Chapter 22

The southern edge of Denaria slipped past, a dark mass against the dark sky. Overcast, with a slight drizzle, the weather was ideal for travel without notice, and McAllister was pleased.

"McAllister, there are ships arranged before the harbor," Kira told him wordlessly. "I shall go investigate."

"'Do try not to drift off'," McAllister jested under his breath, as the fishing tub slowed to drift. Ahead, under the gray mist, it was just possible to sense the shoreline. Seeing a hull against the darkness at this distance was impossible.

"How does she know they are there?" Nasic asked, plainly curious, after McAllister relayed the dragon's words to the other men.

"She's in her element," McAllister said, simply.

"What is the word," she said, "where one group of men with ships tries to keep another group of men from leaving or entering a harbor?"

"Blockade," McAllister said aloud, then, "Would you find us a small sheltered cove, not too far from the city, but far enough to not be overheard?"

Ten minutes later, McAllister stood before Carus and the two Legionaries, the men huddled close examining in the dim light the map McAllister traced nearly a hundred and twenty days before. Kira quickly dried and dressed, and when she pulled on the boots McAllister had Aditya find for her, he folded the map.

Carus' eyes narrowed at the abrupt end to the planning, as he came to the realization McAllister had distracted the men while Kira dressed. The frown quickly disappeared, however, when McAllister set off down the road to Marcelon.

"Hold," McAllister whispered at one point as they drew nearer the city wall, recognizing the plumes of warm breath from sentries ahead against the dark. "There's soldiery encamped there," and indicated the northern side of the road as they approached the city from the east.

"I see nothing?" Carus inquired. Both legionaries seemed nervous.

"There's likely a watch on the gate, to prevent traffic or goods reaching the city," McAllister answered, shortly.

"But not a certainty," Carus replied. "I still see no soldiery."

McAllister nodded. "As you wish. I will advance no further along this road," and led Kira off the road into the trees on the southern, shore-side of the road.

Behind him, Emile and Nasic turned to follow. On the road, Carus threw up his hands, and followed the two Legionaries.

"There should be a smuggler's way over the wall," McAllister told Kira wordlessly. "Search for boughs overgrowing the wall, or a tree with a hollow base marking a tunnel."

Kira conveyed her amusement at the foibles of the human race, but agreed. "There," Kira said, and McAllister observed the maple, a large, sturdy bough well-placed to drop a man on the wall.

"Who'd you be?" was matched with the point of a cold blade in his armpit, as McAllister reached up to guide Kira's feet to the walkway on the inside of the wall.

"I am McAllister," he replied, the cold steel not slowing him at all, as he lowered Kira with his left arm. "You'll need to step back, so the others may join us," he told the sword-holder.

"How do I know you mean no harm?" The guardsman seemed willing enough to listen.

"I once drove a farmer's wagon, filled with turnips through yon gate," McAllister gestured with his free hand, "and Madelle received an apology from your Captain over it."

"Aye, I remember." The guard nodded toward the wall. "That stinking lot out there means to put a duke of their choosing in our city, and a man can't be too careful about who he lets over his walls in the dark now, can he?"

McAllister gave a smile at the man's apology. "Thank you," he said, quietly. "I'll find my way to the Lady's audience-chamber. Where's the way off the wall?"

Grinning, the guardsman pointed. "Well for you that you said 'audience-chamber'," he said, "it's said she can freeze men with a look, and read their souls, fit to shrivel the stoutest..."

Kira gave a slight cough, then, and the guardsman fell silent, as he took in her blonde hair and smooth face in the dim moonlight filtered through cloud.

Carus wished the man a pleasant evening.

"Languages change," McAllister told the three men as they walked, the sky beginning to turn a sullen gray to the east behind them. "Your word structure and order, your turns of phrase, even your pronunciation of some words and the word you choose sound impossibly quaint and archaic to these men, and only the more-educated among them will understand you easily."

Ahead of McAllister, a group of young laborers gathered dispiritedly, ready to walk down to the port, where there would be no work again today. "The guard on the wall didn't understand your farewell," McAllister told Carus, who listened to McAllister with curiosity. "Watch."

"Hail," McAllister greeted the gathering, "How long has the port been blockaded now?"

"Three weeks," one youth answered, glumly. McAllister's attention focused on him briefly, and then met Kira's eye. "You ask," said McAllister to Carus, who was also looking at the youth strangely.

"Who funds the blockade?" Carus asked the youth, and McAllister nodded to hear the phrasing rendered.

The young men frowned, but the one who answered McAllister answered Carus now. "'Tis said it's the Duke of Savonne." Then, emboldened by the closeness of his friends and McAllister's apparent good nature, "Where'd you come from that you don't know this?"

Carus shot McAllister an exasperated look of defeat, and then turned back to the youth. "I hail from Saint-Raphael," he said, "and the language we use is, perhaps, stilted and formal. What do the men say of the blockade? Will it be lifted soon, when Savonne achieves his aim?"

"They say Savonne aims to annex our duchy, and sell half to finance his other wars," the youth responded, sourly, and the other young men gathered gave echo with expressions of frustration and defiance.

"Well, gentlemen, we must bid you good day," McAllister said to the others, and then to the first youth, "Come, walk with us for a moment." McAllister saw Kira moved to stand near the young man who answered Carus.

The youth responded to the gentle nudge Kira gave him, falling in step easily with McAllister and Carus, bracketed by the two Legionaries and Kira.

McAllister let his awareness of the small group walking down the street, and the street itself slip away. Dimly, he heard Carus questioning the youth about the city government's reaction to the blockade. McAllister tried to remember a sensation, a pretty woman laughing at a well, then hasty councils with her sister...

"Lelainde," he said, silently.

"Who? Oh! McAllister!"

"Lelainde, meet me at the Council House, bring a deacon if you please."

"I am in Council with Madelle, and almost all the deaconry are present."

"Very well, you may tell them to expect me within the half-hour." McAllister shook his head for the sheer elation the woman sent at her realization of who 'bespoke' her silently.

"And what is your name, lad?" Carus asked the youth.

"Navar," the young man answered, and McAllister nodded.

"I am reluctant to kill those who gave their names to me in openness and friendship," McAllister remarked to Kira, in the silent manner as they walked up the street.

"This is something I do not understand, McAllister," she made her reply.

"Do you feel something about our young friend?" McAllister asked.

Kira nodded as she walked.

"It's the taint of Hell upon his soul," McAllister said, when Kira would make no comment. "He's sworn to try to kill me," he continued. After a moment, McAllister relented. "I would rather not kill him, but see if he can be redeemed."

Kira gave McAllister a look of profound love, though she continued walking, leaving McAllister to wonder anew at the nature of affection.

"McAllister, Donal has immediate concerns about one of your company," Lelainde said, silently, as she embraced McAllister, the bulge of her pregnancy just noticeable through the heavy brocade she wore. McAllister regarded the man over her shoulder, and recognized the Captain of the city Guard.

"Lady," Lelainde curtsied to Kira, her surprise at meeting Kira evident.

"Lady," Kira answered aloud in her turn, and inclined her head to Lelainde. "I have the advantage of some years over you, it is true, though I am another of those who follow McAllister."

"We will have time to talk soon," Lelainde promised then, and gave way to Madelle, who embraced McAllister and Kira in turn.

"It never ceases to amaze me," Kira remarked, offhandedly, to McAllister in the silent way, "that none of these women are jealous or in competition for your affection."

McAllister nodded. "Thank the Mother," he said dryly, in the same unheard manner, causing Kira to stifle a sound of amusement.

"Let Donal know I'm aware of it, but to be ready for bloodshed should things go ill," McAllister instructed Lelainde. Behind him, Navar was goggling at the assemblage of the city's elite McAllister had brought him before, doing his best to be unobtrusive.

"McAllister, your arrival is timely," Madelle said, "Milord neighbor, the Duke of Savonne is blockading my port, and encamped on my southern border. He pretends to have a claim on the ducal seat yonder," and she indicated the Ducal Palace across the courtyard where Sable once stood.

"Where is Savonne, the man?" McAllister asked.

Madelle gave him a curious look. "We have report of him on our southern border," she answered levelly.

"Would you dispatch a rider and invite him to parley?" McAllister asked. "Offer him an allowance of the hundred camped outside your East gate as an honor guard, that should help matters along."

Madelle nodded. "And for yourself?"

"What's the law on duels?" McAllister asked, as if nothing whatsoever weighed on the outcome.

"You mean to challenge him to single combat?" Madelle was aghast. "McAllister, what if..." she trailed off, then, glancing at the man by Lelainde's side, and then at the youth Navar.

"I have no desire to be ... elsewhere," McAllister answered her, aloud, and then, after removing his pack, withdrew the horn he carried since Etarusca. "This should recall me," he said, as he offered it to her, her eyes round, "though I have no plans to need it," he finished.

Lelainde broke the silence with a laugh and a toothy expression. "And after you send him to Hell?" she asked, merrily.

"You'll need to decide what sort of a state you'll run, Madelle," McAllister answered. "I have what I need to break and rebuild the Mother's church. Will you have a Papist state? One where the head of the Church rules, beneficially? Perhaps you'll preserve the aristocracy, and take the ducal seat, Madelle? Or, you could have a conglomeration of city-states, such as the Frisians or Dutch, or even a republic, such as the Americas, back on the world from which I came? For unless things go badly wrong, you have until Savonne arrives to decide."

"I have the thought that I'll have both the Church and the state. Though the one is not the other, and the Mother shall guide the one and rule the other, but the two are not one."

McAllister smiled at her. "You could do both, but you must make neither office hereditary," and Madelle nodded.

"This thought was in my head, also," she said, "and I had hoped to converse with you."

"Where I came from, the Continent had been torn by war for three hundred years," McAllister told her, "many of those wars over religion. Nations can become very tired of war. I think this isn't an unwise choice."

Donal still stared at Navar, as unfriendly an expression as McAllister had ever seen. "Easy, Donal. We'll speak about Master Navar now."

The youth Navar, who had observed the exchange between McAllister and Madelle wide-eyed, abruptly swallowed, convulsively. "Wh..." he tried, then again, "What do you mean?"

"How long since you swore personal fealty to someone you hardly knew?" McAllister asked. "The taint I feel within you is light, a bare trace of what it could become within a man. Who did you swear to, and why?"

Navar looked as if he would bolt, but two of the other deacons in the room blocked the exit from the Council Hall. McAllister slowly drew his blade, the rasping of the steel on brass raising hairs on every neck in the room.