow’s wrath should it speak out of turn.

Greensparrow mulled over the explanation for a moment, then nodded, though his dark eyes never blinked, and his gaze never left Deanna’s eyes. “So you came into Warchester and assumed control,” the king said.

“As we discussed,” Deanna replied, resolutely not looking at Kreignik.

Greensparrow nodded and turned to Kreignik. “And what have you planned?”

“We will go out to destroy the enemy on the field,” the undercommander replied.

Deanna held her breath, not knowing how Greensparrow would feel about such a daring move. The king, after all, understood that the Eriadorans could not possibly crush Warchester, especially since he believed that Brind’Amour was dead.

“This was Deanna’s idea?” Greensparrow asked.

Deanna could tell by his suspicious tone that the king was prying for something. She wondered if Brind’Amour would reveal himself now, come out in open challenge to Greensparrow once and for all. Deanna felt faint with that possibility. Neither she nor the Eriadoran wizard had prepared for such an encounter; both were magically drained from their journey to the city, and Brind’Amour even more so from his impersonation. And to fight the Avon king in here, in the midst of an Avon stronghold, with more than fifteen thousand loyal cyclopians around him, was nothing short of foolish.

Kreignik straightened. “I only thought that . . .” it stammered. “The