The Knight Marshal (The Silk & Steel Saga) by Karen Azinger Page A

prophecies,” she shook
her head, “perhaps we live in mad times.” Her gaze sought the message coil. “Or
perhaps the answer lies within.”
    He hovered beside her, his fists
clenched.
    “Best if you wait outside.”
    Marcus gave her a grave nod. “I’ll
be waiting.”
    She saw him to the door and locked
it behind him. For half a heartbeat she leaned against the sturdy door,
absorbing the sounds of her ship. Taking a deep breath, she stared at the
wooden disc spooled with parchment as if it carried a venomous adder. Message
coils always accompanied the most dire dispatches. Bearing only a few words,
the coils either verified or negated the scrolls they accompanied. She’d heard
tell of coils that read “ignore’, or “do the opposite”, or simply “obey”.
Juliana prayed for the first and feared the later. Whatever the message, she
was charged to follow the will of her king. “Only one way to be sure.”
Snatching the wooden coil from the table, she carefully removed the long thin
strip of parchment. A swirl of red ink marked one end, followed by a long list
of words. On its own, the list was gibberish, but every ship’s captain carried
a means to decode the message. Setting the parchment aside, she unlocked her
sea chest, fishing through charts and spare clothing till she found the leather
satchel. Opening the satchel, she revealed four wooden rods imprinted with the
crest of Navarre. Ranging in thickness from a skinny chicken bone to a cook’s
rolling pin, each two foot rod bore a colored dot and a nail in one end.
Matching the red swirl to the blue rod, she pierced the parchment with the nail
and began wrapping it around the rod, overlapping the parchment in such a
fashion that only the first letter of each line remained visible. When the
winding was complete, she took a steadying breath before reading the message.
Writ along the length of the rod in clear script, the message read, “Believe
and obey with all haste” .
    “No!” The cry shivered out
of her. Sinking to her bunk, she read it again, but the words remained the
same. A cold foreboding claimed her. She shook her head in disbelief. They were
asking her to risk her entire ship, nay the entire fleet, for the sake of
prophecies and visions. It was madness, an insane folly, a cruel jest of some
sort. Desperate to disregard the message, she reached for her sister’s scroll
and read it again, clutching at details. So many phrases sounded like Jordan, yet the message spoke of god-given visions and death. Her swordish sister had
always been so steady and sure, as dependable as steel, and now she claimed a
seer’s powers? It was damn near impossible to believe…but duty mattered to Jordan…as much as it did to Juliana…and the message was properly sealed and confirmed.
    A fist hammered the door. “ Captain!”
    Delay would not change the message.
Carefully unwrapping the parchment coil, Juliana returned the rods to her sea
chest. Taking a steadying breath, she unlocked the door.
    Marcus gaped when he saw her face.
“So it’s true!”
    She gave him a grim nod. “Raise the
pennant flag for captains’ parlay. The fleet has new orders.” 
    His face paled. “You won’t do it.
It’s a death mission.”
    She steeled her voice. “You have
your orders.”
    He stepped back as if slapped.
“Yes, captain.” He turned to do her bidding.
    She closed and locked her door. Death
and duty, the thoughts chased her mind. Leaning against the sturdy wood,
she worried that Marcus was right.

10
    Blaine
     
    Something darted behind the
statue. The sneaky movement snagged Blaine’s gaze, yet he never slowed the
speed of his sword. Blue steel cleaved the cold morning air as he worked
through the classical forms, but his gaze remained fixed on the statue. This
early in the morning, the great rune-carved courtyard was usually deserted, yet
something skulked behind the statue.
    Flowing from slash
of the snake to strike of the eagle , Blaine whirled,