“You mean like the time he won the ale-and-herring contest by outeating and outdrinking everyone else in Ifrem’s bar?” Kestel asked with a wicked grin.
Piran groaned. “I’d rather forget that time, thank you. Bloody herring.”
“I see it didn’t make you swear off ale,” Kestel observed.
Piran frowned. “Wasn’t the ale’s fault. Nasty, awful herring.” Piran and Blaine had both worked the dangerous, cold herring boats in Skalgerston Bay after they earned their Tickets of Leave. Neither one ever cared to see another herring again.
By this time, the minstrels had struck up a lively tune. Dawe and Mari were gesturing for the others to join them in a circle dance. The steps were familiar, as was the song. Even Robbe joined in. Blaine let himself dance without thinking about the steps, caught up in the happiness and energy of the moment. Just for an instant, if he shut his eyes, it could almost be as if none of the last seven years had ever happened, not the murder, the exile, or the many battles.
Kestel squeezed his hand, and Blaine opened his eyes once more. Her look gave him to know that she had guessed his thoughts. He gave her hand a squeeze in return. No sane man would have asked for what befell me in the last few years, Blaine thought, but I’ve made good things from all of that. Friends. Kestel. Fixing the magic. Fixing up Glenreith. Trying to get Donderath back on its feet. I wouldn’t have asked for the pain, but at least it hasn’t been for naught.
The tune switched, and Kestel led Blaine into another, faster dance, one that gave him no leeway to dwell on the past. He was certain she had arranged it that way. After several more spirited pieces, all of the dancers except Robbe drifted back to get more ale or just collapse into a chair.
“Do you think your aunt and Edward will ever make a handfasting?” Kestel asked quietly, her gaze going to where Judith stood beside Glenreith’s longtime seneschal, no longer pretending to be employer and servant.
Blaine shrugged. “For all I know, they already have,” he replied. “It would be like both of them to do it quietly, for their own satisfaction. After all, it’s hardly as if the world outside cares.” Once, such a pairing would have shocked Donderath’s elites, and the social pressure to avoid scandal would have pushed Judith and Edward apart. But the years of hardship and the collapse of ‘respectable’ society left the survivors of the Cataclysm to make their way in an unfamiliar, and unfriendly, world. Whether the attraction between Judith and Edward had always been present, or whether it came late in life, Blaine had no idea. But after all the pain his aunt had suffered, he was glad that she had found happiness amid the ruins.
Blaine and Kestel nodded to the guard at the front doors of the manor as they walked arm in arm out into the sunshine. Soldiers guarded the manor’s outer walls, and a protected corridor ran all the way from the front gates of Glenreith down to the permanent army camp over the hill at Arengarte, where Niklas Theilsson’s father once owned a large farm and mill.
“Mersed and Cosmin said they strengthened the wardings right before we came back from Bleak Hollow,” Blaine remarked. “I feel better knowing that at least one or two of the mages will be stationed here at Glenreith. They can move back and forth between here, Quillarth Castle, and Mirdalur as they need to, but it means the manor, the village, and the army camp have another line of defense.”
“Now if they could just uncover an artifact that would make better beer!” Kestel laughed. “In all the centuries, wouldn’t you have thought a mage somewhere would have come up with a bottomless vat of perfect ale, or the never-ending cask of wine?”
Blaine chuckled and turned his face up to the sun and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth. “You know, there were many times in Edgeland, I didn’t think I’d ever be warm again,” he said quietly.
Kestel drew in a deep breath of contentment and leaned against him. “I know. I felt the same way myself. And I certainly never expected to make it back to Donderath.”
“I wonder how Edgeland has changed,” Blaine mused. “It’s been a year and a half. So much has happened here. They might not have had all the wars and warlords we’ve dealt with here, but having the magic back, working and anchored, should have made things a little easier for them, I hope.”
Velant Prison had been an unrelenting nightmare. Convicts who survived a few years in the prison and its merciless fields, laundries, and mines were granted Tickets of Leave, papers that let them become colonists instead of convicts and move from the prison into Edgeland’s only town, Skalgerston Bay. The new colonists were granted a small amount of money and some land, enough for a garden to support themselves. Blaine, Piran, Dawe, Verran, and Kestel had pooled their money and land and built the Homestead, a small shared house and farm. Kestel had tended the livestock and farm while Blaine and Piran went out with the dangerous herring fleet. Verran played for money in the taverns, and Dawe took in smithy work. Some of the colonists ran businesses that served the sailors who brought supplies and new loads of convicts or learned a trade to get by, useful in a colony that often lacked essentials and received limited shipments from home.
“I sent a letter with Verran, just in case Engraham or Ifrem are still alive,” Kestel said. “I tried to catch them up on the main news, although so much has happened, it would take a book to write it all down,” she added. “Still, I asked them to send a letter with Verran in return, to tell us their news. There were some people I didn’t mind leaving at the top of the world, but I’m surprised at how much I miss the ones I did like.”
Blaine nodded. Velant killed the prisoners who posed a real danger. The rest had been sent away for small crimes. “There wasn’t much choice about depending on the people around you, whether you liked them or not,” Blaine said.
Kestel chuckled. “I’ll always remember the way the Spirit Lights looked in the sky, especially during the Ice Festival. They were beautiful. So was new snow—unless you had to go out in it. We certainly did the best with what we had.”
“That’s why I didn’t jump at the idea of coming back, when we finally had the chance,” Blaine said. “We’d built a good life there. It was hard, but less complicated than dealing with King Merrill’s court and the nobles. We made it work. I had made my peace with it.”
“You could have stayed,” Kestel said quietly, taking his hand. “No one would have faulted you for not wanting to come back. We had no idea what shape Donderath would be in. After what happened to you, it’s hardly as if you owed anyone.”
Blaine shrugged. “I’ve often thought about that, wondered how things would have gone if I hadn’t come back. Whether you and I would have finally gotten together,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “Whether someone would have found another way to anchor the magic. Certainly, other warlords might have risen, to bring order to the mess. But then I wonder what would have become of Glenreith, and whether Carr might still be alive if I had stayed.”
Kestel turned to meet his gaze. “Maybe things would have gone well in Edgeland. Or maybe with the magic broken, we all would have died. If you think it was important to restore the magic here in Donderath, remember how often a little bit of magic meant the difference between life and death up in Edgeland. The healers. Being able to make fire and light easily. So many things we relied on magic to do, or help with, because we had to do everything else the hard way.” She shook her head. “For all you know, you might have saved the whole colony by coming back to fix the magic. And Grimur was quite sure that you were the only one who could do it.”
Blaine shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe. Although once upon a time, there had to be a very first Lord of the Blood, so it couldn’t have always been inherited. But I’ll grant you that coming back and putting the magic right would have made a big difference to the folks back in Edgeland.” He sighed.
“We were always on the knife edge up there, but things were simple and clear,” he continued. “Now, we’re still on the knife edge, but nothing’s simple or clear. Every time we defeat an enemy, like Quintrel and Rostiva
n and Lysander, we get a new crop, like the Western Raiders and the Northern Marauders.”
“It’s too bad Niklas couldn’t have made it home for the wedding,” Kestel said. “I know you miss him.” Niklas and Blaine had been childhood friends, before Blaine was sent to Velant and Niklas went into the army to fight the Meroven War.
“He’s doing what he does best, leading an army,” Blaine said with a shrug. “But you’re right, I would have liked to see him when we weren’t talking strategy.”
They walked on, up a small hill to where an oak tree stood on a rise overlooking the manor’s farmlands and the valley below. Several stone squares set into the ground marked the family graves. One sat far apart from the others. Ian McFadden, rejected by his family in death. The rest were clustered together on the far side of the tree. Blaine stopped in front of the newest marker, over the grave of his brother, Carr.
“I wish Carr could have accepted Dawe and Mari together,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. “They’re so perfect for each other. He just couldn’t get past being angry at me, for everything I cost him.”
“We’ve been over this before,” Kestel said patiently. “You saved him—and Mari—from that tyrant of a father. If it cost Carr his reputation and family fortune, well, look what happened to the rest of Donderath. It was just going to be a few years before everything went up in flames.”
Blaine knelt by Carr’s grave and said nothing for several moments. I want to remember him the way he was before I left. When we were close. When he trusted me to do the right thing and take care of him. When he could stand the sight of me. And yet, at the end, he didn’t betray me. That’s something. I just wish it could have been different.
“You know he’s watching over you,” Kestel said. “I mean, really know, not just hope like most people do. Tormod made that very clear. Carr is trying to make it up to you. Sometimes, people figure things out too late.” She stood next to him with her hand on his shoulder.
“I know,” Blaine said. “I just wish things had turned out differently.” Finally, he stood. “Let’s go in. There’s a party to enjoy.”
“Take the good times while you can,” Kestel advised. “Because there’s always something else sneaking up around the corner.”
“You’re a ray of sunshine,” Blaine said with a mock glower.
Kestel shrugged. “I’m a realist.”
“At least it’s quiet for the moment,” Blaine said. “Damn, but what I’d give just to sit around for an evening and play a few hands of cards!”
“Then do it tonight,” Kestel urged. “Surely we can spare a few candlemarks. Just don’t let Piran deal.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WE’RE MAKING PROGRESS, BUT THERE JUST aren’t enough workers to do everything that has to be done,” Dawe said as he, Blaine, and Kestel rode out toward the farm fields surrounding Glenreith. Four guards on horseback hung back far enough to allow them privacy for their conversation but remained near enough should trouble arise. A few days had passed since the wedding, and it was time to get back to work.
“The last few years have gone hard on everyone, but the villages and farms are especially short on young men to do the hardest work,” Dawe continued. While Blaine and the others had gone to war, Dawe had remained at Glenreith, helping to fix up the manor and working with the farmers and residents to plant crops, brew ale, and begin the long process of repairing what war and the Cataclysm had destroyed.
“If the men didn’t go off to the Meroven War, they ended up fighting for one warlord or another, or getting killed defending their land from bandits,” Dawe went on. “A lot of people got killed in the Great Fire. Add it all together, and it’s a real problem. The women are trying to pick up the pieces. Even the old people and the children are working in the fields, helping rebuild houses and barns and bridges, harvesting crops. But it’s slow going,” Dawe said. “Last winter, a lot of people went hungry, because the war destroyed the harvest. We’re trying to keep that from happening again, but it’s a tough job.”
“We?” Kestel asked.
Dawe nodded. He brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. “Edward and I have been meeting with anyone who would take the time to talk to us. We’ve gone looking for the guild masters, farmers, brewers, and millers who survived, and got them talking about what it would take to get things running again.”
“And?” Blaine raised an eyebrow.
“Well, it’s damn overwhelming, that’s what it is,” Dawe said. “You don’t think about all the pieces that have to be in place just to have a village work or a farm function, but when those pieces aren’t there, it all falls apart. So Edward and I meet every couple of weeks with a group from the surrounding villages. We send soldiers to help with rebuilding or plowing or fixing roads. Niklas put us in touch with Folville in Castle Reach, because they’ve had food shortages in the city and there’s naught left to steal to make up for it.”
“You’re working with Folville? Since when?”
Dawe grinned. “You didn’t think the rest of us were just sitting on our hands while you were off fighting, did you? Niklas ordered Captain Henderson to be our liaison right before your big battle on the Northern Plains. He has a group of residents, mostly older women, who gather the concerns and tell us what’s going on in the city. Sooner or later—hopefully sooner—the countryside needs to start trading again with Castle Reach, as well as the other villages. But you can’t have trade if the roads aren’t safe and if there aren’t any goods to sell.”
“You’ve been busy,” Kestel said. “I knew you were more than just a pretty face,” she jibed.
Dawe laughed. “Don’t discount the power of a pretty face. Judith and Mari meet with the women just as often as Edward and I meet with the men, figuring out where to get seeds, what crops to plant, how to get cloth production going again, how best to preserve what’s harvested and get trade functioning so people can at least barter for what they need.”
Blaine chuckled. “I’m impressed. How’s it going?”
Dawe shrugged. “Slowly. And that’s one of the problems. The seasons don’t wait for people to sort out their problems. If we miss the opportunity to plant, it’s gone for another year. When the Cataclysm destroyed barns, the livestock ran off. A lot of the cows and pigs and sheep and horses got killed by predators or stolen by armies—including yours,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “We’ve been gathering up the ones we can find and breeding them, but that’s a slow process. People ate their seed for the spring. Makes it hard to plant crops when there’s precious little seed to be had. So the older women have been training the children on how to find plants that can be eaten, and how to gather seeds.” He sighed. “There’s far too much to be done, and not enough time to do it, but we’re working hard.”
“So this group we’re riding to meet with, they’re one of yours?” Blaine asked.
Dawe nodded. “Since you’re at Glenreith for a little while at least, Edward and I figured it would be a good idea to let people see their lord—and maybe their future king—taking an interest.”
“I am the most bedraggled lord anyone has ever seen,” Blaine said. Like everyone in Donderath since the Great Fire, Blaine was dressed in worn, patched, and scavenged clothing that had seen far better days.
“You know, it’s gotten so bad that most people strip the dead before burying them so the clothing can be reused,” Dawe said.
Kestel’s eyes widened. “Really? That happened in Velant, and on the battlefield, but I didn’t expect regular people to do that sort of thing.”
“Yeah,” Dawe said. “Judith has led outings to find and bring back stray sheep, and she’s organized the women into spinning and weaving groups. But sheep only grow wool so fast, and by now, every abandoned house has already been looted.”
“Remind me to thank Aunt Judith for sparing us from becoming a kingdom of naked savages,” Blaine said. “Funny how no one thinks of these things when they start a war.”
“No on
e ever believes they’re going to lose,” Dawe replied. “Certainly not on the scale that actually happened.”
“You’ll be meeting with a fellow named Burnion,” Dawe said. “He’s been willing to work with us, and he seems to be able to get the others to cooperate, but lately I’ve been getting the sense that there’s some friction going on behind the scenes,” Dawe added.
“And the others?” Blaine asked.
Dawe shrugged. “Same mix of people you’d find anywhere,” he said. “A handful willing to lead, some very hard workers, and the rest who do the least they can.”
“Meaning there are some people who aren’t completely on board with the changes?” Kestel prodded.
Dawe frowned. “I’m not sure. It might just be a family squabble.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Blaine said. “I’ll tread lightly.”
Both Blaine and Kestel wore thin chain-mail shirts beneath their traveling clothes. Kestel, as usual, had a variety of knives hidden in her clothing, close at hand. Blaine wore his sword and had both a long knife on his belt and a dagger in his boot. Dawe, who by his own admission was better at forging swords than using them, wore only a long knife and a shiv. Just in case, Blaine wore the amulet the battle mages had made for him before the fight on the Northern Plains, one that caused dangerous magic to slide aside, deflected. Kestel’s amulet, hidden beneath the neckline of her tunic, was a magical null, able to ground a blast of magic or temporarily dampen a mage’s power in physical contact.
They rode to a village half a candlemark from Glenreith. Unlike in other parts of Donderath, the fences and barns were recently repaired, the fields were knee-high with crops instead of weeds, and the livestock looked healthy.
“All this is your doing?” Kestel said appreciatively, looking around at the change. “I remember riding through here last winter, on the way to battle. Everything was ruined and deserted.”
Dawe’s grin widened. “Yep. There are a few other villages doing well, and we’ve encouraged them to work together. It’s a big improvement—and a huge amount of work.”
Shadow and Flame Page 24
