Book 7: Chapter 64: Upstream
As passengers aboard a ship, the Asterians had plenty of time to discuss past and future events, including the attempted poisoning. “What strikes me as odd is that a Tyrian would travel so far, tracking us down, watching us. I doubt that the Tyrians have their own branch of military intelligence.”
“They don’t,” Wulfstan assented with a dry voice. “But a jarl of Tyria does have resources. Or the hand moving the killer belongs to an Asterian who chose a Tyrian. Someone who could mask themselves as a fellow native of Nordmark,” he considered, “and gain your trust.” He looked at Martel. “We’ll never know. In any case, he must have had orders to follow you and interfere, should you seek to return to Tyria.”
“I guess our sudden departure tipped him off,” Martel considered. A tad reluctantly, he added aimed at the spy, “Your warning was helpful.”
“I’m simply glad you had the wherewithal to avoid his snare.”
“And what of the trap that awaits us in the North?” Eleanor asked. Her unfriendly gaze on Wulfstan suggested her disposition was no friendlier than Martel’s. “I can only assume you have schemes within schemes, such as when you used us to smuggle magic into Khiva.”
If the accusation surprised the spy, he did not show it. “The situation in Tyria is straightforward. No need for ‘schemes within schemes’,” he claimed, giving no reply to the allegation. “Your task is perhaps less simple, but it’s up to you how to solve it. Sending you there is the limit of my machinations.”
“Is it? You claimed you had a plan,” Martel pointed out.
“That was perhaps a grandiose description. But I’ll elaborate.”
“Please do.” Eleanor, her eyes still unfriendly, remained locked on the spy.
Taking no offence, apparently, the spy bowed his head to her in acknowledgement. “By now, I fear the border provocations have taken place – my colleagues hoped to intervene, but we have no authority over legates. The Tyrians will consider their response at their upcoming solstice thing.” “What thing?” Eleanor asked.
“It means ‘assembly’,” Martel answered. If the situation had been less dire, he would have appreciated that, for once, he could teach her something rather than the reverse, as usual. “Go on.”
“We believe Halfrid will use her status as a dragon slayer to argue war, along with demanding she is given leadership.”
“You told us as much. Now how do you intend for us to stop it?” Martel asked.
“You are officially an envoy of Aster,” Wulfstan pointed out. “Granted, it was intended for another reason, but you still speak with the authority of the Empire. In addition, you’re also dragon slayers. Your words carry the same weight as the berserker’s.”
“So we are to advocate for peace rather than escalation,” Eleanor surmised. “Convince this assembly to forego war. Except we have no official mandate. Nothing to offer as restitution for the presumed actions of our legions at the border.”
“The Tyrians will demand blood, undoubtedly, since you can’t offer them silver as compensation. But if their warbands attack a few patrols or cross into Nordmark to plunder, so be it,” Wulfstan declared in a show of pragmatism. “Anything is better than all nine tribes marshalling all their forces, including berserkers and bards, for a full invasion.”
Martel felt bothered by this; innocents would die, made sacrificial lambs to satisfy bloodthirst and the desire for revenge. At the same time, he knew what a war entailed. A price had to be paid to avoid it. He had done the same, going to war with Morcaster to ultimately end the Khivan war; legionaries had died for him and his cause to prevent a worse outcome. “We’ll do what we can.”
Wulfstan left them alone in their cabin, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Eleanor turned to Martel. “Whether we succeed or not in Tyria, this goes beyond that. We both know the instigator of all this.”
Schemes and war, dreams of Imperial expansion – Martel agreed. “Cheval.”
“If we are able to prevent this conflict from escalating, he will simply try again. And should we fail, I have no desire to let him reap the fruits of his nefarious plots.” Her voice grew cold. “He deserved death the first time he tried to kill you.”
There was no need to mention why the duke had escaped their wrath so far; they both knew. His support had been necessary for the fragile Senate to survive its infancy, and his death could have brought it all into jeopardy. But considering the duke’s current actions, letting him live now seemed the greater risk. “Once we’re done in Tyria, no matter the outcome, we deal with him.”
She glanced at the door, through which Wulfstan had left. “Do you think he will interfere if he discovers our intentions?”
Knowing how pragmatic the spy viewed all such affairs, Martel doubted it. “Probably not.” He exchanged a look with Eleanor as she turned back toward him. “But it doesn’t matter. There’s no power in Aster that can stand in our way.”
With a seamage aboard, the journey went swiftly. They crossed the Emerald Sea and followed the coastline north, making no port until they reached Aquila. Once they had resupplied, they continued their voyage up north. Several fivedays after leaving Sindhu, with less than a month until solstice, their galley dropped anchor in the mouth of the river Frosten.
This was the final destination for their vessel. The river could not be traversed in its full length by a ship of such size and build; besides, an Imperial galley carrying several mages sailing down the border would only exacerbate any provocations and add fuel to speculations of Asterian incursions.
Instead, Martel and Eleanor bid the others farewell, including Wulfstan. A local fisherman was paid to ferry them upstream to the next village along the banks, where they found another boat to sail the next stretch of the journey, and so on. Eventually, they had travelled as far east as needed; at that point, they abandoned the river and moved inland.
Tyrian patrols noticed them on the second day, and it nearly came to blows: a letter written in Tyrian and supplied by Wulfstan explained matters, helped along by Eleanor showing the necklace she wore on top of her surcoat, especially its pendant. The fang of a wyrm, taken as trophy. With this as a key, the road to the solstice thing was unlocked; for the first time in decades, Asterians would attend the gathering of the tribes.