by Gav Thorpe
"Hello, Freyna," the general replied. "How about some hot drinks?"
Freyna, the local loremother, looked past Ullsaard and saw the three women bundled up on the back of the cart. She scowled at the general.
"Shame on you for bringing your lovely ladies out in this weather," said Freyna. She hurried over to the wives' cart. "Come on, dears, let's get you warmed up inside."
One by one, the Askhan women lowered themselves from the wagon and waddled after Freyna, swathed in their cloaks and blankets. Freyna was chattering away, asking after their health and news of their families. Ullsaard was content to leave them to their gossiping for the moment and wandered over to the river. Behind him the third wagon trundled onwards, carrying four servants and the luggage, heading through the village towards Ullsaard's house a mile further up the road.
Ullsaard took a deep, cold breath and grinned to himself. He remembered a dozen winters here in Stykhaag, chopping trees, fishing through ice holes in the lake a couple of miles to duskwards, hanging the holly wreaths from the trees to keep the frost spirit at bay. There was nothing like it in Askhor, where the ancient, misguided tribal beliefs that had held sway before Askhos had risen to power had been purged by the Brotherhood.
He looked around and saw the telltale signs of the old wards around the village: the crossed nails on the lintels; holly ropes threaded into the branch roofs; the rune charms carved into the logs of the cottages. It didn't matter how many times the Brotherhood came here and chastised the people for their superstitions, the old ways still remained in some fashion.
To coldwards the bald hill known as the Crow Mound loomed out of the forest, the snow and ice covering the burnt earth and charred timbers on its summit. Not in Ullsaard's lifetime had anyone gone up there, but in generations past every equinox and solstice had seen the flames dancing high as the loremothers and the lorefathers had led the people in their rituals of sacrifice to appease the spirits of sky and earth and forest.
Yes, Ullsaard thought, it was misguided nonsense. A life in the legions had taught him that well-placed bronze and a bit of luck had more sway over people's destiny than imaginary spirit folk. But for all his pragmatism, there was something real, something genuine about the old celebrations and ceremonies which Askhan pomp could never capture.
"Here you go."
Ullsaard found Allenya behind him with a steaming mug in her hand. Ullsaard took it with a smile and sniffed: chicken broth. He took a gulp, enjoying the warmth of the soup as it flowed down into his gut.
"Why did we stop here?" Allenya asked. "We are only a mile from your mother's house."
Ullsaard nodded towards the river wall, where there was one less child than before.
"To give my mother some warning," he said. "She's a stickler for certain things and she'll be annoyed that I didn't send word that we were coming. This way she can get everything in order before we turn up."
"You are a considerate man, Ullsaard."
"Not really. If I was considerate, I would have sent her a letter before we left the camp."
"Do you think Nemtun really has given up for the winter? He chased us all over Nalanor and through Ersua."
"He knows that we can't go anywhere else," replied Ullsaard. "He has nothing to gain by coming after us in this weather, and everything to lose. He'll be sitting tight in Parmia, I'm sure of it, giggling to himself as he imagines my men deserting in their dozens." "Do you think they will? Desert, I mean."
"Some, perhaps, but not many," said Ullsaard. He finished the soup and flicked the dregs out of the mug into the river. "They'll either all go, or none of them. The men know it'll be bad for them if someone deserts their company, so unless they all decide to quit together, they'll keep the troublemakers in order."
They walked back towards Freyna's house.
"And if they all decide to go?"
"They won't. At the moment, they're aggrieved men. They think they've been cheated out of something and they want it. Don't underestimate a man's stubbornness when greed and justice overlap. They'll stick out the winter for sure, just to see what the spring brings. If it doesn't go well after that, that's when we'll start losing them."
"I wish we could stay with you," said Allenya.
"It's better that you stay here, out of the way. Having you around distracts me, and I need to think like a commander, not a husband."
"We understand."
"I'm sure you do, and I think Luia will be glad to have more comfort. I don't know about Meliu. She always takes everything in the worst way possible."
They were at Freyna's door. The smell of cooking wafted out in the steam and smoke and Ullsaard was uncomfortably aware that the soup had whetted his appetite rather than sated it.
"There'll be time enough for chatting," he called inside. "Let's get you up to the house while the skies are clear. I smell more snow coming."
"He's right, my ladies," Freyna's voice came from a back room. She emerged into the main chamber with a lid-covered pot, which she handed to Meliu. "You should get up to the house to settle in. Now, dear, just boil that in some water and you'll be fine."
As they were leaving, Freyna grabbed Ullsaard's sleeve and pulled him into the cottage. She spoke in a stern whisper.
"Urikh arrived here not more than three days ago," said the loremother. "Rode straight up to the house without so much as a hello. Now, I don't know much, but I does know that something is up when the both of you are here in the middle of winter. You don't have to tell me what's going on, but I might be able to help, you never know."
"There is something going on, Freyna, but there's no help you can give me. Urikh's here? I didn't know that."
Ullsaard gave her a kiss on the cheek and turned towards the door when something occurred to him.
"When was the last time the Brotherhood were here?"
"Not since summer, collecting tithe," Freyna replied. "Why?"
"If you see a Brother, or anyone not local, send word to Allenya as soon as you can."
"Are you in trouble?"
"Yes," Ullsaard said. He left it at that and crossed back to his wagon.
Freyna waved from her doorway as the two carts creaked into motion, the abada grunting under the switches of the drivers. Once they were past the few cottages the road reappeared, two winding lines of mud that followed the course of the river.
The grounds of Ullsaard's house were nothing grand, though he had paid for a stone wall around the cleared space of forest, and brought some of the mountain flowers and bushes from Askhor for his mother to tend. In the summer, the villagers came here to hold games and there was a wide hedge-bounded lawn on the hotwards side of the house, now just a muddy field.
The lower storey of the house was of grey stone like the enclosing wall, the upper floor made of strong Enairian timber. The windows even had blown glass panes, small though they were, and the roof was covered with slate from the Ersuan hills. By local standards it was a veritable palace in size, though it had only ten rooms in total — fewer than Ullsaard's apartment in Askh.
The servants Ullsaard had sent ahead were waiting in the courtyard, along with a member of the house staff whose name the general couldn't remember. They helped Luia, Meliu and Allenya down from their wagon. Ullsaard joined his wives and the four of them headed for the main doors while the carts were taken away.
The entrance hall was warm and lit by a fire in a deep hearth opposite the door. The floor was covered with thin strips of wood, each carefully lacquered and interlaid to present a herringbone pattern. Two housemaids appeared to take the arrivals' travel cloaks and blankets and Ullsaard was glad to be free of his heavy coat as he rubbed his hands in front of the fire.
"The mistress is in the sitting chamber," one of the maids told Ullsaard.
The young girl led them to the right through a wooden arch, into a carpeted room where another fire blazed. Narrow windows showed the frost-caked lawn and the outer wall, the trees of the Enairian forests looming beyond. There were
several couches and chairs and a slab of green and grey marble that served as a table. Lamps on the walls combined with the firelight to give the room a comfortable glow.
Sitting by the fire in a low, stuffed seat was a woman in her late sixties, her straight grey hair bound in a tight braid, her lined face staring towards the flames. As they entered, she looked up at Ullsaard, her flint-hard eyes betraying nothing of her thoughts.
"Welcome, son," she said, standing. Pretaa looked at the women and smiled. "And my daughters."
"Are you well?" asked Ullsaard.
"As well as could be hoped," she replied, receiving kisses on the forehead from Allenya and Luia.
"You look wonderful," said Meliu, hugging her tightly. She pulled back and stroked Pretaa's hair. "You look the picture of health."
"Thank you, child, you are such a dear," said Pretaa, waving them to the couches around the table. Jugs and bowls steamed and there were plates of nuts and preserved fruits. "I thought you might prefer an informal meal. We can have something proper this evening when we have time to prepare."
Ullsaard understood the gentle rebuke and whispered an apology as he embraced his mother.
"I hear that Urikh is here," said Ullsaard.
"Really?" said Luia, looking around the room as if her son were hiding somewhere.
"He will be back this evening," said Pretaa. "I am sure he would have been here to greet you if he had known you were coming."
Ullsaard gave his mother a look of warning not to push too far and she smiled thinly.
"It is good to see you all, even if the circumstances are not to our liking."
"What have you heard?" asked Ullsaard as he sat down and spooned venison stew into a bowl.
"Only what Urikh has told me," said Pretaa. "You have had a falling out with the king, and now you have been chased into Enair."
"It was not quite like that," said Ullsaard.
"I would say it is exactly like that," said Luia. "Which part is wrong?"
Ullsaard ate his stew and said nothing while Pretaa performed her mother-in-law and grandmother duties, asking after the health of the family and goings-on in Askh. He sensed disapproval from his mother, but knew better than to ask. She would make her opinion known when she wanted, and not a moment sooner.
When they had finished eating and the servants had cleared away, Pretaa invited the women to retire to their rooms for some rest. Ullsaard watched them leave with a sense of foreboding. When he was alone with Pretaa, a mug of beer in his hand, he gave her a long look.
"Just say what you want to say," he said heavily.
"Whatever do you mean?" said Pretaa, moving to sit next to the fire, her back half-turned from Ullsaard. "You are always welcome here. After all, you built this house for me. It would be ungrateful to turn you away."
"You have always been welcome in Askh, you've just chosen not to come," said Ullsaard.
"It seems that neither of us is welcome in Askh these days," she said with a sigh. "I knew that something like this would happen one day."
Ullsaard sat in the other fireside chair and leaned towards his mother.
"What do you mean? You barely know what has happened."
Pretaa would not look at him. She gently shook her head and folded her hands in her lap.
"It was a mistake telling you to go to Askh," she said quietly. "No good can come of being around the Blood and their kind. The Blood calls to itself and brings out the worst."
"I don't understand what you are talking about. What have the Blood got to do with any of this? If you mean Prince Aalun, he has been nothing but a friend and an ally. Though he is in part responsible for what has happened, he could have easily broken his ties with me and left me to the mercy of his father."
"That is exactly what I mean," said Pretaa. "Why did you get involved at all? The Blood has a power of its own. It makes men hungry for power, makes them selfish."
"That may be true of Aalun, but my ambitions have nothing to do with the Blood. I have come so far, achieved so much, I can't let all that effort simply fade into nothing, can I?"
"No, you could not, though you should have done. I cannot see what good will come of this. You should have been content. You have three fine wives, three fine sons. You have everything a man could want from his life, but for you it is not enough! I should have known that this would happen."
Ullsaard studied his mother. There was a haunted, distant look in her eye that he had never seen before.
"What is it?" he demanded. "How could you know anything like this would happen? Tell me what you're keeping secret."
"It does not matter." Pretaa's words did not match her behaviour.
Ullsaard had seen the same before, from officers who wanted to confess a break of regulations, or when one of his sons had misbehaved whilst he had been away and wanted to tell Ullsaard before he found out by other means. Something was on Pretaa's mind that she could not bring herself to tell him but knew she should.
"If it has anything to do with what is happening now, it is better that I know."
Pretaa glanced at him and when she spoke she continued to look into the fire.
"Do you know why I have never been to Askh? I am scared that I will be recognised."
"I don't understand. Recognised by who?"
"I am Askhan, born and bred. Not from a noble family, but one that was well enough off that I spent time in the palace."
"I always knew you were not Enairian; that much is obvious. What does it matter that you are Askhan?"
"I was something of a slut, I suppose. I was always bedding some soldier or servant or other. I was pretty then, as well. No shortage of men wanted to bed me. It was just some fun, at the time. So I thought."
She sighed again and picked at the heavy wool of her dress, eyes downcast.
"One of those soldiers was a young captain called Cosuas."
"You slept with Cosuas? What are you telling me?"
"Not what you think, though it is what he believes. No, Cosuas is not your father."
"But he thinks I am?" Ullsaard could not quite comprehend the importance of this. "Why has Cosuas never said anything about this?"
"Because I asked him not to. I did not want him to lie to you, though I lied to him. When Cosuas was a captain in the palace I used to visit him often. On one occasion I caught the eye of another man, a powerful man, and he took me to his bed. With any other man, that might have been the end of the story. Not for me. The man I slept with was Prince Lutaar, now the king."
Ullsaard was aghast. A dozen questions crammed into his mind but he could not voice any of them before his mother continued.
"There is a dark secret kept in Askh, one that few know about. Any woman bedded by one of the Blood, not their wives, is taken away to the Brotherhood. It is to ensure that there are no bastards trying to claim the throne. What the Brotherhood do with them, I have no idea. We'd hear whispers of some young woman or other going missing now and then, but we would just assume they had been sent somewhere else. Maybe they are, I don't know."
"So what happened? What did the Brotherhood do with you?"
"They never laid their hands on me. Cosuas was ordered to keep me under watch until the Brothers came for me. I didn't tell him what had happened, but I confess I used all of my wiles to twist his heart to my side. He helped me to escape before they came for me, and then faked my death just outside Askh. I fled and headed here to Enair to live out my life in secret." Her face told the sad story of what followed more than any words. "Cosuas was meant to follow, but he did not."
"So you are a fugitive?" Ullsaard almost laughed. "That's why you cannot go back to Askh? This all happened a long time ago, I am sure that nobody remembers you."
"It matters not whether they remember me. When I arrived here, I learnt that I was pregnant with you."
"Another chance encounter on the road?"
"I have not slept with another man since leaving Askh."
Ullsaard thought about this for
a moment.
"But you said Cosuas isn't my father."
Pretaa nodded. Ullsaard flew to his feet, sending the chair flying backwards.
"No, you have it wrong! How can you be sure Lutaar is my father? How many different men did you sleep with? How can you know Cosuas really isn't my father?"
"Look at yourself," Pretaa snapped. "Tall, strong, intelligent, powerful. Certainly it was not Cosuas's Ersuan seed that made you, though he deludes himself it may be. You have the Blood in you. Aalun recognises it, even if he does not know it. That is why he has been drawn to you, and why you have risen so far so fast with his help. Perhaps your father feels it in you as well and that is why he is afraid of you."
Ullsaard walked away, waving his hands in denial.
"No, no, this does not make sense. The king is not afraid of me. I would be no more than a second captain without Aalun's help. There is not one drop of the Blood in me."
"How else does an Enairian of no name marry into Askhan nobility? How else does an ignorant coldlander become a celebrated general of the legions? You have never courted power until now, and yet throughout your life you have gained it. Most men of ambition achieve half of what you have."
It was Pretaa that now stood. She grabbed Ullsaard's hands and held them between hers. She looked up at her son's distressed face with a fierce expression.
"I have always been so proud of you, but I could never tell you why. To lead others, to fight, to command, it is in your nature. You have said it to me in the past; you feel alive in battle like at no other time. That is the Blood, its blessing and its curse."
"I cannot talk about this," said Ullsaard, whirling away. He stalked from the room and back into the entrance hall. He stopped and marched back into the room where his mother looked at the door. "Tell nobody else this!"
He grabbed a heavy cloak and left the house, setting off towards the woods to think.
II
Though it was barely two hours into High Watch when Ullsaard returned to the house, the sky was darkening quickly. The narrow windows upstairs were slivers of yellow against the black of the building, the setting sun beyond obscured by heavy cloud. Ullsaard tramped through the mud to the gate, where one of his mother's retainers waited with a lantern. Ullsaard recognised him as Illsaard, a man a little older than the general. The two of them had grown up together, and Ullsaard could not help but think how differently their lives had turned out. Perhaps there was something to what his mother had said about the power of the Blood.
