The Poisoned Quarrel: The Arbalester Trilogy 3 (Complete Edition)

by Duncan Lay

  “Now then, young lad. You will come and sit with me. Your father has any number of soldiers to help him and he has been doing this sort of thing for more years than you have been around. It is time for you to put away the crossbow and stop patrolling around the castle.”

  Kerrin, who had been walking into the room, froze in horror.

  “Mam! I can’t put away the crossbow,” he said, his face stricken. “How can I protect you?”

  She stood and walked to his side, enfolding him in her arms. “I am so sorry,” she said, pressing her face against the top of his head. “You have had to go through things that no boy should. But it is over now. We are back together and there is a castle around us and an army to protect us. It is time for you to put away the crossbow and get back to a normal life.”

  He lifted his head. “But I like the crossbow. I am good with it,” he protested.

  “I know you are. Just like your father. But you need more in your life than that. You could do anything. I just want what is best for you.”

  “And I just want to keep you safe, mam!”

  She kissed his head. “I know, and I love you for it. But it is my job to keep you safe, not the other way around. I don’t like you going out in this weather. And I don’t want you catching your death of a cold in this draughty castle of a night, either.”

  “But I don’t cough anymore. And I don’t feel the cold like I used to,” he insisted.

  She dropped down to one knee. This was not going how she planned and it broke her heart to see him like this. It was as if all the gentleness had been hammered out of him, like iron in Brendan’s forge, and the little boy she had hovered over for so many summers was running away from her.

  “I want to spend time with you,” she said. “I missed you so badly when I was in Kotterman and now there is so much for us to do here, and a new baby brother or sister on the way—”

  “I’d rather a brother,” Kerrin said immediately.

  “That’s good! Someone to play with?”

  “I can teach him the crossbow and he can help me protect you,” Kerrin said.

  Bridgit took a deep breath. “Give me the crossbow,” she said firmly.

  “Mam, I—”

  “No excuses. The crossbow. Now.”

  His mouth twisted downwards but he handed it over and she took it from him after only a moment’s wrestling.

  “Now, we are going to sit here and do some reading, sing a few songs and spend the day just the way we used to, before all this happened,” she said firmly. “You will see this is for the best. We are safe here and tonight you are going to stay in bed. If you come outside then you will be in big trouble. Bigger trouble than even your father will be.”

  Kerrin’s mouth twitched upwards into a slight smile and he nodded.

  “Good!” she hugged him close. “Aroaril, I missed you so much!”

  He held her back, his arms tightening powerfully around her. “I missed you too, mam.”

  *

  Kerrin walked back to his room happily. It had been a good day with Mam, the sort of day when he could imagine they were back in their cozy home in Baltimore. Except he could never forget what happened. She had taken his big crossbow, but he had a secret weapon. He took out the small Kottermani crossbow that his dad had given him, as well as the quarrels that Brendan had made. He swiftly loaded the crossbow and sent a quarrel punching into the straw target on his wall, then practiced loading and loosing until the target was riddled. Then he pulled open another drawer and took out a pair of throwing knives. Mam had said nothing about them. They joined the quarrels in the heart of the straw target and he nodded in satisfaction.

  Mam might think there was no danger here and she might be right. But he would be prepared if things went wrong. His parents were trying to pretend everything was the same but he could see that was not true. They were only fooling themselves, not him. He would give it a few days and then start his patrols again, when he was sure they were asleep. He could not trust them to keep themselves safe. He had to do it.

  CHAPTER 5

  “We’re in for a storm, Highness,” Gokmen said grimly, knocking on the cabin door and entering in one movement.

  Feray looked up from the map of Gaelland she was studying. The former slave master’s swarthy skin was looking sallow and his eyes were wide.

  “Why do you tell me this? Do you wish to scare my children?” she asked sharply.

  Asil and Orhan were reading one of their father’s books, Asil helping his younger brother with some of the words, but now they were both staring at Gokmen.

  “I did not intend offence, Highness.” Gokmen bowed his head. “But Prince Kemal charged me with keeping you safe and you ordered me to get us back to Adana. The sailing master wants to turn around and run before the storm, back towards Gaelland. Whichever choice I make, I break one of my oaths.”

  Feray slammed down a paperweight on the map and pointed at her sons. “Stay here. I shall be right back,” she told them and followed Gokmen out onto deck.

  They had made good speed away from Gaelland over the past three days and the weather had been kind. With each passing turn of the hourglass, her hopes had risen that they could escape the cold north and make it back into warmer, calmer seas.

  But one glance at the sky told her that was a forlorn hope. The clouds sat across the horizon like a bruise, forbidding and ominous. Already the wind had freshened and blew her hair back from her face. The sailing master, a tall, lean man with a leathery face, hurried to meet her, bowing briefly. She had little to do with him on the way out but he was the most experienced of the sailors Kemal had brought with the fleet, a man from her own part of the Empire. She did not know his real name and would not dream of asking it, for all on board merely called him Gemici, which meant sailor.

  “Highness, we must run before this storm. To sail through it would be the greatest folly,” Gemici said.

  “And what if there is another storm behind this one? We shall never get back to Adana,” she told the sailor. “We have no time for this. If the Emperor arrives in Gaelland next spring to find my husband a prisoner, we are all dead. So we have nothing to lose. We go through the storm.”

  “Highness, the sailors are scared. They will not do it,” Gemici said.

  “Really? Then summon them. And quickly, for the storm approaches,” she said angrily, her eyes flashing.

  Both Gemici and Gokmen were far larger than she was but they bowed and hurried to obey.

  The crew was larger than normal, because she had combined the men left behind on the two ships that had escaped the disaster at Berry. The others had all been lost when her husband’s surprise attack on Berry had failed. She had reproached herself bitterly since that day. There had to be something else she could have said to persuade Kemal not to attack. He had ignored her warning to him that the Gaelish in Berry were not to be underestimated. It was a mixture of luck and skill that all her ships had not been taken as well. They had sailed into Berry – as Kemal had instructed – in the morning. The curtain of rain had lifted at a critical point and they had seen the other Kottermani ships crawling with Gaelish. Instantly she had ordered the ships to turn around and sail away, before the Gaelish could snap them up. Unfortunately her husband wasn’t so lucky.

  Once in the open sea and clear of any pursuit, Princess Feray had come to a hard decision. Neither ship had enough men to handle the rough trip home, so she had combined both crews on the best ship and sank the other. Now they had extra sailors but she feared they would need them to defeat the storms they would surely face. Of course the storm they would face back in Kotterman if the Emperor learned his oldest son was a prisoner of the Gaelish would be even worse. But Feray was descended from a line of kings and not about to let fear stop her. Not just Kemal but her own sons depended on her being strong. The Emperor’s other sons would seek to use this as an excuse to supplant her husband. If that were to happen, then Asil and Orhan’s lives would be in danger. The new Crown Princ
e would not leave nephews behind who could one day challenge him.

  Still, one danger at a time, she told herself, watching the sailors assemble in the belly of the ship. Kemal would not have needed to speak to them, of course. They would have obeyed the Crown Prince without question. But she did not have that luxury and neither did she have any guards to enforce her will. Gokmen was an imposing presence but he was only one man.

  “Men of Kotterman!” she cried. “I need your help to face and defeat these storms to return to Adana. I know it will be hard. But if we flee before the storms, we shall die. If the Gaelish do not kill us, the Emperor will, for not having the courage to do our duty. So, you see, there is not a choice at all. We either embrace death, or we fight for life, and for a safe and rich future for all your families.”

  She paused and looked around at the sailors, whose faces were betraying a mix of emotions and uncertainty.

  “I swear to you that every man who steps ashore at Adana will never need to work again,” she said. “I am entrusting you with not just my life but the lives of my sons, the Emperor’s grandchildren to you. I need to save my husband, the Crown Prince, but I cannot do this without you. Will you stand with me?”

  For a few moments nobody moved, then Gokmen took a step forwards and roared his agreement, raising his meaty right fist and spinning around, looking at the others. A heartbeat later, the others joined in.

  “You will not regret this,” she told them, hoping silently that proved true. “Now, to your places. Obey your officers and we shall all come through this. We sail in the best ship, with the best crew. We have nothing to fear as long as we stand together!”

  This time the roar was much louder and then Gemici took over, rattling out orders and the men raced off in all directions. Most raced up the ropes to the masts, and out across the sail lines, hauling in the thick linen sails and tying them down, while others hurriedly lashed down anything on the deck and the rest disappeared below.

  “Highness, you should also go below,’ Gokmen advised. “The storm will be upon us soon and you should make your cabin ready, as well as be with your sons.”

  She smiled at him. “My husband will not forget you.”

  He bowed again and she left it there. She knew he had only been brought on board because Kemal wanted him to be desperately grateful. When Bridgit and the other Gaelish slaves had escaped, Gokmen should have paid with his life for allowing it to happen. Ironically, as Kemal had helped them escape, it had not been Gokmen’s fault. But, by sparing his life and bringing him along, Kemal had wanted to secure Gokmen’s absolute loyalty.

  The storm was coming upon them at a frightening speed. The waves were now tipped with white and the clouds black, while the wind was whistling through the masts, catching the small sail that Gemici had left up, normally scarcely enough to move the big ship but here it would be vital in giving them enough speed to tackle the waves.

  She slipped down the ladder, feeling the instant relief of being out of the wind. But that was short-lived, as she felt the motion of the ship change as the bow plunged into the big waves. She heard Orhan cry out in fear and she raced back into their cabin, to see the boys trying to stop their books from flying in all directions.

  “Come here,” she ordered.

  “I want Baba!” Orhan wailed.

  She gathered him to her chest. “As do I,” she said softly. “But we shall need to be brave and clever to get him back again.”

  She wondered where he was and how he was being treated. Fallon was not a monster but Kemal had lied to him, then attacked his city, killing many of Fallon’s friends and people.

  “Be safe, my love. Pray for us,” she murmured, and the ship shuddered as it slammed into a bigger wave.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Will you not stop this and leave me alone? Have you no mercy?” Kemal cried.

  “I thought you would be glad of the company,” Bridgit said, settling herself down on a chair.

  “I would be glad of the company of my family. Or a regiment of my finest soldiers. Not you,” Kemal said angrily.

  Bridgit shook her head slowly. “You were the one to attack us. We would have been happy had you held to your deal and left us in peace.”

  Kemal just glowered at her. Before attacking Berry he had been haunted by dreams of Fallon and the night he had been tortured and broken. Now he was tormented by the way Bridgit had tricked him and forced his men to surrender, when he’d had Fallon surrounded and beaten.

  His sleep was not made any easier by the fact he did not know what had happened to Feray and his boys. They were not prisoners but where would they have gone? He had not left enough men aboard the last two ships to make a rescue possible, nor could they risk sailing back to Kotterman with the winter storms raging out there on the seas. Yet if they stayed around Gaelland then they were risking capture by Fallon’s men or, worse, by Zorva-worshippers.

  Of the two, Fallon was the better option, he had to admit.

  He had been given a set of rooms in the castle and, although there were guards outside the door, he was not chained up or denied anything. The rooms were beautifully furnished, every piece a fine example of Kottermani workmanship. He was also eating well. King Aidan had demanded his kitchens be able to produce Kottermani food and, although it was not quite the same as Kemal would choose at home, it was close enough that he could not complain.

  His men were nowhere in sight and his questions about their whereabouts were ignored. Not that he expected Fallon to keep so many soldiers in the castle but he worried about what had happened to them, not to mention what they had done with his wounded. He had given orders for the Gaelish wounded to be left alive but he dared not trust Fallon to do the same.

  Apart from Bridgit’s regular visits, he was left alone. He had thought there might be the chance to grab her and then turn the tables on his captors but she was too clever for that. The wooden door of his sleeping room had been replaced by a barred iron door. Usually this was kept open but when she arrived, it was swung shut and she sat outside, able to talk, but safely out of his reach.

  “You seem to have taken to power well. That is a rich dress,” he said sourly.

  She brushed the skirt. “I am wearing this because today I attended the wedding of our Archbishop to her husband, our dear friend Gallagher. And tonight it will be put away, once I have finished my duties.”

  “Duties? Talking to me? Why do you come here, if not to gloat?” he asked.

  She smiled briefly. “Why did you want to speak to me, when I was your slave?”

  “I had to speak to one of your people. You were the obvious choice,” he said wearily.

  “Well, your people are our prisoners now and perhaps I need your help to get them to work,” she suggested.

  “They are warriors. They will never slave for you!” Kemal growled.

  “Maybe they just need the right motivation. What if we told them you would die if they did not work?”

  “I would never order them to do that. No matter what you did to me,” he declared. He had taken more than enough from these accursed Gaelish. He would not give them anything else. And yet, he was afraid. Feray, Asil and Orhan were still out there. Even if they were not prisoners of the Gaelish, they would need his protection. His brothers were always looking for a way to be Crown Prince. And they may be fighting for the Elephant Throne but his family was like a pride of lions. If a new lion fought his way to the top with tooth and claw, the first act would be to kill the old leader’s cubs.

  He hid these worries behind a sneer. He would give Bridgit nothing.

  “Then let us talk about your father and the rest of your family. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “Why do you persist in asking me about this?”

  “Because I wish to know. What will they do when they learn about your capture, do you think?”

  Kemal glared at her. “You seek knowledge that will help you defeat them. I will not help you.”

  “What if they
arrived to find you on the throne of Gaelland, and Fallon and me gone? What would happen then?”

  He smiled thinly. “You seek to trick me into talking. Well, that will not happen.”

  She gave no sign that she was upset by his words but turned her head at a commotion somewhere else inside the castle.

  “What is it?” Kemal asked, unable to stop himself.

  “Perhaps you will find out. But for now, I have to go,” she said, standing and turning away.

  “Wait! We are not finished!” he cried, not wanting her to talk but not wanting to be left in silence either. But she did not turn back and he sank onto his bed. How had it all come to this?

  *

  Bridgit hurried across to where Padraig was beckoning to her. “You have to talk to Fallon. He’s planning to march out now,” the old wizard said warningly.

  Bridgit sighed. She was getting nowhere with Kemal but planned to keep persisting. The problem was, Kemal had shown himself to be a consummate liar in pretending to sign a new treaty and then returning in the dead of night to launch a vicious attack. How could she believe anything he said now? But, plainly, Fallon was going to get nothing from him and at least there was a hope they could, if not gain his trust, then at least gain information from him by the spring. They had plenty of time. Although, perhaps not as much as they hoped if Fallon did not come to his senses.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she said, clasping her father’s arm.

  “He’s going to take some convincing,” Padraig warned. “And I’m afraid some of it is my fault. After all, I was the one to tell him all those stories about the evil Guilds. He just keeps telling me this is what Cavan would do.”

  Bridgit squeezed her father’s arm and hurried off to find Fallon organizing several companies of men. You could not call them recruits anymore. All of them had lived through the brutal battle of Berry and although none were over twenty summers, there was something about them now that seemed far older. Their numbers were shrunken – for hundreds had been killed or wounded – and while most of the wounded would recover to rejoin the ranks, thanks to the work of Rosaleen and the other priests, they were still recovering.