Dangerous Waters

by Juliet E. McKenna

  Of those Licanins still horsed, one mounted contingent was blocking the gateway so none of the villains could flee. The rest were riding down stragglers trying to find some refuge among the buildings enclosed by the manor’s wall.

  Zurenne saw some of them scurrying around the back of the guard hall, behind the stable block standing between that wooden-walled and shingled building and the brick and plaster gatehouse. Others had fled the other way, heading past the steward’s dwelling towards the kitchen and the bake house, to hide in the storehouses that lay beyond.

  She couldn’t see who might be cowering beneath the baronial tower’s walls, or by the great hall’s steps. Were any of the scoundrels claiming sanctuary at the manor’s shrine, abutting the other end of the lofty building?

  ‘Mama! Can you see?’ Ilysh exulted.

  Those usurpers not dead or beaten senseless were throwing up their hands. The brief, vicious battle was over.

  ‘Mama!’ Esnina screamed. ‘Someone’s coming!’

  ‘Go to your sister!’ Zurenne snatched her up from the table and threw her bodily through the bedchamber door. She braced herself against the table, ready to fight against any intruder. ‘Ilysh—’

  ‘Zurenne?’

  Recognising Lord Licanin’s voice, she almost wept with relief. ‘We’re safe,’ she managed to say.

  ‘Open the door,’ he ordered.

  Zurenne’s legs felt weak as water and her hands were shaking. She could barely shift the heavy table until Ilysh came to her aid. Even Esnina tried to help, plump face wretched with fright.

  Two men with gory swords forced their way inside while the door was barely ajar. The table juddered across the floor. Esnina was knocked off her feet.

  ‘It’s all right, Neeny.’ Zurenne scooped the little girl up. ‘They’re our friends.’

  ‘Is he here? Lord Licanin demanded while his men went to check Zurenne’s bedchamber. ‘That villain of a steward? Have you seen him?’

  ‘No,’ Zurenne cried. ‘How could I?’

  Glancing at the children, Licanin hastily swallowed an oath. ‘He seems to have given us the slip.’ He was hoarse with emotion and exertion.

  ‘You two may go. Send someone to the village and summon the headman.’ He sheathed his sword which, for her daughters’ sake, Zurenne was relieved to see was bloodless. ‘Since that villain’s not here to answer for his crimes, you’ll have to tell me what you know.’ He shook his head, exasperated. ‘Who is this Master Minelas? Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Zurenne protested. ‘He left here mid-way through Aft-Autumn. I’ve heard nothing of him since.’

  ‘Aft-Autumn?’ Licanin looked momentarily surprised, before nodding, more reflective. ‘That would explain it.’

  Zurenne could have shrieked like Neeny, she was so frustrated. ‘Explain what?’

  ‘He was nowhere to be seen at Winter Solstice.’ Licanin scowled. ‘I saw him at the Summer Solstice Parliament, all courtesy and charm, though we barely spoke. Come the Autumn Equinox Lord Karpis and Lord Tallat said that all was well here.’ He looked at Zurenne, reproving.

  ‘I believe stolen Halferan gold bought our noble neighbours’ lies,’ she hissed.

  ‘Is that truly how it stands?’ Licanin glanced at Ilysh and Esnina.

  Zurenne took the hint. ‘Lysha, take Neeny into my bedchamber and find a quiet game to play.’

  For one dreadful moment, she thought Ilysh would refuse. Seeing Lord Licanin’s glowering face, the girl thought better of it and led her sister away.

  Licanin barely let the door close before he accused Zurenne. ‘Your own letter confirmed Halferan’s grant of guardianship, when my lords of Karpis and Tallat presented Master Minelas to last summer’s parliament.’

  ‘I never saw that hateful grant before Minelas returned with my husband’s body.’ Zurenne’s voice cracked with anguish. ‘I wrote that cursed letter at his bidding. Else I—’ She couldn’t go on.

  Licanin gestured towards the closed door. ‘He threatened the children?’

  ‘He said that he would wed Ilysh,’ Zurenne’s hatred spilled like pus from a boil, ‘and bed her too.’

  ‘Surely not!’ Licanin was appalled.

  ‘Believe it.’ Zurenne couldn’t repeat what else Minelas had said. The details which had convinced her that despoiling little girls was nothing new to him.

  ‘If he wed her, the Halferan lands would be his lifelong by right of marriage. If I yielded—’ Self-loathing thickened her voice. ‘If I yielded, he said he would assuredly tire of playing the lord of this manor some day. When that day came, he promised he would draw up a grant of guardianship in favour of whomever I wished.’

  Not that Zurenne believed a word on his poisonous tongue. But what else could she do? She’d had no one to help her. Did she now?

  ‘Did you find it so easy to believe,’ she demanded, ‘that my husband should treat me so shoddily?’

  ‘We were taken so unawares by Halferan’s death and then by this supposed guardianship.’ Licanin looked sorely troubled as he paced from door to window and back again. ‘But one does not interfere in another man’s affairs without compelling reason. Noble witnesses endorsed Master Minelas along with your own words, supposedly. You wrote regularly to your sisters through summer and For-Autumn,’ he reproached her.

  Tears blurred Zurenne’s vision. ‘Every word from my pen was a lie.’

  Why hadn’t they seen that? Beresa and Celle and Danlie? But why should they doubt what they read? It wasn’t as if the sisters knew each other’s hearts.

  Eight years and five infant brothers’ deaths separated Zurenne from Danlie and they were the closest in age. Licanin had cut Beresa’s wedding plait and laid it on Drianon’s altar nearly twenty-five years ago. That was a full generation by any almanac’s reckoning and Zurenne had been a year younger than Neeny was now.

  Licanin cleared his throat. ‘Beresa grew concerned when you replied to none of her winter letters. So I wrote to my lords of Fandail and Brason and we learned that neither Celle nor Danlie had received any letters. Baron Fandail, Baron Brason and I discussed how to proceed and concluded this Master Minelas could hardly object to a festival visit.’

  All these letters going back and forth the length and breadth of Caladhria, when winter weather meant an ox-cart struggled to cover four leagues a day. No wonder it had taken her brothers by marriage until now to act.

  ‘I’ve received no letters since Winter Solstice.’ Zurenne had imagined herself utterly forgotten through those cold, dark days.

  ‘We can assume that villainous steward withheld them.’ Licanin’s indignation swelled afresh. ‘Raeponin rot the man. Is this how he repays his liege-lord’s memory?’

  ‘He was given his position for his dead father’s sake, a man of very different character,’ Zurenne said wearily. ‘My husband had already threatened to dismiss him more than once.’

  Then Minelas had returned with Halferan’s body and Starrid had wormed his way into the scoundrel’s good graces quicker than a maggot into an apple.

  ‘We’ll lay this whole vileness before the next parliament with a petition to make me your guardian,’ Licanin said abruptly. ‘Pack what you need for the road and I will take you and your daughters under my own roof. This Master Minelas can try to reclaim you if he dares.’ Grey haired or not, he looked more than ready to make a fight of it.

  ‘No, please,’ Zurenne begged. ‘That’s to say, I will willingly submit to your guardianship but we have to stay in Halferan. Otherwise my daughters will be left with nothing. Lord Karpis and Lord Tallatt will send troopers from north and south to divide the manor’s lands between them.’

  ‘No—’ But Licanin broke off.

  ‘Who will gainsay them with Minelas gone? If Halferan’s hall is abandoned, Lord Karpis and Lord Tallat will claim whatever they wish of our lands.’ Zurenne folded her hands at her waist to stop them trembling. It was hardly seemly for a woman to argue such issues of property but she was desperate.
‘Irrespective of that false grant of guardianship, three-fifths of the parliament’s barons will agree that the populace must be protected, come what may.’

  To her relief, Licanin couldn’t deny it. ‘They may even have hoped for such an outcome, when they agreed to support this Minelas. But who is this blackguard?’ he demanded with fresh anger. ‘Why by all that’s holy did Halferan bring him here?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Zurenne was nearly screaming with vexation. ‘My husband had long sought some means to defeat the corsairs. You know how long and hard he argued the coastal cause before parliament, to no avail. The inland lords are only ever concerned with unrest spilling across the Rel from Lescar.’

  She saw that Licanin was outraged to learn that Halferan had told her about the parliament’s debates. She didn’t care.

  ‘Then Minelas came and Halferan said they had a plan. They left that same day with nearly all the household’s troopers. Only Minelas came back escorting my husband’s body and my whole life was cast into ruin!’

  Zurenne’s nerve failed her and so did her knees. She sank into a chair.

  ‘I have been left wholly friendless, my daughters’ virtue at that man’s mercy. Not even mistress in my own household, my children dressed in rags. No one—’

  Licanin cut her short with a sharp gesture. Zurenne’s heart missed a beat. Was he so insulted, so appalled, that he simply would wash his hands of her? Unshed tears burned her eyes.

  After a seemingly interminable pause, he nodded. ‘I understand your fears for your daughters’ inheritance. All their hopes of honourable marriage rest on Halferan’s continued prosperity.’

  Zurenne felt faint with relief.

  ‘But there are graver dangers on the horizon,’ Licanin continued grimly. ‘The corsairs grow ever bolder. Their raids have reached as far as Lescar. They sailed up the river Dyal barely thirty days ago, burning and thieving as they went.’

  ‘But the dukes—’ Zurenne protested weakly.

  ‘Don’t you know—?’ Licanin clicked his tongue, annoyed. ‘No, you won’t have heard. Well, if you can credit it, the Lescari populace have overthrown their dukes.’ Disbelief warred with his indignation. ‘We can only be thankful that the Duke of Marlier’s militias remained loyal and drove the corsairs back to the sea.’ He sighed. ‘We fear they will soon return to this coast, looking for easier pickings. As soon as they sail north of the cliffs around Attar, these saltings are indefensible.’

  For an instant Zurenne was viciously pleased to think of Lord Karpis and Lord Tallat’s baronies being plundered. But no, only the innocent would suffer, along with Halferan’s tenants.

  ‘Can we expect no help from the inland barons?’ she asked, desolate.

  ‘If the summer’s raids prove truly vicious, there will be voices raised—’ Licanin shook his head. His next words surprised Zurenne.

  ‘Much good that will do. Some of us have a different course in mind. Indeed, your own husband was the first to propose it. I did not think it wise at the time but given the corsairs’ new boldness in Lescar—’ He hesitated. ‘I came to consult with Master Minelas as well as the other coastal lords who had supported Halferan’s original proposal.’

  Now Zurenne understood Lord Licanin’s concern. If corsairs had sailed up the river Dyal, that surely meant they could sail up the river Tantel in Caladhria just as easily. Distance from the sea was no longer the safeguard it had been for Licanin’s own barony.

  ‘What did my husband propose?’ she demanded.

  Licanin took a breath before deciding to tell her. ‘Halferan asked for help from the wizards of Hadrumal. We must renew our appeal and this time we will not be denied.’

  ‘What?’ Zurenne was astounded.

  ‘We have always agreed that mages should hold themselves aloof from warfare between mainland dominions.’ Licanin’s belligerence sounded rehearsed for the Archmage already. ‘We can imagine how much blood would have been shed this past year in Lescar if wizards had joined the battle. But these corsairs are dogs of another colour entirely—’

  He broke off. ‘Never mind. This is hardly talk for a lady’s ears. If you are to stay here, you need a new steward, to serve until I send my own representative. I will secure the parliament’s grant at Summer Solstice to take formal charge of your household.’

  ‘Some of my husband’s former guardsmen live pensioned off near the village. They will be loyal.’ Hope surged in Zurenne’s heart. She had been so long without it she scarcely recognised the sensation. ‘Can I rid myself of the other servants who’ve betrayed me? Can I write to summon merchants to supply us with what we need?’ She gestured at her shabby gown.

  Licanin looked uneasy. ‘We will have to break into the strong room, to see what coin remains.’

  Zurenne looked downwards, as if she could see through the floorboards. The ground floor of this square baronial tower, as broad as it was tall, was given over to lordly business. A large antechamber accommodated those waiting to be admitted to Halferan’s audience room. Leading off from that, the muniment room held generations of archived grants and writs. A locked and barred door and iron grilles on the stairs defended the basement strong room below from thieves. Unless those thieves had stolen the keys, as Starrid and his new master surely had done.

  She looked up at Licanin. ‘Is there any way we can hunt down this man Minelas? To reclaim what he has taken? To see him hang?’

  Licanin looked thoughtful. ‘I believe that there may be.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Trydek’s Hall, Hadrumal

  15th of Aft-Spring

  ‘MY LORDS, IF you please?’ As Jilseth’s sweeping hand urged the barons through the door, they barely acknowledged her.

  She had to admit this wasn’t the male arrogance seemingly bred in Caladhrian bone. They were overawed by the prospect of meeting the Archmage. Their haughtiness had been steadily declining since the fogs had swirled around their ship; dense, unnatural and stirred only by the magelit winds. Out in the distance, they could hear waves crashing on mist-shrouded reefs. Accompanying them on their voyage, Jilseth had seen them wondering what else lay in wait for anyone voyaging to Hadrumal.

  Their unease subsided somewhat when they saw Hadrumal’s commonplace docks. This wasn’t so different from Claithe or Pinerin, they had said to each other. Until they looked up at the milky sky and realised that the veil of cloud hid the sun completely. No sailor, however diligent with sextant and compass, would ever find his way back here without the Archmage’s permission.

  Their disquiet returned and redoubled on the carriage ride to the city. Deposited amid the looming halls and towers, they were further unnerved to realise that, whatever rank they might boast of at home, Caladhrian barons didn’t warrant a second glance from Hadrumal folk.

  Jilseth by contrast had been greeted by several of her acquaintances, interested to know where she had returned from. Now two of the barons were sneaking sideways looks at her, belatedly wondering if the Archmage’s envoy was more than a mere letter carrier, despite her petticoats.

  ‘Good day to you, my lords.’ Planir sat in a high backed chair in the centre of the lofty dais at the far end of the hall.

  There were no seats for anyone else. The long tables and benches that usually accommodated prentice and pupil mages at mealtimes had been cleared away. The Archmage’s courteous words echoed in the emptiness, floating up to the dark beams above. His stern predecessors stared down from portraits along the whitewashed walls. Their garb ranged from archaic robes to sober mantles not so different to the Caladhrians’ own.

  Planir wore a high-collared black doublet over breeches of the same velvet. The creamy linen of his shirt showed through slashes in the sleeves, each one caught together with a silver-mounted pearl. Light from a high window struck a dull gleam from black silk stockings and a brighter glint from silver buckles on his shoes. With his greying hair and beard, the gems of his ring of office offered the only hint of colour.

  Even Kalion woul
d approve such elegance. Jilseth had wondered what other passing wizards had made of their Archmage’s unaccustomed finery this afternoon.

  ‘My lords?’ Planir prompted as the noblemen drew closer together, exchanging uncertain murmurs.

  Jilseth walked on to stand by the steps leading up to the dais. She would have quite liked to sit down after her journey but she could wait, the better to accommodate Planir’s stratagem, whatever it might be.

  Baron Saldiray cleared his throat. ‘We were most surprised by your invitation.’

  ‘As was I by your letter,’ Planir observed.

  ‘Most honoured,’ Baron Myrist said hastily. ‘To meet you in person.’

  ‘Quite so.’ Planir’s tone offered him no encouragement.

  Lord Saldiray tried again. ‘You wish to discuss our appeal for wizardly aid against the corsairs.’

  ‘You wish to renew your appeal,’ Planir corrected him. ‘I’m curious to know what you think will change my mind. I’m also interested to learn why you don’t appeal to your own parliament, for Caladhrian ships and troopers to rid your shores of this menace. Weren’t your fellow barons assembled in Duryea, not twenty days ago?’

  ‘The most recent parliament naturally turned its attentions to Lescar.’ Baron Taine wasn’t so easily intimidated, even if he had spent the first day and night of their voyage here puking over their ship’s stern rail. It had taken Jilseth that long to convince him that a simple quadrate cantrip would calm his stomach’s rebellion.

  ‘My lord Archmage.’ Lord Saldiray paused before continuing. ‘When Baron Halferan appealed to you before, you explained that wizards do not involve themselves in mainland affairs. But now we know that is not precisely true.’

  Despite herself Jilseth stiffened. She only hoped none of the barons noticed.

  ‘You accuse me of lying?’ Planir arched curious brows. ‘Forgive me, my lords. Please sit.’

  He snapped his fingers and a half circle of chairs appeared behind the Caladhrians’ huddle. A stool appeared at Jilseth’s side. She took it as the barons sank into their seats, subdued.