A Company of Heroes Book Two: The Fabulist by Ron Miller

Author:Ron Miller [Miller, Ron]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2014-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

They cross the wide unguarded bridge and enter the city gate, which opens onto a busy market. They go directly to the small guardhouse that blocks the winding lane that led to the castle. There Bronwyn and the baron present the letters each had written the night before and embossed with their rings. Knowing there would be some time before their introductions filter to the highest necessary level, the trio retreat to a tavern that commanded a view of the guard station.

Bronwyn sips at a glass of wine, while the two others have, respectively, a beer and ten beers. Bronwyn notices that the baron seems nervous, his conversation is distracted and he barely acknowledges even her pithiest remarks. His fingers drum nervously on the tabletop and what replies she does receive are in grunted monosyllables .

It is not long before she sees the guard captain wave from his window.

They recross the plaza. At the hut the guard requests them to accompany a lackey to the castle.

“He’ll take you to a waiting room where the duke’ll give you an audience,” says the captain, with no effort to hide his distaste and disapproval. He indicates Thud. “This can wait here, until you return.”

“He comes with us,” says Bronwyn.

“I’m sorry. There are only two letters requesting audience, and permission is only granted for those two.”

“If he doesn’t come with me, I’m not going.”

“Princess!” urges the baron.

“That’s your problem,” says the captain. “Suit yourself.”

“We’ll see whose problem it is,” replies Bronwyn. “Let’s go, Baron.”

“Bronwyn! Just a moment . . .”

But the girl has already turned her back and is retreating across the plaza, Thud obediently following. The distressed baron chases after her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not going without Thud.”

“Why not? He’s only a servant.”

“He is not!” she growls, turning on the baron. “He’s my friend. He gives his life twice for me, no one else has ever done anything like that. I’m not treating him like a servant any longer, and I won’t allow anyone else to!”

“I’m sorry, but what’re we going to do? We must see the duke. He’s the only one who can help us.”

“We’ll just have to think of something else.”

They are interrupted by the guard captain, who has hurried across the plaza to intercept them. “Pardon me, your Highness, your Excellency!” he puffs, now with abject deference. “I telephoned your reply to the duke and he ordered me to admit all of you, at once!”

“This man, too?”

“Of course!”

“See, Baron?” says Bronwyn. “You worry too much.” They turn to follow the captain back to the gate when Bronwyn suddenly cries out, “Hold it! Baron, look!”

“What?” he asks, looking in the direction she points, toward the high iron gate. A black carriage is leaving the castle grounds. On its lacquered door is the scarlet double-headed eagle of the House of Tedeschiiy.

“Who is it?” he asks. Bronwyn draws him into the shade of an awning before answering. The golden color has fallen from her face like a snake’s skin, leaving her as pale as a shelled cashew.

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