When it came to political intrigue, Hal Matelon had one thing going for him: by now he had a network of men he could trust with his life—men he’d fought alongside on multiple battlegrounds in this never-ending war. He was counting on that now to help him find his brother.
On the downside, his was a well-known face in Ardenscourt, even after a year away, since he’d spent most of his winters at court. So he sat in the corner of the tavern, collar turned up, face turned away from the lamp, hoping that he wouldn’t be recognized. The last thing they needed was another Matelon held hostage by the boy king.
He was all but positive that Robert would have come here to Ardenscourt to hunt for their mother and sister before the thanes marched on the capital.
Hal heard the door bang open and shut as someone new came into the tavern. The newcomer, dressed in military garb, stopped at the bar to make inquiries. Now he walked purposefully toward Hal’s table, bringing with him the scent of the spring evening. Hal tensed momentarily, then relaxed when he recognized him.
It was Eric Bellamy, the son of the master of horse at Ardenscourt. Though Bellamy was a year or two older than Hal, he’d served under him for several years in the field. Only now, Hal noted, he wore a captain’s braid on his shoulders.
“Sir? I’m told you have a message for— Saints and martyrs!” Bellamy stared at Hal as if he’d been raised from the dead, then made the sign of Malthus.
“Shhh. Sit down,” Hal said, waving him to a seat.
Bellamy sat, nearly stumbling over the table leg. He seemed to be afraid to take his eyes off Hal, as if he might lunge at him and suck out his soul if he did.
“But . . . Captain . . . I heard you were dead—that you died at Delphi!” Bellamy hissed.
“No, not dead yet,” Hal said.
Bellamy looked around, to see if anyone was close enough to have heard. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “What if someone sees you?”
“I’m hoping it will help that nobody will be looking for a dead man,” Hal said. He signaled for the server. “What’ll you have?”
“Small beer,” Bellamy said. “I’m on duty in a little while.” He paused. “On second thought, I’ll have bingo. A double.”
Hal put in the order and turned back to Bellamy, who was studying him with narrowed eyes. “You look like you’ve put on some hard miles since I saw you last, sir,” he said. “When’s the last time you had a good meal?”
“I just ate an entire lamb pie,” Hal said, pushing his empty plate back, “and I’m seriously considering having another. I’ve been in a northern prison, where food is hard to come by.”
“How’d you get away?”
“The guards got tired of losing to me at nicks and bones,” Hal said. “So they let me go.”
“Right,” Bellamy said skeptically. He paused, as if groping for something to say. “I’ve never seen you with a beard before.”
Hal fingered his chin, still thickly forested with a black stubble. “Enjoy it while you can. What are you up to these days?”
Bellamy rolled his eyes. “I’ve been working with my da over the winter, trying to teach new recruits from the down-realms which end of a horse is the front. When I’m not doing that, my mother is trotting me around to parties, hoping I’ll meet some rich widow. There’s a shortage of dance partners at court, since so many of the thanes have taken the field against the king. Those that haven’t are staying away, for fear of being here when the thanes sack the city.”
“Could be your golden ticket,” Hal said drily.
“Ha,” Bellamy said. “The widows I fall for are always penniless.”
“To penniless widows,” Hal said, raising his glass in a toast.
Bellamy laughed, but quickly sobered. “If fortune finds me, it’ll be because I’ve been a good soldier.”
Hal nodded toward Bellamy’s new signia. “You’ve done well, Captain.”
“I’m up for colonel now,” Bellamy said, then colored. “You’re the one who’s earned it. I just don’t get why—”
Hal raised his hand. “Congratulations, Colonel. Guess I’ll have to get used to calling you ‘sir.’”
“I may have reason to regret this promotion,” Bellamy said. “Now that it’s looking to be a two-front war, they’re in need of more sacrificial officers. Rumor has it that I may lead our forces in the north while General Karn deals with the thanes.” He stopped, then, as if realizing that he might be giving away tactics to the enemy. “Everybody says the rebels are going to march on the city any day now. But maybe they won’t, since you’re here.” He looked sideways at Hal, as if hoping he’d confirm or deny.
“I haven’t seen my father since I came back,” Hal lied. “I leave the politics to him.”
Bellamy sighed. “I hate this, sir. I’m glad to go north, so I don’t have to take the field against my friends.”
“We’re soldiers, Bellamy,” Hal said, shrugging. “We follow orders. Listen, the reason I asked to meet with you is that I’m looking for my brother, Robert. We were together at Delphi, but he left for Temple Church before the city fell. I’m hoping he’s all right. Have you seen him? Do you know where he’s posted?”
“Robert? Haven’t seen him,” Bellamy said, shifting his eyes away, staring down into his glass. “You sure he’s not with your father?”
“He’s not at White Oaks,” Hal said. “I know that for a fact.” He waited one heartbeat, then two, for Bellamy to speak up; then he planted his hands on the table. “Now—be straight with me. What have you heard?”
Bellamy began picking at a scab on his wrist. “I told the truth when I said I haven’t seen him. But I’ve heard he’s been in and out of taverns and barracks houses for the past few days, asking a lot of questions about where the king might be holding prisoners. I went looking for him—I was going to sit him down and tell him to quit that foolishness and go home. But it always seems like I’m a few steps behind. One thing I’ll say for him, he moves quick and he doesn’t lay his head down in the same place twice.”
Hal swore. Robert was as subtle and stealthy as any charging bull. It wouldn’t take long for the blackbirds to catch wind of this. But if Robert found out Hal was here looking for him, he’d go deeper underground than ever. The city was too big and the situation too dangerous to be playing hounds and hares.
But he had to try.
“Tell me he’s using a fake name, at least?”
Bellamy laughed. “He’s calling himself Cordray.”
That was the name of their old tutor.
“Could I ask for a favor?”
“You can ask,” Bellamy said, with a sigh. “Just remember, I’m not the hero you are. King Gerard was a cold, ruthless bastard, but at least there was a purpose to most of what he did. King Jarat—he’s a monster.”
Great, Hal thought. My mother and sister are held prisoner by a monster, and my brother seems determined to join them.
Hal ripped a page from his journal and scribbled a note on it.
Mr. Cordray—
I may have the information you are looking for. I’ll be at the Golden Horn each evening between six and nine.
—A friend
It was a laughably transparent ruse, but it might make Robert curious enough to show up.
He handed it to Bellamy. “If you could leave this with the duty officer at the garrison house, I’d appreciate it. I’ll cover some of the taverns around here and we’ll see if I can lure him out of hiding.”
Bellamy nodded, tucking the note away. “I’ll do that, Captain. I just want to say—I’m glad you’re not dead.”
Hal laughed. “Not yet.”
“Be careful, all right? I hope we both live to see the day that I can fight under your command again.”
“Or I can fight under your command.” Hal stood and embraced his friend. “I hope there will come a day that we can quit fighting and share a beer without looking over our shoulders.”