03 Warlord by Jennifer Fallon

Author:Jennifer Fallon
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780765309914
Publisher: New York : Tor, 2007.
Published: 2008-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

Damin stopped outside the pavilion, squinting a little in the bright sun. Kraig was waiting for him. For a moment, the prince said nothing, content to stand beside Damin and survey the chaotic war camp laid out before them and in the distance, the sprawling city that was Cabradell.

“It occurs to me,” the Denikan observed after a time, “that your High Prince is not entirely sane, Damin Wolfblade.”

“Ah,” Damin replied. “You noticed that.”

“It also occurs to me,” Kraig added, “that if you played the seed game even half as well as you played your uncle just now, you would soon be considered a master.”

Damin glanced at the Denikan, not sure if Kraig was complimenting him or censuring him. “I just arranged for you to stay out of Lernen’s way for the duration of the campaign,” he pointed out. “I thought you’d be grateful.”

“I am grateful,” Kraig assured him. “I am just not used to being surprised, that’s all. You have depths I did not previously suspect, your highness. I must take this into consideration, or risk losing all I have won from you.”

Damin looked at him askance. “You do know we’re only joking about winning the continent from me, Kraig. Don’t you?”

“Were we?” the Denikan asked with a raised brow.

Damin wasn’t amused. “You really do think you’re rather funny, don’t you?”

Kraig smiled thinly. “Don’t you?”

Damin didn’t answer him, distracted by the sight of Almodavar hurrying through the camp toward them.

“Lady Lionsclaw told me I’d find you here,” the captain said, as he approached. He saluted Damin but pointedly ignored Kraig. Even in the normal course of events, as far as Almodavar was concerned, the Denikan was a court’esa and beneath the notice of a Raider in the service of any Warlord. Given Damin’s behaviour of late, which the captain apparently blamed on his fascination for his new Denikan slaves, the old man was even less inclined to acknowledge Kraig’s presence.

“Is it Adham?” Damin asked, fearful Tejay had sent Almodavar after him to deliver even more bad news.

Almodavar shook his head. “Worse, I’m afraid.”

“How could it be worse?”

“One of the scouts just rode in to let me know the troops from Dregian, Greenharbour and Pentamor Provinces have been spotted on the main road from Warrinhaven. They’ll arrive by midday.”

“Wonderful,” Damin said, rolling his eyes. “That’s all I need.”

“Does the arrival of more men not please you?” Kraig asked curiously.

“It’s not the troops, Kraig,” Damin explained with a sigh. “Those I welcome with open arms.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s their Warlords,” he replied, thinking the day had just gone from bad to infinitely worse. “My extremely distant cousin, Lord Cyrus Eaglespike, the Warlord of Dregian Province, and no doubt his good friend and constant shadow, Toren Foxtalon, the Warlord of Pentamor, are about to grace us with their noble presence.”

“This is not a good thing, I gather?”

Almodavar rolled his eyes contemptuously. Damin wasn’t sure if it was because of Cyrus Eaglespike’s impending arrival or the fact his prince felt the need to explain anything to a slave.

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