Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

bridle, and led horse and rider back down the deserted main street to where the others were waiting. Their horses were fine thoroughbreds, beside which Smokey in her battered trappings looked very much the poor relation. Jordan patted her neck and muttered a few comforting words as Gawaine moved away to mount his horse. They all looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Robert Argent
    started off and the others followed him. The hoofbeats sounded loud and distinct on the quiet as the small party left Bannerwick behind them and headed out into the falling dusk.
    The evening was still and silent as they made their way out on to the moor. The sun was sinking below the horizon in a mass of bloodstained clouds. Sir Gawaine lit a lantern and hung it from his saddle horn, so that the small party moved in its own pool of amber light. A cold wind gusted across the open moorland, ruffling the tall heather with a heavy hand, so that it rose and fell like the slow swell of a purple
    sea. The thick smoky scent of the heather made a pleasant contrast to the open-sewered stench of the milltown, and Jordan began to relax a little. He'd always liked travelling by night, and the lonely moors held no horrors for him. Bandits and wolves tended to prefer the forests, and he was too old to believe in ghosts. Besides, away from the stage he liked his solitude. It gave him time to think, to be himself rather than one of the many masks he wore for other people, on and off stage. The moors had their own stark beauty, for those with eyes to see it, and yet for once their open grandeur hadn't enough power to soothe his soul.
    It was all very well playing brave warriors and noble heroes on the stage, but he was well aware that out in the real world he had none of the qualities necessary to bring off such a role. He was an actor, not a fighter, and he was perfectly happy to leave it that way. In his experience, heroes tended to lead short and dangerous lives, and usually came to a nasty end. Standing up to be counted just made you an easier target to hit. And yet here he was, heading into an arena more perilous than any battlefield: a Court torn by intrigue. Jordan decided he wasn't going to think about it any more, for the time being. It just made his stomach ache. He glanced surreptitiously at Sir Gawaine, riding close beside him. He wasn't sure whether the knight's presence made him feel more secure or more threatened.
    'Roderik,' said Jordan finally, as much to break the silence as anything, 'tell me about Prince Viktor. Just an outline to begin with, to give me a feel for the part. And I'll need to know about his brothers as well.'
    'Of course,' said' Count Roderik. As he spoke, his voice remained casual and unhurried, but he never once looked at Jordan. 'You are the middle of three sons. Prince Lewis is the eldest. He inherited earth magic by his Blood. There isn't much call for earth magic inside a castle, so he's spent most of his life training to be a warrior. He favours the sword, and is very good with it. In many ways he was King Malcolm's favourite, but of late he and your father had grown distant. He has a vile temper, and won't be crossed on anything. His private life is ,a scandal. In his position he could have practically any woman for the asking, but instead he prefers to intimidate and take by force young Ladies from the lesser nobility.
    Any who dare complain are dismissed from Court, and their families are disgraced. Few are prepared to make an enemy of the man who may one day be their King. He's known to have strangled one girl when she declared she was pregnant by him. It was never proved, of course, but everybody knows.'
    'Sounds a pleasant chap,' said Jordan. 'What does he do for a hobby - poison wells?'
    'Don't underestimate his support,' said Roderik sharply. 'He's quite popular among the guards and men-at-arms, due to his undoubted martial prowess. They tend not to hear the rumours about his other exploits. And as the eldest son, and your father's acknowledged favourite, he's always commanded quite a large following at Court.'
    'Could he have killed King Malcolm?' said Jordan, frowning.
    'It's possible, I suppose. If your father had threatened to disinherit him because of his behaviour, I can see Lewis striking back at him in a rage. But poison . . . no, that's not Lewis's style. Now then, your younger brother is Prince Dominic. He inherited water magic by his Blood, but he's never made much use of it in