livestock going until cool autumn rains replenished the earth. You could raise good horses here , he thought. Good stallions for the knights of Kendra .
As well, he admitted to himself, a property here would give him an excuse to be away from Kendra… and closer to Charion. As a member of the Kingdom's aristocracy—the Twenty Houses—he found that Areava had made Kendra a little too chilly for his liking; her dislike for his kind was well known.
He had seen a great deal of Hume over the last ten days. His mixed command of knights from the Twenty Houses and light infantry from Aman had early established that Lynan's Chett army was not yet moving on Daavis, and so had subsequently pushed back the perimeter of the area under Kingdom control further and further north of the city. Every twenty leagues or so, he would establish a series of outposts in a wide arc, each outpost equipped with signal fires and a garrison. This spot would provide the last outpost necessary for the line some sixty leagues out from Daavis. That was five days march for most armies, three for Galen's force, and two for the Chetts, unmatched in mobility. Galen would push out another twenty leagues and establish a final ring of outposts. After that he would return to Daavis and see what Queen Charion had planned for him.
Or even Areava. She may have sent new instructions while he had been away.
For a moment he pictured the two women together. Areava he had long admired from afar. She was cold, aloof, as beautiful as winter; and she was ruler of all Grenda Lear. For a long time he had harboured the secret dream of wedding her; her marriage to Sendarus had temporarily sunk that, but now that the man was dead, for which Galen was genuinely sorry, the way was open again. But now there was Charion.
He shook his head in wonder. Until a short while ago he had convinced himself he did not even like Charion, but after leaving her behind in Daavis he found he missed her intelligence and her strange dark beauty, the opposite of Areava's.
Yes, he thought. It would be good to get back to Daavis.
It was bright day in Kendra, and a gentle breeze wafted through the south gallery of the palace. Olio stood at the entrance to the gallery watching a kestrel flying high, high above the harbour. It made great circles in the sky, dipping and soaring, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. Olio was hypnotised by it.
'Your Highness?'
Olio sighed and turned. It was the fat man with the funny clothes again. Olio had wanted to see his sister, but everyone kept on telling him she was too busy to see him. He asked for his mother or Berayma then, but apparently they were very busy too. 'And what of Lynan?' he asked one official. 'I suppose he's busy as well!' The official had not answered that one, which Olio found strange. Instead, the only one who could come and see him was… now what was his name again…?
'Do you remember me, your Highness? I am Prelate Edaytor Fanhow.'
Ah, yes, that's right. 'Hello, Prelate. That's a strange name.'
'My name is Edaytor. Prelate is my title.'
Olio blinked at him. He did not want to admit he was getting confused.
'You can call me Edaytor,' the fat man continued.
'I can call you anything I like,' Olio said haughtily.
'That is true.'
'I am a prince.'
'That is true, too.'
'My mother is queen of Grenda Lear.'
He heard Edaytor take in a deep breath. 'Are you so sure of that?'
Olio raised his eyebrows. 'Of course I'm sure. I'm her son, aren't I?'
'When was the last time you saw your mother?'
Olio's forehead creased in thought. 'Oh, a long time ago. She is very busy. She is queen after all.'
'Would you like to step out onto the gallery?'
Olio shrugged.
Edaytor stepped out first. 'It is a beautiful day.'
'There is a kestrel flying over the harbour.'
Edaytor searched the sky for a moment before finding it. 'I see it.'
'The kestrel is the badge of my family,' Olio said. 'See?' He pinched out the kestrel emblem sewn
As well, he admitted to himself, a property here would give him an excuse to be away from Kendra… and closer to Charion. As a member of the Kingdom's aristocracy—the Twenty Houses—he found that Areava had made Kendra a little too chilly for his liking; her dislike for his kind was well known.
He had seen a great deal of Hume over the last ten days. His mixed command of knights from the Twenty Houses and light infantry from Aman had early established that Lynan's Chett army was not yet moving on Daavis, and so had subsequently pushed back the perimeter of the area under Kingdom control further and further north of the city. Every twenty leagues or so, he would establish a series of outposts in a wide arc, each outpost equipped with signal fires and a garrison. This spot would provide the last outpost necessary for the line some sixty leagues out from Daavis. That was five days march for most armies, three for Galen's force, and two for the Chetts, unmatched in mobility. Galen would push out another twenty leagues and establish a final ring of outposts. After that he would return to Daavis and see what Queen Charion had planned for him.
Or even Areava. She may have sent new instructions while he had been away.
For a moment he pictured the two women together. Areava he had long admired from afar. She was cold, aloof, as beautiful as winter; and she was ruler of all Grenda Lear. For a long time he had harboured the secret dream of wedding her; her marriage to Sendarus had temporarily sunk that, but now that the man was dead, for which Galen was genuinely sorry, the way was open again. But now there was Charion.
He shook his head in wonder. Until a short while ago he had convinced himself he did not even like Charion, but after leaving her behind in Daavis he found he missed her intelligence and her strange dark beauty, the opposite of Areava's.
Yes, he thought. It would be good to get back to Daavis.
It was bright day in Kendra, and a gentle breeze wafted through the south gallery of the palace. Olio stood at the entrance to the gallery watching a kestrel flying high, high above the harbour. It made great circles in the sky, dipping and soaring, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. Olio was hypnotised by it.
'Your Highness?'
Olio sighed and turned. It was the fat man with the funny clothes again. Olio had wanted to see his sister, but everyone kept on telling him she was too busy to see him. He asked for his mother or Berayma then, but apparently they were very busy too. 'And what of Lynan?' he asked one official. 'I suppose he's busy as well!' The official had not answered that one, which Olio found strange. Instead, the only one who could come and see him was… now what was his name again…?
'Do you remember me, your Highness? I am Prelate Edaytor Fanhow.'
Ah, yes, that's right. 'Hello, Prelate. That's a strange name.'
'My name is Edaytor. Prelate is my title.'
Olio blinked at him. He did not want to admit he was getting confused.
'You can call me Edaytor,' the fat man continued.
'I can call you anything I like,' Olio said haughtily.
'That is true.'
'I am a prince.'
'That is true, too.'
'My mother is queen of Grenda Lear.'
He heard Edaytor take in a deep breath. 'Are you so sure of that?'
Olio raised his eyebrows. 'Of course I'm sure. I'm her son, aren't I?'
'When was the last time you saw your mother?'
Olio's forehead creased in thought. 'Oh, a long time ago. She is very busy. She is queen after all.'
'Would you like to step out onto the gallery?'
Olio shrugged.
Edaytor stepped out first. 'It is a beautiful day.'
'There is a kestrel flying over the harbour.'
Edaytor searched the sky for a moment before finding it. 'I see it.'
'The kestrel is the badge of my family,' Olio said. 'See?' He pinched out the kestrel emblem sewn
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