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“But that knowledge still does not set my mind at ease. Something is wrong. I’m telling you, now, my warning, even though I admit that I don’t know the cause of my concern. You have but to search my mind for yourself and you will see I’m speaking the truth.”
Jennsen had no idea what the Sister meant, but after staring at her for a moment, Jagang visibly cooled. He grunted dismissively as he looked back toward the palace. “I think you’re just nervous after a long idle winter, Sister. As you said, you know their tactics and tricks with magic, so if it was something real, you and your Sisters would know it and know the cause.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Sister Perdita pressed. She cast a quick, troubled glance at the Wizard’s Keep up on the mountain. “Excellency, we know a great deal about magic. But the Keep is thousands of years old. Being from the Old World, that place is outside my experience. I know next to nothing about the specific kinds of magic which are likely to be kept in that place, except that whatever magic is kept there will be dangerous in the extreme. That is one purpose of a Keep—to safeguard such things.”
“That’s why I want the Keep taken,” Jagang shot back. “Those dangerous things must not be left in the enemy’s hands to later deal us murder.”
With her fingertips, Sister Perdita patiently rubbed the creases in her brow. “The Keep is strongly warded. I can’t tell how; the wards were set by wizards, not sorceresses. Such wards could easily have been left untended—no one needs stand guard. Such wards can be triggered by simple trespass—much as with any trap without magic. Such wards can be cautionary, but, just as likely, they can be deadly. Even if the place is deserted, those wards could easily kill anyone—anyone—who so much as tries to get close, much less take the place. Such defensive measures are timeless; they do not wear away. They are just as effective whether they’ve been there for a month or a millennia. The attempt to take a place so warded could deal us the murder we are trying to avoid.”
Jagang nodded as he listened. “We still must untangle those wards so we can gain the Keep.”
Sister Perdita glanced over her shoulder at the dark stone Keep far up on the mountainside before she spoke. “Excellency, as I have often tried to explain, our degree of ability and aggregate power doesn’t mean we can untangle or defeat those wards. Such a thing is not directly relational. A bear, strong as he is, can’t open a lock on a strongbox. Strength isn’t necessarily the key to such things. I’m telling you that I don’t like this, that something is wrong.”
“You have told me only that you are afraid. Of all those with magic, the Sisters are exceptionally well armed. That is the reason you’re here.” Jagang leaned toward the woman, his patience appearing to be at an end. “I expect the Sisters to stop any threat from magic. Must I make it any more clear?”
Sister Perdita paled. “No, Excellency.” After a bow from her saddle, she pulled her horse around to rejoin her Sisters.
“Sister Perdita,” Jagang called after her. He waited until she turned back. “As I’ve told you before, we must gain the Wizard’s Keep. I don’t care how many of you it takes, only that it gets done.”
As she returned to her Sisters to discuss the matter, Jagang, along with everyone else, caught sight of a lone rider racing toward them from the city. Something about the look on the man’s face had everyone checking their weapons. They all waited in tense silence until his horse skidded to a stop before the emperor. The man was drenched in sweat and his narrow-set eyes were wide with excitement, but he kept his voice under control.
“Excellency, I saw no one—no one—in the city. But I smelled horses.”
Jennsen saw apprehension etched on the faces of the officers at this further confirmation of their disbelief of the preposterous notion that the city was deserted. The Order had driven the enemy forces to Aydindril as winter had descended, trapping not only the army but the people of the city as well. How a place this large could be evacuated—in the dead of winter—was beyond their imagination. Yet no one seemed willing to voice that conviction too strongly to the emperor as he stared out upon an empty city.
“Horses?” Jagang frowned. “Maybe it was a stable.”
“No, Excellency. I could not find them, nor hear them, but I could smell them. It was not the smell of a stable, but horses. There are horses there.”
“Then the enemy is here, just as we thought” one of the officers said to Jagang. “They’re hiding, but they’re here.”
Jagang said nothing as he waited for the man to go on.
“Excellency, there is more,” the burly soldier said, nearly bursting with excitement. “As I searched, I could not find the horses anywhere, so I decided to return for more men to help ferret out the cowardly enemy.
“As I was returning, I saw someone in a window of the palace.”
Jagang’s gaze abruptly turned to the man. “What?”
The soldier pointed. “In the white palace, Excellency. As I rode out from behind a wall at the edge of the city, before the palace grounds, I saw someone on the second floor move away from a window.”
With an angry yank on the reins, Jagang checked his stallion’s impatient sidesteps. “Are you sure?”
The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, Excellency. The windows there are tall. On my life, just as I came out from behind the wall and looked up, someone saw me and moved back from a window.”
The emperor peered intently up the road lined with maple trees, toward the palace, as he considered this new development.
“Man or woman?” Sebastian asked.
The rider paused to wipe sweat from his eyes and to swallow in an effort to catch his breath. “It was the briefest look, but I believe it was a woman.”
Jagang turned his dark glare on the man. “Was it her?”
The maple branches clattered together in the gusts as all eyes watched the man.
“Excellency, I could not tell for certain. It might have been a reflection of the light on the window, but in that brief look, I thought I saw that she was wearing a long white dress.”
The Mother Confessor wore a white dress. Jennsen thought it was pretty far-fetched to believe it could be a coincidence that there would be a reflection on the glass right as a person moved away from the window, a reflection that made it look like t
hey were wearing the white dress of the Mother Confessor.
Yet, it made no sense to Jennsen, Why would the Mother Confessor be alone in her palace? Making a last stand was one thing. Making it alone was quite another. Could it be, as the man suggested, that the enemy was cowardly and hiding?
Sebastian idly tapped a finger against his thigh. “I wonder what they’re up to.”
Jagang drew his sword. “I guess we’ll find out.” He looked, then, at Jennsen. “Keep that knife of yours handy, girl. This may be the day you’ve been praying for.”
“But Excellency, how could it possibly—”
The emperor stood in his stirrups and flashed a wicked grin back to his cavalry. He circled his sword high in the air.
The coiled spring was unleashed.
With a deafening roar, forty thousand men loosed a pent-up battle cry as they charged away. Jennsen gasped and held on to Rusty for dear life as the horse leaped into a gallop ahead of the cavalry racing toward the palace.
Chapter 47
Nearly out of breath, Jennsen bent forward over Rusty, stretching her arms out to each side of the horse’s neck to give her all the reins she needed as they charged at a full gallop out of the fringes of the countryside toward the sprawling city of Aydindril. The roar of forty thousand men yelling battle cries along with the thundering hooves was as frightening as it was deafening.
Yet, the rush of it all, the heart-pounding sensation of wild abandon, was also intoxicating. Not that she didn’t grasp the enormity, the horror, of what was happening, but some small part of her couldn’t help being swept up with the intense emotion of being a part of it all.
Fierce men with blood lust in their eyes fanned out to the sides as they raced ahead. The air seemed alive with light flashing off all the swords and axes held high, the sharpened points of lances and pikes piercing the muted morning air. The scintillating sights, the swell of sounds, the swirling passions, all filled Jennsen with the hunger to draw her knife, but she didn’t; she knew the time would come.
