A Questionable Quest

Chapter 9... in which I'm almost caught by a pompous posturing pretender

I was itching to leave by the time Prince Donovan -- sorry, Van -- packed up his bags. Not because I was impatient, although patience had never really been a virtue of mine.

No, I was itching to leave because, as we waited in the main hall, several (three, to be exact) royal knights walked in. From Harvenmor. I could tell, by the indigo banners draped over their clumsy breastplates.

I don't know why I was surprised. I shouldn't have been. It was nearly noon (Princ-Van had insisted we each take a few hours' nap in one of the rooms upstairs, as we'd both been awake all night). In fact, I was more surprised it had taken them so long to notice the note and dispatch the knights.

Casting a discreet glance outside the nearest window, I saw several more (eight, to be exact) knights mounted atop horses. These ones were all from Portsburring.

Ah. That explained the delay.

If I knew my parents, then I knew they would have wanted to send out entirely Harvenmor knights. Because, if nothing else, they were self-sufficient. And of course the Portsburring royals were going to send their own knights to ensure their guest of honour was alive.

Hah. I could almost picture the argument that had ensued. I half felt bad for the king and queen of Portsburring.

Then again... they'd clearly left the discussion victors. I sent out a quiet congratulations.

Van was still packing his things in his room. He had several more bags than I did -- one with enough food to last us and his horse about a week, one with a survival kit, one with clothes, and one with his armour.

Two of the Harvenmor knights began questioning the nearest customers. The third talked to someone -- an innkeeper? -- about something.

Me, I guessed.

I hunched over my glass of water, thought better of it, and straightened my spine and took a sip. Nothing to see here. Nothing at all.

From my vantage point, I kept an eye on the Portsburring knights out of the corner of my eye. One of them shook his head, dismounted clumsily (because of all his bulky armour -- I grinned) and made his way towar-

"Knights?" I spun. It was Van, dropping his bags to the floor beside my seat. I nodded. He frowned. "What are they doing here?"

"I... I don't know." I shrugged, the motion concealing my nervous swallow. Hopefully, he couldn't hear the frantic thrum of my heart beneath the blue tunic and leather vest.

"Hmm." He looked thoughtful. (And handsome. Even in my nervous state, my heart flipped at the sight of his still-groomed hair and sharp features. At least some things hadn't changed.)

I took a sip from my water. My eyes stared unseeingly at the back wall. I listened intently.

Another set of clanking boots had joined the Harvenmor guards. The clank in them was different, however. More tang than clang. Like steel armour versus iron.

(Yes, I had worked with armour long enough to recognise their material by sound. It had been rather useful -- only the elder knights were allowed steel, and it was almost impossible to tell them apart by look alone when they were fully armed.)

We had only taken one elder knight with us to Portsburring, and I had a feeling he wouldn't have left my parents' side had he been ordered with the threat of death.

Which meant the Portsburring knight was now moving among the patrons of the tavern.

"I think," said Van, pushing off from the counter, "I'll go figure out what's going on."