Parno's Destiny: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book Two (44 page)

He acknowledged murmurs of farewell as he departed, but stepped out as quickly as he could and took a deep breath of cool night air. He started walking without any real destination in mind, just aimless wandering. He was conscious of a small detail falling in around him but keeping their distance.

Is this what it will be like from now on
? He wondered bleakly. No privacy, no being alone with his thoughts. Always someone watching, listening, guarding. He shook his head at the idea.

“What bothers you, my Prince?”

Parno had to force himself not to start as Cho Feng's voice interrupted his train of thought. Feng appeared at his side out of the very night, it seemed, always quiet and deadly.

“I already said I don't know,” he reminded the oriental warmaster.

“Something else was bothering you just now,” Feng would not be put off.

“I was just thinking about how I have no privacy anymore,” he admitted, gesturing to the guard around them. He wondered suddenly if Feng had slipped past them or if they had merely allowed him to pass unchallenged.

“Understandable,” Feng nodded. “One surrenders a great deal when he moves into a position of authority and responsibility. The greater the service, the more one loses.”

“I can vouch for that,” Parno agreed. “Anyway, I don't have that much to complain about, really. Heck, do you know my life is actually better now than at almost any point in my life up
until
now?” he grinned. “How sad a testament is that?”

“Such a discovery can be both illuminating and disheartening,” Feng agreed with a low chuckle. “Things have gone rather well, all facts taken together. Today you managed to dodge a more serious blow while dealing one of your own.”

“Nothing but luck,” Parno scoffed. “Skill and ability had little to do with it.”
“Do not discount luck on the battlefield, my Prince,” Feng lectured lightly. “While it cannot be planned for or anticipated, the wise leader never discounts it as a worthy ally. Or deadly opponent if it falls for the enemy.”

“Guess that's true,” Parno decided after a minute. “And I wasn't complaining about luck, either,” he stressed. “Just pointing out that it wasn't anything I did that caused the Nor to break off their attack.”

“That you know of,” Feng reminded him sternly, slipping further into lecture mode. “You took many actions today, and in the days leading up to this battle. Since you have no idea why the enemy withdrew so abruptly, you cannot claim to know that nothing you did played a part in his decision, mistake or no. It could have been Mister Finn's weapons that created the panic in the enemy general and broke his nerve. You are responsible for them, are you not? It could have been the way you marshaled your archers for concentrated fire on the advancing enemy, the bonfires and scouts that gave you warning of the impending attack, the fire that you personally ordered down on the enemy artillery at the risk of allowing the enemy's infantry to approach your lines; all of these are things you did or ordered done or supported in getting done. Any one of them, any combination of them, could have been what caused today's victory.” Conscious that his voice had risen, Feng stopped short. After a moment he continued.

“Since we do not know,” Feng's voice calmed a bit, “we must not assume. Assumption is the death of all decisions, my prince. It must not enter into your thinking, ever.”

“Okay then,” Parno decided to simply agree since this was the most animation he'd seen from Cho Feng since he'd known the man. It was obvious that this was a sore topic.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” Feng noted, refusing to be drawn into another display of emotion. “Perhaps the enemy will come at us again. Perhaps not. Having won the field today, your men will fight harder tomorrow. Do not rob them of that feeling by second guessing what happened today.”

“I'm not,” Parno defended himself. “I made sure of that in fact this afternoon. Had that same though,” he said triumphantly. “That it was more important that they believe they had won than for me to stress that I hadn't done anything special. Guess your teaching is rubbing off on me after all,” he mock jeered.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Feng nodded stoically. “If one flings sufficient manure at the stable wall, some will eventually stick.”

Feng was already several steps along his path back to the tents when Parno realized what he had said.

“Hey!”

*****

By the time Parno returned to the tent Cho Feng was nowhere to be seen, but Karls Willard was waiting patiently in a camp chair. He pointed to another one for Parno and then handed the prince a beer as he sat.

“Nice,” Parno complimented after a long pull on the chilled bottle. “Where'd you get it?” he asked.

“Pair of Urian suttlers make it,” Karls replied. “Husband and wife. Pretty good set-up, really. She dresses like a barmaid and him like a tender. I guess they make it at night and sell it by day. Or maybe the other way around,” he frowned. “I don't know.”

“Well, it's good beer,” Parno nodded, taking another draught. “What's on your mind?”

“I'm going to ask Dhalia to marry me,” Karls said suddenly, looking Parno in the eye. Parno nodded slowly, having expected it.

“I'll expect you to be good to her,” he said simply, eyeing his friend closely. “It would pain me to kill you, Karls.”

“I'm sure it would,” Karls snorted and Parno had to laugh at the dead-pan delivery. “Seriously, I wanted your blessing. You're the closest thing she has left to family. If you say no, of course, then I'll have to murder you in your sleep,” he added.

“Of course you have my blessing,” Parno agreed. “But I meant it when I said I expect you to take good care of her. Were I to hear otherwise, Karls, I would be grieved.”

“I know,” Karls smiled. “But I promise I'll treat her like the treasure she is beneath all that tomboy exterior,” he grinned.

“Yes, describing her as a delicate flower might be risky even for you, brother,” Parno chuckled. “I assume your visit to her new holding went well, then?”

“It's a nice place,” Karls nodded. “There is an older couple living there as caretakers. We spent a good while talking to them, then rode over the grounds. The buildings need some work, but it's a nice place, Parno. A place where a man could raise a family and make a good living if he's allowed to. Dhalia fell in love with it immediately.”

“I hoped she would,” Parno nodded. “I'll see to the repairs,” he said a minute later. “As soon as I can send a rider to Cove, in fact. A detail can escort her down there and she can supervise the work herself if she'd like.”

“We can do that, Parno,” Karls objected mildly.

“Consider it a wedding present,” Parno smiled.

“She'll kill you,” Karls warned.

“I'll tell her it was your idea,” Parno shot back, laughing.

“What about you?” Karls asked after a minute's pause.

“What about me?”

“You and Lady Freeman,” Karls clarified. “What did the two of you work out while we were at Cumberland House?”

“We talked,” Parno admitted, fidgeting again. “I hadn't been very fair to her, apparently. In fairness I was trying to be. I didn't think a woman of her quality had any business in the same room with a man such as me. I still don't, to be honest. She informed me, however, that she was able to make those decisions for herself. Rather pointedly I might add,” he shrugged.

“I bet,” Karls grinned. “And?”

“And we have agreed to do things her way,” Parno shrugged helplessly. “As I'm sure she knew we would,” he sighed theatrically, shaking his head to Karls delighted laughter.

“I think she'll make you a fine wife, Parno McLeod,” Karls told him sincerely, though still chuckling. “Everyone knew it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“Is that a fact?” Parno shot back.

“Oh yes,” Karls nodded. “There was a pool going among the officer's wives, and another among the NCO wives as well I believe, on when the two of you would stop . . . beating around the bush, I believe was the way it was most often put? Yes, that was it, I'm sure. Apparently your arguments were the stuff of legend around the camp.”

“Well I'm glad we were able to keep folks entertained,” Parno said. “And I think she just purely likes to argue, come to think of it.”

“She is a woman,” Karls agreed sagely. “I still think she'll make you a fine wife, my friend. She's strong that one. Stands up to you nicely, in fact,” Karls twisted the knife just a bit.

“Yes, I've seen the way you 'stand up' to Dolly,” Parno sneered back, causing Karls a sudden fit of coughing.

“Anyway, I daresay that should I manage to live through the war, the doctor and I might well retire to Cove Canton and raise our own fat babies. You and Dolly can come and visit and we'll return the favor and all just be happy and domestic and live happily ever after,” he finished brightly. Karls looked at him for a moment, a faint look of horror dawning in his eyes.

“That's a joke, right?” he asked as Parno rose, setting the empty bottle on the table so that Karls could return it.

“Good night, Karls.”

“Hey, seriously Parno!” Karls voice followed him. “You're just joking, right? Parno?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

-

“The blade undoubtedly has penetrated the kidney. That is the source of the bleeding here, externally, as well as the internal bleeding that results in his coughing up blood.”

“What can be done?” Memmnon's chief adviser and retainer, Henry Govan, was looking at the hastily summoned Army surgeon who had been caring for Memmnon through the night.

“Ideally the kidney would be removed,” the surgeon replied. “But that takes a level of skill, training and education that few possess, as well as experience that is in even shorter supply. It is a detailed and precise operation that is not routinely performed. I do not have the knowledge or the skill to do this,” he admitted. “I am sorry, truly I am, but. . .I simply do not know how. It is an intensely intricate operation that requires intimate detail of biology and the know how to remove the organ and ensure that doing so does not result in still more damage or blood loss. Lord Smithe would have been able to do this without hesitation, but. . . .” he trailed off, not knowing how to finish. Lord Smithe was dead, as was their king. The surgeon, named Spurgeon oddly enough, Govan thought, had worked through most of the night to try and stop Memmnon's slow and agonizing death, but so far has been unable to do so. Only a large dose of opiates was keeping the Prince from literally screaming in pain.

“Surely there is another doctor that can do something like this!” Govan exclaimed.

“Of course there is,” Spurgeon nodded. “Several of them in fact. The problem is that none that I know of are here, now. Doctor Freeman once could have, but his eyesight has faded to the point that he no longer operates. He would not be able to perform so delicate a procedure and would never attempt it. The nearest physician I know of at this very moment would either be at the royal hospital at Bingham, or at the front. The two physicians I personally know that would normally be here in Nasil and could perform this surgery are in the field with the army, assisting with the wounded. They could not be here in less than five days, allowing for time for the messenger to get there and for them to return.”

“I can't believe he has five days,” Govan shook his head.

“I'd say two at most, and that is most generous,” Spurgeon agreed. “I am truly sorry,” he said heavily. “It would be the greatest service I could perform for the Crown to be able to save his life and I would do anything,
give
anything that I now or will ever possess to have the skill to perform the surgery, even just this once if never again. But I simply do not.” The man looked as if he were going to cry.

“What can you do?” Govan asked.

“I can slow the bleeding, which I have, it's almost stopped in fact, and I can keep him comfortable. Anything more than that is beyond what I am capable of.”

“Then do that,” Govan ordered. “Try and keep him alive, and I will see if I can find someone who can help him.”

“I pray you can,” Spurgeon remarked earnestly. Govan left the room, on his way to roust out the off duty members of Tammon McLeod's regiment. They were angry men, to say the least. Angry and looking for someone to hold responsible for the death of their liege lord.

They could channel that need into searching for a physician who could do the miraculous.

*****

Sebastian Grey looked at the quartet of constables with something akin to hatred, glaring at them in silence because he did not trust himself to speak. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. There was no point in being angry because what was done was done. And, in all fairness, had these four realized what was happening and tried to prevent it, they would merely have been added to the list of dead.

“They were wearing the uniforms of the Royal Family, sir,” the senior constable spoke in their defense. “We had no reason to suspect they were not. Technically, if they were a part of Prince Therron's regiment, they were servants of the Royal Family, I suppose.”

“Your orders were to prevent Princess McLeod from leaving her apartments without the express authorization of the Crown Prince or the King,” Grey ground out between clenched teeth.

“Sir, the Colonel reported to us that it was Prince Memmnon himself who had dispatched them to escort her to his offices,” the man nodded. “The Princess was reluctant to even leave her room, but the Colonel told her through the door that she was going, as the Prince had ordered it. Had he not invoked the name of the Prince we would have refused them entry.”

And been killed in the process, Grey knew. Again he was reminded that there was nothing that these four could have done besides die. Reports were that the group that had freed Sherron McLeod was at least twenty strong, all seasoned soldiers and among the best trained the army had to offer. Four Constables would have stood no chance at all against even an equal number, let alone so many.

“Get out,” he ordered them suddenly. “Speak of this to no one until I tell you, personally, to do otherwise. There is an investigation ongoing. You are excused duty until that is concluded. Report to the barracks and remain there until I release you. Go.”

The four left at once, glad to be away from their angry superior. Grey watched them go and then turned to the report from the Tammon McLeod's footman. Had the man not gone to make a final check on the king before retiring, then Prince Memmnon would likely have bled out before anyone found him. Even now the news was not good concerning the Prince. Which reminded him; someone needed to inform Prince Parno of what had happened. He was suddenly the only member of the Royal Family that was capable of taking the reins of the kingdom at the present. Despite how badly he might be needed at the front, the need for him here, in Nasil, was far greater for the moment.

He quickly wrote out a message to the young prince and then headed to the stables to find a courier and a fast horse. The sun was already high above the horizon. The rider should make good time.

*****

The search for a trained physician spread through most of the Royal City before noon. The members of Tammon McLeod's personal regiment were not given to politeness that morning in their fury over what had happened. Broken into squads led by young officers, the troopers fanned across the city in search of someone who could save Prince Memmnon, or that knew of someone who could. The city was not quite locked down, as the men to do so simply were not available. Prince Memmnon's Own were supplementing the Palace Guard in the event of another incursion, so it was left to the City Guard, mostly militia that were a bit too old for front line duty, the city constabulary, and Tammon's Guards.

Failure to secure the services of a physician that could perform the lifesaving surgery led to increased tempers as the sun moved ever higher in the sky. Mindful of how time sensitive things were, the soldiers were becoming more angry with each passing hour.

One squad was on the eastern outskirts of the Royal City around noon, combing the older sections for even a retired doctor capable of helping the prince. Their lieutenant saw an ambulance approaching with a heavy escort and moved his men into position to stop it. The Captain leading the escort drew up, halting his small column a short way from the smaller party.

“State your business,” the lieutenant demanded in what he fondly imagined was an intimidating voice. Several of the Black Sheep actually snorted at that, but were silenced by a glare from their Captain.

“We're escorting our charge into the city,” the Captain replied amiably enough.

“And who might your charge be?” the lieutenant asked.

“I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say,” the Captain responded more slowly, wary now. None of this was normal. “What has happened?”

“I want to know who is in that ambulance, right now!” the lieutenant barked. Behind the Captain of the escort several of the Black Sheep silently drew swords, allowing them to hang along their saddles.

“Lieutenant, I've answered all your questions I intend to,” the Captain stated slowly and clearly. “We are members of Prince Parno McLeod's personal regiment, escorting a party at his order. Who that party is being no concern whatsoever of a snot-nose lieutenant who likely shaves no more than three times a week.” The Captain spurred his horse forward and the front rank of his men followed.

“Now whatever you and your men are engaged in, feel free to continue in it while we go on our way.”

“You aren't passing here until we've inspected that ambulance!” The lieutenant was angry, he was scared, and he was looking for a fight. Unfortunately, he had chosen the worst possible group to pick one with. The remainder of the escort now drew their swords almost in unison. Without a single spoken order, half moved to support the Captain while the other half collapsed on the ambulance, ringing it with steel.

“You won't be inspecting this ambulance, lieutenant,” the Captain's voice turned icy. “Any attempt to get inside will result in your painful and immediate death, I assure you.”

From inside, Stephanie McLeod looked out, wondering why they were stopped and why the escort suddenly had their swords drawn.

“What's going on?” she demanded.

“Not sure, milady,” the man nearest her window replied softly. “Kindly stay out of sight, milady, and keep your voice low until we can sort this out. I'm not caring for this at all.”

“There's. . .the road is blocked by soldiers,” Winnie reported, having leaned out the window on the other side. “I think they're actually threatening the escort,” she added, amused. “That won't go well.”

“I can't see the humor in that, Winifred,” Stephanie frowned. “Perhaps you should get back inside.”

“It's not funny, I agree,” Winnie lithely moved back into the carriage. “But the very idea of ten men challenging this bunch?” she shook her head. “That is just sad. This outfit will essentially walk right over them like they aren't there.”

“How are they dressed?” Stephanie asked, trying to see out but refraining from actually hanging from the window as her young friend had done.

“Similar to the Prince's Own, now that you mention it,” Winnie looked thoughtful. “I wonder if other personal regiments dress that way.”

“Yes, they do,” Stephanie nodded. “The colors are the same, as are them emblems. The designs are unique to the regiment, but the black and green of the McLeod dynasty is always the same.”

“Then I'd say we're facing a squad of either the King's Own or Prince Memmnon's,” Winnie declared. “And they're still about to get their backsides handed to them,” she added.

“I need to speak to the Captain,” Stephanie ordered the man near her window.

“Not a good time, milady,” the man almost whispered. “I don't know what burr is under their saddle, but they're demanding to inspect the carriage. That is not going to happen, milady, no matter what.”

“If they're the King's Own then it's stupid for them to fight against us!” Stephanie exclaimed. “Find out what the problem is!”

“We're trying, milady,” the soldier assured her.

Up front, the lieutenant had finally realized that he had well and truly poked the bear, but didn't know how to
un
poke it now that he had. He did recognize that bluster wasn't going to work.

“We're in search of a skilled physician,” he admitted finally.

“What?” the Captain could not have been more surprised if the younger man had told him they were searching for a unicorn. “Why?”

“There was an attack on the King last night, and several others,” the younger man replied after a brief hesitation. “The Crown Prince is severely injured and the Royal Physician is unable to care for him at present. Because of the war, most other trained physicians are away. We desperately need someone who can perform surgery or we. . .we could lose the Prince.”

“Why in the hell didn't you say that to start with you imbecile!” the Captain shouted, angrier now than before. “Stand aside or lead us to the palace at once. At once do you hear! We're escorting one of the best doctors in the entire kingdom at Marshal McLeod's orders!”

“What?” it was the lieutenant's turn to be stunned.

“Lead, follow, or get out of the way!” the Captain yelled, then turned around in his saddle.

“Double time, lads! To the palace at once!” As the column started the small unit blocking the road scrambled to get out of the way. The Captain fell back to the carriage where he could speak to his charge.

“Milady, did you hear?” he asked.

“No, what's happening?” Stephanie demanded, resisting the urge to climb out her window as Winnie had once again.

“There was an attack on the palace last night,” the Captain said as the column picked up speed. “The King was attacked, as was Prince Memmnon, and the prince is sorely injured. They need someone who can perform surgery on him or we may lose him.”

“Get me there at once,” Stephanie ordered, no longer the Lady, but the Doctor, now. “If you can get me more information before we arrive, bring it to me.” She was already reaching for her bag.

“Guess it's a good thing you always carry that,” Winnie remarked. “What can I do to help, Lady Freeman?”

“There's nothing either of us can do until we get there and find out what's happening,” Stephanie admitted as she opened her bag and began setting tools aside. “Keep a sharp lookout though,” she added. “If the palace was attacked then there may still be Nor in the city. We're a nice target according to the Captain.”