50

Aside from being a nuisance and a danger to our merchants, the bandits' presence was an insult to Sable itself. Worse still, they proved impossible to catch, hiding in our surrounding mountains. Dinn had been right about the roads; while the passages between were in good condition, the up-mountain roads themselves were in impossible disrepair. Dinn couldn't get any horses up them, and even men on foot needed hours to make headway. The bandits, moving in much smaller groups, had almost no difficulty raiding Dinn's search parties, leaving many wounded. There had been no deaths yet, but that didn't seem like much consolation.

For a short time, Sable could hardly care less about Armes and the civil war. Armes was quiet for the time being. Stories of the constant clashes between the Prince and the Godwins arrived steadily on our doorstep. Hatred Fortress was destroyed. Lordlake was lush and verdant again. The Prince had made his headquarters in some mysterious ruins in Ceras Lake that they were calling Dawn Castle. Lord DeBeers of Lelcar fled for his life. The Queen's Knights razed his city, and it joined the Dawn Army. Despite an official envoy with a letter written in Lucretia Merces' own hand requesting soldiers, Sable firmly maintained its neutral stance.

Which is why we were somewhat surprised the evening Boz Wilde rode under our front gates, asking to speak to Dinn, or Father, or me, or whomever was "handy". We instantly assumed there had been a disaster and that Boz was bringing the bad news.

"No, no, nothin' like that!" Boz expostulated, after thanking a maid for his tankard of beer. "I'm here on behalf of the Prince, to try to talk some sense into you guys."

We were seated at dinner. Mother and I exchanged glances, but Father, Grand and Dinn were all business.

Father steepled his hands, looking down at them (a delaying tactic?). "The Prince wants us to join the Dawn Army."

"Puttin' it subtly...yeah."

Father sighed and shook his head. "Privately, I sympathize with the Prince's cause. But I cannot commit Sable's garrison to war on his behalf."

Boz was taken aback. "What? But you've as good as said you want to help -so why don't you? If you think it's right, you should do it!"

Father smiled half-heartedly. "It's not that simple."

"Not that simple?" Boz swung around in his chair. "Come on, Dinn, back me up! You were there in Barows' manor. You know what the Prince is up against. You can't tell me you don't want to help!"

Dinn put down his wine glass (definitely a delaying tactic). "Lord Wilde, the problem is that most of Sable does not support the Prince's cause. Nor the Godwins'," he added, seeing Boz's look of outrage.

Boz stared at each of us in turn. "What? Come on, this is Sable! You're all about fightin'! Warriors are the local cash crop! What's holding you back?"

"Oh, nothing much," I not-quite-snapped. I could see Father about to step in with another calm reply, and it was bothering me. "Only the fact that Armes slipped past us a few months ago, Barows betrayed us, and we have bandits infesting the mountains."

Father gave me a pointed "Be quiet" look. Boz, however, didn't seem to find anything amiss in my lack of manners. "Bandits? What's this?"

Father glanced at Dinn before speaking. "Never mind, Lord Wilde. It is not germane. While we appreciate your faith in our garrison, please relay to His Highness that we will not be entangling ourselves-"

"-in Lady Merces' puppet strings," Grand finished.

Father's face tensed, but before he could reprimand Grand, Boz had ridden right over them both. "You don't like Lucretia? She doesn't seem bad at all to me. We're winnin' battles, aren't we? You goin' to ask for more outta a strategist?"

Grand eyed Boz narrowly. "I'm not convinced she's only the strategist. Isn't she the effective leader of the Dawn Army?"

Boz rose from his seat. "Like hell! Of course the Prince is our leader, he's the one who leads the battles, looks for recruits-"

"-and respects Sable's neutral status," Dinn interposed peaceably. "If Lucretia were only an opportunist, she would be listing Sable as an opponent."

Grand raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue the point.

Boz sat back down and gulped down a few slices of pork. "So, okay, you're not joinin'. Fair enough. What's this about bandits now?"

Like magic, we all looked tired. We really didn't like talking about it, but eventually Boz got the full story.

"Damn," he said feelingly, pointing his fork at Dinn. "Those are some tough bandits to be messin' with you."

"They're also smart," Mother said. "And very skilled in guerrilla warfare."

"I think we'll have them soon though," Dinn said. "They can't support themselves in the mountains. There's just not enough food. Sooner or later, they'll have to make another raid down-mountain."

Boz grinned broadly. "Well, I don't wanna miss that."

Father looked up, startled. "What? Surely the Prince can't spare you."

Boz waved that aside. "He'd want me to help, trust me."

Seeing Father's dubiousness, Dinn nodded. "Lord Wilde's assistance may even win more approval for the Prince here."

The next morning, Dinn and Boz had left before I was awake. They didn't return until noon. I was with Chaz as they marched into the courtyard. I glanced briefly at them, but Chaz tensed, then said a word I had never heard before.

"Chaz?" I rounded on him, amazed at his unseemliness.

"Forgive me, my lady," Chaz said, not contrite. His face was grim. "The raid hasn't gone well. Something has happened."

I looked from him to the soldiers. I couldn't see anything wrong with them. "How can you tell?"

Just then, Grand joined us on the balcony. His eyes narrowed as he took in the soldiers, then he said that same word Chaz had employed (I'm not even sure how to spell it). "What's happened to them?" He charged past us towards the stairs.

I stared at them again. They just looked like disciplined soldiers to me. I suppose it takes a trained eye.

"I can't believe it-" Boz was saying when I caught up to him, Grand, Father and Dinn.

Dinn was shaking his head, his eyes bewildered. "I... don't believe it. There must be some explanation."

I touched his arm. "What on earth has happened?"

Dinn and Boz exchanged swift glances. Dinn looked at me, then took a deep breath as he addressed Father. "My lord, we... We engaged the bandits at Ranro Mountain. Their leader-"

"I'll say it," Boz broke in. "I wasn't afraid to say it there." He stared darkly at the ground for a moment. "Look, the bandit leader looks just like the Prince."

"What?" Father and I said at the same time.

"That's all there is to it," Boz said. "Their leader's like the Prince's -I dunno- twin or sumthin'. I lost my head when I saw him, just shouted 'Prince, what are you doin'?'" He grimaced. "Shoulda thought a moment, the Prince wouldn't be raiding with bandits."

"Nevertheless," Dinn said, "the soldiers heard him."

Father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sun above..."

"This won't help the Prince's cause in Sable," Grand said flatly.

I realized just then that I was still holding Dinn's upper arm. I released him, though I don't think even he had noticed.

"What do you make of it?" I asked him as we all returned to the house.

Dinn took a moment before answering. "I believe in the Prince's integrity. So does Boz, and your father seems to." He paused half a beat.

"You know him better than I do," I said noncommittally.

"Trust me. The Prince is not a bandit. He is his father's son." I thought back to Commander Ferid, how much I had admired him, all the stories of his bravery and nobility. Dinn was continuing. "Anyway, it matters little what we think. Most of Sable only knows the Prince through rumors."

"You don't think we'll be able to join the Prince's side?"

"I'm worried that the people will start clamoring for us to fight against him."

I nearly tripped on a stair tread. "Sable will never back the Godwins!"

"No," Dinn said. "We'd be a small, isolated group surrounded by three enemies." He shook his head and put his hand on his doorknob. Just then, we both noticed a package that had been propped against his door.

Dinn frowned, bent, lifted it. His name was written on it. He unwrapped it.

The Sham Quartet had struck again. The Phoenix had been reinterpreted as an oil painting. Dinn was painted sitting astride Ghost, the standard of Sable unfurling in his left hand, an eagle on his right shoulder. But it seemed Sham the dog had been allowed to dip his paws into the palette, because the image was covered with multicolored pawprints. To finish it off, the Sham Quartet had connected the pawprints with rows of yellow stars.

Dinn stared hopelessly at me. I shook my head. "I don't see how we could feasibly drop it in the fire again."

"It would seem suspicious," Dinn said bleakly.

"However," I said, "we did hang in the hallway here."

Dinn raised an eyebrow. "We...did?"

"Prominently. We were very proud of it, you see. Which is why it was such a shame when..."

"Yes?" Dinn asked eagerly.

"You were showing me your sword swings and-"

"Ah. Yes. Yes, it was a shame. Allow me." Dinn placed the canvas on top of a bookshelf, leaning it against the wall. He drew his nodachi. "Now, then, what sword swing did you want to see?"

"Oh, you decide. I don't want to bridle your creative impulses."

"My lady is very considerate," Dinn said, regarding the canvas with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Swoop -SLAM- r-i-i-i-i-i-pppp! Thud.

Dinn straightened. He smiled broadly as he sheathed his sword, then looked over the railing to the house's lower level. "Do I smell lunch cooking?"