Her breath puffed in the chill morning air as she walked, and she drew her cloak tighter. From the look of heavy gray clouds moving in, snow would be falling in a few hours.
Ferret ignored the cries of merchants hawking their wares and the good-natured haggling, instead wondering how Taren was faring. He had departed the prior day with Mira’s and Elyas’s remains to return them home for burial. Ferret had volunteered to go with him, but he declined on the grounds he would be poor company. He promised to return for the coronation in several days’ time. Ferret admitted he was probably right, for she herself was in no mood to socialize much of late and knew he felt the same. However, with Taren gone and the loss of her other friends, she was lonely, and their deaths weighed heavy on her mind.
The familiar shingle appeared just ahead, and Ferret grasped the warhammer-shaped door handle and pulled open the sturdy door of the Giantslayers Inn. She breathed in deeply, savoring the scents of delicious food and oiled wood. As she did so, she recalled her first impression of the establishment months earlier when she had wished she could experience those very aromas. The Giantslayers Inn was practically empty at the late-morning hour—the last patrons were just stepping out the door as she entered.
“Ferret, how are ye today?” Tilda smiled when she spotted Ferret while wiping down a table.
Ferret did her best to return the dwarf’s smile. She liked Tilda and her parents and had stopped by the inn each day since Sianna had retaken the castle and the war had officially ended, spending much of the time talking with the young dwarf. The place felt like home, at least as much of a home as she had these days—more than the castle did, at any rate.
“Ah, you know…” She shrugged and held up the scabbarded sword. “Just came to drop this off with your da.”
Tilda’s face fell at the sight of Creel’s sword. “I’m so sorry. He was well loved by all of us.”
“Aye.” Ferret had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat. “Reckon it should go up there with the others.” She pointed behind the bar to where Brom’s hammer and shield and Rada’s dagger hung. She had kept Final Strike in her room at the castle, unsure of what to do with it until that morning, when she had decided to bring it to the inn, thinking Creel would approve.
Tilda came over and put an arm around her waist, giving her a sympathetic hug.
Brom limped out of the kitchen and smiled when he saw Ferret. “Greetings, lass. I’ve been meanin’ to say something… Tilda gave me the idea. If ye’re interested, I could use some more help around here. Barmaid, kitchen help, chambermaid—whatever ye like.”
“Really?” Ferret had already decided she would earn an honest wage for a change, but the day had come much more suddenly than she had ever thought.
“’Course. Ye’re practically family now.” Brom clapped her on the shoulder and beamed at his own daughter. “Tilda speaks well of ye, as did Creel, so that’s enough a recommendation for me. Ye can take his chamber if ye like—room and board included.”
“I… I’ll have to think about it. Right now, I’m just not ready to commit to much.”
Brom nodded. “I understand. Take yer time. The offer’ll stay open—position won’t be goin’ anywhere.”
“Thank you.” Ferret was genuinely touched by not only the offer, but the kindness Brom and his family showed her. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to bring this by and give it to you. It should go up there behind the bar with the others.”
Brom accepted Final Strike reverently. He slid the sword a handbreadth from its scabbard and studied the steel, which had a coppery tinge. He heaved a heavy sigh.
“Aye, there’s a place for it… Just never thought this day would come. Least not till after I was back to the earth meself.” Brom went around behind the bar, held the sword up beside his hammer, and nodded to himself.
“Drink?” Tilda asked in the sudden silence.
Ferret nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Tilda filled three tumblers from the cask of spirits behind the bar. Brom absentmindedly took the one she placed under his nose and drank it, still staring at the sword, which he set on the counter. Tilda sipped at her spirits, while Ferret savored the scent of hers before taking a swig. The burn was pleasant going down and warmed her from the morning’s chill.
“Did ye hear the news?” Tilda asked. “We’re to be entertaining royal guests tomorrow. King Stonefist and Queen Hammerhelm will be dining here with some o’ their people.” She looked excited by the prospect.
“That’s great,” Ferret said. “Doesn’t hurt to make friends in high places.”
“Aye, that’s what I’m thinkin’.” After a moment, Tilda seemed to remember something. “Will ye be going to watch the executions this afternoon in the central square?”
Ferret had no particular desire to see Calcote and his cronies hang, though she had no doubt the spectacle would be well attended. “Nay, I’ve seen enough dying to last me a good long time.”
Tilda nodded. “Aye, I was planning on passing on it meself.”
Ferret suddenly remembered she had an appointment soon. “Speaking of friends in high places… I’d best be going. I have a meeting with Queen Sioned.”
“Ye do?” Tilda’s eyes went wide.
“I’ve had occasion to rub elbows with a few kings and queens.” She winked at her friend then finished her tumbler with a single gulp. She dropped a few coppers on the counter, but Tilda pushed them back, shaking her head.
“An incentive to convince ye to take Da’s offer,” she said.
Ferret smiled. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll let you know soon, Brom.”
“Aye,” came the distant reply. The old dwarf looked as if he’d aged a couple decades since Ferret had met him.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you… I’ve got to get back to the castle.” She set off with a wave, and by the time she was walking back up the Royal Way, her spirits had improved.
***
“Me queen?” Kulnor asked softly.
He feared disturbing Sioned, knowing she had a lot on her mind, yet believed she’d like to hear what Ferret had to say. Three days had passed since the grim battle in the Hall of the Artificers, and Kulnor felt the loss of his good friend Harbek especially keenly. He knew the loss of so many dwarves during the campaign wore heavily on Sioned’s mind as well.
Sioned turned and smiled at him. “Come in, me friend.”
Kulnor stepped inside.
“How is Sianna?” she asked. “Is all in order for the coronation?”
They were staying in Castle Llantry for the coronation, after which they would make the long trek home. Taren had offered his services to shorten their journey, which they all appreciated.
“Aye, so far as I know. But I’m not here for that. I thought…” Kulnor cleared his throat self-consciously, suddenly unsure if bringing up the painful subject with Sioned was wise.
She raised an eyebrow. “Whatever it is, speak yer mind. Ye’ve naught to fear if it be bad news.”
Kulnor shook his head. “Nay, not bad news. Painful, mayhap.” At her puzzled look, he continued, “Ye remember that lass, Ferret? Till recently, she was changed into an automaton.”
“Aye, I do. What of her?”
“She has some word o’ yer brother. Caught wind of his deeds while in Nexus.”
Sioned started then went very still. “Me brother? It’s been more than three decades since I last heard word o’ him.” Conflicting emotions swept over her face: anger, concern, hope even. With some effort, she regained her self-control. “Let her in.”
Kulnor nodded and went to open the door. “She’ll see ye, lass,” he told Ferret, who was waiting outside.
Ferret nodded. She wore a simple woolen dress for a change, a dark plum color that made her violet eyes stand out. Her skin was still deathly pale, and she had a short stubble of hair on her head that was growing in white, it seemed. Besides her change in physical appearance, she seemed to have grown into a strong, confident young woman.
“
This be Ferret, me queen,” Kulnor said.
“Your Majesty.” Ferret bowed.
Sioned looked her over curiously a moment, having obviously heard some of her curious background before. “Welcome, Ferret. Have a seat.” She gestured to a chair before the fireplace, which was burning cheerily. “Kulnor, ye can join us.”
Kulnor pulled up a chair to one side, leaving the two women facing each other. A bottle of spirits stood on the table. Ferret thanked the queen when she offered her some. Sioned poured each of them a tumbler, Kulnor included.
“Kulnor tells me ye’ve word o’ me brother?” The words came out steady, but Kulnor knew her well enough to see she was making a concerted effort to keep the emotion from her voice.
Ferret seemed not to notice. She nodded and took a drink of the spirits. “Aye, Your Majesty. Mmm, this is quite good.” She leaned back, the tumbler held in her lap, and stared at the fire a moment to gather her thoughts.
“I was in Nexus recently, and in the gardens of the city fortress, there is a mausoleum. Within is the tomb of your brother, Waresh Hammerhelm.”
Sioned let out a long breath. “Ah, so he’s dead then.” To Kulnor, it sounded like relief almost, and his heart went out to her.
“Aye, he is. I’ve heard of some of the black deeds he did in his younger days, caused by the cursed axe he claimed from the wyrm’s hoard. But I spoke to one of his old companions from the Battle of Nexus. He vouched that Waresh died a noble death in defense of a comrade. Nexus might very well have fallen, were it not for his heroism.” Ferret went on to recount the tale of Waresh’s role in Nera’s travels and his ultimate sacrifice, allowing her to defeat the Engineer and end the war.
Sioned listened raptly, her drink forgotten. By the time Ferret finished her tale, tears glistened in the queen’s eyes. “Redemption… Reiktir offered him a chance at redemption, and he took it.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve opened old wounds, but I thought you’d like to know.” Ferret glanced at Kulnor, and he nodded approval. She finished the rest of her drink and looked into the flames, giving Sioned her time.
Finally, the queen rose to her feet, and Ferret did as well, sensing the audience at an end. “I thank ye for sharing this with me, Ferret. Ye don’t know how it lightens me heart. Waresh did some awful deeds, yet Reiktir forgave him and let him atone. I shall forgive him as well—’twill bring peace to me mind.”
Ferret made to bow again, but Sioned instead gave her a quick embrace then clasped hands companionably. “Glad to be of service, Your Majesty.”
“If ever ye’re in the northlands, stop and visit Silver Anvil Hall—ye’ll have friends there. The same goes for Torval’s Hold.”
The girl smiled and assured her she would enjoy a visit. Kulnor saw her out, placing a hand on her shoulder at the door.
“Ye did well, lass. Ye have me thanks.”
“My pleasure. A bard should be able to tell a good tale and shine the light of truth on occasion if need be. See ya around.” She waved and walked off, whistling quietly to herself.
Kulnor smiled and shut the door. He remained there since Sioned looked to be deep in thought. “I’ll bid ye good day, me queen, unless there’s anything else?”
“Don’t go yet,” she said quietly.
Kulnor went to stand near her, staring into the hearth as she was. After a moment, Sioned turned to him.
“Ye have me gratitude for bringing the lass to me. It does me heart good.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Before Kulnor could reply, she pulled him into a rough embrace.
Kulnor held her awkwardly as she wept against his shoulder. He stroked her thick mane of hair gently until she regained her composure.
“Sorry for that.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Ye’re a good friend, Kulnor Strongaxe. What would I do if ye weren’t around?”
Kulnor shrugged, not knowing what to say, not wanting to leave, yet knowing she needed time to herself. He settled for a bow then kissed her hand.
Sioned swatted him on the back of the head. “None of that nonsense when we’re alone, Kulnor.”
He grinned, for this was an old game between them. “Aye, me queen. Just checkin’ if ye’re back to yerself. I bid ye a good day, then.”
Sioned snorted but then laughed, and Kulnor smiled as he let himself out, happy that a painful piece of her past could be laid to rest at last.
***
Sianna clutched her ermine-trimmed cloak tightly when the blast of cold struck her. Aurdo, her former standard bearer and newly minted royal guard, held the door open, and she slipped out the kitchen door. She smiled to herself at the sight of Cece, the head cook, fast asleep and snoring with her head down on the table.
Poor Cece. This has been hectic on the staff—first my return and now all the visiting dignitaries. Only a few more days till the coronation, and then the activity will settle down… but I know she’s happy to be rid of Calcote and his scum.
The hour was late, just before midnight, and Castle Llantry was silent save for the crunch of their footfalls in the fresh snow. Fat flakes drifted down lazily, but the cloud cover was breaking, and silver moonlight flooded the bailey, filling it with the cool illumination reflected on the layer of snow.
She couldn’t help but think of the last time she had come this way, fleeing for her life in the dead of night—a young girl adrift on the winds of fate. That so much had been accomplished since that night never ceased to amaze her.
Aurdo and Emersson, another new guard, walked a step behind her as she made her way across to the postern gate. A warm island of light surrounded the gate. She recognized Jahn’s solid presence waiting there, lantern in hand, along with a cloaked figure.
“Evening, Your Majesty,” Jahn said with a bow.
“Thank you for coming at such a late hour, Your Majesty,” the cloaked figure said, curtseying.
Irralith looked surprisingly nondescript, her wave of dark hair pulled back in a simple tail and tawny eyes gleaming. She wore plain, dark clothes and only a thin cloak.
“I hadn’t yet retired for the night,” Sianna replied.
In truth, she had been reviewing a sheaf of missives and proclamations Iris had prepared for her. Sleep hadn’t been finding her so well of late, and she wished for the coronation to be over with so everything would settle down.
Sianna nodded to Aurdo, who handed Irralith a heavy sack full of gold crowns from the treasury. The warm gleam of gold lit up Irralith’s face in the lantern light when she peered inside. She smiled and shoved her pack into Emersson’s arms, surprising the young guard. She smirked at his huff of annoyance and stowed the bag of gold inside her pack, then slung it across her back. Her wink made the young man blush.
“Your Majesty is as generous as you are fair and honorable,” Irralith said.
Sianna grinned, both at Irralith’s sauciness and Emersson’s discomfiture. She realized she’d miss having the illusionist around.
“Your reward is well earned, as is your pardon.” She handed Irralith a rolled-up piece of parchment, which the changeling tucked inside her cloak without reading. “And you have my gratitude for your aid in the campaign.”
Irralith smiled. “I rather enjoyed ending that battle, I must say. The procession into the city, well, that was a simple matter.”
“Be that as it may, your aid has proven invaluable.” She nodded to Jahn, who unbarred and opened the postern gate. “Where will you go? And aren’t you cold?”
“Cold?” Irralith chuckled. Her cloak was suddenly gone then, and she wore only a dark jerkin and snug breeches that clung to her voluptuous figure. Her pale arms were bare to the snow and chill. “I am a creature of winter—it runs in my veins. This is as welcome to me as your warm hearth is to you. I plan to travel north, nearer my ancestral homelands of the Giantspear Mountains. Wythorpe, perhaps Coldshore… I haven’t a particular destination in mind yet. Your generosity will allow me the opportunity to take up an honest trade for a change.”
“I’m glad to h
ear that.” Sianna extended a hand, which Irralith clasped firmly. Her hand was as cold as the snow, she couldn’t help but notice. “Farewell, Irralith.”
“You also, Your Majesty.” Irralith curtseyed again. “I trust your reign will be a long and fruitful one.”
Irralith’s illusory cloak swirled into being once she turned toward the open gate. She set forth through the gate and didn’t look back.
Sianna never saw the changeling again, though she oft wondered in the years to come what became of her. Or perhaps she did see her again, without really seeing her at all. With someone of Irralith’s talents, she could never be sure.
Chapter 59
Ferret paused a moment to catch her breath in the servant’s corridor, away from the crush of bodies milling about the throne room in preparation for the coronation. Hundreds of people packed the chamber, making her feel claustrophobic. Highborn lords and ladies, courtiers and officers, guardsmen to keep the peace, along with an army of servants, all packed the room. Such huge crowds made her uneasy, especially when all the notables were wealthier and comelier and worthier of being there than she. Ferret felt dowdy in comparison.
Best get used to crowds if you want to be a bard someday, silly wench.
She adjusted her dark-blue satin dress, a lovely garment chosen by Iris and carefully tailored by a castle seamstress to fit her properly. She couldn’t help but feel much like a dressed-up clod, and she plucked at the form-fitting gown, unaccustomed to how snugly it fit across her hips and bosom, the latter of which she was surprised to find had filled in somewhat of late.
From all this sitting about idle and eating this rich courtly food. But it sure is delicious. She’d never eaten half so well in her entire life as she had while in Sianna’s orbit.
Her eyes alighted on a table of sweetmeats as she slipped into the banquet hall as subtly as she could manage in her shimmering dress and ridiculous high-heeled shoes, a jeweled necklace on loan from Iris glittering from the décolletage of her dress. Such a piece of jewelry would have made her drool at the prospect of fencing it for coin a month or two earlier, but she supposed she was above that now, being a hero of the realm and all.
Trial of the Thaumaturge (Scions of Nexus Book 3) Page 53
