The Tattered Banner (Society of the Sword Volume 1) (55 page)

He chose a tavern on his way back toward the Palace that placed it at the edge of Oldtown, on the street one would take if going from the centre of the city to Oldtown. Soren would turn right once he crossed the bridge over the Westway river and go up the hill toward Highgarden and the Palace, rather than left through the gate in the old city wall and into Oldtown.

He sat by the window and let his mind drift as he stared out over the street and the river beyond. Barges plied their way up and down the river. They were long and flat to allow them under the bridges while still maintaining good cargo capacity and were towed by teams of horses that walked along the bank of the river when they were outside of the city walls. Once they reached the city, the barges were connected to a series of cogs and chains that dragged them up and down the river. The cogs were turned by teams of horses in tow-houses at various intervals along the river as there was not the space on the riverbank for a towpath as there was outside of the city. They brought goods and trade up and down the river. The Westway went as far as the Blackwater to the north, while the Eastway River on the other side of the city was navigable by the barges all the way to the Silver Hills in the North East, nearly as far as barbarian territory.

He received his food and didn’t waste a moment in starting. The pastry was thick, crusty and rich, and the ale was sweet and bitter at the same time. As he ate, he watched a noblewoman and her two attendants walk by with a number of packages. The attendants were clearly overloaded and struggling, and one of them dropped a package on the ground. As she struggled to retrieve it, she managed to drop the rest that she was carrying.

Soren could not help but let out a chuckle at the comedy of the moment. Square and cylindrical boxes tumbled across the cobbled street, and the noblewoman turned to scold her servant. She was dressed in a fine scarlet and gold silk cloak with a hood that had concealed all but a few dark curls. As she turned however, he could see her face. It was Alessandra. His heart jumped into his throat, and the mouthful of pie nearly choked him. She looked exquisitely beautiful. She had been at several of the Duke’s balls, but the ballroom was enormous and she had never been closer to him than a dozen paces. Now though, little more than the length of an arm and a pane of glass separated them. The glass was warped, which gave his view a slightly surreal appearance. His heart raced and he felt a tightness in his chest as he watched her turn.

Her view passed over the alehouse window as she turned; to Soren it seemed as though she moved in slow motion. Almost like when the Gift was strong. Perhaps it was. As her view passed by him, he saw her eyes widen. Where a moment before there had been exasperation, now there was uncertainty. She looked back to where he sat and their eyes met. He didn’t know what to do. Their gaze locked for an instant, which felt like an eternity. There was a sadness on her face and he didn’t know how to react. Part of him wanted to go out onto the street and take her into his arms, but he couldn’t do that. He was too ashamed of the way he had behaved. All he felt was pain. She gave a sad smile that almost broke Soren’s heart. All he could do was stare. She turned back and began helping her attendant gather up the packages, the chastisement that had been on her lips now well and truly gone. Then she was also gone. It felt to Soren that part of him was gone too.

The bill for his ale and pie arrived. It was far higher than he expected, far higher than it should be, even in a reasonably nice alehouse such as this. He didn’t quibble over the price though; all he wanted was to get out of there, into the open air. It felt as though he was suffocating.

C h a p t e r   5 5

THE DUKE’S BODYGUARD

S
oren sat in the antechamber to dal Dragonet’s office at the Palace. The walls were paper-thin though, and sitting next to it, he could hear the conversation on the other side.

‘It’s been a month since the last shipment got through,’ said a voice.

‘And what are our reserves like?’ said another, which Soren thought to be dal Dragonets.

‘Fine for now, my Lord, but we are entirely reliant on the supplies coming down river. Not a single grain ship has come into the Ostsea since before the feast of Eilet. The merchant’s are well aware of this, and already the price for basic foodstuffs has gone up fourfold. Needless to say there has been a knock on effect on the sentiment of the populace!’

‘Not what we need right now,’ said dal Dragonet. ‘Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will discuss it with the Duke immediately. For now, start to release grain from our reserves to keep prices from going any higher. I want to be kept updated on how the situation progresses.’

The official making the report came out of the office and dal Dragonet’s secretary went in.

‘Banneret Soren is here for you, my Lord.’

‘Thank you. Send word for Admiral dal Assegar to attend on me at the soonest possible time. Show the Banneret in,’ said dal Dragonet.

Soren walked into the office. Dal Dragonet did not even look up from the pile of papers he was going through. The burden of work on the man had increased enormously in recent days, and the strain was beginning to show on him.

‘There is a demonstration in Crossways Square. It’s been going on since daybreak and shows no sign of abating. We have decided that it will be necessary for the Duke to address the crowd himself. Banneret dal Gawan is away attending to family matters, so I’m putting you in charge of the bodyguard for the day. Are you willing to take on the responsibility?’

It was an opportunity that was not likely to come a second time, so Soren accepted.

There was some urgency to their task, and the Duke’s departure had been delayed as long as possible to allow for adequate security to be put in place. As it was there had not been time to recall any of the members of the New Guard who were off duty and about the city somewhere. Including dal Dragonet, there would be six of them to protect the Duke. They were going on horse back, as the Duke wanted to be able to get to the steps of the Cathedral without drawing undue attention, and to make his address from there.

They rode out, cloaked and unidentifiable, at a brisk pace through Highgarden, slowing only when they crossed the river and entered the narrower and more crowded streets of the centre of the city. There was little to arouse Soren’s suspicion, and they arrived at the square with nothing to cause him concern. What they found when they got there was a different matter however. A man was already addressing the gathered protestors, who were silent and attentive. There was something eerie about them, so many people so completely silent. The man had a firm hold on them. It was Amero.

They carefully drew closer to hear what he was saying. The Duke decided not to press on in and make his appearance, but rather wait a little longer to gauge the sentiment. When dealing with large and angry crowds, care was always appropriate.

By the time he had finished speaking, the crowd seemed calmed and slowly began to disperse. On the face of it, every thing Amero said seemed to be in support of the Duke, but there was an underlying tone to it hinting that the Duke was weak and not capable of dealing with times of difficulty, but that it was not really his fault, he was simply not up to the job. As they rode away from the square, the Duke said one thing to dal Dragonet.

‘That man is dangerous.’

They began their return journey to the Palace the same way they had come, a slightly longer route north out of the square and then west to the river, so they could avoid having to pass directly through the square and risk recognition. There had been too much vitriol in the mob that day to make it worthwhile for the Duke to take the chance. It was a bad state of affairs when the leader of a city could not pass through it as he chose without fear of assault.

As they rode back, Soren tried to be aware of everything that was going on around him. There was something nagging at him though, in the back of his mind. There had been a man in the crowd who he had seen looking at them one too many times for it to be coincidence. Perhaps it was nothing.

As they passed through a narrow street with high, balconied buildings lining either side, he heard a dull grunt from one of the other men in the New Guard. He turned to see the man looking down at his chest. The thick stubby shaft of a crossbow bolt stuck from the centre of it. He took hold of it with one hand as though he was going to try to pull it out. His face held an expression of incredulity as blood began to bubble from the corners of his mouth. He reached graspingly for the hilt of his sword with his other hand in an automatic but futile response to danger, before toppling off his horse.

It had taken a fraction of a second for what was happening to register with Soren.

‘Ambush!’ he yelled at the top of his voice, while he drew his sword. He took a deep breath and focussed on the energy. Everything flashed blue for an instant, the glow disappearing as soon as he directed his thoughts elsewhere. The world around him slowed perceptibly.

There were bowmen on two of the balconies above them. One was reloading while the other had just loosed a bolt. Soren watched as it flew through the air, its tip and tail oscillating while its centre remained still. It was on a direct trajectory toward the Duke, appearing to Soren as though it was trying to force its way through a viscous liquid rather than air. It drew ever closer as all around him was chaos. The Duke had seen it too; his face was frozen with resigned terror. Soren reached out with his sword, and with an upward flick of his wrist he lopped the steel tip off the bolt, and with the following downward flick, he batted it to the ground with the flat of the blade. The look of terror on the Duke’s face was replaced with one of astonishment.

The others had gathered their wits quickly. They were professionals and the surprise of the attack would not affect them for long. They had returned fire with their own small bows and already one of the two attacking crossbowmen had been brought down. There were also men coming at them from the front and behind at street level, and the New Guard were wading into them with their horses. Two of them had also closed in around the Duke to protect him.

Comfortable in the knowledge that the other bodyguards were handling things, Soren took a second to survey the situation. As soon as the surprise had subsided, the real threat had passed. Now it was nothing more than a mop up. He backed his horse up to bring himself closer to the Duke. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a man in a black hooded cloak at the end of the street. By the time he looked directly, the man was gone. He had an uncomfortable sense of recognition in his stomach. He was sure that it had been Emeric.

Soren was finding himself at dal Dragonet’s office more and more frequently. He was not particularly bothered by the fact, thus far it had usually signalled good news. The aide led him into the office as usual and dal Dragonet gestured for him to sit down. He looked agitated as he set a sheaf of papers down on the side of his desk.

‘I’m moving you from the New Guard,’ he said.

Soren’s mouth opened in surprise but before he could speak, dal Dragonet continued.

‘After the attack the other day, the Duke has requested that you be made his personal bodyguard. I agree with his reasoning, so you will be moved to that detail immediately. It’s clear now that the threat we perceived to the Duke wasn’t a paranoid fantasy. Be vigilant. Where the Duke goes, you go. His life is your responsibility now, and I needn’t warn you of the consequences should we fail. You will need to know something else now also. We received word that the Ruripathians crossed the border in force last week and invested Northmarch castle. Part of their army went right past it and marched straight into Baelin. Word of this hasn’t reached the populace yet, but the news will be no more than a day or two behind our messengers. We have mobilised the army, and called up the reserves. The Duke needs to be ready to declare war and march as soon as word reaches the people on the street. His position is tenuous. A coup is as likely right now as another assassination attempt. Our enemies are within as well as without.’