He picked up a long cloak from the arm of a chair and slung it over his shoulders, then walked back into the living room. Carrie was by the front door, waiting, while Cain was sitting on the long couch lacing up his boots.
Lennox glanced out of the window. ‘Still pishing down.’
‘Just sixteen days until the New Year,’ Carrie said.
‘And a third after that the sea lanes will be open,’ Lennox said, ‘and Rainsby can be re-supplied.’
Cain stood. ‘Ready. Let’s go.’
‘We should be thinking about heading back,’ Lennox said as he placed the empty mug onto the table of the busy bar. Off-duty Soldiers of Pyre were packing out the saloon, drinking the local wine and ale.
‘After only three beers?’ Carrie said.
‘You remember what happened this morning, aye?’
‘Aye, I spewed right over Leisha,’ she said, ‘but one more won’t hurt.’
‘I fancy another one,’ Cain said, ‘but not here.’
‘Where, then?’ Lennox said.
‘I’m curious about what that Rahain officer was saying. A battalion of Sanang, here in Stretton Sands? What do you make of that?’
‘Who knows?’ said Lennox. ‘I don’t know much about the Sanang. Rebels from the empire, that’s what the officer called them, so I guess we’re both fighting the same enemy.’
‘I want to see them.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Aye, it’s their first night in the town, so there’s bound to be a few of them out having a drink or two. Let’s head into the Holdings district, and see if we can find them.’
‘Alright,’ said Carrie. ‘I’m up for it.’
‘I’ll admit it, I’m curious too,’ said Lennox. ‘We should get a jug to take with us, we might be walking for a while.’
Carrie nodded. ‘Top suggestion, squad leader; I’m on it.’
She got to her feet and shoved her way through the mass of people at the bar. Lennox turned to Cain.
‘It’s good,’ he said, ‘out having a beer with you.’
Cain shrugged. ‘It’s your birthday, aye? You and Libby might have ripped my heart out, but I still remember your fucking birthday.’
‘We never meant to hurt you.’
‘Fuck you,’ Cain said, laughing. ‘And fuck Libby. I’ve loved that bitch since we were bairns, and she was always telling me that she didn’t want to go with anyone; that it wasn’t me, it was her. She didn’t want to get pregnant, or she didn’t want to have to worry about a boyfriend getting killed in battle, but then she went with Logie, and then, as soon as you became squad leader, she was all over you. You’re just a dumb bastard, in love with whatever piece of ass is in front of you at the time, but Libby? That deceitful little bitch, I know what she needs…’
‘You fucking stop right there,’ Lennox said, his fists clenched as he rose to his feet.
‘I’ve got the jug, boys,’ cried Carrie from the bar, waving at them.
‘Sorry,’ said Cain.
Lennox glared at him.
Cain opened his palms. ‘Best not to bring up what happened when alcohol is involved.’
‘Don’t ever speak about Libby like that again.’
‘I won’t,’ Cain said, standing.
He edged through the crowds towards the door as Lennox stood by the table, almost shaking with rage. He had been seconds from punching his oldest friend in the face. He didn’t care what Cain said about him, but he would not stand and listen to him insulting Libby. He should have stayed in the apartment with her. He frowned. It was too late for that. He picked up his cloak and headed for the door.
The rain had stopped when the three soldiers emerged back out onto the street, though water was still dripping from the eaves and flowing along the roadside drains. Carrie opened the jug and took a swig, while Lennox and Cain avoided eye contact. They strode down the street, heading away from the tall tenements of the Kellach district and towards the area that had been dominated by Holdings folk. Detachments of Rahain soldiers patrolled the main routes and stood at each crossroads, but the three Army of Pyre soldiers were ignored as they passed by. A faint but growing sound reached them, of drums, singing, and horns being blown.
‘Pyre’s arse, what a racket,’ said Carrie.
‘That’ll be our forest friends,’ said Cain. ‘Sounds like they’re enjoying themselves.’
The largest open space in the Holdings district was a square, long but narrow, where a line of shops and bars stood. The fronts of each were lying open, with broken glass scattered across the street. Warriors in kilts thronged the square, drinking from looted bottles and smoking. The three soldiers from the Army of Pyre stopped and stared for a moment. The Sanang were shorter than them, about the same height as the Holdings and Rahain, but their shoulders and upper arms were thick and muscular.
And they were all men.
A large group was sitting round tables in front of a ransacked café, drinking red wine straight from the bottles they grasped in their hands. The soldiers approached, and the kilted warriors eyed them and grew quiet.
‘Evening,’ said Cain. ‘We heard you lot had arrived. Welcome to the shit-hole of Stretton Sands.’
‘You’re wasting your fucking time,’ said one of the Sanang, an older warrior, his face heavily scarred. ‘Most of these bastards can’t speak the lizard language.’
‘But you can,’ said Carrie.
Several of the warriors turned at her words, and began staring.
‘Mind if we join you for a drink?’ said Cain, raising the jug.
The older Sanang spoke to the others at the table for a moment in their own guttural tongue. There were a few laughs, and a couple of angry comments.
‘Who’s the female?’ the older Sanang said.
‘I’m Carrie.’
The Sanang ignored her. ‘I don’t give a fuck what’s she’s called,’ he said, addressing Cain and Lennox. ‘The boys want to know if you’ve brought her for them to play with. It’s been a while since they’ve fucked anything with a pulse.’
‘Fuck off,’ said Carrie.
‘She’s a soldier,’ said Lennox.
The Sanang muttered something to the others at the table, and their expressions changed.
‘Then she’s not welcome,’ he said to the soldiers. ‘You boys look like decent enough fighters, why the fuck would you have girls in your army?’
‘What a stupid fucking question,’ said Lennox. ‘Why would we not?’
The Sanang man laughed. ‘Because they’re weak, and born liars, all of them. Either you keep them in their place, and don’t take any shit from them, or they take over, and you end up being their slaves.’
Cain laughed.
‘The empire is ruled by one of them,’ the Sanang man went on, grinning, ‘and that’s all you need to know. Now, tell this bitch here to fuck off.’
‘I’d rather have Carrie by my side than any of you arseholes,’ Lennox said.
The Sanang man stared at him. ‘Then you can fuck off too.’
Lennox could sense Carrie’s rage next to him, but glanced around the square at the dozens, maybe hundreds, of Sanang warriors.
‘I wouldn’t drink with you savages if you paid me,’ he said. He turned to Cain and Carrie. ‘Let’s go.’
Carrie spat on the ground in front of the table, earning a few angry jeers.
‘I might stay for one,’ said Cain.
‘What?’ said Lennox. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Naw.’
‘You’d rather drink with these guys than me?’ said Carrie.
‘Calm down,’ he said. ‘I’m just curious to see what they’re like.’
Lennox shook his head. ‘I think I’ve learned enough.’
He turned, and he and Carrie began walking away from the square. Lennox didn’t look back. The two soldiers said nothing to each other as the sounds of the Sanang dimmed in the distance behind them.
‘And they’re our allies?’ muttered Lennox as they
crossed back into the Kellach district.
‘Fucking savages,’ said Carrie. ‘And Cain? What a twat.’ She caught Lennox’s eye. ‘I see the way he looks at you, boss. Don’t trust him.’
Chapter 7
Making an Effort
Broadwater, Sanang – 16th Day, Last Third Winter 524
‘This coffee’s disgusting,’ Bracken said. ‘Take it away and make me another.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said the serving girl, her eyes lowered as she picked up the offending cup.
Thorn watched as Bracken scowled, then the servant walked from the veranda where the two young women were sitting having breakfast.
‘Idiot servant,’ Bracken muttered. ‘We’ve been here thirteen days. Surely they know how I take my coffee by now.’
Thorn picked at her food and shifted on the seat, her long dress beautiful but uncomfortable. The women in Broadwater were all so skinny, probably because there were more men there than out west. Thorn had earned many admiring glances from the handsome young men that frequented the court of the Matriarch, and the dresses she wore had much to do with that, so she put up with them, despite the restrictions on her breathing and movement. She had found that by starving herself she could fit into them more easily, though she was always hungry.
‘Why do you never complain?’ Bracken said.
‘Because every time you send food or drinks back to the kitchens,’ Thorn said, ‘the servants spit in it. Or worse. They stick their fingers down their pants, then touch your food.’
Bracken’s face fell. ‘They don’t, do they?’
‘Only to annoying little bitches, and judging by your behaviour since we got here, I’d say you qualify.’
‘And now you tell me, after we’ve been in Broadwater for ages?’
‘Thought it was funny.’
The servant returned onto the veranda and placed a fresh cup of coffee next to Bracken. Thorn’s friend peered at the cup as the servant bowed and left.
‘I’m not thirsty any more,’ Bracken said, frowning.
Thorn laughed. She remembered how Clove and Acorn had given her the same advice years before, when she had been irritating everyone with her constant complaints. At the time, she had felt sick for days, imagining what the servants had been doing to her food.
‘That soup you sent back yesterday?’ Thorn said. ‘They probably pissed in it.’
Bracken put her hand to her mouth.
‘Never mock those with the power to piss in your soup,’ Thorn said. ‘Let that be today’s lesson.’
She looked away as Bracken’s eyes welled, not wishing to see her friend’s tears. She glanced out at the top of the forest. Dark clouds were threatening in the distance, but so far it had not rained that day. Winter was ending and, in Broadwater at least, that meant that the rains were becoming lighter and less frequent, and the sun was starting to bear warmth again. The town of Broadwater was the largest settlement that Thorn had ever seen – it was like a city compared to Greyfalls Deepen, with nearly ten thousand inhabitants. It bustled with young people, drawn to the capital of Sanang and the seat of the ruling Matriarch.
‘We should go back inside,’ she said. ‘The rain’s coming.’
‘But you haven’t eaten anything,’ said Bracken.
‘Not hungry this morning.’
‘Can I have some of yours, then?’
Thorn raised an eyebrow and slid the plate across the table towards her friend.
‘I admire you,’ she said. ‘You don’t care about getting chubby.’
‘What?’ said Bracken. ‘Do you think I’m…?’
‘I wasn’t saying that, but now you mention it, maybe a tiny bit.’
‘But I’m hungry.’
‘Fine,’ said Thorn, ‘then eat.’
Bracken stared at the plate. She picked up a sweet pastry, then put it down again. Thorn’s own stomach growled at the sight of it, but she ignored it. One’s will must be strong. She stood, and almost sighed in relief at being able to breathe properly again, the dress being at its most uncomfortable when sitting. She smoothed down the soft fabric, smiling at the way it made her appear so slender. At the same time, though, she couldn’t wait for that day’s audience with the Matriarch to be over, so she could get back to her room and change.
‘Come on,’ she said to Bracken. ‘Time to go to the Matriarch’s hall.’
They walked through the back of the veranda and into a large room within the villa where the family had been staying since their arrival in Broadwater. Luggage lay piled up on the centre of the floor, and Ivy, Clove and Acorn were busy packing and cleaning.
‘There you are,’ said Thorn’s mother. ‘Remember, girls, we’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning, so make sure you have everything packed up today.’
‘I will, mother,’ said Thorn.
Clove shook her head. ‘We all know that, come dawn, Thorn will realise she’s lost something important, and we’ll have to tear the house apart looking for it.’
Thorn looked puzzled, but laughed on the inside, knowing that she had hidden several of Clove’s personal items in hard-to-find locations around the house; and looked forward to her being the one to cause all the fuss at dawn.
‘Why are you not all dressed for the Matriarch’s court?’ she said.
Acorn frowned. ‘It’s alright for you. You woke up, got ready, and went outside to eat breakfast while we’re doing all the work.’
‘Come on,’ said Clove, smirking, ‘give the girl a break. She’s probably exhausted from the effort to squeeze into that dress.’
Thorn smiled as her sisters and Bracken laughed.
‘Pay them no attention, dear,’ her mother said. ‘You look gorgeous.’
‘Thank you, mother.’
‘And it’s her last day in a fancy frock,’ her mother went on. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll all be back to travelling clothes.’
‘How long will it take to get to the Plateau?’ said Acorn.
‘About ten days or so, then once we’ve crossed the frontier, another twenty to reach Plateau City.’
‘Such a long journey,’ said Bracken.
‘It’ll be fun,’ said Thorn. ‘All of the other hedgewitches will be in the same convoy. There will be lots of people to talk to when we stop each night.’
‘I though you didn’t like people?’ said Clove.
‘I don’t like the ignorant, or vulgar.’
‘And you think hedgewitches can’t be ignorant or vulgar?’ said Acorn.
‘I’d hope that they’d be a little more sophisticated than peasants.’
Acorn and Clove sniggered and shared a glance.
‘You’ll soon learn,’ said Clove. ‘Some hedgewitches are the most foul-mouthed old hags you’ll ever meet.’
‘Don’t call them that,’ said their mother.
‘But they are foul-mouthed.’
‘Yes, maybe, but it was the “hag” comment I was referring to. Some of the ladies you’re talking about are the same age as me.’
Ivy glanced at her daughters, while Bracken stood to the side. ‘We’ll leave the rest of the packing for later; we’d best get ready. Our last audience.’
Clove and Acorn put down the clothes they were folding and went into their room.
Ivy smiled at Thorn. ‘Have a seat while you wait for us.’
‘I think I’ll stand.’
‘Corset a bit tight, is it?’
‘No, it’s fine.’
‘Whatever you say, dear.’
Thorn said nothing as her mother went to her bedroom. She noticed Bracken.
‘Are you not getting ready?’
‘No,’ Bracken said. ‘I’m not going today. The Matriarch won’t care; she’s only interested in you and your family. And besides, I don’t like the court. People are always staring and whispering things behind their hands.’
‘Funny, that’s what I like about it.’
‘Well, of course you do,’ cried Bracken, ‘it’s you that they’re… never mind. I’m
going to our room. See you later.’
Thorn watched her friend leave, then gazed around the room. She felt an urge to go into Clove’s bags, and re-arrange her things, or hide some of them in Bracken’s luggage, but her dress was too restrictive, so she settled for remaining still, her feet aching from the tight shoes she was wearing. She took a pocket mirror out of her purse and checked her make-up and hair, then gazed out of the window at the row of villas on the street. Their last day in Broadwater. Thorn had loved it, revelling in the step-up in civilisation the town represented, compared to the rural backwardness of Greyfalls Deepen. She realised that she never wanted to go back to the village. If Broadwater could put a spell on her, then what would the imperial capital of Plateau City be like? Once she had seen that, she was sure that she would never again be satisfied with living in Greyfalls Deepen. The whole world was waiting for her.
Acorn re-emerged from her room, and Thorn suppressed a smile. Her sister always looked so awkward in a dress and seemed much more at home in her work clothes. Clove came out behind her, a frown on her face as if she thought dressing up were beneath her.
‘That was quick,’ said Thorn.
‘What?’ said Clove. ‘Because we don’t take hours like you, that means we’re quick?’
Thorn smiled. ‘I’d love to show you both how to put on make-up properly.’
‘Cheeky bitch,’ said Acorn.
‘I’m going to slap you one of these days,’ said Clove.
‘Try it,’ said Thorn. ‘I’d kick your arse, even in this dress.’
‘Now, now, girls,’ said their mother, coming out from her room, wearing a flowing emerald gown.
‘You look beautiful, mother,’ said Thorn.
‘Thank you, dear.’ She glanced around. ‘Bracken not ready yet?’
‘She’s not coming. Dodgy tummy. She would prefer to stay close to a bathroom.’
Clove grimaced.
‘Oh dear,’ said their mother.
‘All the excitement’s got to her,’ Thorn said. ‘Either that or it was the soup.’
Acorn chuckled.
‘Shall we, ladies?’ said their mother, and they set off for the front of the house.
A servant opened the door for them, and led them down to where a carriage stood waiting. They were helped aboard, and Thorn wedged herself onto one of the inside benches, Acorn sitting next to her. Their mother and Clove took the opposite bench, the side door was closed, and the carriage took off, pulled by a team of Holdings horses. Several hundred of the beasts were in Broadwater, a gift to the Matriarch from the woman who ruled that faraway land.
The Magelands Epic: Storm Mage (Book 6) Page 10
