The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (50 page)

The first impression the Prince had of this place was that it was a town full of Tomaz and Lorna doppelgangers. Each of the men and women here were strong and wide, and generally quite friendly in a gruff, outdoorsman way. The town itself was really just a collection of homes and a large drinking house that also served as a general meeting hall, where they all gathered in their heavy winter gear to listen to Autmaran with a strong, quiet attentiveness. After the Commander had finished, his words stirring and heartfelt, though brief since many of those listening had been in Vale for the Forum, each and every one of them lined up to sign the recruiting ledger.

“Shouldn’t some of them stay?” Asked the Prince.

“No,” Autmaran replied. “We need them all. Each Eldorian is worth two Valemen in battle. They’re also brilliant blacksmiths and carpenters, which will be even more valuable as time goes on.”

After the Eldorians signed the ledger, they came to the Prince one by one and inclined their heads, a few greeting him with the honorific “my prince,” though the majority maintained an air of solemn silence. It was strange – in the Empire such simplicity would have had them whipped for insolence, but the Prince felt himself more and more buoyed with pride as the day wore on. These were not men and women who gave their allegiance lightly, and yet here they were, freely giving it to him.

The next city, Marilen, was the city farthest to the west, the only town that was not landlocked. It was a collection of fishing villages clustered around an enormous bay with huge rock sides that made a perfect harbor.

“The seas are extremely dangerous,” Autmaran told him, “which keeps us safe from the Empire. However, the harbor is deep and wide and filled with an entire ecosystem of its own, which, when kept in proper balance, more than sustains us. We’re also masterful weavers – it goes along with making nets for fishing. My father always said you could mark a good fisherman by the thread of his shirt.”

The experience here was similar to that in Eldoras – they called the people together in the centermost village, Autmaran spoke to them, and they accepted what he said. Most of them were dark-skinned like the Commander, an interesting bit of information the Prince filed away in his mind to think about another time. Was it the sun that had made them that way, over years and generations?

They went through Aemon’s Stand next, which, while known primarily as the sight of the Kindred’s greatest battle, was also the nation’s center of learning, boasting a library nearly as large as the one in the Fortress of Lucien. The city was still recovering from the devastation of the Ox Lord’s invasion, still rebuilding the broken houses and devastated defenses, but the people here, who had seen the Prince fight his brother Ramael, were the most eager of all the Kindred to join the fight against the Empire.

The last city they went to was in the east, a city called Chaym, which primarily grew crops, both for food and clothing. In terms of size it was the largest, stretching miles to accommodate what they grew, and apparently even going right up to one of the deeper roots of the Roarke mountain range. Chaym was the home of Elder Ceres when she was not in Vale, and her daughter Demeter governed when she wasn’t present. It was a peaceful place – full of soft amber light and warm cotton clothing. Most of the people here were not the kind the Prince would imagine willing to join an army – but when Autmaran came and made the call, they all lined up, just as the men and women had done in Eldoras and Marilen.

But underneath each visit was a grim note, long and drawn out, like the sound of a funeral march caught just at the edge of hearing. As the Prince watched the Kindred sign the ledger, he knew in his heart that many of them, maybe all of them, would die. He knew what they would go through, he experienced it every time he took a life, felt the death as if it was his own. His mood darkened. When he led them north many of them would not return, and he cursed himself for not running when he’d still had the chance.

He wished Leah and Tomaz were with him. He missed them more than he’d ever thought he could miss anyone, but they were officers in the Rogues and had needed to stay behind to organize their troops. It was for their company, more than any other reason, that he longed to be back in Vale, and he was grateful when he and Autmaran finally set themselves in motion back to the capital city.

When they arrived, the number of men and women in the streets had swelled considerably. The wide roads leading to the city were now clogged with travelers, even in the inclement winter weather. Rain and sleet came nearly every day, but still the Kindred gathered, finding refuge in the homes of relatives and the enormous Bricks.

But when he returned he had no time to seek out his friends. Upon setting foot on the outskirts of the city, he was greeted by a number of Aides to the Elders who summoned him to the Capitol, telling him the War Council had begun.

The Council consisted of the senior military officers, Wyck, Oleander, Perci, Gates, and Dunhold, as well as the Elders and the Prince himself.

They met in the large map room beneath the Capitol seat of Vale as storms raged aboveground, mirroring the arguments that took place down below. For nearly a month they argued about where to fight, how to fight, whether or not to rebuild Roarke, who should lead, who had jurisdiction over which part of the army, which General would command the vanguard versus the main host, which target was most important, when to leave Vale, if they should gather more supplies before going. It soon became clear to the Prince that very little would get done this way, but he held his tongue and sat through it, contributing when he could, while his thoughts strayed to the coming months and the war against the Empire.

How can we beat them? Is it possible?

One day, when they adjourned early after an argument broke out among the Generals, the Prince took the opportunity to go to the Bricks, with a mind to seek out Leah and Tomaz, though he found himself dreading the proposition of talking to Leah, not sure how she would react to seeing him. The last time they had spoken had been more than a little strained.

“Raven!” Called a pleasant baritone voice behind him.

He turned to see Davydd striding down the corridor of the Bricks living quarters. The young man’s customary smirk was missing, replaced by a strange, tight neutrality that looked out of place. His red eyes were tired, and the Prince found himself wondering how much sleep the other man was getting. It didn’t look like much.

“Davydd,” the Prince said with a nod. He wanted to say more, but found himself unable. The only thing he could think of was the man’s father.

“What are you doing here?” The Eshendai asked abruptly, walking past him, shuffling through some papers he had in his hands – it looked like they were messages of some kind, reports perhaps.

“I was looking for Leah and Tomaz,” the Prince said smoothly, falling into step beside him. This kind of walking conference was something he was used to – most conversations in the Fortress took place between two destinations, affording the speakers privacy from stationed eavesdroppers. “I haven’t seen them since I left, I was hoping that I would be able to –”

Davydd stopped walking, and the Prince took a few extra steps before turning back in confusion. The man’s eyes were looking wearily at the Prince, and just past the fatigue was something akin to pity.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” he said finally. “She told me to tell you if you came looking for her that –”

“Princeling!”

The Prince turned and saw the shape of Tomaz; he looked like his old self now, fully recovered from the taxing effects of the Ox Talisman, but he also bore the signs of recent sorrow and lack of sleep – his bluff square of a face had dark circles beneath the eyes and his usually immaculate beard was in need of a trim.

“Tomaz,” said the Prince with the first real smile he’d felt on his face since Midwinter night nearly a month before.

“Wow, you need some sleep little one. You look like–”

“I was speaking!” Davydd snapped.

The Prince looked at him with a mixture of shock and surprise, a look that was mirrored on the bluff face of Tomaz. Davydd’s whit was certainly acerbic, but he never spoke in anger to his friends, not with the kind of fire that he had just used.

“Leah said to tell you that she holds you responsible for our father’s death,” he said firmly, without emotion, and the Prince felt the blood drain from his face.

“
What?
” Rumbled Tomaz incredulously.

“I think she’s being an idiot,” Davydd continued as if the big man hadn’t spoken. “She doesn’t deal with loss well … but we all have our ways of coping. If I didn’t have responsibilities I’d be deep in a bottle somewhere with a little pleasant company doing some coping of my own.”

“I’ll talk to her,” rumbled Tomaz ominously. “She has no right to say such things – she’s acting like a spoiled child.”

And with that he was gone, striding down the corridor with heavy purpose. The Prince numbly thought that he didn’t envy the girl the tongue-lashing she was about to receive.

“Don’t worry about it,” Davydd said, coming out of his stupor a little bit as he saw the look on the Prince’s face and even going so far as to slap the Prince’s shoulder with something like his usual good-humor. “She’s stupid about things like that. She was the same when I found her after she’d run from our parents in Banelyn – she blamed me for leaving her there, blamed everyone for everything.”

“What exactly did she say?” The Prince asked quietly.

Davydd didn’t answer him immediately, but bit his lip and grimaced. The Prince turned his head and locked eyes with the man.

“Tell me,” he said softly, like a sigh.

“She said that you waited too long to act,” he responded finally. “She said that all of this could have been prevented if you had taken the Veil the first time, or had been more vigilant scanning the area with the Talisman … and that she was a fool to trust you as far as she did.”

The Prince nodded, and then turned to go, but Davydd caught him by the elbow and stopped him.

“My sister has loved only one person in her whole life, and it was our father.”

Davydd’s voice broke on the final word, but he continued.

“And her world just came crashing down on her. Give her time. She’ll realize how foolish she’s being.”

“That’s just the problem,” said the Prince. “She isn’t being foolish. I
didn’t
act in time. I
wasn’t
vigilant. And if I had spent a single minute thinking about what was right for the Kindred, what was right for you or for her or your father, or for the thousands of innocent people outside these walls, then we wouldn’t be where we are now.”

The Prince looked at Davydd hard, feeling his jaw tighten with anger, his teeth clenched, barely able to get the words out.

“You have my word that I will not fail you again.”

Davydd watched him for a long time, but said nothing. The Prince nodded and left. He descended to the bottom floor of the Bricks, and was headed toward the door when he was stopped by a tall figure – Henri Perci.

“I need to speak with you,” said the man in his deep, commanding voice, his beard bristling with contempt and disgust as he looked the Prince up and down, taking in his newly gilded armor. They often saw each other now, as Perci was one of the five generals that rounded out the War Council, but something was different here. Perci and the Prince had certainly never gotten along before, but there was something deeper about the animosity now. It was sharp and brittle, like a sword made of glass, one that could break and wound either party.

“What would you like to say?” The Prince asked.

Henri Perci stepped close – too close. The Prince immediately reacted by dropping a hand to the hilt of his sword, Aemon’s Blade, which he now wore by his side every waking moment, but stopped. Perci towered over him at his full height, his golden hair like a lion’s mane around his face, but did not advance any further. They stood there in tableau for a long moment, not saying anything, each silent, daring the other to back down. In the end it was Perci who broke the moment by speaking: