Ozkar through the crowd and brought him neck-to-neck with Razi’s mare.
Razi was staring through the gap in the barricade, and Wynter peered past him, trying to get a good look at Alberon’s camp. It seemed exceedingly well situated. Occupying a rising slope, a stream at its foot, a shale cliff at its back, the camp was not only easily defended, it was also in a position that could be easily fled, should the need arise.
‘Clever man,’ murmured Razi.
Wynter nodded in agreement. Clever man indeed. Albi had chosen well.
She glanced at the soldiers on the barricade. They seemed well fed and highly disciplined; not at all what one would expect from a ragged band of rebels fleeing the King’s wrath. It would appear that her childhood friend had grown into an excellent leader.
Turning her attention back to the camp, Wynter found what she was looking for on the high ground furthest from the gates: a square tent, bigger than the rest and set apart from the others, its only ornamentation the royal pennant that flew from its centre pole. She stared at it, as if her will alone could make Alberon appear from its canvas depths.
The lieutenant returned. ‘You must disarm,’ he said to Úlfnaor. ‘Tell your people to fix all their weapons to their saddles. You shall be permitted to ride through the camp, but once at the royal quarters, you must dismount.’
At Úlfnaor’s nod, Sólmundr translated this and the Merron began to disarm. Christopher and Wynter drew their horses to either side of Razi, shielding him as best they could from the soldiers’ view, and they too began divesting themselves of their weapons.
‘I hope they do not take it in mind to search us,’ murmured Christopher, lashing his katar to his saddlebag. ‘I doubt our brown lad here will pass muster as a pale Lord of the North.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Wynter, watching the lieutenant.
At any minute she expected him to order that they uncover their faces and spread their arms for a search. But once the Merron had safely secured their weaponry, the lieutenant simply wheeled his horse around and led the way into the camp.
Wynter turned to Razi in astonishment, and he looked at her across the top of his scarf, his brown eyes wide. They were to be let through? Just like that?
The Merron began to make their slow and stately progress through the gap in the earthworks, but Razi and Wynter continued to hesitate. The only contact they’d had with Alberon since this whole thing began were the assassins that he had apparently sent to end Razi’s life. What kind of reception could either of them expect here, and what would he be like, this boy they had both loved, now a man they knew nothing of?
Christopher drew his horse close. He looked at Razi. ‘Well, come on then,’ he said dryly. ‘It’s a mite late to turn back now.’
Razi let out a breath, long and slow. Then he straightened his shoulders, pulled his hat low to further hide his face, and urged his horse though the barricades and into his brother’s camp.
ALBERON
THEY WERE led straight through the heart of the camp, heading for the large tent, which was almost certainly Alberon’s quarters. Wynter regarded her surroundings with wary admiration. This was no slow-moving royal entourage, top-heavy with luxuries and cumbersome with staff. This was a lightweight, cleverly ordered military encampment. It had an air of disciplined flexibility to it, and she was sure that the entire settlement could be packed up and spirited away within an hour. There was a feeling of solid authority here, and Wynter had to admit she was impressed.
To the left of the main thoroughfare – surrounded by soldiers’ tents and right under the watchful eye of the royal quarters – was a line of civilian shelters. Wynter saw the brightly coloured domes of the Haunardii yurts; she saw tents painted with Comberman icons, and a pale-blue pavilion tent decorated with unicorns and other Midland fripperies. She eyed these quarters with heightened unease. Haun, Midland and Comberman. Representatives of the kingdom’s three greatest adversaries, come here to negotiate with Alberon behind his father’s back. It was difficult to believe there was any good explanation for that.
The Merron travelled through the camp in stately formation, Úlfnaor and Sólmundr taking the lead. The two high lords kept their heads and their arms bare, as was the Merron tradition, but in defence of Razi, the rest of the People kept their faces covered, their cloaks