Stalking Darkness

stable. I’ll take care of the front room.”
    Rhiri gave a quick salute and went out through the lading-room door to the back court.
    In the front room Diomis checked the bar on the door and extinguished the lamp. The hearth fire was out; with only two guests in the inn, he hadn’t bothered to keep it burning when they’d turned in early. He was just checking the shutter hooks when he heard the familiar rattle of the front door latch.
    Diomis peered through the crack of the shutter but saw no horses in the courtyard.
    “Who’s that?” he called.
    There was no answer except a crisp rap on the door.
    Diomis had no patience for games tonight. “We’re closed up! Try the Rowan Tree, two streets over.”
    The unseen visitor knocked again, more insistently this time.
    “Now look here—” Diomis began, but was cut short by the crash of the kitchen door slamming back on its hinges.

31
T HE F IRST B LOW
    T opping the crest of a hill just north of Watermead, Alec was surprised to see a long line of torches in the distance. As they came closer, he saw it was a column of cavalry under the red and gold insignia of the Red Serpent Regiment. Reining in, he hailed the first of the outriders as he came abreast of him.
    “What’s going on?” Alec called out.
    The soldier slowed his horse. “War, son. It’s war at last. Pass it on to all you meet.”
    “This early in the year?” Alec exclaimed.
    “Looks like the bastards were spoiling for a fight,” the man replied grimly. “A Plenimaran raiding party ambushed some of our cavalry up in the Mycenian hill country. We’re headed north to join with the Queen’s Horse Guard. Word is they took the brunt of it, as usual.”
    “The Queen’s Horse? I know someone in that regiment. Could you take a message for me?”
    “No time, son,” the man said, spurring away as the column caught up.
    The hundred or more riders wore red and gold tabards over their chain, and their huge black horses rang with harness and breastplates.Then, like an apparition in the deepening dusk, they disappeared over the crest of the hill.
    “Maker’s Mercy, here you are at last!” Arna exclaimed, coming out into the courtyard to meet him. “Did you have trouble on the way?”
    Alec was in too much of a hurry to properly address that. “Just tell that fellow Ranil not to send anyone else that way,” he said, leading Micum’s black to the stable. “I had news on the road, though. The war’s started.”
    Arna’s hands flew to her wrinkled cheeks. “Oh, my poor Beka! She’s up on the border already. Do you think she’s in it yet?”
    Alec didn’t have the heart to lie. Turning, he took the old servant by the shoulders. “The soldier who gave me the news said the Queen’s Horse was in it, yes. Micum didn’t know any of this; word hadn’t reached Warnik’s yet. I imagine they’ll hear it there before long, but in case they haven’t, you tell Micum first, then let him break it to Kari, all right?”
    “I will, love, I will,” Arna sighed, dabbing her eyes with a corner of her shawl. “Wouldn’t you just know it? Nothing will do for her but to enlist, then doesn’t she land smack in the middle of things. And her not even twenty yet.”
    “Well, she’s a good soldier,” said Alec, as much for his own comfort as hers. “With Micum and Seregil for teachers all those years, and then Myrhini—that’s as good training as anyone could have.”
    Arna gave his arm a squeeze. “Maker love you, sir, I hope you’re right. I’ll go get you something to eat as you ride. Don’t you go off without it, hear?”
    By the time he’d shifted his borrowed saddle onto Patch’s back, she was back with a bundle of food tied up in a napkin and several torches. Mounting he lit one from the courtyard lantern and set off on the final stretch to Rhíminee under a clouded, moonless sky. He met more columns of riders and foot soldiers along the way, but didn’t stop for news.
    He came in sight of the city just before midnight. The highroad followed the top of the cliffs above the sea and from here he could see down to the harbor where lines of watch fires outlined the moles, shining brightly across the dark expanse of water. Moresignal fires burned on the islands at the mouth of the harbor, and torches had been lit along the city walls above.
    The north gate was open under heavy guard to allow for the passage of troops. Inside, the Harvest Market looked as if a war had already been fought