Warprize

for my attentions were all spent on him. Xyron was a warrior betrayed by a body that had served him long and well, and his temper grew worse as his body failed. He was quick to anger, and even quicker to blame, finding fault with everything. This made his relationship with Xymund harder. It made keeping servants to attend him almost impossible. So my role was healer, daughter, and peacemaker. I rarely left my father’s side, and at the end, rarely left his chambers. We’d used flowers and rose oil to sweeten the air as he lay dying. I suspected the scent would always bring back those long hours.
    I continued to pick, dropping the fruit into the basket, covering the bottle and jars. I had to move slowly to avoid the thorns. Best to get some before Anna the Cook descended on the briar to pluck and snip for her own uses. Her rose-hip jell was wonderful in the winter months, spread on toasted bread with honey. My arm stretched in further, getting several good scratches for my pains. Perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all.
    I froze of a sudden. The hairs on my neck had risen and drew my attention to the unnatural stillness. There was something out there.
    I held my breath. All the normal sounds of the garden were gone. The tiny birds settling in for the night, the small sounds of rabbits and the like, all were missing, as if a large predator was in the area. I wondered for a moment if one of the hunt-ing dogs had gotten loose. Though my brother rarely hunted, he still kept a few dogs for the use of the huntsmen. But those dogs were all tail and wiggles, eager for a touch on the head and a scratch behind the ear. They’d not stay still for a minute. I pulled my arm back slowly, and took a step away from the briar. I drew in a deep breath and held it, straining to hear over the noise of my own body. Nothing moved, and I could hear no sounds. I remained quiet and unmoving for a minute or two, glancing about as if my eyes could pierce the night. Then my stomach growled and reminded me that the morning meal had been some time ago, and that Kalisa’s cheese only went so far. I laughed nervously. Overtired for certain. I dropped the last of the rose hips into my basket, then indulged in a good stretch. Which, in turn, caused my hair to fall out of its bun. Again. I cursed and fumbled with it, managing to get it pulled back. There was a tie in my pocket and I pulled it out to restrain the curly mass. The night was still silent when I picked up my basket and moved on.
    Apparently I was the only large predator prowling the garden tonight. The warm light spilled out of the castle windows as I moved through the kitchen garden and approached the back door. The High Court must be in fine fettle tonight. Considering that there was a war on, it seemed rather odd and inappropriate. But then, the lords and sycophants that made up the bulk of the Court would think nothing odd about it.
    In our glory days, Xy had been a center for trade. The valley and the mountain passes were a gathering point for caravans, according to the history books. Xy had maintained a standing army, bolstered by the wealth of the merchants and the produce of the fertile soil. But in my great-grandfather’s time, the trade routes had dried up. To make matters worse, in my grandfather’s reign the Sweat had devastated the land. Grandfather had sealed the great trade gates, closing the mountain passes and isolating Xy even further. The standing army had been disbanded, leaving only the Palace and City Guard, and not many of them. The landed gentry that remained farmed the valley and Xy survived, small and alone, a shadow of what had been.
    Xymund longed for the glorious days of old, and attempted to maintain a ‘court’, gathering the ‘lords and ladies’ and their children to fawn upon him. Since my father had added the craftmasters and the clergy to his council, there was quite a crowd willing to eat at Xymund’s table, and play at the game of nobility. Once the Warlord had started his march up the valley, many of the Lords had fled their farms and manor houses and sought the city, bringing the fighting men at their command. This left the hamlets and villages normally under the lord’s protection to the mercies of the Warlord, and allowed the brute to advance swiftly, apparently to our very gates.
    I slipped in through the old wood door, and tarried for a minute on the threshold. For all its size and huge hearths, the kitchen always seemed