The brothers talked about everything that had happened at Brines while David had been gone, at the camp and at the mountains. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was just the four of them, and they used the time to catch up. For once, George Louis didn’t send an aide to bother him. When David finally went to look for the duke himself, he expected more complaints, not least about the fact that he had left him alone that long in the camp with the big, scary werewolves.

But when he found George Louis, he was quietly, pensively, staring at one of the two destroyed guardians of the camp. The huge clay figure had fallen onto its side, missing both legs, part of an arm, and the sculpted face had been deformed, too, as if something had tried to claw its eyes out. Only the foreign rune was still visible on its forehead. Andrew had described it as glowing, but now there was no light in it.

“It’s far more impressive up close,” David ventured when he grew tired of just standing around. George Louis had clearly noticed him.

It was a rather redundant statement. When they had seen the picture in the newspaper yesterday, they had both wondered how the navvies had held out long enough for the werewolves to arrive. But looking up at the huge clay figure, its shoulder nearly as wide as he was tall, he got a better sense of how terrifying four of them must have been in combat.

“The Wayfarers never used them in combat,” George Louis finally said. “They could have slaughtered whole cities, taken land for themselves by force, but they never employed them against humans. Strange, isn’t it?”

“Not everyone is a conqueror.”

“Neither am I. Just trying to make a home for us, free of oppression. As are they, if I understood correctly.”

David crossed his arms over his chest. He was fairly certain that George Louis was after more than just a “home, free of oppression.” Unlike the Wayfarers. But that wasn’t the point, anyway.

“Imagine if the Valoise knew that the Wayfarers had the means to animate these constructs. And on top of that, Andrew says it was likely done by ritual rather than magic. The Valoise would never have let such a challenge to the superiority of Mithras stand. Even we – if the Wayfarers had started using these ‘golems’ against anyone or anything three years ago, even to fight the Rot – don’t tell me you wouldn’t have called on the Grande Armée to drive them out?”

“That was then,” George Louis said. He carefully touched the lifeless clay, where a human handprint was visible on what remained of the shattered arm. “All this for some land up north,” he muttered to himself. “So many injured – crippled...”

He trailed off, glancing back towards the hall where the injured lay. David couldn’t tell if he was being dramatic or genuinely moved by what he had seen. He never could.

“You know, I’m of half a mind to give them part of the Stour-valley. These people clearly have a knack for dealing with the Rot. What do you think? It’ll be tricky anyway, to find farmers willing to resettle the river. And I could be persuaded to grant them much more land than I originally intended. Maybe extent the offer to the other navvies who fought here.”

David ran a hand over his braids. He wouldn’t get a better opening to present Eyal’s request. Or should he ask the navvies first whether or not they liked the Stour valley better than this camp?

But at the Stour valley, they would have to start from nothing.

“How about giving Mr. Levi and his crew this camp and the surrounding lands?” David asked aloud. “You’ll always have workers at hand to keep the bridge in repair, and you’ll have people settling in even before the Rot-queens of the Savre are defeated.”

“Queens. Plural again? And what do you mean by ‘of the Savre?’ What do these Queens have to do with the rivers?”

“By creating a queen from the spring, the Rot takes over a river. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, and a Rot-queen is born from a river’s corrupted source. Either way, we have to assume this place is threatened by at last two,” David said. “One from the Savre itself, and one of the Man. But given the size of both rivers, there is a good chance that there will be more than one. Not to speak of the larger tributaries. Apparently, each major battlefield of when the Valoise first came here potentially created a queen, as well. They move around though, and sometimes werewolves kill one or a new one is – born – of a corrupted creature of magic.”

“Such as a werewolf? The navvies told me one looked like that.”

“That is correct.”

David waited, but George Louis only frowned briefly.

“How do we know that the two queens killed here didn’t belong to the Savre?”

“Do you see a change in the river?” David asked back. “But there is a really good chance, according to the new pack’s leader, that at least one of the queens killed here came from the Stour’s well.”

George Louis scratched his beard. “Is there a way to confirm that?”

“I’ll ask Rust to go alone to check, once they have cleansed the rest of the river.”

“Alone?”

“He’ll know if there’s danger, and he should be able to run. Any younger werewolf accompanying him will only be at risk.”

David looked over his shoulder to where the pack was gathered next to where the tables and benches still stood out in the open. “Or perhaps one of the wolves already here would be willing to do it. I’ll ask.”

“Why did you suggest this camp for the Wayfarers, though?” George Louis returned back to the original question. “That doesn’t seem like much of a reward. This place is a mess.”

“They’re asking for it.”

George Louis considered that.

“They have already made a stand here,” David added. “I do think it’s a reasonable request.”

George Louis looked around the camp again, but nodded slowly.

“They are also asking for written confirmation that you will grant them freedom of religion here. For themselves and their descendants.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” George Louis grumbled, waving his hand vaguely. “I promised, didn’t I? Here or at Mannin, that part won’t change. I really don’t care who or what they worship, as long as it’s not the Rot.”

“Really.”

“You know, your distrust is starting to become hurtful.”

“So you didn’t promise, at the last Council of Lords, that you would recognize the superior Might of Mithras and plan to upheld his powers above all other gods, with only minor reforms to the Loegrian Church? I distinctly remember you saying that you were going to attempt to pass the First Trial yourself? To better lead the country?”

“And you believed that?”

“No. I’m simply having difficulties to discern which of your ‘promises’ I can trust in. And I couldn’t fault Eyal and his crew if they have similar misgivings. Hence the request for a signed grant.”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“They’ll have it.”

“This year?”

The duke turned to glare at him. “Tomorrow. Will that be acceptable?”

“Absolutely.”

“How very generous of you.”

David answered the duke’s glare unfazed. Sometimes he wondered how much more insolence George Louis would take from him. On the other hand, he hadn’t yet gotten seriously angry at David, so maybe he didn’t mind so much.

Or he was biding his time to come up with an act of particularly creative revenge.

“Speaking of the devil,” George Louis muttered.

David didn’t know who or what had tipped him off, but Eyal was approaching them with long strides. David smiled inwardly.

“We were just talking about you, Mr. Levi,” George Louis said. “And your crew. Lord David tells me you are asking for this camp and the surrounding land rather than the farms you were promised further north.”

“Your Highness, that is true,” Eyal replied with a bow. He didn’t straighten all the way but still towered over David and the duke.

“I’m not opposed,” George Louis went on. “But let’s discuss this further. Is there a place left where we can sit down?”

They ended up in the Inn, in a backroom barely big enough for a table and four chairs around it. But at least they could close the door and they were served beer and food.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Eyal began, as soon as they sat, “for entertaining our request.”

“It’s I who owes gratitude,” George Louis replied. “You and your men – and Mr. Digger’s men – held out here against perils nobody could have foreseen. Your dedication to this enterprise has not gone unnoticed. I am therefore willing to renegotiate the terms of our agreement. Within reason. If you would state what exactly you are after?”

Eyal had clearly prepared for this. He even had numbers written for how much land he wanted for each of his men, and also where he wanted it.

“That is – less than originally agreed,” George Louis noted.

“Your Highness – we also ask for this camp,” Eyal went on. “We cannot pay for the materials other than with our labour, so we ask for all we have built and will build here until the line is finished. Further, as merchants already flock here, we ask for market rights here. For freedom of religion. And for the right to hire werewolves until the danger of the Rot is mitigated.”

“I see,” George Louis said slowly. “That is – quite a request.”

“I think we earned it, Your Highness. And we are not asking for an elder werewolf.”

“Wouldn’t one of your golems be more effective?”

Eyal shook his head. His large hand gripped the table top. “We may make another one just in case, but we cannot create golems in large numbers, Your Highness. It takes too much time. And they do not heal like werewolves. Nor do they possess the same type of intelligence. Even with the full moon condition, werewolves are more reliable protection.”

George Louis didn’t look convinced. “Those two out there held the camp for quite some time, if I understood correctly?”

“Four,” Eyal said quietly. “It took four to defend the camp. And there are no remains of the other two. We barely held on until the werewolves got here. We would much prefer to have werewolves for protection.”

“Four?” George Louis echoed. “I see.” He pursed his lips. After a minute or two, he held out a hand for the piece of paper on which Eyal had written down how much land he requested for how many navvies. George Louis stiffened when he looked at it, his lips forming a thin line. Then nodded to himself. “Very well. I will grant your request. This camp and as much land as we agreed on when you accepted this job.”

Eyal straightened in surprise, then lowered his head again. “Thank you, Your Highness. That is very generous.”

And unexpected, at least to David. It wasn’t like George Louis to give more than was asked.

“How about a bit of – fanfare?” he said aloud. “To mark the event? I could talk to Lieutenant Sears. It seems quite an opportune moment, since we have the press here.”

George Louis looked at him in surprise. “I was about to suggest the same,” he claimed.

And again, David had no idea if that was the truth or not. Publicity was Eyal’s and his men’s best protection to ensure that George Louis didn’t try to back out of his word. And granted, the duke might gain from it, too, to be seen this generous to what the press might call working men, if they didn’t call Eyal and his crew Moon Worshippers or worse things.

George Louis looked down at the paper again that Eyal had handed him. David hadn’t seen what exactly was on there, but it seemed to bother George Louis. Eventually, he asked: “Mr. Levi, would you mind if I extended a similar offer to everyone else who has fought at this camp? Lord Feleke tells me that one of the Rot-queens killed here likely came from the Stour. I might offer land in the river’s valley to the rest of the crew.”

Eyal considered that. “In addition to the gold they were promised, or instead of?”

“Instead of,” George Louis said.

“As long as the pay is equal, I don’t think anyone of my people would object.”

“Very good.”

George Louis got up. “I will have the deed written up by tomorrow,” he promised.

“You look spooked,” David noted when they both stood outside the inn again. “Something wrong?”

George Louis shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest, and for a second, he managed a smile that even looked convincing. But then he shook his head again. “Just the numbers,” he finally said.

“What numbers?” David asked.

“Mr. Levi asked for land for sixteen men. Fifteen and one woman, I suppose.”

“So?”

“It used to be twenty-eight.”

David raised his eyebrows. “And that surprised you? You ordered them to into these forests and are surprised when they die? You cannot be serious. You have seen the destruction the Rot wreaks at Oldstone Castle yourself!”

George Louis glared at him. “That was a battle.”

“God, give me patience,” David groaned. “Yes, and these men have battled the Rot every damn day for the past – what, two years now! They fought two bloody Rot-queens here!”

He wanted to either bury his face in his hands or maybe hit the duke. He couldn’t truly be this naive?

“I do not often travel the countryside,” George Louis said. “People rarely die from the Rot at Mannin. Or Deva for that matter.”

David considered that. “If I was you, I would at some point talk to the city watch of Mannin. Because I have a feeling they aren’t telling you how many people die in the camps surrounding the city.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because any time a citizen dies, the watch failed at their job? And nobody likes to report failure. Nobody likes to deliver any type of bad news, unless they think you can help them.”

Another thought came to him, a memory. “Hang on, we used to travel the countryside together. Around the Heartlands, true, but you told me you went riding a lot around Mannin, too? Or was that a lie as well.”

“No. I just stopped doing it after – after my son was born. It seemed a pointless risk.” George Louis trailed off and stared across the camp to where most of the werewolves were still resting. David could feel the power of the oldest one – not Pierre. Laurent, Greg had said. It was faint, like evening sunlight on his face. And he could tell without turning his head that Pierre was somewhere in the same direction as the river. He was fairly certain that George Louis couldn’t feel it, yet the man looked worried.

“It’s a shame Mr. Levi’s men can’t make us an army of those golems,” he said after a while. “Did you spot any of the remains of the other two he spoke about?”

David shook his head. “No. Andrew and Nathan did mention there were four of them, though. I reckon the Rot ground them into dust.”

“Shame,” George Louis repeated.

David looked around the camp again. “Are you going to need more of my help?” he asked. “Otherwise, I’d like to take a walk around the walls. Outside,” he added. “Perhaps talk to the werewolves again.”

“Go ahead if you really can’t stand my presence,” George Louis grumbled.

David gave a mocking bow.

Something had occurred to him when the duke had asked about the golems. Because there really was no trace of two of them.

He saddled his horse himself and rode out of the camp through a breech in the walls. Workers were busy fixing the gaps, and some of them waved at David as he circled the camp. He barely noticed. He was too focused on the ground in front of his gelding.

He had expected to find a trail running towards the closest bit of forest, but he had been wrong: When he finally found the huge, deep footsteps – two sets of them, flanking a human’s imprints – they led in the other direction, towards the Savre. David followed them all the way through the swamp, to a cove in the river’s shoreline. There, the trail vanished in the water. David stared into the dark floods, but couldn’t spot any sign of the golems.

He couldn’t stay long, either. His head was aching and his eyes watered from trying to see anything down there, even though no Rot-creature reared its ugly head.

He would have to ask Eyal why they had lead two of their valuable golems into the river. Surely the water would damage them, if they didn’t get outright destroyed?

Eyal looked at him sharply when David asked him why the Wayfarers had decided to sink two of their golems in the river. David had found him in the little room he used to plan the crew’s rosters in. It was repaired already, since the navvies needed to be organized in their work. At David’s question, the large man got up and closed the shutters.

“How do you know?” he asked once he sat down again.

“There was no trace of them in the camp. No trace at all. So I had a look around outside and found the tracks.”

“Ah. You did not tell His Highness?”

“No.”

“I’m glad. I did not like lying to him. But if he knew that two golems survived and are still fit for battle, it might hurt the werewolves. And we have no interest in becoming his – weapon smiths.”

“What if the Rot comes back?”

Eyal shrugged. “As long as we’re building the railway, it’s in the company’s best interest to keep us safe. So they’ll have – well, they’ll make you organize it, but I am sure we will have an elder for protection as long as the work lasts. Once we finish – probably sometime in summer – by that time we can make new golems. For now, we’ll keep quiet. It was a good thing we got them out before the press arrived.”

David nodded. “Thank you.”

Eyal shrugged. “We know what we owe your brother. And all the others who helped defend us.”