by Jane Glatt
Dasid nodded. “I’ve spent the night in worse places. Randell, I’ll go with you and let Master Fridrick know I’ll be waiting for you.”
Brenna could see the relief on Randell’s face as he led the way out of the room. She slipped out from behind the bookshelf.
“Thank you,” she said and smiled up at Kane. “For having Dasid stay and keep Randell safe.”
“I promised,” Kane said. “I hope it’s enough. Doing anything more might raise Thorold’s suspicions. Besides, Fridrick and Dasid detest each other. Fridrick will be livid once he understands that Randell is under Dasid’s protection, but he won’t do anything.” He smiled and grabbed her arm. “Come on. Let’s get home so we can see what treasures you’ve turned up.”
twelve
Thorold scowled at Fridrick as he bowed low before him. It was late and he’d been enjoying a fine wine before retiring to enjoy a fine wench. If Fridrick had dared to interrupt him later … Thorold disliked any interruptions, but some drew heavier consequences.
“I trust that this is so important it could not wait until the morning.” Fridrick’s hands twitched and Thorold smiled, satisfied that his scholar understood what he risked.
“Yes my Lord,” Fridrick said. “I believe it is quite important, but of course, you may disagree with me.” Fridrick raised his eyes to him and Thorold saw resignation and defeat there. Perhaps he’d go gently on the man tonight. If the scholar became too fearful be could become useless. He still had need of him.
“I went back to the library tonight,” Fridrick said. “As I reported to you earlier the head clerk was cataloguing all references to the Brotherhood.”
“And,” Thorold leaned forward, “did you find anything of interest?”
“Yes and no. I still need to double-check the books. There seems to be only vague references in them to a prophecy and an heir to the throne. Something about reuniting the blood of Wolde.” Fridrick paused and licked his lips nervously. “When I arrived at the library Captain Rowse was there. He was looking through the very books I was interested in.”
“Rowse? Really?” Thorold sank back in his chair and sipped his wine. He’d need to think this through carefully. “And what did the good captain tell you he was doing?”
“He said books had mistakenly been sent over from the castle. Books about the castles fortifications. I could not be sure of course, and had no reason to question him further
“And did our good captain ask what you were doing in the library?”
“No,” Fridrick’s eyes widened. “He did not. Nor did I offer him a reason. But now that strikes me as odd.”
“Yes.” Thorold could only think of one reason why Rowse hadn’t asked Fridrick what he was up to- he already knew. “And the library clerk, he knew what you were searching for?”
Fridrick lowered his head. “Yes, my Lord. I told him I was researching an old tale about the Brotherhood. He didn’t know anything more specific than that, but he must have told Rowse. I’d be more than happy to discipline that clerk, my Lord Duke.” Thorold smiled at the emotion in the scholar’s voice. The man still had a spark. Good - it would be so tiresome to find and train a man with Fridrick’s specialized skills.
“There’s no need,” Thorold said. “Rowse would know if anything happened to the man and there’s no cause to alert him. It can’t be a coincidence that he was searching through the same books as you. I’m sure now that he and his irritating uncle are connected to this Brotherhood. You’ve done well, Fridrick. ”
“Thank you my Lord,” Fridrick said. “As soon as I find anything about the Brotherhood in the books I’ll let you know. And I’ll pay particular attention to anything that might relate to the Rowses. If there is a connection, I’ll find it.”
“See that you do,” Thorold, already deep in thought, waved his hand to dismiss the scholar. The Brotherhood was a tool he could use, he could feel it. They were waiting for some mythical king to take the throne. With his son, Beldyn, he could give them that king. And if the Rowses were connected to this Brotherhood, it could still be useful. He could use that to convince the king that they were traitors and be rid of both Kane Rowse and his uncle. Thorold finished his wine and rose to go to his bed. He was in a much better mood after Fridrick’s little visit. Perhaps he’d be gentle with the wench, as well.
Her pack slung over her shoulder, Brenna climbed the stairs to her room. She and Kane had arrived back from the library and had immediately gone to Feiren’s office. When she’d handed the wrapped bundle that contained the old steel objects over to Feiren, she’d felt such a deep sense of loss that she’d wanted to snatch them back from him. Those items belonged to her, she’d wanted to tell him - they’d called her. They still did.
Feiren had decided to wait until Dasid arrived before they opened it - he wanted to have a second council member present so she still didn’t know what the objects were. They were certain that whatever it was would be of great importance to the Brotherhood. All Brenna knew was that they had an extremely powerful hold on her.
She still didn’t believe she was the heir to the throne but each day she felt herself being drawn deeper into the Brotherhoods plans. But she had her own plans. Plans that would see Thorold fail in his attempt to gain control of the throne. She had to move on him soon though, before she found herself completely indebted to Kane and the Brotherhood.
Once in her room Brenna changed her student’s disguise for black breeches and shirt. She withdrew the two books from the hidden compartment in her pack and opened the top one to the first page. It was a drawing of Feiren’s house. Brenna smiled. She would hand this book over to Dasid when he arrived. She closed the book, put it to the side and picked up the second book. This was the book she’d hoped to find, the one that would help her sneak into Duke Thorold’s estate.
It was a twin to the book on Feiren’s house and once open, the similarities were even more apparent. If both houses were built by the same hand then many of the secrets could be the same - knowing Feiren’s house would teach her what to look for at Duke Thorold’s estate. But the houses had been built long ago and no doubt alterations had been done over the years - there were no guarantees Duke Thorold’s estate even retained any of its original hidden passageways.
A soft tap on the door startled Brenna.
“Excuse me Mistress, but Master Feiren asks that you join them downstairs.” It was the housekeeper, Kayleen.
“Fine. Please tell him I’ll be there shortly.” Brenna hastily hid the book she’d been reading in her pack’s secret compartment, grabbed the other book and headed to the door.
In Feiren’s study, Kane, Feiren and Dasid were already seated around the desk. They looked up when she entered and Brenna stopped, the call from the wrapped old steel loud in her head. Distracted, she placed the book in front of Dasid.
“I believe you’ll be looking for this soon,” she said.
He picked up the book and turned it over. “How did you get this out of the library?”
Brenna shrugged. “I’m a thief. I wanted this book here, not at the castle. It’s about this house.”
“I see that,” Dasid said. He put the book down on the edge of the desk.
Brenna sat in the empty chair between Kane and Dasid and stared at the package from the library. Feiren fingered the covering absently.
“It’s leather,” Feiren said. “And very old from the look of it.”
He tried to untie the knotted cord but it was too stiff. He slipped his knife out and sliced the cord. The knife flashed and she felt it react to the nearness of the wrapped items. She raised her eyes and met Feiren’s perplexed gaze.
“You noticed that too?” she asked softly. He nodded and she turned to Kane. “The old steel knife reacted to whatever is in the bag. The usual hum seems deeper.” Brenna ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “I wish I could explain it better than that.”
Kane slipped his sword out and held it closer to the package.
“I feel something as we
ll,” Kane said. He slid the weapon back into its scabbard.
With careful fingers Feiren unwrapped the package. The brittle leather cracked and flaked as he manipulated it. Once open, two lumps of disintegrating cloth sat before them. With care, Feiren lifted a roundish lump and picked at the cloth. Bits of grimy metal showed through. As it became recognizable Brenna heard Kane’s sharp intake of breath.
“By the gods,” Kane said. “Can it really be it?”
“Be what?” Brenna asked.
The object was a very plain thin circle of metal darkened by years of grime. The sound of it rang loudly in her head and its song urged her to pick it up. She dragged her attention away from it when Dasid answered.
“Wolde’s coronet,” Dasid said softly, his eyes fixed on it. “It was lost during the time of King Marco.”
“Not lost,” Kane spoke from her side. “It was hidden, waiting for the right person to find it. If this was hidden during Marco’s time then this coronet has never crowned a king who worships the One-God.” Kane looked directly at Brenna. “There can be no doubt the prophecy is in motion and we have found the true heir.”
“No,” Brenna blurted out. She met Kane’s eyes and then quickly looked away. “It’s not true. I’m not the heir.”
“It is true,” Kane said firmly. “You said yourself that these items called you.”
She refused to look at him, or the coronet. Instead she concentrated on her booted feet. She couldn’t be the heir - she didn’t want to be the heir. Everything that had happened was a coincidence, it must be. She had her own plans, her own path to follow. And yet she heard the coronet’s song. Brenna shook her head and ignored the stares of the three men. And there was still the second package. It too called her.
“So that’s Wolde’s coronet,” Brenna said. “Then what’s the other item?”
“Time to find out,” Kane said. “Go on Uncle Feiren, unwrap it.”
Feiren reached out to the second package and unwrapped it gently.
“By the Brothers,” Brenna said. “What does that have to do with the coronet?”
“What is it?” Dasid asked. “Some kind of cup?”
“No.” Brenna couldn’t believe it herself. “It’s a mortar and pestle. You use it to grind things up, mostly plants and such. I use one in my healing to make poultices and healing teas. Cooks use them for spices.” Bewildered, she looked around at their confused faces. “But it’s rare to find one made of steel. They’re usually hard stone, like marble.” The stout bowl of the mortar was clearly made of the same metal as the coronet, and when she looked, she knew it was old steel. The bowl of the mortar was not much bigger than her cupped hand and it sat on three squat legs. The pestle, nestled inside the bowl, was smooth underneath the centuries of grime.
“Why wouldn’t they be made of steel? I would think any metal would be durable,” Kane asked.
“The material can slightly change how the final mixture works, or so my mother always told me. Cooks say steel spoils the flavor,” Brenna answered distractedly. The mortar and pestle called her as well, but where the coronet was a strident demand, the mortar and pestle was a gentle promise. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe whatever you make with it is changed by old steel.”
“I’ll check the records to see if there’s any mention of that,” Dasid said. “I doubt I would have paid a lot of attention to records that described healing or a mortar and pestle.
“What do you feel from it, Brenna?” Kane asked.
She looked up from the items on the desk. How long had she been staring at them?
“It’s a very soft call,” she said. She deliberately described only the mortar and pestle. There was no need for Kane to know how insistent the coronet called her “And gentle.”
Brenna drifted, caught up in the song of the mortar and pestle. Suddenly the coronet came to life and she started at its shrill demand. Feiren rewrapped it and placed it in the centre of the desk. Brenna looked at the leather wrapped lump and shivered. She ignored Kane’s frown and crossed her arms over her chest. Let him think whatever he wants to, I’m not the heir. Even if she was she wouldn’t want to rule. Kane would just have to accept it. And so would the coronet.
“I’m afraid we’re not finished for the night,” Kane said after a few moments. “There’s the issue of Duke Thorold. He obviously knows something about the Brotherhood. And after tonight he’ll suspect we’re involved.”
“Nor do we know how he plans to use any knowledge he may have,” Feiren said somberly. “I’m uncomfortable that he even knows enough to search for more information.”
It made Brenna more than uncomfortable. When Thorold turned his attention to something or someone, very soon it was twisted or dead. It might be wise if she got clear of the Rowse’s now that Thorold had his eye on them.
During the next four days Dasid often dropped by to give them more information on the objects they’d found. The Brotherhood’s records did mention the mortar and pestle. The old scrolls named it Aruntun’s, which made Brenna uneasy. Aruntun had been both a Seer and a healer. Brenna had only had the one vision, but Sabine Werrett had been convinced she had Seer’s eyes.
Both the coronet and the mortar and pestle continued to call to her. More than once Feiren had come across her stopped, head cocked to one side as she listened. She’d simply smiled and gone on her way but she knew he had questions. She didn’t want to admit the pull the two old steel items had on her – she didn’t want the Brotherhood to see it as more proof of their precious prophecy. She was not going to let them force her into a life she didn’t want.
Dasid joined her a few times and with the book of plans in hand, they’d searched the Rowse estate. Brenna had surprised him with the hiding spot for the dining room and between them they recorded nine secrets. Later she’d huddled in her room with the second book and looked for similarities in Duke Thorold’s house.
She was certain she’d found some possible entrances - now she needed to find out if they still existed. The fourth night after the trip to the library she donned her student’s garb and headed out one of the passages. Mindful of Kane’s warning about Brothers without old steel, she took extra care. Silently she slipped through deserted alleys and over roof tops. Once she even climbed into and out of a walled courtyard. Finally confident that she had lost all her trackers, she headed towards Duke Thorold’s estate.
Brenna walked by the gate and once again the guard’s interest in her was cursory. When she was out of sight she ducked into some bushes. She was directly across from the wall, near a path that dropped down towards the river. There was probably a secret entrance in the actual wall, but she couldn’t search there - the duke’s groundskeepers kept the walls free of trees and hedges so the guards had a clear view. She had to try another way.
After two hours of searching, she found it. She had wedged herself into a small hollow, beside a large rock where the plans had marked something. She had to feel around the edges of the rock three times before her fingers recognized a shape from one of Feiren’s entrances. She gripped the rock and twisted.
There was a slight grating noise and then the rock slid open a crack. A rush of stale air puffed out and Brenna sat back on her heels and waited. There was no light from inside and no alarm sounded at the house. She eased the entrance open enough to squeeze inside. After a few minutes her eyes adjusted to the dark and she shuffled forward a few steps. Roots of trees and cobwebs clutched at her and she pulled her hat down low to keep her eyes clear. It looked like the tunnel had not been used for years - she hoped it was still clear all the way to the house. She carefully backed out into the night. She’d come back later with a small lamp and explore further. A few moments later, the entrance carefully concealed, she headed for home.
Over the next few weeks Brenna discovered another way in to Thorold’s estate. She’d been able to investigate both entrances enough to know they were still functional. Once she’d dared to open the passageway at the other end and had stepped in
to what she thought was a servant’s hallway in Thorold’s manor. She’d spent just enough time to make sure she understood how the latch worked from the inside, and then she’d left. She had two ways in to the Duke’s estate and one way out. It was time to find Thorold’s office and the information she was looking for - information that would implicate him in a plot with the King of Langemore against King Mattias.
Once again Kane thanked the gods for Brenna’s network of informants. He was in the small room behind the bar at the Wheat Sheaf with Eryl. The thief’s mates guarded the room’s two doors.
“Duke Thorold is asking questions, is he?” Kane asked. Master Arlott’s hat sat on the table in front of him and his fingers absently traced its brim.
“That’s right,” Eryl said. “Somethin’ about a Brotherhood. And he’s spending plenty of crowns to find out about it. He’s looking for books, papers, family histories; anything folk might have got from far off relations that died without more direct kin.”
“Is he having any success?”
Eryl’s smile was feral. “Duke Thorold’s had some luck getting his hands on a few things.” He sipped his ale. “He let his guards handle the deals. I hear they wasn’t too clear on what they were looking for. I also hear the duke was angry that he’d paid good coin for fake papers. It’s unfortunate that no one in the Quarter knew the men who’d sold the items to the duke in the first place.”
“Excellent,” Kane said and laughed. Trust Thieves Quarter to fleece Duke Thorold. “Eryl I will gladly pay double whatever the Duke is offering for any real documents.”
Eryl nodded and Kane smiled. He doubted there was much out there about the Brotherhood - at least not in Kingsreach – but Thorold might have come across a family history in Comack. That could be how he’d come know about the Brotherhood.
“Thorold,” Eryl said. “Is now sending his pet scholar Fridrick to verify each item before payment is received.”
