“Do you reckon they’ll have it right by Solstice?” I asked, amused. “Or are we celebrating mid-summer early for some reason?” I’d been out with a hunting party since first light and hadn’t expected to find an impromptu festival on our return.
“Just a little merrymaking to mark the double full moon.” Halice waved an expansive hand towards the spits by the shoreline where Minare’s lads were roasting joints from the impressive array of game we’d culled from the islands’ forests. Rosarn and Deglain were busy around a collection of pots seething roots and spices and a large cauldron frothed with boiling shellfish. Dotted with whatever early fruits the woods had to offer, huge slabs of travel bread baked on scrubbed boards propped to catch the heat of the fires.
“Have a drink.” Halice offered me a horn cup.
I sniffed suspiciously but was agreeably surprised by the fragrance of Califenan red. “This isn’t something Vaspret’s been concocting from berries, sugar and hope.”
“D’Alsennin had the Maelstrom load up what was left of his cellar.” Halice gestured towards the ships at anchor in the strait. “There was plenty of space for the return voyage.”
“They made good time on the journey.” I took an appreciative swallow. “If Temar’s emptied his cellar, he’ll be in the market to buy some wine from me, just as soon as Charoleia gets a cargo organised.”
“You’d better think what else you’re going to ship over,” said Halice with some amusement.
I didn’t understand. “How so?”
Halice’s grin broadened. “D’Alsennin’s latest decree: anyone bringing luxuries over to sell has to pay for the privilege with a few of the boring essentials that barely pay for their carriage.”
“Nails and the like?” I’d heard Ryshad bemoaning their lack often enough. “Whose bright idea was this?”
“Grandsire D’Alsennin’s apparently. Seems this was his rule when the House had properties scattered over half Dalasor.” Halice, ever the warrior, had her own notion of necessities. “I’d suggest bow staves and a wagon load of arrows myself
“I’ll write to Charoleia,” I said without enthusiasm.
“She’ll be turning all this news to advantage first.” Halice surveyed the landing site. No trace of the stockade remained and Ryshad’s involvement meant the properly built wooden huts replacing the debris of the pirates’ brief occupation already had a determined air of permanence.
“She’s plenty of titbits to tempt the right folk to open their purses.” I looked over to the empty gibbet black against the sky. The last of the hanged had been cut down and thrown to the sharks. “How do you think the Inglis guilds will react to news of Muredarch’s death?”
“Temar will be writing to their council.” Halice looked amused. “Claiming the bounty on Muredarch’s head as well as setting out the concessions on tariffs he expects for doing them such a service.”
“That’s certainly what Charoleia would recommend,” I laughed. “Whose idea was it?”
“Sorgrad may have given him a hint but the lad’s getting the bit between his teeth good and proper.” She looked around for Temar. “We’d best keep an eye out for him tonight. He’s a fair few unpleasantnesses to drown and this is the first chance he’s allowed himself.”
“The double full moon’s as good an excuse as any.” It was a solid gold certainty this was Halice’s idea, to give us all a night to eat, drink and forget the tribulations of this past half season. Those that could be were reunited; those bereaved could share their grief. What property could be restored had been and Temar had made handsome restitution for the losses from Muredarch’s coffers. Tonight, the moons, greater and lesser could shine down on some uncomplicated fun and then Halcarion would show us all a new path to follow. All of us, every last one of Kellarin’s people now that Guinalle had roused the last of Edisgesset’s sleepers with the artefacts we had brought back.
I realised Halice was looking askance at me. “What?”
“Will you be crawling inside a wineskin and tying it closed behind you?” Halice challenged.
“No,” I told her firmly. “It’s not worth the morning after, even drinking D’Alsennin’s finest.”
Still, splitting headaches and a sour stomach had been small price to pay for the oblivion I’d won from liquor scrounged from the mercenaries on our return. Ryshad had convinced Halice to leave me be, put me to bed when my words slurred into incoherence, found me cold water, dry bread and a shady place to regret my folly the following day. He had understood the paralysing fear of going to sleep only to find myself back in the confines of Artifice, terrified that waking would find me still locked within my own head, someone else ruling my limbs. Halice nodded with satisfaction and poured me more wine.
“Has he said anything about Ingella?” I asked.
“Temar?” Halice shook her head. “He did well there, when it came to it.”
“Justice is a Sieur’s duty.” I glanced involuntarily at the gibbet. “Mind you, I don’t think it did him any harm, for people to see how reluctant he was to hang a woman.”
“Not as long as he went through with it.” Halice’s voice was hard. “She was condemned beyond question.”
Ingella and the other survivors of Muredarch’s scum had faced Temar’s assize. He’d judged them with grim-faced authority, impressing us all. Unsavoury duty done, he deserved all the wine he wanted to blot out memories of the condemned struggling, weeping and cursing their way to the gallows.
“It’s not for us to look out for Temar,” I pointed out to Halice. “That’s Allin’s job these days.”
Halice chuckled into her cup. “That news in the right quarter should be gold for Charoleia.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “How do you think the noble Houses of Toremal will react to a wizard as maitresse to Temar’s Sieur?”
“We’re the other side of the ocean and there’s nothing they can do about it,” said Halice with considerable satisfaction.
“They’re wedding at Solstice?” I asked. “Here or in Vithancel?” That would forestall any prince wanting to make trouble but I couldn’t help feeling Allin deserved better than such a rushed affair.
“No, it’ll be autumn Equinox,” Halice told me. “With all honour to Drianon in the old style, all the Sieurs and their ladies and esquires invited to Vithrancel.”
“And to bring their best bid for the new trade,” I continued for her.
“And breaking their journey here, just so they see these islands are well and truly claimed,” concluded Halice. “Anyone out to argue the point can expect magefire scorching their toes.”
“Not that anyone would be so crass as to say so. This could be an interesting place, given a year or so,” I mused.
“Even more so when Usara brings word back from Hadrumal,” agreed Halice. “Have you seen Guinalle today?”
I shook my head. “Not that I recall.”
“You’re avoiding her?” Halice’s words were halfway between question and accusation.
“She’s been making sure Pered looked after the wounded properly while she was away.” I could hear the unconvincing defiance in my protest. ”Or she’ll be debating magical congruences with Usara.”
“That’s what they’ve been doing, is it?” Halice grinned. I wondered how long it would be before the demoiselle realised the cheerful satisfaction on Usara’s face of a morning made such excuses irrelevant. In the meantime, Halice wasn’t letting me excuse myself. “She deserves a drink before all the good wine’s drunk. Find her and give her this. I’m going to get some food.” She handed me the wine, walking off before I could protest.
I swung the fat-bellied bottle by its long neck and considered giving it to someone else. Pered and Shiv were arm in arm by the dancing ground, joking with careful kindness among those who’d survived the pirates and were trying to make merry as best they could. Guinalle would be comforting those with memories too raw and painful to be danced away. Halice was right, curse her. The demoiselle deserved a
drink and if she had her mouth full of wine, she couldn’t be asking for my thoughts on the Elietimm Artifice she’d dragged me into. It was time Guinalle accepted I had no opinion, beyond determination never to get caught up in it again. Walking up the slope towards the woods, I found I was holding the bottle in a manner more suited to a tavern fight. I changed my grip; I was hardly about to hammer the truth into Guinalle’s head with it. I’d have a quiet word with Usara when he got back and ask Ryshad to drop a few hints.
I heard talking inside the canvas-roofed hut where Guinalle was living and halted, just out of sight beyond the doorway.
“Everyone says they know how I must feel.” Naldeth’s voice was bitter as gall.
“How can they?” Guinalle was unemotional as usual. No, that wasn’t fair, I’d seen her smiling latterly, colour in her cheeks it was a safe bet Usara had put there. “Though I was severed from the life I’d known as surely as your leg was taken.” I was surprised to hear Guinalle be so blunt. “If you can learn from my mistakes in trying to cope, you may save yourself some grief.”
“You make is sound so easy.” The mage’s reply was barely short of insulting.
“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” retorted Guinalle. “But the only alternative is despair and you’re no more a coward than I am.”
“I don’t have your strength, my lady,” Naldeth choked unexpectedly.
“Then take strength from those willing to offer it,” said Guinalle softly. “Don’t repine for what’s lost and agonise over what cannot be changed. Don’t shut out those who would help you. If that’s the cost of closing the door on pain and regret, it’s not worth paying.”
“I can’t go back to Hadrumal,” said Naldeth, forlorn. “I can’t face the questions, the pity, everyone whispering in corners—”
“Talk to Usara about that,” Guinalle said briskly. “Anyway, who says you need go back to Hadrumal?”
“I’m hardly going to be building a new life in Kellarin on one leg and a crutch.” Naldeth’s uncertain mood veered back to anger. “People will see Muredarch’s handiwork till the end of my days, my lady. You might as well have left his mark on my chest as well.”
They could both do with a drink. I walked away and approached again, humming a snatch of the round dance being played by the shore.
“Halice doesn’t want you missing out.” I stuck my head round the doorframe and waved the bottle cheerfully. “Any glasses not used for medicine round here?”
“I can find a few.” Guinalle rose from the edge of the bed where Naldeth was propped against a bank of rolled blankets. Minare carried him here every morning despite his protests. Guinalle was determined the mage wasn’t going to sit in solitude and brood on his injuries.
“You want to ask Halice for a few hints on using that.” I nodded at the crutch standing in the corner, untouched since Ryshad had put it there.
“She’s probably forgotten how.” Naldeth sounded bitter again.
“She spent the best part of a year never walking without one,” I pointed out. “And wondering what to do with her life. A crippled mercenary has precious few options compared with a mage. You don’t need both feet on the ground to work wizardry.”
“I can’t decide if you’re a good nurse or not, Livak.” Guinalle turned from the chest that held her tinctures and salves. “Do your patients get well simply to get away from your encouragement?”
That won a grudging laugh from Naldeth so I’d allow the lady her sarcasm, particularly since I saw calculated humour in her eye.
“Enjoy it.” I proffered the bottle and waved Guinalle away when she tried to refill my horn cup. “No, thanks all the same. I’m looking for Ryshad.”
I sauntered off, well satisfied with my escape. I’d done what Halice asked. I’d tell her Guinalle was busy with Naldeth, and suggest she help get the wizard back on his feet — well, foot and crutch. If Guinalle thought I was unsubtle, she should see Halice dragging someone out of the mopes. I’d seen mercenaries half dead from their wounds sitting up and taking notice, if only because they’d obey Halice before Poldrion’s summons.
The cooking meat smelt tempting. Minare and I had a bet on just what the hare-lipped beasts Vaspret found foraging among the narrow valleys would taste like. Minare wagered something akin to rabbit but I reckoned venison looked nearer the mark.
“Livak!” Sorgrad hailed me and waved a bottle. He and ’Gren were leaning against a stack of the firewood everyone was expected to gather daily. Ryshad had set people thatching the piles with brush to keep any rain off.
“Drink?” asked ’Gren.
I shook my head. “What have you been up to today?”
“Talking to Pered and Shiv.”
’Gren scratched absently at his side where the wound that should have killed him still itched as it healed. “Have you seen what they’re planning for the inside of the shrine?”
“You mean you’ve been distracting Pered when he’s supposed to be drawing up records for D’Alsennin.” Sorgrad fixed me with a sardonic eye. “Pered’s talking about studying Artifice with Guinalle; reckons he could make an adept.”
“That’ll make for a lively household.” I shrugged. “I’ll wish him and Shiv every happiness of wizardry and Artifice under the same roof.”
“Scared?” teased ’Gren.
“Witless,” I confirmed. “Forest tricks are all very well but the demoiselle can keep her Higher Artifice and welcome. I’ll stay safe inside my own skin with both feet firmly on the ground, thanks all the same.” I turned to Sorgrad. “What about you? Have you got a taste for wizardry? Will we wave you off to Hadrumal?”
He didn’t rise to the bait, simply smiling lazily. “I’ll wait and see what word ’Sar brings back from Planir.”
“There should be some fight worth joining in Lescar,” ’Gren remarked. “Once we find out which side’s backed by most coin. I want to see what price we can get for those red stones Olret gave us as well.”
“Half a half-season’s peace and quiet and you’re already bored,” I scoffed. “You don’t know when you’re well off.” I’d decided boredom had more merits than I’d allowed it. Besides, my mother always said if you were bored, you just weren’t looking hard enough for something to do. I was beginning to think she might have a point. Mind you, I wasn’t thinking in terms of her usual ready suggestions that I polish some brass, blacklead grates or darn linen.
“I could write to Lessay, if anyone’s got a notion where to send a letter,” mused Sorgrad.
’Gren’s thoughts had already moved on. ”They need someone to make up that set. Look after my wine, ’Grad.”
“That wound’s not holding him back then.” I watched him bow deftly to a girl who’d been looking uncertainly for a partner. “Nor yet the notion he should be dead on the Ice Islands?”
“You know ’Gren,” Sorgrad said easily. “Where there’s no sense, there’s no feeling.”
The timorous girl was blossoming under ’Gren’s charm. “I take it she’s not yet had the chance to learn how much she owes him, see his scar and kiss it better?”
Sorgrad nodded. “She looks better than she did, doesn’t she?”
I studied the girl but beyond a vague recollection of hysterical weeping, I couldn’t put a name to her.
“Guinalle’s done a good deal for the worst abused,” Sorgrad continued. “Taking the edge off memories, blunting dreams. Seems Artifice can help heal the mind as well as the body.”
“I’m still not taking any interest in it,” I told him firmly.
“That’ll please Ryshad.” Now it was Sorgrad’s turn to dangle a provocation.
“When did you last see me hiding behind a man’s wishes?” I stuck my empty cup on the top of his wine bottle. “You won’t talk or trick me into sitting for lessons at Guinalle’s feet, just so you’ve got an excuse for hanging round to talk magic with Shiv and ’Sar.”
“It was worth a try.” Sorgrad grinned, unrepentant.
I was wat
ching ’Gren blithely whirling the dark-haired girl around. “It really doesn’t bother him, does it?”
“How am I supposed to take a drink with everyone giving me things to hold?” Sorgrad frowned at the cups and bottle in his hands. “What? No, you know ’Gren. There’s no future in looking at the past, that’s what he says.”
“A sound philosophy as far as it goes,” I allowed. “But a little forward planning doesn’t come amiss.”
“Words to warm Ryshad’s heart,” mocked Sorgrad.
I still wasn’t biting. “His father’s a mason, ’Grad. Making plans means the building won’t come tumbling down around your ears.” Everything had so nearly crashed to ruin around all of us. It was high time I went back to a life where the biggest risks were marked by the roll of the runes and the weight of your purse.
“Where is he?” Sorgrad scanned the lively scene by the water. “You’d best go and find him, let him know there’s food for the eating.”
“Don’t drink all the good wine.” I looked but couldn’t find Ryshad among the dancing or the hungry throng gathering by the fires.
“Try the shrine,” Sorgrad suggested.
The Island City of Hadrumal,
29th of For-Summer
The full heat of the afternoon beat down on Hadrumal’s roofs, striking motes of silver from stone slates and turning masonry beneath to warm gold. Planir stood at his window looking down at the bustling courtyard below. Apprentices hurried about the errands they’d been given by their masters. Mages elevated to the status of pupil walked more slowly back to their lodging, weighed down with carefully cherished dignity and the substantial books many carried. Styles of dress and a general predilection for elemental colours were common to all but cut and quality of cloth inevitably distinguished those born to greater wealth whose families refused to let the accident of magebirth divide them.
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