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HUD
Ihad to admit, the capital city was pretty damn nice. Too bad I was on about four hours of sleep.
“What’s this place called again?” Ajax asked from his seat in the back of the SUV as I drove down the cobblestone streets of the old part of town. The vehicle bumped and jerked over the stones, giving me a headache that didn’t make my fatigue any more fun to deal with.
Kid, his dark hair hanging down over his eyes, perked up from the passenger’s seat. He was so damn tall that he had to tilt his head to the side so he could fit.
“It’s called Rouge Bois,” he said. “Means Red Woods. In the fall this place is supposed to have amazing colors that give the town its name. Right now, we’re heading into Rochefort, which is the oldest part of the city. That means Rock Fort, which you can see by the old walls dating back to the early medieval period.”
I laughed. “You know, Kid, if you ever get tired of the mercenary life, I’m sure you’d make a fine tour guide.”
The rest of the boys in the SUV laughed along with me.
Kid shot me a hard look, a small smile forming after that. We gave him his nickname because he was the youngest member of the group, and because his towering height made him look like anything but a child. He took it in stride; any fighting man or woman would know that a little trial by fire was how you became part of the group. Besides, Kid had proven himself in battle enough times with all of us that there was no doubt about his fighting abilities.
“Hey,” Kid said. “Sue me if I’m the only one who likes to actually do some research about where we’re going.Des idiots.”
“What’s that word?” Ajax asked. “The one for someone who knows how to speak a whole mess of languages?”
“Polyglot,” Kid said.
He was a brainy kid too, speaking English, Russian, and French.
“Polyglot,” Ajax repeated, a thoughtful look forming on his face. “You know, that sounds kind of like something growing on your ass that your dermatologist would have to slice off.”
More laughs from the group, including Kid.
“Screw off, Irish,” he said. Ajax was more “Boston Irish” than full-on Irish, but that was more than enough for wisecracks.
We drove along, making our way to the massive, ivory-white palace in the middle of the city, the mountains rising up all around Rouge Bois. Between the townhomes and the cobblestone streets and the cafes, the city was like something out of a damn Disney movie. The skyscrapers in the business district, off in the far distance, were a reminder that Candara wasn’t just some quaint country out of another time—it was a tiny financial powerhouse. People here lived well, and they had their king to thank for it.
We reached the rock walls that Kid had been speaking about, the fortifications still looking strong enough to repel an army, despite their thousand-year age. A very modern electronic gate was built into them, a pair of guards in the Candara royal uniforms of white and gold standing on either side. Beyond the gate there was a two-story barracks with a whole mess of armed soldiers, ready for anyone who might start trouble.
“I know this is a royal palace and all,” Pyke said, his voice low and gruff as ever. “But these guys don’t look like they’re messing around.”
“Might be the security issue. The whole nation’s military could be on high alert,” Ajax offered.
Pyke snorted. “Yeah, all five-hundred of ‘em.”
One of them approached the driver’s side door, giving me the universal symbol to roll down the window. I did. He said something in French that I didn’t understand a word of.
“What?” I replied. “Sorry, lad, English only.”
He cocked his head to the side, no doubt unsure of what I said.
“You know, Hud,” Kid began. “Pretty sure that English with a Scottish accent is as close as you can get to another language without actually being one.”
“Aye…” I gave him a punch to the arm.
Kit leaned forward, saying something in French.
“Ah, very good,” the guard said in a heavily accented voice. Whatever Kid had told him must’ve been about switching to English. “You are to drive to the front of the palace. There, you will be escorted to your royal meeting.”
“Royal meeting?” I asked. “Who’re we meeting with, exactly?”
“I do not know,” the guard said. “Please,continuez.” He pointed ahead, and that was the end of the conversation.
