Nana knew that the princella was still alive. First, because the two Fountains, the one in the courtyard and the one in the Throne Room, kept flowing (even if less vigorously). Second, because at the confrontation at Moot Table Lautan’s Agent had said that the Spirit of the Sea had saved her from Pozhar’s Magi.
So Nana bided her time, obeying Nargis’s orders and trying to keep tabs on conditions in the palace and around the realm.
The chamberlain who had taken over after Martza was fired (because the soup was not hot enough at an after-theater dinner), was a man named Vilkit. Regent Matwyck had wooed him away from the duchy manor of Woodsdale: he had no previous experience with the palace. Vilkit struck her as smart and ambitious, smart enough to know that Nana, as one of the longest-serving staff members, had crucial information that would be helpful to him. So he treated her with a certain oily respect, which she found both flattering and off-putting.
This week Vilkit had ordered a massive inventory of the palace linens and had asked Nana to supervise this task for the most precious chambers, the royal rooms and the second-floor guest rooms. And she’d told him she’d be happy to do so, once she returned from visiting a sick friend in Cascada.
Brother Whitsury, Nana’s ally among the Brothers of Sorrow, had met her at the Courtyard of the Star, and together they’d hired a carriage to take them to the feedlots on the far west outskirts of Cascada. As they disembarked at the third business, Nana shuddered at the too-familiar smells of cattle. But she also brightened at the sight of the silhouette she sought: Pontole, one of Queen Cressa’s Shields.
Fortunately, at the moment he worked in a paddock of some thirty cattle alone.
“Nana!” he cried, putting down his bucket. “What are you doing here? If you wanted to see me, why didn’t you send for me?”
“Ah, Shield Pontole! ’Tis so grand to see you! Obviously, I wanted to speak away from the palace.”
“So you found me out, clever mittens. This is my brother’s lot.” His arm gestured over their surroundings. “I’ve been working here since I returned. But my plan has always been to put in for a position as a guard for a trader’s caravan. Pay’s better, and that would get me away from crowding my brother’s family, now that they’ve got even more mouths to feed. I guess I’ve been a lazy cuss; somehow I’ve never taken the step.”
“But if you went off with caravans, wouldn’t you be sent long distances?”
“Of course. Their wagons crisscross the duchies. But I don’t mind the traveling life. Might help me forget everything I want to forget.”
Whitsury spoke at this point. “I find that I can’t ever leave my troubles behind me. Pesky things; they tag after me wherever I go.”
Pontole put down his bucket and slapped some cattle on their haunches to get them to move out of the way. He crossed to the split-rail fence.
“Shield Pontole, let me introduce you to Brother Whitsury; he’s the head of the Abbey of Sorrow here in Cascada.”
“My honor,” said Pontole, looking at his dirty hands and deciding not to offer them to shake. “Do you mean, Brother, that I can’t ever escape the picture of Kinley dying on the deck? Kinley, she was a mate and a swell fighter. Or my guilt at not being with the rest of the fellows in the last sea battle? I know it’s crazy, but I keep imagining that I could’ve helped, that I could’ve saved someone.”
“Time will help. Time and drinking Nargis Water,” said Whitsury.
“It’s been a lot of years already, Brother. If time would help, you’d think it woulda done so by now. But I haven’t tried the Waters—I haven’t really felt worthy.…”
Nana spoke. “But you’ve no cause to feel guilt, because Queen Cressa sent you home with the horses.”
Pontole spread his hands and then made a fist and tapped his chest. “I understand that in my mind, but I still feel that I should’ve been with my mates and my queen.”
“What if,” Nana dropped her voice and spoke with great care, “I was to tell you about ways to serve Queen Cressa still?”
Pontole ducked through the fence crossbeams so that he now stood on their side. Forgetting his soiled hands, he reached for both of Nana’s hands.
“Nana! The princella!” he said in an excited whisper. “Do you remember the day Seena and I went riding with her? I think of it all the time. All the time! Have you found her? I would give my life to help the princella!”
Nana smiled at his enthusiasm. “Nay, Pontole, I don’t have the princella hidden away. But I know she’ll be coming back, and when she does she is going to need our assistance.”
“That’s for sure,” he said. “My brother’s wife, some nights she reads me the broadsheets—they are full of stories about what a wonderful regent Lord Matwyck has been. Methinks he’s got the writers by the shorthairs. And those statues of his ugly face that have been showing up more places … It’s a wonder he hasn’t put his likeness atop the Fountain! And the rumors floating about, saying that anyone who even talks about the princella had better shut his trap or else. Has something changed, this last year?”
“Yer a shrewd customer, Pontole. I’ve noticed this too. My guess is the death of his lady-wife has allowed the coxcomb to strut more.
“Pontole, do you know the whereabouts of the other two shields who came back with you?” Nana asked.
“Sergeant Yanath and Branwise?” Pontole shooed away a horsefly. In the distance two other workers came out of a barn and Pontole waved at them.
“Aye.”
“Branwise has fallen into his cups. He does odd jobs and drinks away the money. I see him quayside, outside whatever tavern that day offers the strongest drink for the least coin.”
“And Yanath?”
“Yanath got married. Imagine that! A widow woman with two sons and fifteen acres. He spends most of his days hitched to a plow and his nights chasing varmints away. I see him now and again. He invited me to the farm for Harvest Fest. Actually, it’s not very far from the city. ’Twas so grand to spend the holiday with him. I wondered if I’d be in the way, but his missus was right cordial to an old pal and made me feel ever so welcome.”
“Are they still loyal to the throne?” Nana asked as she lifted a boot to inspect the bottom.
“Nana! How can you ask that? Of a surety.”
Whitsury had a practical streak. “How are their fighting skills, Pontole? For that matter, how are your skills?”
“We all hung up our swords when we returned. That was somethin’ like nine summers ago. We’ll be rusty for sure. And if Branwise has the shakes…”
Nana turned to Whitsury. “Can we even trust a drunkard? Wouldn’t he sell us out for a pitcher of brew?”
“In his day Branwise was a great swordsman,” Pontole put in eagerly. “Water’s sake—what a fighter! Better than me, for sure. Couldn’t we give him a chance? Something to sober up for, something to live for?”
“I’d like to see ’em both before I decide,” Nana said slowly. “Pontole, forget the caravan jobs; stay in the capital, even if you change positions or move lodgings. You can always reach Brother Whitsury at the abbey near the Fountain. Keep in touch with him and always tell him where to find you. If you get Branwise sobered up and get Yanath to come to town, Whitsury will arrange for us five to meet. In the meantime, polish the rust off yer sword, restring yer bow, and lose that roll of lard on yer belly.”
“Nana! Hey, you call to mind my old captain. He wanted us all to stay trim. Are nursemaids now soldiers?”
Nana chuckled. “Takes a lot of backbone to handle princellas. And everything has turned topsy-turvy these days.”
“What would you have me tell Yanath and Branwise?” asked Pontole. Despite his soiled work clothes, the man already held his back straighter.
“Keep me and Brother Whitsury out of it for the nonce,” said Nana. “The Lord Regent is always sniffing around to find out what I am up to, and General Yurgn tries to root out every Royalist. But I’m hoping they may just have forgotten about you three. So tell yer fellows this: while you was praying at the Nargis Fountain for the souls of the departed shields, Nargis spoke to you.”
Pontole’s mouth fell open in awe. “What did the Spirit tell me?”
“What else? Nargis said, ‘’Tis time to prepare for the return of the queen.’”