Emett shook his head. ‘After she found the papers and recognised Pelon’s and Bram’s marks, she cursed a lot, and put all your things back in the chest, and went and told Bram he was a swindler and a cheat and that if anything had happened to you, she’d burn his house.’ Emett grinned. ‘I’ve never seen her so mad.’
A smile ghosted Risha’s lips.
‘She kept the chest and Pelon’s chair — she was never intending to burn them. And she sent me to find you. She thought … she thought you’d come back.’
Their eyes met. Risha wondered whether it would have made any difference if he’d caught up with her sooner. ‘How did you find me?’ she asked at length.
He snorted. ‘Luck, more or less, and it didn’t come soon. I was only five days behind you; I didn’t think it would be difficult.’ The time it had taken, as well as the bedraggled look of him, told the truth of that. ‘If I’d had a map I might have been better able to guess the traders’ route. I asked after them everywhere. Sometimes I’d get lucky, but I kept losing the trail as soon as I found it. I started to wonder whether it was Marit’s intention to be hard to find.’
‘He chooses a route that promises the best trade.’ Even as she said the words Risha found herself wondering whether they were true.
‘I was ready to give up when I finally caught them, in a place called Deeford. It’s on a river.’
‘The river Dee,’ Cantrel said, pulling an extra chair to the table. ‘The town lies on the main route to the Plains from the northeast of Elgard, midway between Fratton and CaledonWater. Please, continue.’
‘Right. Well.’ Emett glanced sidelong at Risha. ‘Marit told me they’d left you in Caledon with some cousin Barc had found. He couldn’t tell me where exactly.’
‘Sulba’s cousin, not mine.’
‘Sulba wasn’t with them, nor that piper who flirted with Carly.’
Risha cleared her throat. ‘Were they on their way to Fratton or—’
‘Coming back. Marit said it hadn’t been worth their while; they’d stayed only one night, except for Barc who had other business there.’ There was a grunt from Muir. ‘It was lucky I caught them before they crossed the river or I doubt I’d have found them at all.’
‘But what brought you here?’
‘I could ask the same of you,’ Emett said tersely, then seemed to think better of his tone. ‘I knew I’d never discover you in Caledon without help, so I went to Fratton to find Barc.’
‘And did you?’ Cantrel leant forward.
Emett nodded. ‘He found me, rather than the other way round. He sent me to LeMarc.’
‘But why?’ Risha asked. ‘He told me to wait for him in Caledon.’
‘It has occurred to me to wonder why you disregarded that advice,’ Cantrel murmured. Risha ignored him.
‘Barc wasn’t very forthcoming,’ Emett said.
Harl spat a neat gobbet into the hearth.
‘On the contrary,’ Cantrel said, ‘it seems Barc was uncharacteristically informative. But it’s still a leap of faith to walk from Fratton to LeMarc on the word of a trader you scarcely know.’
Emett’s eyes dropped to his hands, lying on the table before him.
‘Well, I’m glad you did,’ Risha said. ‘But what will you do now?’ He looked deflated by the question and Risha forged on. ‘Cantrel, could Emett travel with us? If he—’
‘You’re Cantrel?’ Emett straightened in his chair. ‘Barc gave me a letter — he said I’d find you at the citadel of LeMarc, and not to deliver it other than into your hand.’ He hesitated. ‘You are from the citadel?’
Drawing on the starchiest of Fretha’s lessons in manners, Risha made the introduction. ‘My apologies for such an oversight. Emett, may I introduce Cantrel, seneschal of LeMarc. Cantrel, Emett of Torfell.’
Emett’s sagging mouth snapped closed.
‘Greetings to you, Emett of Torfell,’ Cantrel said smoothly. ‘I shall be most pleased to have Barc’s letter. There is a matter which I have been hoping he might be able to elucidate.’
‘I’ll fetch it.’
Emett’s chair scraped loudly as he pushed it back. Muir stood with him. The landlord bustled into the silence that fell in their wake, which provided Risha an excuse to keep from meeting Cantrel’s thoughtful gaze.
When he reappeared, Emett was carrying the battered sack that had once housed his snares. The seneschal took the slender packet he proffered, tucking it away without comment. As they settled to their meal Risha returned to her topic. ‘Emett, now that you’ve discharged your duties, will you return to Torfell? Because you could travel with us while we’re heading north.’
‘I—’
‘It would give us time to talk.’
‘It would serve,’ Cantrel agreed, turning to Muir. ‘You might see about another horse.’
Emett blanched. ‘I don’t know how to ride.’
‘You can learn,’ Risha said, overruling his objections.
Later, when she made a plea of tiredness and rose, Emett fumbled for his sack. ‘Wait. I have something else for you, from one of the traders.’
‘Quite the courier you’ve become since leaving Torfell,’ Muir drawled.
Emett ignored him. ‘It’s from Geet.’
As soon as he handed her the fat packet, she knew by its weight what it was. She took a breath. ‘Did she say how she came to have it?’
‘Just that it must have been misplaced in the rush leaving Caledon, and ended up with some things belonging to Amos.’ Emett hesitated. ‘And she asked me to tell you that … that the mule missed you.’ He looked relieved when Risha laughed.
‘Thank you, Emett. I’m truly grateful.’ His smile was awkward. They both knew how flat his first delivery had fallen.
Alone in her room Risha sank onto the bed, her father’s history of Elgard heavy in her hands. She had intended giving it to Meredus. Perhaps she still would. Setting it aside she opened the tattered packet Emett had given her. The topmost deed set out, in Pelon’s clear hand, the terms of purchase for the holding in Torfell. She traced her father’s signature with her fingertip before turning to the pages beneath. They were letters, after a fashion, though they made little sense. Risha’s eyes widened as it hit her: they were coded, rather than garbled, and that realisation paled against a second. All three letters had been penned by a hand as familiar to her now as Pelon’s own: the strong, steady hand of Cantrel.
17
Half-truths
They hired a placid mare from the blacksmith at Harlen and continued their journey north. Emett found his first days in the saddle a trial, but Risha was too distracted by the questions that fought within her to attend to his grumbling. Why had Cantrel never told her he’d written to Pelon? And why would Barc have claimed not to know the source of the packages he’d delivered? That her companions distrusted the trader was clear, but they seemed to distrust Emett no less, though he was the only one she was sure of. And what of Donnel? He’d at least admitted knowing Pelon, but given that, it must surely follow that—
‘I asked if something is troubling you,’ Muir repeated. ‘You’ve been very quiet since Harlen.’
‘Oh. No.’ Risha shook her head for emphasis. Muir had nudged Firefly forward so that he rode at her side, their knees almost touching. It was hard not to compare the easy way he sat in the saddle with Emett’s uncomfortable slouch.
‘You must find this land very different to the mountains of your childhood,’ Muir offered. Emett snorted, though quietly. ‘Do you miss Torfell?’ Muir persisted.
‘No. I don’t know.’ She made an effort. ‘I never really belonged.’
‘How so?’
‘I was an out-comer.’
Muir frowned. Risha glanced at Emett. His eyes were fixed on his horse’s ears, but she could see the burn in his cheeks. She wondered what she should make of Muir’s sudden chattiness. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I thought Emett’s arrival might have brought your childhood to mind. Made you miss the m
ountains.’
‘The mountains, yes. The way the colours change on the slopes when the clouds catch and twist around their peaks. The sharp smell of the air before it snows, and …’ She checked herself. She’d avoided thinking about Torfell for weeks.
‘And?’ Muir prodded gently.
‘And … my goats.’
Muir raised an eyebrow.
‘You needn’t worry on that score.’ Emett was looking at her oddly. ‘Ma treats them as honoured guests, near enough.’
The only sound for several minutes was the creak of leather and the quiet scuff of hooves on the packed road. Risha let her thoughts wander to Bell and Honey and the three kids they’d borne at the beginning of the season. ‘I miss Ganny, too,’ she said, only belatedly noticing that Emett had fallen behind.
‘Ganny?’ Muir asked.
‘Emett’s mother. She was like a m— like an aunt to me.’
‘Which would make Emett like a cousin?’
Risha frowned, abruptly annoyed by his questions. ‘What do you miss of your childhood?’ she demanded.
Muir shifted in his saddle. ‘My parents,’ he said. ‘I see my mother less often than I’d like, and than she’d like, I’d warrant. My father died some years ago — which doesn’t stop me missing him.’ He paused. ‘And my brothers. I have three. I never thought to miss the older two, but …’ His smile was rueful. ‘I have a sister too — old enough to marry by now. I don’t know whether she has, this past year. She’ll be a handful to someone when she does.’ He shrugged. ‘As to childhood itself: I’ve no regrets of leaving it, nor of what I was given. I’m lucky in that.’
Risha was silenced by this flood of information. Had she been lucky in her childhood? At the time she’d not thought so. But … but her memories of Pelon and Ganny and the mountains were a treasure she’d not readily give up.
Later, alone in the tiny room their evening’s host had allotted her, Risha again studied the letters Emett had brought her. If staring alone could unlock their garbled words, she’d have had them unpuzzled long since, but it seemed it could not. With a sigh she folded the sheets of parchment, their creases already worn soft as silk. If Barc had been acting as courier directly between Cantrel and Pelon — between Donnel and Pelon? — then … then he knew more than he’d told her. Which advanced her not at all, for she’d known that already.
Risha chewed her knuckle. Both Barc and Donnel had promised her explanations; in their absence she had no choice but to work it out for herself. Tucking the letters into her saddlebag, she went in search of Emett.
She found him dozing outside the kitchen door on a bench strategically placed to catch the last rays of the late autumn sun. ‘Emett.’ She nudged his foot with her toe and he blinked awake. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you. It’s just we haven’t found much time to talk.’
He shook his head like a dog drying its coat. ‘Without your watchdogs, you mean.’
Smoothing the folds of her riding skirt, she settled beside him. ‘They’re not so bad.’ That earned her a grunt. She linked her fingers in her lap. ‘Emett, did Barc tell you why he’d remained behind in Fratton? Or perhaps Marit said something?’
Emett’s face rumpled in thought. ‘Marit said that Barc’s business had delayed him. Barc … Barc didn’t say anything at all.’
‘He most often doesn’t.’
‘Risha, what’s going on?’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know. Ever since I found out who my mother was, it’s been—’
‘You did? Have you met her? Is she still alive or—’
‘She died when I was young.’ She paused, astonished that she’d not thought to tell him this news. ‘I’m sorry, Emett. So much has happened in these past months, it’s almost — I don’t know. I forgot you didn’t know. It’s confusing.’
‘What is?’
‘My mother. She was … was not just …’ She took a breath. ‘My mother was a daughter of the House of Havre.’
Emett’s eyes widened. ‘That would make you the lord’s sister! Then you—’
‘She was an only child.’
His mouth opened and closed. Risha briefly recapped what Meredus had told her.
He was quiet for a time when she was done. ‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘that at least explains why Pelon was so absorbed by his books. Ganny always said he should have been a scholar.’ He frowned. ‘Though I thought scholars were forbidden to marry.’ Emett jerked. ‘I didn’t mean … I’m sure that he — that they … I mean, he wasn’t a scholar any more, was he?’
‘No, but …’ Cogs whirred in her brain. If she was illegitimate her claim would be far less straightforward, which might explain why Donnel hadn’t wanted her to go straight to Havre and, as well, why—
‘Risha?’ Emett’s hand on her arm startled her. ‘I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything that—’
‘But it does, don’t you see? I knew there was something they weren’t telling me! And it’s no more than they always said of me in Torfell,’ she added, remembering the taunts.
Emett looked miserable. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you. I should have stood by you. I—’
‘You and Ganny were the only friends I had, beside my goats.’
He shook his head. ‘One of the reasons I came to find you was because I wanted to make it up to you. Risha, I’ve been meaning to ask you—’
The kitchen door opened and Muir sauntered out. ‘There you are, Risha. Cantrel is looking for you. Emett, I could use your help in the stables.’
Emett sprang up, wiping his hands nervously on his thighs. Beside Muir he was still a boy, not yet grown into his body, his features still puppyish. Even so, he’d journeyed the length of Elgard to find her.
Men’s games.
Risha stiffened. Who are you? She sent the thought fiercely, but Nonno was gone.
Late the next morning they reached the Sound of Elswater. Staring across the estuary to the town on the far shore, Risha’s thoughts drifted to her first distant sighting of Saithe.
‘You saw little enough of it last time,’ Muir said at her shoulder.
‘Through no fault of my own.’ She regretted her tone as soon as the words were spoken, but she was tired of never being allowed a moment alone.
Muir studied her. ‘Do you regret leaving Torfell?’
She refused to meet his steady gaze. ‘I … too much has happened. It feels as if years have passed, though it’s only a matter of months.’
‘Time can be like that,’ he agreed.
Risha turned in the saddle to face him squarely. ‘Why will nobody tell me the truth?’ she demanded. ‘Do you all trust me so little?’
Muir looked pained. ‘It’s not so simple, and it has nothing to do with trust. There are things—’ His jaw tightened. ‘They are not mine to tell.’
‘Though mine to know.’
He didn’t deny it. ‘Risha, I—’
Pulling Torfell’s head around, she kicked the mare into a canter. Muir let her go — but Harl fell in beside her as she passed, bringing a humourless smile to her face. Watchdogs, Emett had called them. Warders more like.
By the time the others caught up, Risha’s anger had abated, replaced with a quiet determination. Noting Cantrel’s eyes on her, she flicked the reins on Torfell’s neck, bringing her alongside the old seneschal.
‘Cantrel, what did Barc’s letter say? The one Emett brought you.’
The old man raised his brows. ‘He said that he hoped the bird he sent, with news of where you were in Caledon, had arrived and that you were now safe in LeMarc.’
He had answered too easily. ‘And?’
‘The other matter he touched on was more private in nature.’
‘Concerning me?’
He pursed his lips. ‘Concerning Margetta.’
That gave Risha pause. ‘Margetta … is she the business that detained him in Fratton?’
‘Sometimes, Arishara, it is best to simply see how things unfold.’
They travelled b
eside the Sound till they reached its head, a vast swamp braided with river channels and low mounds of dry ground that made up the impassable expanse of Lacstone Marsh. On their eastern flank lay fractured tableland that grew increasingly rugged until it merged into the distant Othgard Mountains.
‘The El and the Othar both drain into the marsh, along with a dozen smaller rivers,’ Muir told her. ‘There are folk who live near who claim to know ways through, but I’ve never heard of anyone who goes in coming out.’
‘It’s a slow death,’ Harl added. ‘They say at night you sometimes hear the shrieks of people bogged and sinking in the ooze.’
Risha shivered and leant to pat Torfell’s neck for reassurance.
Veering inland they quickly left the marsh behind, though its smell — a rich peaty tang of stagnant water and rotting vegetation — seemed to cling in her nostrils all the following day. Soon after, they reached the River Othar and turned to ride east along its banks.
‘The Plains lie northwest,’ Cantrel said, ‘and Great Caledon Forest northeast. The forest is nominally under Fratton’s rule, while the Plains are ruled by Quilec.’
‘Or through his mouth by Goltoy,’ Muir added.
There had been an undercurrent of tension between Muir and Cantrel since Elswater — as if they needed additional undercurrents, Risha thought sourly. But at least Muir had mellowed in his attitude towards Emett, offering advice to ease the young man’s discomfort in the saddle. Although he had looked less than grateful for the attention, Emett rode a little more easily after.
They followed the river for two days, pausing less often, now, to speak with farmers and townsfolk. When they did stop they were greeted warmly, but a sense of urgency had crept into their journey. Counting the days on her fingers, Risha began to wonder how far Cantrel intended to take them. They had been gone from the citadel for nearly eight days already.
When she broached the subject the seneschal nodded equably. ‘I had not initially planned to travel so far north but, while the weather holds fine, it would be a shame not to show you the extent of LeMarc.’
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