THE OFFICE OF THE ROYAL GUARD WAS HOT AND STUFFY. It was located at one end of the palace, near the stables and the barracks, so Terry had to cross both the exercise yard and the stable yard to get to it. A fire burned in the stove, a pot of coffee boiled on top of it, and the Captain of the Guard looked as though he had spent a sleepless night, which he had. He sat at a small conference table, with his elbows on the top and his chin supported by his hands, poring over a large map of the kingdom. He had taken a stick of charcoal and marked the map in a grid pattern. Pins with colored flags and initials represented each knight. Terry looked them over. If the pins were located accurately, the bulk of Medulla’s knighthood was spreading out in a wide arc that would cover the western third of the kingdom. The Captain looked up with bleary eyes.
“About time you showed up,” was all he said, without taking his head out of his hands.
“I was on duty,” said Terry mildly. “I had to wait until His Majesty dismissed me.”
“Mmmmm,” said the Captain. He selected a pin, pasted a little triangle of paper to the blunt end, and wrote Terry’s initials on the paper with a ragged quill. “The most likely routes have been taken, I’m afraid.” He slid the pin over to Terry. “We got everyone off and on their way this morning. Horses, tack, supplies, squires—it took a bit of doing, but they all left at first light. If you want in on this, pick any empty square.”
“I need a moment to think about it,” said Terry. He poured a cup for himself, and pretended to study the map some more. “You’re all pretty certain they went west, eh?”
“Get me some more of that coffee, if you please. Yes, no doubt about it. Three separate witnesses saw her carried off. A young girl, an old woman, and a farm laborer. Rarely do we get such good agreement on stories. Brigands, five of them, with horses, and they went west.”
“West makes sense.” The western border of Medulla was well-known as bandit country. “Where there’s a border, there’s smugglers. Where there’s travelers, there’s bandits.”
“Right. Broken terrain, heavy thorn brush, hills, caves, streams, and those damned ravines cutting every which way. You can’t ride in a straight line for a mile. That will be a problem. We’ll be flushing all sort of thieves and road agents out of there. It just makes it harder to find the ones we actually want.”
“I’ve got a few ideas of my own,” said Terry. “I’d like to talk to the witnesses, if I might.” And make sure they stick to their stories, he added to himself.
“You can’t. They all went home. Turned out that none of them were locals. They left after we interviewed them.”
Ah. Good thinking on Gloria’s part. “Right. I should have expected that. It’s the visitors to Sulcus who want to see the Royal Park.”
“Damnedest thing, though. The girl and the woman were right near the park. The farmer was on the edge of town, on his way home. But no one in the outlying towns saw them. They seem to have vanished right outside the city.”
“Bandits are good at that. Captain, I’m not sure we should concentrate all our search in one direction. I’m thinking we should spread out a bit, consider all the possible avenues of escape. I should try another route.”
“So long as you don’t waste your time in the north country.”
“Um,” said Terry. Gloria’s note suddenly seemed to weigh heavier in his pocket. “The north country? Why not the north country? It’s isolated. Sure, it’s a long shot, but maybe someone should check it out.”
“Waste of time. No bandits there. There have never been bandits there. The Old Man of the Mountains scares them off. That why I sent the Westfield kid there.”
Terry had a momentary feeling of falling, the feeling you get when your horse steps into a hole and almost goes down, but then recovers. The Captain was too tired to notice his brief change of expression. “Roland Westfield?”
“Yep. Turns out he and the Princess just got engaged. Pretty bad timing, I daresay. His family bought him a brand-new fiancée and right away she disappears. Now he’s financing his own search. Came over here last night trying to hire a knight to accompany him.”
“Really?”
“The last thing we need is some dilettante riding out and getting himself killed over this. So I told him all the clues pointed north. It will get him safely out of the way. As long as he doesn’t do something to piss off the old sorcerer, he won’t get in any trouble.”
“Couldn’t you just order him to stay in town?”
“Not him. His people are too rich and well-connected.”
“Right.” Terry paced back and forth a little, thinking. He returned to the table and scrutinized the map, but he really did this so the Captain couldn’t see his face. “Yes, good thinking. Send him north. Sparsely settled, with only a few roads through the mountains. With the harvest over, there’s nothing going on at this time of year. It will keep him distracted for a few weeks, and then I expect he’ll get bored. Still…” He paused thoughtfully. “You say he was looking to hire a partner?”
The Captain set down his cup and shook his head. He pushed back his chair so he could look Terry up and down. “Good Lord, Terry. You’re always looking to turn a coin, aren’t you? Well, can’t say as I blame you, trying to keep a place in the city these days. But you’re making a mistake in this case. You’ll be missing out, my boy. The knight who rescues the Princess will be showered with glory. I wish I could ride out myself. Have you ever met Roland Westfield?”
“I have not. It’s true I care little for glory, Captain.” Terry waited to see if the Captain would object to that. When he did not, Terry continued, “But it will reflect badly on all of us if the scion of a wealthy family gets himself killed. You know how irresponsible these rich kids are. He might change his mind and ride off in a different direction. And if he can’t find a real knight to go with him, he’s likely to hire some thug who will lure him into a dark glen, rob him, and leave his body in a ditch. At the very least, I should see what his plans are.”
The Captain tried to think about this, then decided his brain was too fogged to argue. He shrugged. “Your choice, Terry. Here.” He reached for his quill and the inkpot. “I’ll write a letter of recommendation for you.” Terry waited while he scrawled a reference across a sheet of foolscap, folded it, dripped it with sealing wax, and stamped it. “Here, take this. You can find him at that little bakery on Élan Street. And don’t blame me if you end up guarding his clothes for him.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Terry took the letter and slipped it into a jacket pocket, on the opposite side from Gloria’s list of instructions. “I’ll let you know what I decide.” He sauntered out the door, hesitating outside until he saw the Captain bend his head over his maps and papers once again. He glanced casually around to see if anyone was watching him. Then he took off for the bakery at a dead run.