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“I see. Thank you.” Kosenmark signaled to Stadler. “Please escort our guest to quarters until we can confirm the details.”
Stadler took hold of the man’s arm, but the man pulled away. “You will remember your promises?” he said to Kosenmark.
“You have my word.”
The answer seemed to satisfy, because the stranger gave a curt nod and followed Stadler from the room without any further argument. Once the door closed, Kosenmark rested his head on his hands. “I leave tomorrow,” he said. “Two days at the latest.”
“But my lord, I-I—”
Gerek swallowed the spasm in his throat. Kosenmark kindly did not pay attention to him. “Our friend’s report is not entirely unexpected. I’ve heard rumors that the king’s mage is too ill to leave Fortezzien, and deprived of its usual ruler, the court in Duenne is in disarray. The two might be connected or not. I dislike making assumptions about anything connected to Markus Khandarr. However,” he said, “the matter of the King’s Mage and his health are not our immediate concern. The news this young man brings from Fortezzien is. There are a dozen usual channels a trusted friend might use to contact us. Over the last half year, several have proved unreliable. I suspect that Markus Khandarr has bought their loyalty. In spite of his recent indisposition.” In a softer voice, he added, “They were always more devoted to profit than any particular cause. I cannot blame them, considering past events.”
Meaning Dedrick’s death, along with Lothar Faulk and other trusted associates.
“If anyone inquires after me,” Kosenmark went on, “tell them I am grieving for an old friend’s unexpected death. That should please Markus, once he revives enough to inquire. And I know he will. Have Mistress Denk ke
ep the house open to our oldest clients, but no one else and absolutely no festivities. Meanwhile, I want you to find a ship built for deep sailing. Buy it or lease it, I do not care. Hire a crew. Found it with provisions for a six-month cruise. But do not allow anyone to make a connection between that ship and my name. Use that list of special agents I gave you. I believe I can trust them still…”
It was like those first days, when Kosenmark spoke on without pause about all manner of arcane subjects, while Gerek mentally scurried to keep up. If Gerek had not watched Kosenmark over the past few days—had not noted the sudden deeper reserve, the broken-off invitations, the hours spent alone in his rooms—he would have said that Kosenmark knew about Zhalina’s message even before the stranger brought it.
He did not know. He thought her dead. Murdered.
And this flow of words was a burst of relief that he could at last stop the endless wait and act.
So Gerek listened and burned these instructions upon his memory. Not once did he ask, Where are you going with this ship? Because he knew without asking that even Raul Kosenmark could not know the answer.
* * *
THE JOURNEY TO the Gallenz River lasted over twenty days, far longer than Ilse and Galena had first predicted. They had agreed to act as though Markus Khandarr would send patrols after them, and so they kept well away from the coast and any tracks or trails inland. Instead they struggled through thick pine forests among the hills, and slogged through grassy bogs in the dells, sweating in the close heat.
This morning, they marched in single file through a grove of aspen. Rain had fallen in sheets over the past few days. Their clothes were drenched, their makeshift packs soaked through and heavy. Now the sun shone hot and unforgiving through the trees; steam rose from the damp forest mast. Ilse lifted her face to catch a few drops falling from the leaf canopy and caught a glimpse of Valara’s amused expression.
The expression quickly vanished. Once more hers was the bland, blank courtier’s face of the past weeks. Ilse wiped the raindrops from her face, tasted their clean woody flavor, and continued marching. Ahead, Galena had not even paused. She strode through the wet, a rough-cut staff in one hand to switch away the underbrush.
Three weeks together and we are still strangers.
Oh she was glad for Galena’s presence. It was because of Galena they had enough to eat. Galena knew about building shelters, coaxing fire from damp wood, and how best to disguise their tracks without using magic. She didn’t even complain when Ilse explained that avoiding magic meant a longer delay before Valara could remove the mark from Galena’s cheek.
Even so, Ilse did not miss the many signs of her distress. Galena in Osterling would chatter and laugh, even if the chatter was too quick, and the laughter sometimes brittle. The Galena of the wilderness was a quiet young woman, and when she spoke, it was only about necessities. Galena in the wilderness frequently glanced southward, her lips pressed together.
I wish Lord Joannis had listened to me, Ilse thought. If he had, Galena would be in Osterling still, a very junior soldier in Veraene’s army. She would have a black mark against her name in her records, but with the promise of a better future.
And yet, if Nicol Joannis had listened, Galena would not have encountered a runaway prisoner in the night. And Khandarr would have recaptured Valara Baussay within a mile of Osterling, if not sooner. Ilse ran her hand over her face. If she were master of time and the world, would she undo the past three weeks? Would she set Galena back in her former life?
She knew the answer and did not like it.
Valara was another matter. Ever since her attempted escape, she had marched in steady silence. She obeyed Ilse’s orders, but she never volunteered to do more, nor had she attempted any conversation with either of her companions. She was not sullen or troublesome. She was, Ilse thought, resigned.
Galena’s pace slowed. She pointed with her staff toward a break in the trees. Ilse came up beside her and shaded her eyes. She could just make out a swath of blue sky and a darker horizon, low in the distance.
They had reached the Gallenz Valley at last.
Another hour brought them to the edge of the valley where they paused. To the north and west, the hills rolled up to the sky, and Ilse noted golden bands alternating with russet and green. Farmland, she remembered from her previous trek through the wilderness, years before. What interested her the most were several towns along the river. She thought she recognized the particular configuration of river bends and settlements, but she couldn’t be certain. And for this next step, they could not afford any doubt.
“Where next?” Valara asked.
“We stop for today,” Ilse said. “I want to review our map.”
Galena found them a campsite in a thicket of birch and thorn bushes, near a small stream swollen from the spring rains. Dinner consisted of an insufficient amount of dried rabbit seasoned with wild currants and handfuls of clover. Afterward, they boiled pot after pot of water and stripped to scrub themselves clean.
