Stephan awoke shortly after noon, the muted noise of the castle filtering in through the window. The first thing he saw as his mind cleared were the carved beams above his head. The next was Lacy. She sat slumped on a chair, mouth open, legs sprawled in front of her, catching some shuteye after a difficult, sleepless night.
That looks backbreaking.
Stephan slid out of his bed, minding not to step on the squeaky board. He dressed in a clean academy uniform Lacy must have prepared for him and realized he once more had no idea what to do. Dorian handled his schedule. And with all the commotion, he had no one to turn to.
He glanced at the door.
Lacy slept with her legs in front of the door so that anyone entering or leaving would wake her.
Stephan looked out the window; it wasn’t a hard jump to freedom, yet still felt lethal—Lacy would kill him if he snuck out on her.
“Lacy,” he gently shook her shoulder and spoke with the softest, most romantic voice he could muster. “You’re drooling.”
She awoke with a snort, and he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh, despite how grim his life was.
“I’m awake,” she said in that groggy morning tone of hers. “I just blinked.”
The statement was absurd; her bearing overladen with sleepiness.
“It’s all right; you can go to bed and sleep,” he said. “I probably have a bunch of things to catch up on.”
“Lunch first,” she insisted, her eyes bloodshot as she fought to rub the drowsiness out of them.
And so, Stephan ate at spearpoint; alone. Meanwhile, Lacy ran around, gathering some basic information from the guards and other servants, such as who was looking for Stephan, what for, and how urgent it seemed.
He was clearing out the meal of bread, stew, and roasted pork when Lacy returned.
“Captain Anita asked for your time. Apparently, the rest of the captains are busy.”
And so, half an hour after waking, Stephan sat in his study with Anita.
“Ernest, William, and Henry are doing rounds on the walls, standing firmly where everyone can see them and raising morale. Avery, Ralph, and Walter are manning the streets; again, not because they expect anything, but because the people need to see them.”
Would it make a difference to me, to see a Knight and his retinue patrolling in Brighthollow? He was surprised to realize it really would have made him feel better and safer.
“I should join them—”
“No, Sir, you’ve been doing it all night, and everyone’s already seen you. There are other tasks for you—”
“Do you think it was an attack on me?” Stephan blurted out what had been sitting on his chest ever since the idea struck him last night. “The warlock killed Dorian, the man who took care of all my needs, and he sent the other zombie into the kitchen, where Lacy spends a lot of her time. It seems too convenient to be a coincidence.”
To her credit, Anita considered the words before responding. “I don’t think he wanted to physically harm you, no. Which is strange, since assassinating you seems like it should be in the warlock’s best interest.”
She frowned; the situation was odd. “Perhaps he is hoping you will make mistakes because you’re young and lack experience? I don’t know. As for Dorian’s death, I think he was unlucky, standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, though I don’t know what possessed the man to clean gravestones at night.”
“I heard he’s been doing it every day after work,” Stephan said quietly.
“I know,” Anita said, “but he usually did it during the daylight hours. I’d expect people to be afraid of approaching graves after dark.”
Then they changed the topic and discussed the state of the city and castle for another half an hour before she left.
Not a minute passed before Silas entered, robes rustling softly as he took his seat.
“Captain Anita filled me in on just about everything that’s been happening since I went to sleep,” Stephan said instead of a greeting. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that this is a social visit or a lesson on spellcasting?”
“Channeling, Sir, channeling.” Silas didn’t seem annoyed as he corrected Stephan. “And I’m afraid I’m here to discuss official business with you. The graveyards have already been assigned a bare minimum of guards in case the warlock attacks them, but that’s stretching already thin resources thinner. With three watches and twenty-three burial sites across the city, that’s over two hundred men just to mind the graveyards, and there’s not enough of them to stop a higher level warlock if he is determined to barge in.”
We’re stationing skeleton squads to watch over graveyards, Stephan thought, not one bit amused.
“And I’m guessing the captains are pushing against this?” he said instead of joking.
“Yes, Sir. They said this is the job for the city watch, but Cliffort had never had that many watchmen. Our soldiers manned the walls and the gates, and the Sentinels that patrolled the streets are under pressure from all the refugees. They are busy settling disputes and breaking up fights. Lacking the numbers to handle the situation.”
“I blame the previous Lord Marshal,” Stephan smiled thinly. “He ran the city so well, he hardly needed guards, and here I am…”
“Sir,” Silas gave him a sharp look with those golden eyes of his, “I know you’re jesting, but you are performing admirably given your circumstances. Making a council and listening to their opinions is better than pretending you know it all and making blunder after blunder, which no small number of delusional lords do daily. You might feel stifled or frustrated, or like you’re not contributing, but sometimes, letting the professionals handle their duties is the greatest contribution a leader of men can make. So, please don’t lose hope.”
After meeting with Silas, Bradley of War and Hardy of Knowledge also came to pay their respects and present their reports, followed by a familiar face Stephan had nearly forgotten about.
“Her Majesty wishes to see you,” Rowan, Queen Eleanor’s bodyguard, came to deliver the invitation. The haggardness from his flight from the capital had vanished, leaving behind a solid man with wide shoulders, spear for a spine, and hard features.
Stephan stared at the man in confusion. He was so used to people coming to his study, he nearly asked why he had come instead of the Queen herself, when he realized Queen Eleanor outranked him. Even Marshal Harrington went to visit her at her quarters and didn’t bring her to his study.
“Let’s go.” The chair scraped against the floor as Stephan stood, then followed Rowan down the stairs and towards the Queen’s suite. A fresh smell of mint wafted to him when the bodyguard opened the door, and Stephan entered the chamber feeling refreshed.
“Sir Paladin,” the Queen greeted him after Rowan led him in. For a moment Stephan wanted to say something inappropriate, Lady Queen or Lorry, but he kept a formal air with the bodyguards around, and bowed.
“Your Majesty.”
“Leave us alone,” she told Rowan and Godric, who promptly left the room.
Stephan straightened.
“What did you wish to discuss, Your Majesty?” he asked, standing in what he hoped was a stiff and imposing stance.
“I guess you have already received the reports from around the city?”
Stephan was about to nod, but stopped himself. “Some.”
A faint smile touched the Queen’s lips, but never reached her eyes. It was a look of power and control.
She changed so much in these few weeks…
Stephan didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Have you heard about the plague rats?” she asked.
“Lord Hardy informed me of the warlock’s latest attempts to befoul our supplies.”
She tilted her head. “It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t it?”
Stephan stared at her in confusion.
What doesn’t make sense? That a warlock is trying to poison the city so he could raise the dead? It makes perfect sense to me.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Your Majesty.”
“Why is the warlock attempting to infiltrate all of the warehouses and granaries? Why is he making his presence known, advertising it as if by design? Like he’s shouting: Look at me, I’m trying this.” Her gaze fixed on Stephan’s eyes. “Why is he making botched attempts at poisoning every food store instead of focusing on one? Why not send dozens of rats from all sides instead of a few at the guarded entrances of dozens of locations around the city?”
Why not send dozens of rats to infest a single granary? Why spread out instead of overwhelming one?
Stephan could find no logical reason. If the warlock could plan something like raising the deceased Lord and Lady Harrington on the very night when Cliffort attacked the enemy, why couldn’t he force his way into a grain store?
“He wants us to know he’s here?” Stephan said, and the Queen’s smile touched her eyes this time.
“Oh, I think it’s much more than that,” she said. “He wants the enemy to know he’s here, and that he can poison our supplies. But he won’t do it for free. Some nobles in the city are undoubtedly spies and traitors, almost certainly people who could act as go-betweens for the warlock and Count Highglen.”
“Do we have any way of finding the traitors?” he asked, and the Queen’s smile changed again.
“Alas, no. We can probably find one or two obvious spies under torture, but if we’re wrong, we lose a loyal house. And even if we are right, you don’t plant a real spy where they are obvious.”
Stephan focused on the Queen, the transition from a nervous, traumatized girl to the bold and confident woman before him. Then he realized what had changed.
“How many levels did you gain?”
“Eleven,” she gave him a knowing look. “And, like I promised, I will do everything in my power to help you win this conflict.”