by Jane Glatt
“Now for sure we won’t be eating fish tonight,” Kane said. He pulled her up against him. She squealed as he lay back in the shallow water with her on top of him. She smoothed a hand across his chest, enjoying the way his wet skin felt.
“You were sleeping,” Brenna said. “I was bored.”
“I was fishing.” Kane said. He twisted until he faced her. “It takes great skill to fish the way I do.”
“You were snoring,” Brenna replied.
“I was not.”
“All right, you weren’t snoring but you were sleeping.”
“And you are supposed to be learning patience,” Kane said. He leaned towards her and kissed her, lightly at first.
Brenna broke off the kiss with a laugh.
“I’m not bored anymore,” she said. She trailed her hand down his chest.
Kane rose and picked her up. He carried her up the riverbank, past his forgotten fishing pole, pausing only to find their bedroll.
It would need to be dried before they could sleep on it tonight, she thought as he gently laid her on top of it. And then she forgot all about the wet bedroll as he leaned down and kissed her, his hands warming her chill skin as he trailed his touch along her body.
“I’m hungry. What do we have to eat?” Brenna smiled as she stretched against Kane.
He lifted a hand to drag her still damp hair out of her face and rose on his elbow to kiss her.
“Ungrateful wench,” he whispered against her mouth. “First she interrupts me when I’m fishing.”
“Sleeping,” Brenna said.
“Fishing. Then after I’ve spent considerable effort making sure she is um, relaxed, she demands that I feed her. And it’s her fault there is no fish tonight.”
Brenna chuckled and put her head on Kane’s chest. “Is that what you were doing, making sure I was relaxed?”
“Well, it wasn’t the initial plan but it worked, didn’t it?” His arm went around her and she snuggled into him.
“Yes it did. In fact, I think I want to be relaxed again.”
“I thought you were hungry.”
Kane’s breath was warm on her cheek and Brenna felt her heart speed up.
“I am, but the way you relax me takes my mind off that completely.”
“Well,” Kane drawled, rolling her over onto her back and pressing his body into hers. “I really don’t feel like cooking right now anyway.”
She closed her eyes as his lips pressed down onto hers.
Kane slipped out of the bedroll and quickly restarted the fire. He checked the horses and gave them some water and grain before he filled the pot and set it over the fire to boil. As he waited for the water to heat, he watched Brenna where she lay, still wrapped up in their bedroll.
They hadn’t taken much time to eat last night, dining instead on some dried meat and bread, and they’d camped right were they’d stopped to fish. He smiled. Neither one of them had felt like moving last night.
The last few weeks had been draining, for him as well as Brenna. He felt carefree out here, where his only worry was what to eat for breakfast. And Brenna had laughed more last night than she had in the last two weeks. Even if it meant a delay in making old steel it was worth it to see her face light up like that. Kane threw some tea into the water. With one last glance at Brenna’s sleeping form, he wandered closer to the river.
He eyed his fishing pole. It was still stuck into the ground and he wondered if fish could be on the menu for breakfast. He tugged at it, pulling the line and hook from the river. Once he’d put a new piece of mutton on the hook he let the line drift back out.
Kane finished his tea and stood up. There were two small fish beside him. Trout, he thought, but he was no expert. He hoped they tasted good. Brenna’s head peeked out from the bedroll when he dropped the fish beside the fire.
“Is there any tea?” she asked and sat up.
Kane dipped a mug into the pot and handed it to her once she’d wriggled out of the bedroll enough to sit. “What, no comment on what a great fisherman I am and how sorry you are that you doubted me yesterday?”
“Not until I see you clean and cook them,” Brenna said, sipping her tea.
Kane had the fish cleaned and set into a pan before Brenna had dressed and shaken out the bedroll. He breathed in the smell of frying fish and sighed - they would need to return to Silverdale soon.
“This is what my grandmother always said she wanted,” Brenna sat down beside him. “A simple life. All she wanted to do was travel and heal people.”
She took a stick and jabbed the fish, testing to see if they were done. She dragged her pack over, rooted around in it and pulled out some herbs. She sniffed at them before she sprinkled them on the fish.
“I always wanted nothing more than to be free to make my own decisions,” Brenna finished.
Kane looked up to see a wry look on her face.
“And now I’m free to make decisions but I don’t feel free in any other way,” she finished. “What did you want, Kane?”
“Me? I always knew I’d be in the Kingsguard.” He smiled at her. “A family tradition that I saw no reason to break.”
“That’s what you expected. I want to know what you wanted.”
“Ah,” Kane said and smiled. “I wanted adventure. When I was younger those adventures almost always were about helping the Caller. And I certainly got what I dreamed of.” He looked at her from beneath lowered lids. “Although I didn’t expect the Caller to be such a difficult woman.” He ducked as she tossed the stick at him.
seven
Duke Thorold paced in front of his desk - three steps one way and three steps back. He should be feeling pleased with himself. He should be elated that after years and years of planning he finally had what he wanted. He was the ruler of Soule. Oh, Beldyn held the title of king but he was the regent. He was the one everyone deferred to - the High Bishop - Captain Barton - merchants - nobles - scholars, all of them directed their questions to him, all of them asked permission from him. True, the other duchies had not pledged to him but he’d never much cared for Aruntun. Fallad was disappointing but eventually he’d squeeze it into submission. Fallad would never be able to hold out against both Comack and Langemore.
He picked up the message from King Mannel and reread it. It was innocent, it could not be otherwise. King Mannel’s refusal to travel to Kingsreach before spring could only be due to his reluctance to risk bad weather. Winter started much earlier in the north and Thorold couldn’t blame him for not wanting to chance being stranded by the weather and away from his lands until spring. For that is what such a journey could mean - the mountain passes would soon be all but impassable and the closer they came to mid-winter the riskier sea travel would get as snow and ice piled up in all the ports. It was simply the weather that delayed him, not any news of his weakened hold on Soule.
He had wanted Beldyn wed to King Mannel’s daughter before winter, had wanted Mannel’s support solidified, had wanted the leverage that holding Mannel’s daughter would give him. Now he would have to wait for spring. But then Langemorian troops would help secure Fallad and the parts of Soule that mattered to him would be under his rule.
Brenna wiped the sweat from her eyes then bent down to grab the wooden cup from beside the water bucket. She filled the cup and gulped some water before handing it off to Dasid.
“It still doesn’t feel quite right,” she said as she eyed the piece of steel Smith Innis held in his hand. It was about two feet long and he’d been hammering it to expand the length.
“We’ve been following the directions from the book.” Dasid gestured to the small book that described how to forge old steel.
Brenna sighed, picked the book up and leafed through the pages. She couldn’t read it any better now than when she’d first found it in the Collegium library in Kingsreach.
“I know, but something’s missing.”
“Maybe if we made it all the way to the quenching stage,” Innis said, laying the steel down a
nd pulling off his thick gloves. “The book is very clear that the owner’s blood is forged into the steel but not as clear about the royal blood. Mayhap we’re adding it too soon.”
“We might as well try that,” Brenna said, frowning. She turned her left hand over and removed the cloth that covered the scab. She’d need to clean it and apply more witch hazel to keep it from becoming infected. She’d pricked herself with her knife every day for almost a week and they still didn’t have the process correct. “Let me know when you want me and my blood back here.”
“Aye Mistress Brenna. It’ll be a few days at least before we can quench this piece,” Innis said. “And I might rather start with something smaller like a knife. If we add blood to the quench and don’t get it right, we could lose all the oil in the tub. I’ll send word to you at Duke Ewart’s.”
Brenna nodded and left the hot forge, relieved to escape the heat.
When they’d first started experimenting with the process she’d been excited. But as the days wore on and no progress was made, she’d grown bored. Surely there was a better way for her to spend her time, she thought as she headed back to Ewart’s house. She shook her head. Kane would tell her to work harder at being patient. But she couldn’t be patient, not when she felt as though her life had been frozen in time. She couldn’t go back to her old life nor could she move ahead with her new one until Thorold was defeated. And that meant they needed old steel.
At least the people of Silverdale had gotten used to her wandering around town. The first few times she’d gone out she’d been bowed to and followed. People got tired of that soon enough, she thought wryly - once they found out that her tasks were no more exciting than their own. Folk still said hello to her, which she found she rather liked, even though being recognized went against the instincts she’d honed as a thief. Well, as Kane said, being a thief was only a part of who she was now. She turned down a side street and soon she was in the square.
“Brenna.”
She turned at the sound of her name. “Jemma! You finally made it.” Brenna took two steps and hugged her friend. She pulled back to take a good look at the younger girl. She seemed a little worried, but safe and sound. “When did you get to Silverdale?”
“Yesterday,” Jemma said, brushing her long brown hair out of her eyes. “It took Eryl a few days to find a way to get me to the ferry.” She smiled at Brenna. “And he found my da. I don’t know how he did it, but he found my da.”
“Eryl’s good at that,” Brenna said. “He found my grandmother even though she’d been missing for years.”
“We’re staying with another family of weavers down near the river.” Jemma patted her vest. “But I’ve some messages for both you and Kane.”
“Come on then,” Brenna turned them towards Ewart’s house. “Let’s get a cup of tea and see what Eryl’s sent us.” Brenna touched her knife and found Kane, telling him that all was fine but urging him to come home as soon as he could. He’d want the news as soon as possible. Even though they contacted both Kingsreach and Smithin regularly, there were some, like Eryl, who could only use paper.
Frowning, Kane scanned the piece of paper again before he silently passed it across the table to Brenna. He watched as she read the message, her mouth settling into a thin line.
“I have to go,” Brenna said. “I can’t let Thorold do this. All those people, all because of me.”
“You can’t go.” Kane struggled to keep his voice calm. He wouldn’t allow it. Brenna could not possibly put herself into such danger. “I’ll go. Between Eryl, Marcus and I we have contacts all over the city.”
“But I can do things you can’t.” Brenna’s chin came up and he met her eyes steadily. “With magic.”
“Yes and as we found out with Jemma,” he nodded in the girl’s direction. “Some of it can be done from a distance. You cannot be risked at this point in time, Brenna. If you were to be caught.” At the thought, Kane’s heart constricted. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d watched Thorold’s guard carry her past him. “If you were to be caught all of Soule would be at risk, not just the people of Thieves Quarter.”
Eryl’s note outlined how Thorold was sending the Kingsguard into the Quarter and rounding up those accused of following the old gods, which was now illegal under the edict. Ever since the edict people had been leaving Kingsreach but now Eryl had proof that they hadn’t all left of their own accord. An eyewitness had seen a group of men and women rounded up and taken away at night. East, he’d said, towards the mountains in Comack.
“I feel that I need to go,” Brenna said.
But her chin lowered a little and Kane breathed a sigh of relief.
“And that’s exactly what Thorold would want, so you can’t go.” Kane reached across the table and took her hand. “We need to know where he’s sending these people.”
“You think they’re going to the mines?” Brenna asked.
He nodded, thinking about the men he’d seen while in Blackwall. It was a hard, dangerous life. He’d bet that Thorold would release some of the paid workers and then push the prisoners hard. Hard enough that many wouldn’t survive.
“It makes me wonder what Thorold plans to do with the ores he mines. He certainly must have enough to arm his current guard and we haven’t heard that he’s conscripting men at this point, but that may change.”
“Why would it change?” Brenna asked.
“We don’t think he’s planning to fight until spring. Thorold doesn’t strike me as the type who would want to feed and house an army over the winter.” He looked at Brenna as her eyes widened. “I think he’ll conscript men into his army in the spring.”
“But that would be a disaster,” Jemma said. “What about spring planting?”
“Maybe that’s what he hopes to buy with his ores,” Brenna said. “If he can take enough men from the fields to cause food shortages and he has food being shipped to him from, say Langemore, he’ll have an even stronger hold on Kingsreach.”
“But that’s horrible. People will starve,” Jemma said. She looked from one to the other, her eyes wide.
“Duke Thorold doesn’t care about people, Jemma,” Brenna said. “Remember, I grew up in his household. People - even his own son - are nothing more than tools to help him achieve his own goals.”
“And the High Bishop cares even less than Thorold about those who follow the old gods,” Kane said.
“Brenna, I know it’s not my place,” Jemma said tentatively. “But I agree with Kane. You can’t go to Kingsreach, you can’t. If you fall into Thorold’s hands none of us will have any hope. As a member of the Brotherhood I ask that you let Kane go instead.”
Kane leaned back in his chair. When he saw Brenna’s shoulders slump a little, he relaxed and breathed out a sigh.
“It feels as though I’m abandoning them.” Brenna met his eyes.
“You’re not. You’re sending your most trusted advisor,” Kane said. “The person who least wants to disappoint you because he’ll never hear the end of it for the rest of his life.”
“Just make sure that it’s a very long life,” Brenna said. “I want you to come back to me.”
Kane nodded. That’s what he wanted as well but if he could keep some people from Thorold’s mines, he’d do that too.
In three days Kane had everything in place for his trip to Kingsreach. Dasid would accompany him as far as the ferry crossing. From there Kane would travel with Master Turner, a merchant friend of Jemma’s father. Although he was from Silverdale, Turner was willing to risk going to Kingsreach in order to take food and money to his brother and his family. He told Kane that his greatest hope was that they would leave with him when he returned to Silverdale. Kane had told Turner what he knew of events in Kingsreach so the merchant could understand the risks, but he was still determined to make the trip.
The day they left was clear and promised easy travel. Kane had said his goodbyes to Brenna earlier and now he inhaled the crisp air, eager to get moving.
&
nbsp; Kane and Dasid rode side by side, ahead of Turner and his wagon and soon Silverdale was behind them.
“You think the old steel forging was successful?” Kane asked.
Dasid fingered his new knife. “This trip should help us decide,” Dasid replied. “The connection between me and the knife is much stronger than with my old sword. In town I have no trouble contacting Brenna. We’ll see how it is with a few days travel between us.”
“It’s clear so far,” came Brenna’s voice and Kane looked up, startled. “I can hear everything to two of you are saying.”
“I wasn’t even touching old steel and I heard that,” Kane said.
Dasid shrugged. Kane deliberately kept his hands away from his sword and knife when he replied to Brenna. “Can you hear me now?”
“Yes, loud as ever,” she said. “I’m starting to worry about what will happen when we arm the new recruits. I can barely concentrate with just Dasid. Add the rest and I won’t be able to hear my own thoughts.”
“Do you think it will be this strong with those you don’t know well?” Kane asked.
“I hope not,” Brenna replied. “But it’s not as though the book on forging old steel is all that understandable - the author made those notes for himself and his sons. There a lot of notations that Smith Innis can’t decipher.”
Dasid removed his hand from the new knife and Kane felt his own connection with Brenna end.
“It would obviously be useful if Brenna could give the same order to every man at the exact same time,” Kane said to Dasid. “But not if she can’t control it.” Hopefully she would learn to filter the sounds out - old steel was still too useful for them to not arm as many men with it as possible. At least Dasid seemed to be taking his amplified connection to Brenna in stride. Kane wasn’t sure he’d be so calm. He wasn’t certain how comfortable he’d be if Brenna had so much access to all his conversations. Nor did he want to listen in on all of hers.
