by Wilf Jones
‘He said only they’d disappeared. What’s happened?’
Tregar shook his head. ‘Good question, Seama. If only we knew. There were reports, about three or four weeks past, from up Norberry way – just about as far from the capital as could be—’
‘I’m pretty good at geography, Tregar.’
‘Aye well, but it’s worth bearing in mind it takes a good few days to get messages through. We should be thinkin’ of extending the Fast Post further into the North, though just now most of the riders are still caught up running the road to Aristeth and back. But we could train a few more. They’re not that expensive. Getting the ponies now, that might be a bit diff—’
‘And the news from the North, however late?’
Tregar couldn’t help chuckling. ‘Always gets t’ye, doesn’t it?’
‘Always. It’s maddening when people don’t stick to the point.’
‘Right then, let’s see if I can do a little better. The news from the North was confused: raiders, an army, trouble-makers. Vague as that. Villages set to fire; refugees heading anyway they could. The stories came in not long after Mador got to hear about this trouble in Aegarde with these sorcerers and cuthroats or whatever. He’d already sent Anparas and Temor over to Salthall barracks just in case Sirl… er… how shall I put it? Just in case he needed some help. So, them gone, all Mador had left at Ayer were Sands and the King’s Guard. Didn’t have much of an option.
‘More reports were coming in all the time, panicky now, odd stories about outlanders scaring people from their homes.’
‘Outlanders?’
‘That was one of the words used, no real explanation. You got the impression the tale was getting worse by the telling. ‘The White Men’, that was another name, though given for some or all wasn’t too clear. Well I guess it ‘minded Mador of this Black Company. What if there was another gang Norberry way up to the same sort of shenanigans? And if they were connected, would that mean the Aergardeans were involved? What if Athoff was attacking on two fronts? Sands was sent to find out – the full army, nearly eleven hundred all told.’
‘A robust response. And Xandra with them?’
‘Sands is nominally her House.’
‘And, of course, Xandra, being Xandra, was tired of kicking her heels here in Ayer when everyone else was out having fun.’
‘Aye well. She’s been getting worse recently. Mador wouldn’t let her go east back in March – didn’t want the Masachees given a fresh target – she was hopping mad then and she’s been trouble ever since.’
‘So they went. What happened when they got there?’
‘They went by Segeston and Gull Lake and through the Skelldane. Not much sign of trouble in the south of the Part but by the time they’d crossed the Oswynne they started to run across some of these emptied villages. No sign of war – the folk had just gone and left their living behind them. According to Jaspar’s reports the problem seemed worse the further east you went. But it’s a big area we’re talking about. There was no point in having the army traipsing back and forth till they found something, so Jaspar turned round and headed for Greteth. He made a base at the castle and sent out scouting parties instead.’
‘Very sensible. Sound man, Jaspar.’
‘Well, you’ll not get everyone at court to agree with ye. Some think he’s lacking experience. And they may be right, but he’s intelligent enough and his judgement is usually up to the mark.’
‘We’re wandering again. What next?’
‘Nothing. Jaspar’d been sending out dispatches daily but we’ve had nothing at all after that one report from Greteth. We gave it four days and then Mador had some fast riders diverted from Aristeth. None o’them came back. It’s a bad business, Seama. Course, we don’t actually know anything but King’s messengers don’t go astray by accident. I have a very bad feeling about it. What if Sands has found more trouble than he could handle?’
‘A bit fanciful, Tregar. He has a whole army with him. What do you think is up there?’
‘Ach! You’re right, daft idea. I don’t know. What I do know is Mador should get his head back together and send reinforcements. He needs to find out what is going on in Norberry and forget all this Gothery nonsense.’
‘Completely agree with you. We ought to go to Mador and tell him just that. I did ask Aldo to bring you some food but if you can drink up quick I think we ought to be moving right away.’
Tregar nodded an ‘aye’ and then gave his attention to the rahi. Seama sat in a chair and pondered upon the situation. He didn’t like any of it. Not this trouble in the North, not the ongoing problems with Masachea in the East, and especially not Athoff’s warmongering in the West. Each new event made him more convinced there was some hideous plan at work underpinning the whole sorry mess. And if that was the case then he wondered what he should do about it. Like Mador, he was worried he might make a bad decision and head off in the wrong direction entirely. Where was the heart of it all? Who was at the bottom of it? Could he do anything more than fight the fire directly before him? He certainly couldn’t ignore it.
‘Seama? What are you thinking?’
‘What I’m thinking, Tregar, is it’s about time we were doing something positive. We need to see Mador and get this all sorted, that’s clear – make sure he has his priorities straight, make sure he sends the troops where they’re needed. But there are enemies everywhere you look and they all need facing. First and foremost we need to counter this attack on the castle.’
Tregar looked a little muddled but he took another sup at his drink to give himself time to get it all in order. ‘Aye. Right enough. All a matter of priorities, as ye say.’ He was reviewing the options. ‘This trouble in the North certainly needs sorting. We need te get Anparas and Temor deployed, quick as we can. Two whole armies ought to do the trick and then…’ He looked up from his mug in some puzzlement. ‘Whit did you say just? About the castle. Which castle?’
‘Castle Ayer, Tregar. It is under attack, right now, and we – that is you and me – we need to do something before the whole place collapses.’
Tregar was no longer in the bed but fighting his way out of the bath robe. The rahi was decorating the wallpaper.
‘Spurl’s tits, Seama, what are we doing jawing here if Ayer’s under attack?’
‘Well, sobering you up, actually.’
Tregar gave him a fierce look. ‘You mean, I’ve been sitting in this stupid place drinking myself into oblivion and all the while…’ A revelation hit him. ‘What sort of attack? You’re talking about a spell of some sort?’
Seama nodded.
‘Aye well. Just let me get these revolting clothes back on and ye can tell me about it as we go.’ He paused in his struggles, a rueful look coming over his rugged features, ‘Mador is expecting me back, I take it?’
‘Yes, in The Presence, soon as can be.’
His face lightened in relief. ‘Well that’s alright then. Good, good. Presence eh? Right then, if he wants us there quick, let’s go for his Back Passage.’
Aldo Rodber picked up the tray, wondering whether bread and cheese would do the trick, or perhaps he should do a fried egg to go with it, and maybe some bacon, but then decided he couldn’t be bothered. Tregar always had to take things too far. Fair enough it was three years since the last one but this time was definitely the worst. He’d been totally out of control. What it had done for The Dog’s reputation he didn’t like to think. Tregar was just lucky Aldo hadn’t given up on him and called the constables to turf him out. No, after all the support he’d had already, and the credit he’d squandered, Tregar’d just have to make do with what he got. And he was getting no more either until he’d had the decency to apologise and had damn well paid his bills. Thank gods Seama had come along.
He pushed open the kitchen door and stepped through into the cor
ridor, still musing, only to be bowled over in an instant by his erstwhile and continuing tormentor, reckless in progress, followed a little more cautiously by his supposed saviour.
‘Sorry Aldo, didn’t see you there,’ Seama threw over his shoulder as they charged off towards the cellars.
Aldo shook his head wearily. He stooped to pick up the bread and cheese but then, realizing what was happening, dropped it once more and ran after them yelling:
‘You can’t Tregar. You can’t. It’s all locked up!’
Tregar, waiting for him at the bottom of the cellar steps, grabbed him by an arm rather than his throat, for which Aldo was thankful if surprised. Tregar was showing restraint.
‘What d’ye mean?’ he growled. ‘Why’s it locked?’
Aldo half regretted following after them. He pointed at the grille gate to their left. Sure enough the bolt from the mortise lock was shot ‘Be… Been locked up since the last time you used it,’ he explained.
‘Well, bring me the key then.’
‘Mador said I wasn’t to let you.’
‘I don’t care whit Mador said. We need to get up to the castle. You need to bring me the bladdie key. Right now!’
Aldo squirmed out of Tregar’s grip and backed away. ‘Honest, Tregar, I just can’t. Said he’d take my licence if I let you through again – so I… er…’
‘So you… er… what?’
‘I gave the key to Arianna Foxton.’
Tregar slapped the heel of his fist against the wall in frustration. Aldo had moved away at the right time. ‘So the little bladdie butler’s got it. Just bladdie fine!’ Aldo sidled around to put Seama between them. The court wizard eyed him angrily. ‘Ye’re useless, ye know that, don’t ye,’ There was still an edge of menace in his tone, but then, as abruptly as a candle snuffed out, the fire of Tregar’s anger was extinguished and he relented. ‘Ah whit’s the use!’ Knowing he was defeated and there was nothing anyone could do about it, Tregar seemed to relax a little, resigned no doubt to the inevitable slow cart up the hill by way of the main road. ‘Looks like it’s going to be the long way round, then.’
Aldo, relieved to be let off the hook, grimaced sympathetically. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but it was the King’s orders.’
Seama, assessing the gate that was causing the trouble, glanced back at his colleague. ‘Sounds like you annoyed him, somehow,’ he observed.
‘Aye well, I wiz a little bit drunk I suppose.’
‘A little bit?’ Aldo almost laughed. ‘We heard you scared the kitchenmaids half to death.’
‘Aye, that’s what they said, anyway. Hardly my fault they’d startet using the room for stores though.’
Aldo shrugged but Tregar chose to ignore him. Instead, he looked over Seama’s shoulder.
‘What d’ye think?’
‘I think it’s a pity my friend Terrance isn’t with us – he’s good with locks. But perhaps a little brute force might just do the trick. Just the one bolt after all.’
Seama unsheathed his sword.
Aldo gasped. ‘Where did that come from – I didn’t see it before.’
The wizard smiled. ‘You weren’t supposed to. A small charm that stops you looking at the scabbard. Anyway, let’s see what we can do.’
Seama slid the tip of his sword into the gap between the grille door and the iron frame that retained it, pressing up against the bolt as if he thought the bolt was made of tallow and he could slice right through it. And then he sliced right through it.
Aldo was amazed and bent in close to see.
‘Careful!’ Seama cautioned. He reached for a broom and used it to pull open the gate. The part that touched the gate charred black in an instant and began to smoulder. ‘It’ll be hot for a good half hour. Best not touch any part of it.’
Aldo nodded vigorously, grateful for the warning. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘If you make sure to tell Mador I tried my best to stop you, I’ll go up and get you some decent lanterns.’
As Aldo climbed the steps back up to the kitchen he heard Tregar say with no small degree of wonder in his voice: ‘How did you do that, Seama? I’ve never seen the like.’
Obviously not all wizards were the same and didn’t have the same abilities. All of them, however, were at the least intimidating and at worst downright impossible. Mador might well get annoyed that Aldo had offered the pair any help at all, but anything to hasten their departure even by a minute was fine by him.
‘So what’s the story behind the passage?’ Seama managed a conversational tone as they plodded along by the light of Aldo’s lanterns but actually he wasn’t much in the mood for idle chatter. There was something about their journey that made him feel ill at ease. He wasn’t at all sure whether it was to do with tunnels in general – he had never liked them – or to do with this one in particular. ‘It’s been here some time by the look of it. You’d have thought I would’ve heard about it somewhere along the line.’
Tregar grunted. He was making heavy weather of the steep incline with the poison of the alcohol still doing unpleasant things to his insides and to his head.
‘Aye, ye’d have thought so.’ He belched. ‘I feel sick.’
‘Well make sure you keep it in,’ Seama warned him. ‘Bad enough being down here in the dark without you making a mess to tread in.’
Tregar grunted again and plodded on.
Seama plodded after.
‘So, the tunnel then?’
‘Look alright. But if I am sick it’s your fault.’ Tregar stopped plodding and took a few deep breaths. ‘It was made by Iskandar, second and last. Heard of him?’
‘I’ve seen his name in lists. Wasn’t he something to do with the Landsman’s Charter?’
‘Er, don’t know. I’m not really too good on proper history – I just remember the stories. The human stuff, ye know. I think it was something like five or six hundred years ago if that tallies.’
‘It does. Fairly significant piece of legal history but probably not that memorable. What’s the story?’
‘Well this Iskandar was quite popular as king’s go, known affectionately as ‘The Old Dog’ but not because he was a faithful sort. Fact was, he was a bit of a hound and everyone knew it. His one weakness – ha! one weakness: whenever have they had just the one? Anyway, his weakness was for the young ladies. There was a constant stream o’ them even when he was in his teens – a regular philanderer, you’d call him. His wife on the other hand was a one man woman, utterly devoted, beautiful as a summer night, but most importantly, scary as hell.’
‘Why scary?’
‘Well, it might have been a bit of prejudice coming out but as she was some sort of Masachee, and from Lusk of all places, naturally the scandal mongers decided she must be a witch. While Iskandar was always the nation’s favourite his wife was hated by everyone, whether she deserved it or not. Ye’ve got to wonder why he married her – except for the looks, of course.
‘Now, early days of the marriage Iskandar behaved himself pretty well, but as the years passed by, as ye might guess, the young lassies again began to catch his eye. His big problem was the Queen – Layala was her name – she had a jealous streak wide as the Misium and a lot more powerful. And because everyone else knew about his affairs, very soon so did she. Story has it the queen’s maids were disloyal little minxes, to both parties. It was no surprise at all they got to hear about it whenever the King made his little trips into town, where he’d been and who he’d been seen with: the servants always do. And this lot were devilish quick to make sure the Queen heard the bad news too. Wanted to see her embarrassed, I guess. Of course that led to real trouble. Layala, in a tearsome rage, out and threatened Iskandar, right in front of the Privy Council, to have done with his wicked ways or she would end them herself. No one could say why he was so weak – perhaps he knew her fo
r the witch rumour made her, and was just plain scared – fact was, he jumped to her demands like a whelp te its master. The poor lass who’d last erhm… benefitted from the King’s attentions was taken down into the market square, flogged till she bled and then sent on her way with not so much as a penny to buy a day’s peace. Iskandar the while, in some sort of terror of his wife, pledged himself to mend his ways.
‘All well and good, but, as ye ken, the pledging and the doing are mostly different things. There’s never been a lack of young lassies in the world and always plenty with a fancy to bedding the rich and the powerful. So, the temptation was always there that might cause an old dog to stray, and the danger was there too. That’s when he came up with his brilliant plan.
‘There was work going on to make the palace kitchens bigger and to dig another well shaft. So, while they were at it, he commissioned the builders to do a bit extra for him. In the case of direst need, he told them, to ensure the safety of the royal family, he needed an escape route. Whether they believed that or not, I cannot say. I don’t suppose they were particularly loyal but I daresay all the extra money he promised got the tunnel dug pretty quick and more or less kept secret.
