“Inventory from Broken Hill and Cork,” she announced.
He flipped through the pages, frowning. “This is Master Tillman’s hand. What happened to Ned?”
“He sailed out on theEndeavorlast month to oversee that shipment of grain to Roque personally.”
“Yes, but he should be back by now.” He knew what’d happened as soon as he looked up and saw her face. “Fucking pirates,” he snarled and flipped back to the first page. “Trinta is hitting our supply lines on both ends. At this rate, we won’t have enough food stores to feed our mercenary army, let alone ourselves.” He affixed his signature to the last page, using the pen and ink he wore around his neck, and handed the clipboard back to her.
“The Crows are bringing a shipment of wheat and some ale,” Gallaway said.
“Yes, but notenough. Especially with more and more refugees arriving each day. Trinta’s persecution of mages is sending them here in droves.” They started walking together. “Has there been any word from our contacts in the other Free Cities?”
“Other than Ostovan, no.”
It wasn’t unexpected. Ostovan was supposed to be hosting peace talks between Trinta and Brucia, but that would do little to help Greymark’s cause. He had hoped some of the other cities would support his claim, but so far, none of them had.
“Perhaps all these hungry mages can conjure some food.” She gestured to the tired and hungry people standing in the processing line at the mouth of the castle yard.
Most of the refugees had come with only the clothes on their backs. Many were women and children. Some would earn their place in Greymark with a pledge to fight, but Rowan worried many would desert, and there wouldn’t be enough. He did not have a mage commander at Greymark capable of inspiring any forces to remain, let alone to organize them. His pleas that Ruith send Katyr Runecleaver had also been denied. Instead, he was getting another Runecleaver, one he trusted far less.
The mages, though, would get room and board on the farms around Greymark in exchange for helping to work the neglected fields. Even with the late harvest, however, they couldn’t hope to feed so many people, not with Trinta cutting off all their supply lines via bandits and pirates.
“Let us hope they make better farmhands than conjurers,” he said. “Any news from the scouts on our Crow friends?”
She nodded. “They should be arriving today. Scouts spotted them near the border a few hours ago. Fewer Crows than agreed upon, however. Seems the head Crow is reluctant to honor his bargain.”
It did seem that way, but Rowan also knew that things had changed dramatically in a short time in Brucia. The Crow was now the king in Roque and, pending a special election in D’thallanar, the Primarch of the elves. Once he married Eris, he would also become king of Brucia.
There were not nearly enough Crows to defend all those places. While Ruith had also inherited his father’s army, he was also still sorting through who he could trust in what positions. It would be some time before he could afford to part with all the Crows. Ruith had assured Rowan they would arrive in Greymark in waves. Rowan only hoped they came soon. Trinta would not rely on this shadow war alone to win.
“The castle is ready? The staff prepared to receive our guests?” He paused in the archway of the outpost, leaning against the stone.
She crossed her arms. “Aye, I can do my job.”
He sighed. “I will only get one chance to make this first impression, and I do not want to waste it.”
“Like a schoolboy with a crush,” she snorted. “I ain’t seen you this worked up over visitors in a long time. A long time, indeed.”
“I’m far from a schoolboy,” he protested. “I’ve well outgrown my crushing days.”
She snorted again and turned, gathering her skirts to keep them out of the dry dirt.
Ewan strolled out from the other side of the wall.
Rowan looked down at his sweat and dirt-stained chest and pants. “Perhaps I should bathe and dress the part if I’m to greet the Crows as a king.”
“And perhaps you shouldn’t give two shakes of a rat’s arse what you look like for these people.”
Rowan arched an eyebrow. “Eris would never greet foreign mercenaries half-dressed and smelling of sweat.”
Ewan spat. “Fuck Queen Eris.”
“I’m fairly sure the Crow has already laid claim to that, and I have no wish to anger him further.”
Ewan took a step forward. “Brucia runs the way it does because it works for Brucia. That doesn’t mean it’ll work here. Greymark is a particular place with heartier people. You cannae be of two minds, Rowan. Not and make it work. A man with one foot in their world and the other in ours stands on shaky ground.”
Rowan closed his eyes. “That’s just the thing. For so long, there have been two Rowan Sullivans, Ewan. There’s the one the outside world knows, the one that fought so desperately to be accepted by his peers as a lord, and there’s the one you know. I am both men. I don’t know how to be either or. And neither of them knows how to relax and justbe.”
Ewan gripped his shoulders. “I know your da wanted great things for you. He wanted you to be educated so you could live that other life. You were brought up to want that, too. You’ve spent your whole adult life taking care of your da or taking care of us. But who takes care of you, lad? What makes you happy? A man’s got to live his life in a way that makes it worth gettin’ out of bed in the morning, and if you keep tryin’ to live it for everyone else… Well, one day, you’ll be old and gray and full of regret. Take it from someone who’s been in your shoes, lad.”