Guild enforcer—she met in Brewersbridge years back.”
“That would’ve been after she left us,” Arcolin said.
“Yes. He’s the one who got her out after … well, after what happened.”
“I don’t understand how she survived.” He wanted to hear that, not what had been done to her.
For the first time the prince’s face relaxed into a smile. “Nor does anyone else except Gird and the High Lord’s favor. Witnesses say her wounds healed, slowly enough to watch and fast enough that in minutes she was whole again, broken bones mended, bleeding woundsbut scars—or in some cases, no scars at all. It terrified those watching; they fled. She had been branded on the brow: she now bears a silver circle, the High Lord’s mark.”
Arcolin felt hollow … he had known Paks from her first year in the Company, and though he had recognized her basic good character and her fighting ability, he’d never seen
that
potential in her. How had he missed so much—the Duke’s real nature, Paks’s real nature? What else had he missed?
“You are an experienced soldier,” the prince said. “And you have known many realms. More than I have, who have visited only within Tsaia. You must recognize how unbalanced Tsaia is now, with two domains vacated … if this were the South, what would you say about it?”
“A dangerous situation, my lord prince. Your eastern border, from north of the Honnorgat halfway down to the mountains, and your northern border all at risk.”
“What would you do?”
Arcolin stared. “My lord—that is for you and your Council to say.”
“But you know Tsaia—you have lived here how long? And you have studied military history, our history, haven’t you?”
Arcolin tried to calm himself. “You need strong, loyal lords in both places. Not the same for each—that’s too much, too big, for one to rule well and it would unbalance the realm. Verrakai—I know nothing about its resources, its people, even its terrain, but I would expect it’s more thickly settled, and thus potentially more difficult than the North Marches. Though at least, with Kieri Phelan ruling Lyonya you should have no problems from over the border.”
“Pargunese soldiers were also in that attack. It’s believed they crossed into either Verrakai’s lands directly or through Lyonya.”
“Lyonya had a weak king.”
“A dead king by then, but yes. I’m sure Kieri Phelan won’t let that happen again, though what resources he will have I don’t yet know.”
“The northeast and north is your most vulnerable,” Arcolin said. “We fought off the orcs this last winter—destroyed their base and the Achryan priest supporting them. They should be little trouble for a while. The Pargunese, though, test the border off and on—we keep constant patrols out for that.”
“Who’s commanding there?”
“Cracolnya—he has been senior captain of the mixed cohort for years. Experienced, a good tactician, good manager, too. When Captain Dorrin comes back—” He paused at the look on the prince’s face and felt his heart sink. “She didn’t—in that attack—?”
“No, no. She survived; her arrival with the paladin just saved the day, I understand. I would like your assessment of her. You do know she’s a Verrakai?”
“Of course,” Arcolin said. “She’s never made a secret of it, or of her estrangement from her family.”
“Do you believe that estrangement complete? Have you known her to contact her family?”
“No, my lord, never. I know she asked the Duke—the king—not to assign her to duties here, where she might meet Duke Verrakai. She and the Verrakaien both considered her no longer part of the family.” He hoped to convince the prince Dorrin was not a traitor.
“Birth matters, in spite of choice,” the prince said, a bit grimly. “It made your duke a king; it will make Dorrin Verrakai a duke, if she accepts my offer.”
Arcolin stared. “Dorrin? You can’t mean—I beg pardon, but—you
“That would’ve been after she left us,” Arcolin said.
“Yes. He’s the one who got her out after … well, after what happened.”
“I don’t understand how she survived.” He wanted to hear that, not what had been done to her.
For the first time the prince’s face relaxed into a smile. “Nor does anyone else except Gird and the High Lord’s favor. Witnesses say her wounds healed, slowly enough to watch and fast enough that in minutes she was whole again, broken bones mended, bleeding woundsbut scars—or in some cases, no scars at all. It terrified those watching; they fled. She had been branded on the brow: she now bears a silver circle, the High Lord’s mark.”
Arcolin felt hollow … he had known Paks from her first year in the Company, and though he had recognized her basic good character and her fighting ability, he’d never seen
that
potential in her. How had he missed so much—the Duke’s real nature, Paks’s real nature? What else had he missed?
“You are an experienced soldier,” the prince said. “And you have known many realms. More than I have, who have visited only within Tsaia. You must recognize how unbalanced Tsaia is now, with two domains vacated … if this were the South, what would you say about it?”
“A dangerous situation, my lord prince. Your eastern border, from north of the Honnorgat halfway down to the mountains, and your northern border all at risk.”
“What would you do?”
Arcolin stared. “My lord—that is for you and your Council to say.”
“But you know Tsaia—you have lived here how long? And you have studied military history, our history, haven’t you?”
Arcolin tried to calm himself. “You need strong, loyal lords in both places. Not the same for each—that’s too much, too big, for one to rule well and it would unbalance the realm. Verrakai—I know nothing about its resources, its people, even its terrain, but I would expect it’s more thickly settled, and thus potentially more difficult than the North Marches. Though at least, with Kieri Phelan ruling Lyonya you should have no problems from over the border.”
“Pargunese soldiers were also in that attack. It’s believed they crossed into either Verrakai’s lands directly or through Lyonya.”
“Lyonya had a weak king.”
“A dead king by then, but yes. I’m sure Kieri Phelan won’t let that happen again, though what resources he will have I don’t yet know.”
“The northeast and north is your most vulnerable,” Arcolin said. “We fought off the orcs this last winter—destroyed their base and the Achryan priest supporting them. They should be little trouble for a while. The Pargunese, though, test the border off and on—we keep constant patrols out for that.”
“Who’s commanding there?”
“Cracolnya—he has been senior captain of the mixed cohort for years. Experienced, a good tactician, good manager, too. When Captain Dorrin comes back—” He paused at the look on the prince’s face and felt his heart sink. “She didn’t—in that attack—?”
“No, no. She survived; her arrival with the paladin just saved the day, I understand. I would like your assessment of her. You do know she’s a Verrakai?”
“Of course,” Arcolin said. “She’s never made a secret of it, or of her estrangement from her family.”
“Do you believe that estrangement complete? Have you known her to contact her family?”
“No, my lord, never. I know she asked the Duke—the king—not to assign her to duties here, where she might meet Duke Verrakai. She and the Verrakaien both considered her no longer part of the family.” He hoped to convince the prince Dorrin was not a traitor.
“Birth matters, in spite of choice,” the prince said, a bit grimly. “It made your duke a king; it will make Dorrin Verrakai a duke, if she accepts my offer.”
Arcolin stared. “Dorrin? You can’t mean—I beg pardon, but—you
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