Page 65 of Traitor Son

“…seed for the kitchen garden, shipments of medical supplies, and two new journeymen to work under Genon,” Edemir continued. A single surgeon was not sufficient for the growing population. “And you saw the work in your cottage? The Duchess asked for a few things, and I didn’t see why not.”

“That’s fine.” Remin waved this away, though he was surprised his shy wife had actually gathered the courage to request something.

“And if you see her today, you can tell her we’ll be sending a crew to dig the third well tomorrow,” Edemir added. At Remin’s blank look, he explained, “They need water on the wall. You’ll see when you get there.”

With the warnings about demon wolves fresh in his mind, Remin had been planning to go to the wall anyway, but what did new wells have to do with the princess?

“The folk in Ferrede said the devils might be coming out early,” he said, shaking it off. He had been working to push the princess out of his mind since the day he left, but she insisted on peeping back in. “Someone there saw a wolf demon. It’s early, but it’s been a warm spring. Has anyone here seen anything?”

“Not that they’ve reported.” Edemir’s eyebrows lifted. “They’re sure it wasn’t just a big wolf?”

“The man who reported it doesn’t have a reputation for exaggeration. And they’ve seen their share of Andelin’s new wildlife by now.”

This was not good news. They took some time to talk through various preparations, from increasing the night watch—which meant decreasing the number of men available to work by day—to the supplies needed to keep torches and braziers lit.

“The wall is proceeding on schedule, though,” Edemir noted. “You ought to take a look, Rem. In a month or so they’ll start work on the gatehouse, and we can send a third of the workforce immediately to start on the north wall. I took some men off the palisade since it seemed we’d finish the wall in time, but with your news…should we have them close the gap? It’ll slow building the permanent wall if we have to rip up all the earthworks.”

“Don’t do anything yet. We’ll discuss it first,” Remin decided. The sighting of a single wolf demon might not justify going that far.

Leaving Edemir to his lists, he went to find some food, hungry enough to tolerate Wen’s shouting about how unreasonable it was to expect meals outside of mealtimes. In the kitchen, the vast cook was taking a cleaver to what looked like the remains of a deer.

“A bit of bread and cheese will be fine,” Remin said from the doorway. “And a sausage. And wipe the blood off your hands before you touch my food.”

“Well, welcome back, Your Grace.” Wen glared and didn’t move from his spot. “Ye can get it yourself, and welcome. Right next to the door. Ye know how to work a cupboard?”

“When did you get those? And you’re letting people over the threshold now?” There were three tall sets of cupboards on the wall by the door, and Remin opened the doors to find bread, cheese, sausages, apples, carrots, and other portable items neatly stored in bins.

“Only so far as that white line.” Wen jabbed his finger at a stripe of whitewash on the floor. “No one crosses that line. But it’s easier than having His Grace nagging when I’m up to me elbows in yesterday’s buck, innit? Ye can thank Her Grace for the favor, if you like it, she’s the one wheedled the cupboards out of that skinflint Edemir.”

“Wheedled? Her Grace?” Remin echoed.

“Aye, like a tinker. Came in asking for bloody carrots every morning, I was hearingMaster Wen, Master Wenin me dreams. And then one day she says,Master Wen, would it be easier to keep the apples and carrots here by the door? I don’t like to trouble you. For Master Eugene.”Wen produced a credible impression of the princess’s shy, start-and-stop speech pattern, though the batting eyelashes were a little over the top. “Next morning it was bread for Miche, and then the ruddy stable lads wanting their breakfast, and so off she was to Edemir with a ration scheme worked out and just needing a new set of cupboards. So put that box back where ye got it from, if ye please, now I’ve been fuckingorganized.”

“Her Grace did this. The princess. My wife.” He was sure he had misunderstood something.

“The Duchess,”Wen corrected. The foul-mouthed cook was a stickler for proper etiquette. “Became the Duchess when you married her, didn’t she? And aye, t’was her notion. So Your Grace, I can now say, get your own bleeding rations and sod off. And close the cupboard doors, we’re not fucking animals.”

It wasn’t until he was some way down the road that Remin realized he hadn’t asked who Master Eugene was.

Gauging the progress of the wall from his glimpse at the north gate, he elected to head down the east road rather than the southern loop. It was incredible to think that in a few months, he would already be seeing a stone gatehouse in the distance. And he really needed to name the roads.East Road was utilitarian, but an East Road could be located anywhere in the Empire. Remin wanted people toknowwhen they were in Tresingale.

Even if there wasn’t much to see there yet. On the east road was the stick-and-string outlines that marked off the lots in the main town, with wide streets that would one day accommodate not just carriage traffic but foot traffic along the storefronts. And, of course, the all-important drains. Until the wall was done, Nore Ffloce had no one to actuallybuildroads or drains, but he occupied himself with the surveyor in the meantime, taking exhaustive measurements to determine where digging—or filling—would be required.

“Your Grace!” The gangly man hailed Remin happily, speeding over with his usual armload of parchments. Three assistants were hot on his heels, laden with sticks, strings, and tools. “How fortunate that you happened by! There are some revisions to our plans for the outer areas of town…”

Remin was just as happy to see the plans as Nore was to show them, and for an hour they bent their heads together as Nore explained where he had adjusted this road or that set of lots, and how he planned to terrace off the back of the temple gardens to get rid of Mosquito Pond.

“And I must say, Your Grace,” he added as they were saying their farewells, “please thank Her Grace for me, when next you see her. Those wells might have caused quite a mess in the artisans’ quarter, when we begin construction there.”

“What does the princess have to do with the artisans’ quarter?” Remin asked, his black eyebrows drawing together ominously. The princess seemed to have her dainty fingers in a lot of pies and he was beginning to think he was due an explanation.

“Just the wells, Your Grace.” Nore was quick to see which way the winds were blowing. “Really, it was Guisse that approved it, perhaps it would be best if he explained it…”

He escaped soon after, leaving Remin frowning at the distant walls.

On foot, he had the pleasure of watching them slowly loom ahead on both left and right, though the gap between them was still dauntingly large. Both were wrapped in a lattice of scaffolding and so covered with people, they looked like vertical anthills, with the racket of hammering, chiseling, and yelling men audible a mile away. The land on the outside of the wall was being cleared of trees for a hundred paces to make surenothing climbed over, and Remin had to walk through a mile of forest before he reached the construction area of the south wall.

He wasn’t looking for the princess. He was doing the opposite of looking for her, trying to dismiss her from his mind altogether, but she was the first thing he saw all the same. A tiny figure in the distance with one hand on her hat and the other embracing a small gray donkey, her head tilted back to look up at a blacksmith. Behind the donkey was a long, low wagon bearing three large barrels.

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