Children of Fire by Drew Karpyshyn Page B

hurts Gerald!”
    â€œNan,” Celia said softly, “it’s getting late. Perhaps Cassandra should go to bed now.”
    â€œOf course, mistress,” the nanny replied.
    Lady Hollander returned to her seat, and the nanny scooped Cassandra up in her arms and headed for the dining room’s door. She was almost knocked over by Conrad rushing in, still fumbling with the buttons on the clothes Celia had laid out for him. The nanny stumbled but regained her balance and glared at Conrad in cross surprise.
    â€œMy apologies, Nan. And to you, Lord Hollander,” he added, suddenly aware all eyes had turned to him. “I went into the city yesterday to purchase some horses for breeding. I fully intended to be back in time to welcome you to our manor, Lord Hollander.”
    The lord waved his hand to show he felt no slight. “Your wife has more than amply filled in during your absence, Conrad. I trust all went well in the city?”
    â€œNo, my lord,” Conrad replied, finally popping the final button of his collar into place. He still stood just inside the doorway, uncertain if it was polite to sit while being questioned by a nobleman. “We had some trouble with a skittish gray. I had taken our smith with me to examine the animals. I am sorry to say his skull was caved in by one of the animal’s hooves. I had to see to his funeral arrangements. That is why I was late.”
    There was silence in the room as all eyes shifted from Conrad to Cassandra, still held in the arms of the nanny standing just inside the door.
    â€œThe Sight,” Lady Hollander whispered.
    At her words the nanny quickly set Cassandra on the floor and took a step back.
    â€œThe Order must know of this,” Lord Hollander said at last.
    Conrad only looked in confusion at the guests. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?” At last his gaze fell on his wife. “Celia, what’s going on?”
    But Celia couldn’t answer him. She could only stare at Cassandra in horror, thinking over and over to herself,
Not her eyes! They can’t take her beautiful eyes.
    At the sound of the horn Roland was instantly awake: a single, short blast that ended as if it was cut off prematurely. Not good. He grabbed his sword and rushed from the tent, not having time to don his armor as he raced toward the outskirts of their makeshift camp. The whole while he kept hoping to hear another signal—two blasts meant the odds were fairly even, three meant they were overmatched, four meant it was a false alarm. But there was nothing further, just the one blast. Which meant the sentries had been discovered and most likely killed.
    The Rearing Lion mercenaries Roland had hired to protect Conrad Wyndham’s only daughter during her flight were already gathering in battle formation, twelve soldiers armed with heavy broadswords. Those who had been on night-watch wore ringmail shirts. The rest, like Roland, were still in their sleeping clothes. But they were all here, except the two sentries on the perimeter and the two stationed outside Cassandra’s tent.
    Roland frowned. A dozen soldiers plus himself made thirteen—an unlucky number. But of course he hadn’t yet counted Dalia and the five bowmen under her command. The archers added another six to their group, making a total of nineteen gathered in the clearing ready to face their enemy. Plus Bella.
    Normally the Rearing Lions worked alone. They were elite soldiers for hire, specializing in protection for merchant caravans or important persons traveling along routes that were known for bandit activity. Ransoms and kidnappings were rare in the Southlands but occasionally a noble or wealthy merchant, or members of the family, would disappear before reaching their destination.
    Roland knew these men were a strong deterrent to such an occurrence. Nearly a score of armed guards was usually enough to make would-be attackers