Duchess Escral called out to him again, ‘Tell your lord I would speak to him of sons - of princes cherished.’
The man glanced back, an expression of horror on his face, but he bobbed his head again and disappeared behind the flame-scarred door.
The creak of the door opening was enough to jolt Amber from a confused dream, a chaotic memory of his childhood home that faded as he opened his eyes. In the doorway stood Horsemistress Kirl, looking concerned. It was dark in his room, and Amber guessed he’d slept past nightfall.
‘What’s happened?’ Amber croaked.
Kirl looked at him, then walked to his bedside. ‘I’m not really sure. I just heard that bloody Duchess Natai’s staging some sort of protest at the gate - says she isn’t moving until Lord Styrax grants her an audience.’
‘She wants to speak to a grieving white-eye?’ Amber sounded aghast.
Kirl gave a humourless snort. ‘I know - daft bitch! Colonel Uresh tried to speak to her and she just ignored him and kept repeating her demand.’
‘Where’s General Gaur?’
‘Fortinn; Uresh doesn’t want to send a rider though. Every time Gaur turns his back in Fortinn the gangs start fighting each other again. Duke Vrill’s scouting the northeast towards Raland and all the other nobles are just plain scared, I think.’
‘What about Gaur’s huntsmen?’
While General Gaur had never been ennobled, the beastman Lord Styrax had hauled from the fighting-pits was now a powerful landowner in his own right. Much of that land he kept for private hunting, and instead of hurscals he had a band of huntsmen as his staff. Like irregulars they occupied a position outside of the Menin Army structure, and Lord Styrax used them for a range of unorthodox activities. Amber guessed a few of Gaur’s commanders would be on first-name terms with the Lord of the Menin.
‘Probably in Fortinn,’ Kirl said, ‘with General Gaur - they are his bodyguards, after all, and it’s not a happy place at the moment.’
‘Let’s see how much my luck rides then,’ Amber muttered, raising his good left arm and beckoning Kirl over. ‘Help me up.’
‘Are you mad? You’re staying right there,’ she said sharply.
He gave her a level look. ‘No, I’m getting up and you’re going to help me. Look at my face and tell me whether you think I’m in the mood to argue.’
‘Are you pulling rank on me?’ Kirl asked after a moment’s hesitation.
‘Hoping I don’t have to.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Fine. Let’s get you sitting on the side of the bed. If you can do that without passing out, I’ll fetch some crutches and find out exactly what the duchess wants.’
Amber gritted his teeth. His right arm was wrapped in wooden splints and bandages, and in spite of the magical healing it wasn’t yet ready to take any weight. Kirl was tiny next to him and she needed to haul at his good arm with all her strength to help him raise his shoulders off the bed. Once he started to move, he found his left leg was similarly useless, and though Kirl was manoeuvring him as carefully as she could, he was biting down so hard he thought he was going to shatter his teeth.
After several excruciating minutes he opened his eyes and found himself perched on the side of the bed, his right foot pressed hard against the floor as he tried to balance.
‘Maybe with that crutch I’ll fetch a Priest of Shotir to take the edge off the pain?’ Kirl asked, watching his expression.
Amber nodded as gently as he could, not wanting to jerk anything else now he had been reminded of the joys of broken ribs.
‘Right, stay there and try not to cry,’ she said, heading back out. ‘You’re meant to be a hero, remember?’
Before long Amber was making slow and painful progress past two separate rings of security to Lord Styrax’s chambers. At both security checkpoints Amber was recognised, and admitted with a mixture of awe and pity, which bolstered his strength a little. Outside his lord’s door the adrenalin wore off and he started to waver. Kirl had to prompt him twice before he raised his hand to knock.
There was no response. Amber waited a long while before hesitantly knocking again, but when he was greeted with silence he turned the latch himself, his hand shaking with the strain, and eased the door open.
Still nothing.
He shuffled forward, Kirl taking as much of his weight as she could bear. Inside, a single lamp on the right-hand