Whitey groaned. ‘I tried to get her to cover up...’
‘And?’
‘She ignored me.’
‘Wise girl.’
Cygan the stoic Marsh Man kept sniggering. Whitey took in the fresh breeze, the smell of grass and pond flowers and decided to talk about something else.
‘I also heard a rumour,’ Whitey continued, ‘for I am learning your tongue little by little, that the Elder will be admitting you to his Circle of Wise Men. I had no idea this tribe was so desperate.’
Cygan was still grinning. ‘You are probably right there, but have you heard the rest of the rumour? That my role as translator at the trading posts will be taken over by some sly, conniving petty thief who knows all the tricks that the Taneren like to play on us?’
‘I have heard.’ Whitey chuckled in return. ‘Nothing will get past me, don’t you fear; besides, you need to stay at home a little more what with your growing family.’
It was Cygan’s turn to take a drink. ‘What you really mean is that I should not be travelling, what with the headaches I get now and then.’
Whitey nodded, watching a fish rise out of the water, before a group of swallows dipped gently, barely clearing the surface as they picked off the insects the fish did not get.
‘When I was a child,’ Cygan said, ‘I watched a family build one of the houses across the lake. They had cut the great wooden posts to be driven as piles into the water. As they were putting one into position, it snapped free of its rope and the post came loose, hitting a man on the side of his head. He collapsed instantly but seemed to recover. Afterwards, though, he would be afflicted with these great headaches that could cripple him for days. But then, once they were gone, he would appear to be fine. I don’t know how long this went on for, possibly years – though you know how slowly time passes when you are a child. But then one morning his wife saw him in his hammock. He had died overnight with blood running from his ears and nose. I fear that such a thing will happen to me, though I suppose dying while asleep is no bad thing.’
Whitey stroked his chin trying to look thoughtful. ‘You may be right, but let’s be honest. None of us know how long we have left. You cheated the rope but once. I cheated it a hundred times and every time I did I thought to myself that my luck would run out soon – that the next time I would swing. And so far it has not happened, though like as not now I will be bitten to death by mosquitos first, shit, smelling bark or no.’
‘You are right, Barris, you are right. I wish to see my son named this summer, and then my daughter and maybe, just maybe after that I will be fortunate enough to see the same for my third child. We cannot live our life expecting death at every juncture, for if we do that then we are not truly living at all.’
Night started to close in. Over the lake Whitey saw a pair of grebes swimming in their graceful way before one, then the other, dived under the surface, on the hunt for a nice fat fish. He had seen the same pair earlier that day; it was spring and they were dancing, aping one other’s movements, as they craned their necks over their bodies before skipping over the surface, wings outstretched, forming a bond that would never be broken. Sketta was close to the river but in his entire life he had never seen anything like that happen there.
‘You know,’ Whitey said finally, ‘this place may have no inns or gambling houses; there may be little to do apart from hunt, or repair the home, or listen to your barmy religious services, but then, sitting here as we are, you suddenly realise that this place can be incredibly beautiful. It has one thing I never thought I would find – peace.’
‘Emterevuanu has mellowed you, I see, but you are right. This place, I have seen it almost every day, and yes, you do forget. Sometimes it takes a stranger to remind you that it really can be beautiful here.’
And quietly the two men continued to sit and drink, until, finally, the night came.
12
It was raining in Tanaren City. Heavy spring showers followed by bursts of dazzling sunshine. Around and about the city, people going about their business were forced to shelter under the eaves of the closely packed houses, wrinkling their noses as the rain made pungent the smells of dust, wood smoke, manure of all kinds and unwashed dirty bodies. The rain toyed playfully with the mighty Erskon, fancifully breaking its smooth dark surface as it rolled seaward, rather like a kindly great-uncle tolerates being tickled by a precocious five-year-old.
In his small but tidy room in the University of St Philig’s, Willem stood at the window watching the river below. In his hand was a letter, a lengthy affair in a scrawled but familiar hand.
‘Well?’ Alys gently prodded him. She wore her hair loose these days, as Willem said he preferred it. ‘What does he say?’
‘That we have a new position. He has purchased my freedom from the monastery and would like us to join him in Felmere where he is setting up a new university. He then details all the scrolls, books and other items he requires. He also mentions that he has written to three other professors, offering generous terms should they wish to teach up there. He sounds as though he is close to being overcome with enthusiasm.’
She kissed his neck and put her arms around his waist. ‘Is the position for both of us?’
‘Of course. He also states that he has been handed the full translation of the words on the dragon’s tooth by the elves and we should bring the second tooth to him so that he can translate it personally.’
‘How can we say no?’ said Alys. ‘We should return his money at any rate; thanks to the lady Ceriana’s generosity, we have funds enough to pay the monastery ourselves and get married. We could marry in Felmere; I am sure Cedric would love to see that.’
Willem turned to face her. ‘Then it should be done quickly. Cedric says that, once the university is established, his health will force him to retire. He is to go to the Isle of Healing, where he will live out the rest of his days.’
‘Poor Cedric,’ said Alys. ‘It cannot be easy leaving all your friends behind like that.’
‘No. We have much to organise. I would like to get there before summer ends.’
Alys laughed. ‘Then we have plenty of time! You and your flair for the dramatic!’
Willem looked hesitant. ‘Alys, there is something I must ask you. I have to ask partly because we are partners in everything and hold no secrets, and partly because it may mean spending some of our newly acquired means on an enterprise which would give us no real material reward.’
Alys stopped smiling. ‘Go on.’
‘In New Perego I made a promise to myself, about buying the freedom of another unfortunate.’
‘A woman? In the same position as I was?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Is she young? Pretty?’
‘I didn’t really notice.’ Alys laughed at that. ‘Yes.’ he finally said. ‘She was kind; she spoke to me, even though she saw I was not interested in her services. I would like to help her if I can.’
Alys’s smile returned. She kissed him. ‘Then, my patron of lost causes, you should do so; though, if you are to return to that place, take some well-armed men with you. Haelward has gone east to the army and I somehow doubt he would want to chance his arm again.’
Willem sounded grateful. ‘Thank you, Alys, you are not jealous?’
‘I trust you, Willem. I would happily see you enter a room full of the most beautiful Tarindian courtesans and know that your eyes would only rest with me. I do, though, have a price for my consent.’
‘And that is?’
‘Our bed. It looks depressingly tidy – what say you we ruffle it up a little?’
And so Willem moved to join her, even as a peal of thunder sounded over the river outside.
Cedric was feeling tired again. Tired but satisfied. His plans for the university were going well and in his hands he held a manuscript, Terath’s translation of the writings on the dragon’s tooth. With him in the library was Astania. Dirthen had arrived in Felmere that very morning and was taking the opportunity t
o rest. He was irked by one thing though, the Grand Duke’s secretary had rebuffed his request for the release of further artefacts to the elves, ‘they had still to be fully catalogued,’ he had said. Cedric decided to say nothing of it at the present, given the company he was keeping.
‘The manuscript is a little smudged,’ he said, ‘but perfectly legible. I cannot tell you how excited I am to see this. I will get it copied immediately so you can take this back home with you. It is just such a pity we could not help Dominic’s sister; if she had just held on a little longer, I believe her human qualities would have returned. Such a pity. And now, Astania, you will be returning home, without Terath, alas. I would have loved to speak to him again but he died so that others might live.’
‘Yes,’ said Astania. ‘When the Lady Itheya gets here we will leave. Dirthen will be loremaster now, as he is the older of us two. And I will marry him in the summer, back in Seyavanion.’
‘It will be good for you to see your own people again, and away from us humans, I imagine.’
‘Yes and no.’ Astania smiled. ‘I have learned much here and I believe we are put on to this Earth to learn. You are not the ogres that so many of us believe you to be; I will tell others of this when I return.’
‘I will miss your healing,’ Cedric admitted. ‘But I will soldier on until I am too ill to be of use to anyone. Then I will take my last journey, to the Isle of Healing.’
‘Fare you well, Cedric,’ she said, kissing him lightly on the forehead. ‘You are the best of your kind.’
Cedric blushed a little but the quiet moment was shattered as Mathilde burst into the room, her face flushed and her hands clenched. She obviously thought that the room was deserted, for she started on seeing Cedric and hurriedly tried to compose herself.
‘My lady?’ Cedric enquired. ‘Shall we leave you?’
‘Yes ... I mean no.’ Too late, for Astania had already bowed and left the room, Cedric, not having her lithe grace, remained seated. ‘Morgan, the army and the elf girl have returned.’
‘Surely that is something to celebrate, my Lady.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet you seem perturbed.’
Mathilde’s agitation subsided a little and she sat down opposite the scholar.
‘It is politics, as ever. The Grand Duke wanted to remove Morgan and replace him with the oily Duneck. It was only when he saw the strength of feeling against this move that he relented. When Kraven reaches his majority, Morgan is to be given Haslan Falls; in the meantime it will be managed by a cousin of Esric’s. There is a lot more but I have yet to take it all in myself.’
‘And who will have Vinoyen?’
‘Pedern, Ulgar’s cousin, the logical choice.’
Cedric frowned. ‘Forgive me, my Lady, but I still do not understand your consternation.’
Mathilde sighed. ‘It is a personal matter.’
‘Then I will not enquire further.’
‘I suggested to Morgan that we marry.’ She blurted it out. ‘I did not receive a reply.’
‘A sensible suggestion,’ said Cedric. ‘It would legitimise him in the eyes of many, a marriage into a noble and illustrious family such as the Lasgaarts. Then you both have connections to Felmere; I hardly think a sixteen-year-old Kraven can secure his position here unassisted.’
‘Exactly,’ said Mathilde emphatically. ‘Kraven will need us. I know what my cousins are like; any sign of weakness and they will pounce upon it.’
‘But there is no hurry to wed,’ said Cedric. ‘It will be four or five years before Morgan gets Haslan Falls. He will come round in time. I bet you fair bludgeoned him with your suggestion; he may need time to recover from the shock.’
Mathilde smiled at last. ‘I may have been rather forthright,’ she admitted. ‘But you know as well as I that his heart lies elsewhere. It matters not – the marriage is a political one, after all, but I did hope that my second marriage would be more a bonding of soul mates than the first.’
‘I think you will have to accept that,’ said Cedric, ‘he will never forget his wife.’
Mathilde stood and moved over to the window. In the courtyard Morgan and Itheya were sharing some sort of joke together. ‘It was not his wife I was thinking about.’
Cedric nodded understandingly. ‘Do not worry about that. Neither her people nor ours would accept a long-term union between them. It has nowhere to run – do not fear on that account.’
Mathilde sighed. ‘He has a soft heart, especially where women are concerned. Do you know he has sent authority to Tanaren to give poor Cheris the mage two hours in the city before she is locked up for good.’
‘Punished for saving the city!’ Cedric shook his head. ‘I doubted her; I shouldn’t have. I fear for her now. I have even adopted her cat but I will give it to my assistant Alys when she arrives. She loves cats.’
‘And I have her dress, the one I gave her. I will send it to her, if she is ever freed.’
‘I could take it with me, keep it on the Isle of Healing; she could visit and wear it, if she is able to.’
‘That would be good of you; I fear the Isle of Healing may be the safest place to be over the next few years. As one war ends, another may be about to start. Here even in the east the Grand Duke is dividing loyalties. This is a country that never seems to want peace.’
‘I fear you may be right,’ said Cedric. ‘And which way will Morgan turn, I wonder?’
‘I wonder that, too,’ said Mathilde softly. ‘I wonder that, too.’
13
At last the carriage came to rest among the cobbles of Loubian Hill. The rain skipped over the uneven stones, dislodging the ingrained dirt and moving it just a few inches where it would set again, once the rain had stopped. The carriage waited silently on the deserted street, next to one of the city’s more upmarket taverns and opposite a grand estate built on two storeys and surrounded by a low wall. A bedraggled and hirsute guard stood outside its imposing carved double doors, obviously wishing he could be indoors where many soft lights shone through the expensive leaded windows.
‘You are sure this is it?’ Cheris was sitting nervously inside the carriage, knees close together, looking through the window at the rain and the estate that loomed through it. ‘I mean the building is huge. Are you really, really sure this is the place?’
‘Everyone in the city knows the Menthur estate,’ said Sir Dylan wearily and it seemed for the hundredth time. ‘It is your parents’ house, have no doubt about it.’
‘House!’ Cheris murmured. ‘Some house. And I have an hour, do I not?’
‘One hour, yes – not even the generosity of a baron will let it go on further.’ He held up Baron Felmere’s deposition requesting that she should get two hours in the city as a reward for her role in the delivering of Felmere from the traitor’s siege.
‘You did not clear the streets as before,’ said Cheris.
‘They are near deserted up here anyway. Technically I should have cleared the streets, yes, but I am trusting you to behave yourself in this; you could hardly be in more trouble, after all.’
‘So you are not worried I will make a run for it?’
Sir Dylan laughed. ‘I trust you. Did I not just say it? Besides, you would be caught and probably hung for your trouble.’
Cheris sounded rueful. ‘Your order actively dislikes me now, don’t they? I did not intend to make them look foolish, you know.’
‘Ah, serves them right; I would have known what you were up to right away – not searching under the bed indeed. Embarrassing idiocy. Anyhow, you had better be going; time is running out for you.’
Cheris pursed her lips. ‘I am quite terrified, you know. What shall I say?’
‘Say hello and then explain that tomorrow you sail for the Isle of Tears and probable life imprisonment. Say that this is the last time you will ever see each other; you know, something to lighten the mood.’
She gave a sad laugh. ‘Thanks.’
Dylan tried to strike a more cheer
y note; his attempt at humour had been too close to the truth. ‘Seriously, Cheris, just be yourself; you have your peasant’s dress on. You look like a normal girl, Keth’s teeth, you are a normal girl; you will know what to say.’
Cheris stared at her lap. ‘I have never seen the island’s prison. I know it only has about four cells and that they lie under the college and lead out along the eastern spur. They are lit only by a grille in the ceiling. Even if I do not get life imprisonment, I will never be allowed to leave the island again. Tonight is my last night here. For ever.’
‘The punishment does not fit the crime,’ Sir Dylan said sympathetically. ‘Yes, technically your crime was great, but you did not hurt one of your own people; you broke a siege and helped enable a war to be won. And you were horribly wronged beforehand. I am sorry for you, Cheris; please believe that.’
She took his hand, strong under his soft leather gloves. ‘Dylan, my room will be guarded tonight, yes?’
‘By me and two guards that is correct.’
She coloured a little. ‘Could you post them as far away as possible, and could you stay in my room as a guard. Surely the extra vigilance would be commended.’
His eyes were wary. ‘Why?’
‘Please do not think ill of me. Tonight may well be my last night of freedom in my entire life. I do not want Trask to have been the last man to have me.’
It was Sir Dylan’s turn to colour. ‘You are suggesting...’
‘I think I am ready, yes, I want to be close to someone, to remember that not all men are beasts. But having said that, if I should change my mind, if I get ... memories of what happened and ask you to stop I would ask you to respect that, too. Please allow me to change my mind.’ She put her hand to her brow in annoyance. ‘Oh Elissa, I really have no idea, do I? You must think me a whore, to toy with you so. I meant no harm, I swear it...’
This time it was him who took her hand. ‘Quiet, Cheris, that is the last thing I think you are. I am honoured that you so chose me and, besides, if I did not respect you as you ask you would probably roast me with lightning bolts through my eyes.’
The Forgotten War Page 146
