by Jane Glatt
Kane tensed. Brenna had told him about the vision she’d of Beldyn and Jemma meeting - so it had happened. He listened as Jemma told her story, ending with Beldyn’s mention of Neal. Neal was alive - or had been a few days ago.
“Jemma, does Beldyn come visit often?” he asked.
“Not really,” she replied. “He’s only been a few times - when he needs someone to talk to.”
“It’s good thing he has you,” Brenna said.
Kane had to agree. Thorold must be controlling the boy through fear and intimidation. With Beldyn an unwilling king, Brenna’s claim to the throne might be stronger.
“Thank you Jemma, you’ve been a great help,” he said to the girl. “Brenna, will you be able to contact her through old steel now?”
“I think so,” she replied. “It’s dark now so I’ll be leaving soon. Expect me near midnight.”
Kane said goodbye and tried to ignore the shiver of fear at the thought of her wandering Kingsreach in the dark. She’d been doing just that for years but that was before she was such a rich prize for Thorold and the church. He turned his attention to the people in the room.
“Neal was alive three days ago,” he said. “As we thought, the High Bishop has been torturing him.” He nodded at Dasid. “This came from a Brother who heard it from one who saw Neal alive.”
“You trust this witness had access to Neal?” Eryl asked.
“Oh yes, one of the few who would, I’d say.” Kane moved back to the table and poured himself a mug of ale.
Later he’d tell Dasid it was Beldyn. He looked around the room, his glance going past Dasid, Gaskain, Yowan and Madelay, to Eryl and his lads, Larkly and Millen. The rest of those in the room didn’t yet need to know that Beldyn, the heir to King Mattias, was being threatened by his own father.
“Brenna says she’ll be here near midnight,” he continued. “Some of you may want to get some sleep.”
Madelay gently squeezed his shoulder as she and Yowan filed out of the room. Kane settled in to wait with one hand on his sword hilt. If Brenna even whispered his name, he’d feel it and be on his way to her as fast as possible. Dasid refilled his own glass, glanced at Kane, then he too simply settled back to wait.
twenty
Brenna hugged the building and knelt down low to look around the corner. Jemma’s shop was a few streets behind her and now she was edging into territory she knew better - the area surrounding the Collegium. Dark clouds filled the sky, making the night even blacker. She was careful to stay away from the few lamps that were lit - like most of Kingsreach, students and teachers retired soon after it got dark and if she was the only person on the street she’d be exposed.
She headed down a dark street, keeping to the shadows. Jemma had warned that the Kingsguard patrolled at night - Brenna hadn’t seen a patrol yet but she had to expect at least one.
She’d left the skirt and blouse behind and once she was dressed in her black breeches and a black shirt she’d borrowed from Jemma, Brenna had felt better. It was the shirt Jemma had worn for the Brotherhood meet and Brenna had smiled when the younger girl pulled it out.
In a few minutes Brenna was on a side street that led to the Collegium. She frowned. She’d like to visit the library and see if her old friend Randell was safe but Kane would be furious and she knew it would be an unnecessary risk. She’d ask Eryl to see if Randell was all right.
The streets around the Collegium were as empty as those near Jemma’s shop. A pair of Kingsguardsmen headed away from her - she was behind their patrol so she decided to follow them. As long as they didn’t notice her she could keep them in sight, where they couldn’t surprise her.
She let the guard get almost a block ahead before she started to follow them, staying close to the buildings and keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Very few lights were on inside the buildings she passed and only a few of the street lamps had been lit.
Brenna was so focused on the guard that she barely took note of the buildings she was passing. Then her attention was caught by a familiar shape on a door she’d paused beside. She put her hand over it, tempted to twist the latch and enter the building. It was the door handle to the library - a metal ring she’d turned more times than she could remember. She ran her hand across the door, frowning when she felt deep gouges in the wood. Peering closer, she saw what could only be axe and blade marks marring both doors. Tense, she looked up the tall façade, biting her lip when she saw the destruction.
Instead of the carving of an open book, representing Toru, there was a raw scar on the stone. Brenna ducked between the pillars and headed for a second building, the one where healers were taught. They’d hacked the symbols off that building as well. Even the mortar and pestle and sheaf of wheat of Ush had been defaced. Each building had been defaced in the same manner. The church, in their zeal to eradicate anything of the old gods, had destroyed works of art that had lasted for centuries and inspired countless students.
Saddened, Brenna crept down the wide street and into an alley. She’d lost the guards she’d been following - now she had to take less-traveled routes. She knelt in the alley, taking a few moments to say a quick prayer to each of the five old gods.
She’d always taken her belief in the old gods for granted - they were modest and demanded little of their followers beyond kindness and compassion to others and a life lived in pursuit of understanding and fulfillment. Until now, until she’d seen the destruction of the symbols on the Collegium buildings, Brenna hadn’t understood that the church of the One-God actually hated the old gods. It was the same unthinking rage that was often directed at witches. She shivered. The High Bishop had an army of One-God worshippers. She snuck down the alley and prayed to the old gods to help Soule - if balance wasn’t restored she feared that her country would be torn apart.
It took her another half an hour, but she finally turned a corner and saw the Crooked Dog. In the last few blocks she’d walked past familiar buildings that seemed different somehow, from when she’d last been here. Mistress Dudding’s seamstress shop was the same but there were no lights above in her old rooms and the wine seller across the road had closed - its windows now boarded up. And there was no one on the street - even the whores from the Red Dragon were absent. Brenna had shivered. If whores didn’t work they didn’t eat - it took a lot to keep them off the streets.
Brenna trotted down the alley beside the Dog and entered the stable yard through the back gate. She gripped her knife hilt and signaled Kane that she was there and felt his surge of relief through the old steel. She slipped in through the back door, making a note to get a sturdier lock - she hadn’t even needed any tools to get through this one. Kingsreach – even Thieves Quarter – was no longer place she felt safe in.
She found Kane and Dasid in the small private room, a half filled jug of ale on the table in front of them. Kane rose and hugged her.
“You made it safely,” he said. He stepped away from her and eyed her outfit. “Any excuse to get rid of the skirt?” He kept one arm wrapped around her shoulder, steered her to a chair beside him and poured her some ale.
“I hope Madelay isn’t too upset with me,” she reached for the mug. “This seemed a little less likely to be noticed.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Very,” Brenna smiled when her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. She took a drink of ale, trying to settle it, but grimaced. “I forgot how poor the ale at the Dog was.” She sniffed the mug experimentally. Besides being weak and sour as it usually was, it was also warm and flat.
“Sorry, it’s been sitting out for a while,” Dasid said as Kane rummaged in the hearth. “The innkeep went to bed a few hours ago. It seems the edict has been very bad for trade.”
“I only saw Kingsguard on my way here. Every house and building I passed was dark.” Kane rose with a pot and her stomach rumbled again when she smelled food. “I hope that’s better than the ale,” she said as he set the pot down in front of her, handing her a spoon.
> “Madelay fixed it. It’s good.” Kane sat back down.
Brenna scooped up a spoonful of dark rich gravy. It smelled wonderful, she thought as she let it cool slightly. The pot was a bit black from the fire but she couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been black before anyway. She slipped the stew in her mouth and groaned with pleasure.
“I’m sorrier about Madelay’s skirt now,” she said, spooning up another mouthful. “Is there any bread?”
“Not that you’d recognize as such,” Kane said. “We’ll get something better tomorrow.”
Brenna nodded. It was too much to hope they’d had time to do anything about the bread at the Dog. Old and hard, it was often moldy.
As Brenna ate the rich, dark stew, Kane watched, still relieved that she’d made it here safely. Kingsreach had changed so much since he was last here in late winter - the quiet of the streets, especially here in the Quarter, seemed ominous. He smiled when Brenna’s spoon scraped the bottom of the pot.
“That was good,” she said. She pushed the pot away from her and leaned back in her chair. “Did anyone have any trouble getting here?”
“No,” Kane shook his head. “There were very few people on the roads even in midafternoon.” He frowned. “Other than the priest and a group of men and women. They looked ugly.”
“Witch hunters.” Brenna shivered when she said it. “That’s what Jemma called them. There was a group of them when I came through the market area.” She looked up into his eyes. “That’s what drove me into Jemma’s shop. I didn’t think it wise to let them see me.”
Kane slipped his hand in hers when she shuddered again.
“Witch hunters.” He turned to Dasid. “Have you heard of them?”
“They work for the High Bishop,” Dasid said. “They organize seemingly peaceful marches for members of the church of the One-God to search out those who wish salvation – but Eryl’s reports show that they are nothing more than hunting parties to find victims for the High Bishop.” Dasid looked grim. “High Bishop Valden is no longer bothering to hide his taste for torture.”
“Thieves Quarter is usually the first to know things like that,” Brenna said. “They’re usually the first victims.”
“But not the most persecuted this time.” Dasid shook his head. “Valden seems to be targeting tradesmen the most, at least according to Marcus Brunger.”
“Confiscating their property?” Kane asked. When Dasid nodded, he continued. “Is any of this related to the Brotherhood?”
“Not that the council can determine, although a few Brothers have been caught.”
“What about Jemma? Can we make sure she’s safe?” Brenna asked. “If anything does happen to her we need to make sure Beldyn knows.”
“Beldyn, what does Beldyn have to do with Jemma?” Dasid looked from Brenna to Kane and back to Brenna again.
“He’s visited her,” Brenna said. “I had a vision a while ago and in it they met. Beldyn’s been to see her a few times since. He’s the one who saw Neal alive three days ago.”
“We need to keep this between us at the moment,” Kane said. “We don’t know where Beldyn stands in all of this.”
“Jemma said he’s afraid of Thorold. He doesn’t want to be king but his father is threatening him to make sure he does as he’s told.” Brenna sipped her ale and grimaced. “I think he’d try to save her if she fell into High Bishop Valden’s hands. Beldyn saw what Valden is doing to Neal.”
“Dasid still doesn’t approve of us,” Brenna whispered.
She was tucked in bed beside him. Kane smoothed a hand across her shoulder, enjoying the silky feel of her skin.
They’d spent another hour with Dasid, discussing plans, before they’d been able to head up to their surprisingly neat and tidy room. Brenna had plucked a bundle of some dried flowers off the pillow and muttered again about Madelay’s skirt, so he assumed they owed their comfort to Madelay.
“He hasn’t had enough time,” Kane said. He settled her head against his shoulder. “Once he sees how we work together he’ll realize that we’re better together than apart.” Although his friend had said it suited him - this arrangement with Brenna - Kane too had felt some undercurrents of uneasiness from Dasid. Perhaps he and Brenna needed to talk to him some more - although who knew when they’d have time to discuss personal matters.
Brenna had told them of her vision of Avery but Dasid hadn’t quite believed her - Kane did and so did Yowan and Madelay - but Dasid wanted it confirmed. Kane sighed – he couldn’t blame him, not really. The Caller had turned out to be so much more than they’d expected – Seer, witch, healer, thief. So much more than any of them could have expected.
But they would come up with a plan to extract Neal and Avery as soon as possible, with or without the proof Dasid wanted.
Brenna relaxed against him and her breathing deepened and he tightened his arms around her slightly, wishing he could keep her from danger. But that was not his task - Dasid would come to realize it as well. Kane’s task was to advise her and get her ready for whatever was coming - to temper her, like a weapon so that she could save Soule.
Brenna padded restlessly around the tavern. She’d been cooped up inside the Dog for the past two days, ever since Kane had agreed with Dasid that she was too important and too well known to chance going outside, day or night. The only bright spot had been when Pater had visited yesterday. He’d looked older and he’d been worried, and all he would say was that it was tougher to make a living in the Quarter than it used to be, but he’d been a welcome sight. She thought about the produce he usually carried in his cart this time of year - fruit from Aruntun, rhubarb and snow peas from northern Fallad. It was unlikely any of that was getting into Kingsreach, not with the disruption to trade. Followers of the old gods had been struggling when they’d left Aruntun - it would be many times worse now that the edict had been declared law.
“Dasid.” She stopped him as he exited the small room that had become their headquarters. “What trade routes are still open into Kingsreach?” He shook his head and she grasped his arm. “When I came into town yesterday the main market was full of local produce but what happens when the local goods are finished for the year?”
“I don’t know,” he said and stepped back, a puzzled look on his face. “I haven’t given it any thought. That’s a question for Marcus.” He turned back to the room he’d just come. “He’s here now.”
Brenna followed him into the room.
“Marcus, Brenna has some questions about the trade routes into Kingsreach,” Dasid said.
Guild Master Brunger watched her from across the room. She’d only crossed his path once, when he’d spoken against her claim as Caller. He was now an important member of the council of the Brotherhood of the Throne.
“And what concerns you about the trade routes, lass?” he asked.
He smirked and her chin went up.
“Just this. Goods from Aruntun,” she said firmly. “Food from Aruntun is being left to rot on the docks in Hurly and Dryannon because the church has declared it tainted in some way.” His face went slack and Brenna smiled grimly. He understood what that meant. “What does get sold, is sold at prices so low that Comackians can afford to use it to feed livestock. I’ve asked Laurel Kerrich and Captain Chaffer to start shipping goods farther north to Fallad, but how do we get food to Kingsreach? The main trade routes all pass through Comack. We need to open up more routes through Aruntun.” She’d made her point with Marcus Brunger but Dasid was still looking at her with confusion. “If the trade routes are disrupted until winter, goods will not get into the city.”
“The city will starve,” Marcus Brunger said, his voice heavy. “It won’t take long, even though so many people have already fled.”
“My guess is it’s started now. Ask Pater,” Brenna said.
Marcus Brunger looked up at her and nodded. “Thank you Caller, I will do that,” he said.
Brenna thought she heard a new note of respect in his voice now.
&
nbsp; “I will also make sure we do everything we can to bring food into the city.”
With the problem being dealt with by Brunger and Dasid, Brenna’s satisfaction at being useful only lasted a short time. A few minutes later she was back to pacing the tavern. She felt like she needed to be doing something, anything, active.
She was still pacing when, much later, Kane found her. He took one look at her then grabbed her arm and dragged her out to the stable yard.
“Let’s see how sharp you’re knife skills are,” he drawled as he unbuckled his sword and placed it near the back step.
Brenna grinned when he handed her a wooden practice knife. Finally, something to do to keep her from climbing the walls. She tossed the wood from hand to hand, getting a feel for the weight, before she crouched and started circling Kane, her lips tight with concentration.
Kane struggled to keep his breathing even. Brenna had been on the attack for almost an hour and she didn’t look like she planned on stopping any time soon. When he’d come across her in the tavern he’d immediately recognized the look in her eyes. It was the same look he’d see on Kingsguardsmen who’d been on alert for a long period of time with nothing happening. It was the same with Brenna - she’d been ready save Neal and Avery and now was forced to wait, all while trying to stay ready - physically and emotionally - to move on a moment’s notice. She knew better than any of them what was being done to Neal – she’d experienced some of it with his uncle. She wanted, needed, to save them.
He stepped back from a lunge and her practice knife grazed his arm. “That’s a hit,” Kane said. He transferred his own wooden knife to his off hand and pretended his right one was now unusable. With any luck she’d finish him off soon - he was tiring.
Kane spared a glance for the crowd that had gathered - Eryl, Dasid, Gaskain and Marcus Brunger. They all looked suitably impressed with Brenna’s knife skills, as they should be.
