The rioting would die down during the night, and their best chance of escape lay in the hour before dawn, when the rioters were asleep, and the soldiers of the Watch were busy with the aftermath of the chaos.
Escape?
How long before the pursuit began? And how fast could they travel? The queen was heavily pregnant, the child due within days. She could not ride a horse at speed. The threat of miscarriage was too great. That meant taking a wagon. Hard-riding horsemen would catch them within hours.
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Perhaps it would be wiser to try to reach Banelion. The White Wolf and his men could not be further than a few days’ ride to the west.
He dismissed the idea. That would be the enemy’s first thought. And anyway what could a few hundred old men do against Malikada’s Ventrian army? Joining Banelion would merely serve a death warrant on more Drenai soldiers.
What then?
Some deception was necessary. Something that would give them time.
He heard the queen give out a soft moan in her sleep and moved back into the apartment. Sitting down beside her he gently took her hand. ‘I will defend you with my life,’ he whispered.
Ulmenetha watched him from the doorway. He was holding her hand with great tenderness and she realized, in that moment, that the young man was in love with Axiana. Sadness touched her. In a just world they would have met two years ago, when both were free. Even if she returned his love Axiana was carrying the heir to the throne of two nations. Her life would remain ruled by men of power. And they would never sanction a marriage to a junior officer like Dagorian.
Clearing her throat she stepped into the room, the children following her, bearing sacks of supplies.
‘What now?’ she asked Dagorian.
Releasing the queen’s hand he rose. ‘Are the children coming with us?’ Ulmenetha nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. >’We will need a wagon and extra horses. I will find them. The queen must be disguised. No silks nor satins. No jewellery. We will leave the city as a poor family, fleeing from the riots. There will be many such over the next few
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days. With luck we will pass unnoticed among them. This will slow down the pursuit.’
‘What can I do while you are fetching a wagon?’
‘Find maps of the mountains. There will be many box canyons, broken trails, and treacherous areas. It would be helpful if we could plan a route, and not move blindly on faith alone.’
Swirling a dark cloak around his shoulders Dagorian left them. The youngest child, Sufia, was exhausted, and Pharis led her to a couch, where she lay down and fell asleep. Leaving the children in the apartment Ulmenetha took a lantern and made her way to the Royal Library on the ground floor. There were thousands of books here, and hundreds of scrolls. She searched for some time through the index, locating three ancient maps of the mountains, and also a traveller’s diary that told of the trek from Usa to Perapolis in the south. If the Source was with them they would be following this route for at least part of the way.
Returning to the apartment she found the red-headed boy, Conalin, sitting on the balcony. Pharis and Sufia were cuddled together on the couch, fast asleep. She covered them with a blanket then moved to Axiana. The queen stirred, opened her eyes, and smiled sleepily. ‘I had a terrible dream,’ she said.
‘Rest, my lady. You will need your strength in the morning.’ Axiana closed her eyes.
Ulmenetha walked out onto the balcony. The western quarter of the city was ablaze, and she could hear distant screams. ‘Are you not tired?’ she asked Conalin.
‘I am strong,’ he said.
‘I know that. But even the strong need sleep.’
‘They are killing one another,’ he said, gesturing
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towards the distant flames. ‘Robbing, looting, raping. Slaughtering the weak.’
‘Does it sadden you?’
‘It is what the weak are for,’ he said, solemnly. ‘That is why I shall never be weak.’
‘How did you come to meet Pharis and the child?’