The plains become significantly more dangerous once you pass them.”
“Are we going to pass them? Is that skulk nearby?”
“I was told the skulk is visible from the boundary, so it’s not far now.”
“Ah! Good.”
When we reach the posts, I direct my horse to the left side of the circle. Korda calls after me, bewildered: “Where are you—?” But then he cuts off as he realizes something has changed about the ambient noise. The horses behind him and to the right have stopped. As he turns to look, he sees that the crossbowmen have leveled their weapons at his torso an instant before they fire. Ten bolts hit him, mostly in the chest, though one pierces his neck and one sails wide but doesn’t hit anyone else. Korda topples backward like a fallen tree and makes a couple of gurgling noises before falling silent.
“Check him,” I tell the crossbowmen next to me. “Finish him if he’s alive, then strap him to a post once he’s dead.”
If Gorin Mogen wants to make my chamberlain disappear, I can play the same game. Poor Korda must have wandered into the plains and been eaten by something. All of which will be true: scavengers will pick his bones clean in a day or two.
Once he’s strapped somewhat upright, bolts removed, we hurry back to the gates. The smell of blood will be bringing teeth in our direction. Before we reach the gates, a cry comes from behind. Something’s coming fast—and it turns out to be three Raelechs. One of them is a courier—an attractive one.
A brief tingle thrills up my spine, and I have to suppress a shudder. The Triune Council has dispatched a courier to me, not the king! She introduces herself as Numa, and she’s accompanied by an absolutely useless beak-nosed bard named Fintan, who turns out, in one of life’s inexplicable tragedies, to be her husband, but this disappointment is salved by her other companion, a fantastically welcome juggernaut named Tarrech, who might be able to wipe out the Hathrim by himself.
“I’m grateful to the Triune for sending you,” I tell them. “My tactician will be riding south to meet this Hathrim invasion the day after tomorrow. Will you join him?”
The courier replies, “We would be pleased to do so provided that you understand that we do not guarantee our military involvement, nor do we place ourselves under your command. We will go with your forces independently as an ally to make Rael’s interests plain to Hearthfire Mogen.”
“What interests are those?” I ask.
“We wish to safely extricate our stonecutters who have been duped into this situation and to remind him that the Sovereignty Accords will be enforced. The first consideration may not matter to you, but we have a duty to our citizens. But we also have a duty to our friends, and the second consideration should be your wish as well.”
“Indeed it is,” I say, nodding, and I invite them to be my guests until Ghuyedai is ready to march.
In a couple of days they all ride out of town with a trumpet or two, families bidding them farewell and a safe return. Two thousand of the regular garrison—leaving only a soggy sponge of a force behind—and two thousand more hastily conscripted desperate people who looked upon army rations as fine cuisine. We didn’t tell them they were going after ten thousand giants behind a wall. They were told they just had to kick some refugees back into the ocean.
After some wasted breath trying to get Mogen to leave peacefully, Ghuyedai would spend the conscripts freely and then withdraw. And then we could say to the world, Look, Gorin Mogen slew our people when we rightfully and lawfully tried to force him to leave our lands. He is a would-be usurper. And invader. Help us crush him now as you promised to do in that treaty you signed long ago.
I give the Hearthfire credit. He has maneuvered well to this point, but soon he will have nowhere else to move. He will either leave—highly unlikely—or defend himself and bring the world down upon his back, because we have always feared the unchecked fire of the Hathrim. Either way, Ghurana Nent wins.
—
When Fintan took on the seeming of Abhinava Khose next, he had a fresh set of clothes on, the tatters all gone.
I thought the walls of Khul Bashab would be a welcome sight—or at least welcoming. But after my initial joy at spying them from a distance, they took on a