The Queen's Gambit by Deborah Chester Read Free Book Online Page A

Pace’s order. Today, they mourned Prince Gavril, as did every hold across the land. The Heir to the Realm was being buried, and due respect must be given.
    Talmor sighed. According to the orders in the dispatch brought by courier, the state funeral held in Savroix today was to be observed by every hold and village across the realm. Atnoontide precisely Prince Gavril would be laid to his final rest. At noontide precisely, Durl Hold must acknowledge the event. After much thought and stewing, Lord Pace had decided not to use his tiny—and very precious—horde of saltpeter to salute the prince.
    â€œDamne! A waste of good supply,” were his exact words. The saltpeter had been imported at exorbitant cost to blast away some of the granite cliffs so Lady Alda could expand the north wing. Lord Pace intended the stone to be used to finish building a seawall across the harbor. The saltpeter was not going to be blown to the winds in honor of a prince dead and of no use now to his erst subjects.
    Instead, Lord Pace had elected to light bonfires on the cliff edge past the fortress. They would shine as a beacon to any merchant ships out to sea. They would look spectacular from the beach. They might even be visible to the shy hill folk, who so rarely ventured to Durl. If the fires weren’t visible, Lord Pace asserted, the smoke certainly would be.
    Accordingly, he had ordered three bonfires built to exacting specifications. At noontide, on his signal, they would be lit and a prayer spoken. Afterwards, a somber feast of salted fish and flat mourning cake would be eaten, followed by priestly exhortations to consider one’s soul. Then all folk would disperse and go home.
    There was to be no jousting or games, much to the disappointment of the hold knights. Word was that the village folk were grumbling about the loss of a day’s catch, with naught reward to show for such abstinence, but Lord Pace knew what was proper and he had no intention of permitting any activity that resembled celebration.
    â€œThe king has watchers,” he’d said, when his daughters moaned against his edicts. “Eyes and ears, alike, reporting to his majesty from everywhere. Aye! We’ll do this proper, with the right show of respect. Somber garments. Somber eating. Let the priests have the day to preach us into sour stomachs, if they wish. On such occasions we should eat lightly. ’Tis a funeral, not a feast day.”
    A dreary day, Talmor thought, squinting at the sky. Thewind had died, and a fine mist was falling. He could see fog rolling in from Goose Point. The tiny island was already shrouded with gray, just the top of its lone pine visible above the fog. His mood darkened more. After all this fuss and bother about the bonfires, which could have been built on the beach with a great deal less trouble, the fog might well engulf everything. Then it wouldn’t matter if the fires were lit or not, for who would be able to see them?
    His horse stumbled on the trail, snorted, and took another reluctant step. Loose shale and pebbles shifted beneath Canae’s iron-shod hooves, and Talmor pushed deeper into his stirrups, bracing himself and leaning back to keep his balance as the horse went downward.
    Lord Pace no longer rode up to inspect the fortress, even in good weather. His joints hurt him on damp, cold days, especially his hips, although he wouldn’t admit it. Today, he had sent his adjutant to see that all was prepared according to his orders.
    Inspecting bonfires, Talmor thought with irritation, was a job for a squire, not a knight of good rank. Yet Lord Pace was known for ignoring tradition and convention. He thought nothing of ordering his sentry knights to redig the south ditch whenever the pikes on that side of the hold began to topple in the soft, sandy soil. Such a job was for peasants, and caused much resentment in the ranks. Yet Lord Pace did as he pleased, without a thought for morale. It had taken