matter.”
“I would, but I sort of told her to back off for the time being. Right after the battle of the Zinchara I wanted to consolidate my position.
There was some other stuff as well. Suffice it to say that I didn't want to run the risk of her taking over everything. I needed time to get my bearings. Just before we learned about the troop movements I had decided to invite her for a meeting.”
4
“Still not seeing what the big problem is. You wanted to invite her?
So invite her. What are you afraid of? That she'll steal Lorseth from under you?“
“Oh, I wasn't going to invite her here. I had thought to arrange a meeting at Landemere Castle. I'm planning a little surprise.”
“I'm not even going to ask what that is because you won't give me an intelligible answer anyway.”
“I figured that inviting her to Landemere Castle would look as if we both traveled half the way, you see?”
“Yes, I do. Not to mention that Landemere Castle isn't the seat of the administration of Great Renuvia.”
Anaxantis grinned.
“Exactly. Only now it will look as if I invited her because I need her help. Which I do, but it is not why I wanted to meet her. I actually miss her… Argh, I hate, hate, hate, being in this position.”
“And whatever will she think of Ehandar and me? She will see through us in five minutes flat. She never thought very much of him.
The Gods forbid that she ever finds out what really happened.”
“What can't be helped, must be endured, I suppose,” he continued after a while. “I'll dictate you a letter. Feel free to share your thoughts, if any.”
“You do understand that this is a rather unsatisfying solution, don't you?”
“Of course. We should have our own, independent means of gathering intelligence. You would be the perfect person to organize it.
Only, you can't be spared in the administration.”
“It's nice to feel needed.”
4
“There is one other who would be equally qualified, or who at least
has the right frame of mind.”
“And that is?”
“Why, Rullio, Count Brenx-Aldemon, of course. Only, I fear Father got to him first.”
“You think he's in the pay of the high king?”
“It seems highly probable, doesn't it? How did you think he got the hyphenated name? It certainly wasn't me who proposed his elevation to the rank of count. That was all Father. He must have had his reasons.”
“Hm… yes, I see.”
“There's so much we don't know. Not only about the present situation, for that matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aren't you curious? Don't you want to find out if maybe we can rescue him? Or at least find out how Landar is doing?”
4
They had lain in hiding until the mourners were gone. Then they
still waited until it was dark, before they began their grisly task. While three of them watched the entry gate of the little graveyard, four others started digging at the fresh grave.
Bruonnt looked on. After a while he let his eyes wander and they fell upon a roughly-hewn stone vase upon a little granite pedestal. An acanthus had wound its leaves around it, as if protecting it. He took a few steps to take a closer look. Over a hundred years ago devastated parents had buried a nine-year-old boy there. The moonlight bathed the little monument in a soft light.
Bruonnt turned around, trying to shake off the sad feelings. He was annoyed with himself for becoming a sentimental fool in his old age.
He heard the unmistakable sound that indicated his men had struck wood. They lifted the lid of the coffin just enough to be able to lift the body out by grabbing it under its elbows. Then they filled up the grave again and rolled the remains of a boy of about seventeen in a rough, dark cloth.
“He doesn't even look like me,” the young man said, looking at the body they had laid out in the clearing. “Not even under this light.”
“He won't look like anybody you'd recognize in a fortnight,” Bruonnt answered. “We'll take him downwind into the forest