Page 2 of Keeper of the Word
“What news?” Tolvar asked, sitting in a wooden chair and gesturing for the others to do the same.
“Thorindale remains secure. The south side of the city has long recovered from the fires caused by the riots four years ago.” Tolvar appreciated that Bernwald did not tone down his words. The attack at Thorin Court was dreadful enough. As earl now, he didn’t need his commander tiptoeing around the past. “The city’s guard is stable at one hundred soldiers. Their pay is current. Shaen and Kelton’s guards stand at sixty.”
Tolvar nodded. Sixty would suffice for those two towns. Especially in Shaen, which, although it sat on his province’s border, shared that border with Ashwin, the province of the StarSeers. No need to hire more soldiers there.
Tolvar listened to Bernwald give a few more details as he observed the three knights, their faces taut, shoulders solid. He liked these knights.
“All sounds well,” Tolvar said, eyeing the pitcher of wine on a corner table. He’d ignored wine for the past three moons; he could continue to do so.
“Not all, m’lord.” Bernwald eyed the knights, who stiffened in their chairs at Bernwald’s words. Joss fidgeted with her worn leather sword belt. Tolvar smothered the emotion he felt eyeing the leather.
“Tell me,” Tolvar said, leaning forward.
“A message came three days ago from Lessio that there have been skirmishes along the Greenwood border.”
“Greenwood?” Tolvar couldn’t hide his surprise. The Earl of Greenwood was married to his father’s cousin. They’d always been close. In fact, during Tolvar’s first days in exile, he’d hidden there for a time. “What is this about?”
“No one has been captured as of yet. Sir Barrett, if you please.” Sir Bernwald gestured to the knight closest to Joss to hand him a bit of parchment. “I sent a message by raven to Cheval demanding cause and received this in return from Greenwood’s steward this morning.”
Tolvar took the note. The end read:
If there was a skirmish, Askella was surely the aggressor.
Tolvar raised an eyebrow over the parchment at Bernwald.
“My men have sworn they were provoked.”
Tolvar tossed the note on the desk, which was already covered with stacks of parchment. Later, he’d have to speak to Bernwald about the orderliness of his office.
“Where exactly?” Tolvar asked.
“About seven leagues from the Greenwood Forest. About five leagues from the border of Ashwin.”
The location made even less sense than the attack itself. The borders of Ashwin were sacred. Tolvar scratched his beard.
“I can give you the full account. There were no losses, but seven men were injured?—”
Tolvar held up a hand. Bernwald ceased. “Tell me the account later. Any other news?”
“A letter arrived from Asalle, m’lord. ’Tis the second from the sovereign,” Sir Bernwald said. “Sir Conall has it.”
“I shall deal with the sovereign later, as well. For now, I’m hungry, tired, and in need of a long bath.” Tolvar stood, and theothers followed. “In the meantime, if you receive any more reports of Greenwood?—”
“You’ll be the first to know.” Sir Bernwald cracked a half-smile. “’Tis most good to have you home, m’lord.”
Tolvar nodded and left. He made his way up the stairs, down the long north corridor to the small room he sought. A small room that was mayhap the most unfamiliar to him in the castle. The Priva.
Tolvar would not be able to restrain his emotions much longer.
When he opened the door, he found, like the other rooms of the castle, there was no dust or damage. It’d been well attended as everything else had.
The Priva was a simple space. Naught but a plain muslin cushion on the floor under the window facing north. It acted as a room for prayer.
Tolvar was not a praying man. And he had no intention of praying now.
But his time in the island kingdom of Deogol, where he’d spent the last year helping the Order of Siria to defeat the curse of the Befallen, had changed him. He found that when his grief was most lumped in his throat, he studied the stars.
’Twas still daylight. But stars veiled were stars, nonetheless.
