by Jane Glatt
“You’re about as much fun as my grandmother,” Eryl grumbled. “Now’s the time I normally get out of bed, not into it. No ale, no night life, you’re going to ruin my reputation.”
“As long as you’re alive to have a reputation I’ll shoulder that blame gladly,” Kane said. Despite his complaints, Eryls’ snores soon filled the small room and Kane was left to stare at the dark ceiling and worry about Brenna.
Brenna looked down on the small village. Actually, village was too grand a title for the four rough houses and stable that clustered at the edge of the cove. A pier jutted out into the water and she breathed deeply, the salty tang of the sea filling her senses. Dasid had gone down to the village, leaving the rest of them huddled on a rocky outcropping to the side of the trail. He would come back and get them if all was well but if they didn’t hear from him, well, they were to turn and leave.
Brenna sighed. She didn’t have enough of Neemah’s tea or libo nuts to make it back through the mountains. For her at least, her journey must continue onward.
“Have you heard from Dasid yet?” Pater asked, stepping up to her side.
She looked over at him, shading her eyes with her hand.
“No.” In truth she hadn’t even tried to reach him through old steel. She just didn’t trust herself. Other than the one contact with Kane she’d shut her powers down as completely as she had on the trip through the mountains. Right now she was the same as everyone else and she planned to keep it that way. At least that way she wouldn’t hurt anyone.
“The gods gave ye a gift, Brenna,” Pater said and she had to look away from the disappointment in his eyes. “To ignore that is an insult to them.”
“A gift,” she said. “What kind of gift lets me kill a man simply for helping me?”
“The kind that also lets ye save hundreds. Dasid told me about the fire - that Kane said they saved most of the Quarter and lost no lives, thanks to one of yer visions. And what about when ye saved the Duchess and her man? If ye’d not had yer gifts they would’ve died at the hands of the High Bishop.” Pater looked back over his shoulder. “And then there’s me’n this wagon train. I know I was done fer when ye pulled me from the line. By using yer gift. It’s an insult to me and everyone ye saved for ye to see only bad in yer gift. And none of us want ye to stop now. It might be our relative or friend ye could save next but didn’t cause ye can’t take the bad with the good.” Pater shook his head and walked away, leaving Brenna to stare out at the sea.
He didn’t understand, she thought. Mistakes that she made with her powers brought so much more pain than other mistakes. And it made her feel evil, like Duke Thorold.
The villagers were friendly, Dasid said when he returned, and the ship was due in two days. The men pretending to be prisoners would be housed in the stable with the horses - Dasid and Wils would guard them. The rest would camp close by. Dasid asked everyone to be careful around the villagers. They were still in Comack, after all, and he didn’t want anyone to feel the need to report them to Thorold’s militia. The less Duke Thorold knew they safer they’d all be.
Beldyn’s face paled and Thorold smiled and leaned back in his chair. He’d sent the boy to visit the High Bishop twice, reminding Valden that marks or permanent damage would not be tolerated. There had been no more outbursts from Beldyn since. Even now, when he must know what this meant, he held his tongue.
“You’ll be happy to see your brother Liam again, I’m sure,” Thorold said, toying with some scrolls on his desk. “He’s always been such a dutiful son.”
“He’s very young,” Beldyn said. “He was just ten last year.”
Despite the fact that he was king, Thorold had not given his son permission to sit and Beldyn stood in front of his desk.
“He’s old enough to be named your heir,” Thorold said, promising himself that he would not make the same mistakes with his youngest son. “After all, no one would expect a young healthy king to die anytime soon. Liam should have plenty of time to grow into a man.” He smiled when Beldyn closed his eyes briefly then squared his shoulders.
“Yes, I am in excellent health and if the circumstances are right I should expect to live a long life.”
“Indeed. If the circumstances are right.” Thorold turned to Fridrick. “See to it that the ceremony is held in the square in front to the church of the One-God. I want all of Kingsreach to know that this choice of heir is blessed not only by the king but by the One-God as well. Kingsreach will bear witness when King Beldyn ensures the continuity of the throne and names Liam his heir. I want this to be the most lavish such ceremony in Kingsreach history.”
“Yes, my Lord Duke. I will look at the old records to see what has been done in the past.” Fridrick bowed low and backed toward the door. “This ceremony will outdo them all.”
“Good,” Thorold said. “I’m expecting neither Aruntun nor Fallad to attend so make whatever changes to the ceremony you need to conceal their absence.”
Once Fridrick scuttled out the door, nodding and bowing, Thorold turned back to his son.
“That’s the type of behavior I expect from those in my household,” Thorold said to Beldyn. “I suggest you take note. It would go a long way to making sure the circumstances are right for a long life for you. Now be off.” He waved his hand to dismiss his son. “You have eight days until the ceremony. I suggest you contemplate this discussion until then.” Thorold bent his head over a sheaf of paper, noting with satisfaction how quietly Beldyn left the room.
Once Liam was named heir to the throne he had no more need for Beldyn. He’d worked so hard and planned so carefully to gain control of Soule that he wouldn’t let anyone - not even his son - get in the way. But he saw his great mistake now. All those years when he’d needed to be close to Mattias he’d let his influence over Beldyn weaken. But he had another chance with another son. Liam he would keep close, Liam he would shower with attention, and Liam’s education and friends would be managed by him. And Liam would be kept away from Beldyn. He could not risk the power Beldyn might have over his younger brother. After all, they’d had ten years together, for the most part outside of his own influence. He would not allow the older son to poison the younger one.
Thorold picked up another scroll and scanned it before he quickly crumpled it. King Mannel’s latest missive. He neither committed to, nor refused, Thorold’s request. Without him Fallad would be lost. Damn that witch and her influence over Duke Ewart.
If he was forced to dispose of Beldyn he lost the opportunity to tie Mannel to him through his daughter. Princess Evlan was sixteen and not likely to wait for Liam to grow up. Not unless her father commanded it and that seemed unlikely. Thorold’s lip curled up in disgust. By all accounts King Mannel doted on his daughter and would never force her do anything she didn’t want. Even the current negotiations depended on her favorable reaction to Beldyn.
Sighing, Thorold reached for the next sheet of correspondence. He’d find a solution, he always did. But for now, he’d have Liam named heir.
fourteen
Brenna watched as the ship was unloaded. The crates were transferred to small dinghy’s that were then rowed ashore by men with skin tanned a deep mahogany. Despite the chill in the air the sailors were barefoot. She sighed as the figures clambered up and down the rigging. Once the ship was underway those men would still be nimble while she would be pitching to the deck every few steps. Between the mountains and the ship this was the worst type of journey she could ever make.
She rose and dusted the sand off her breeches and headed over to Dasid. “Looks like we’ve a fair wind for the start,” she said, shading her eyes against the sun. They had only a few more hours to get everything unloaded and get themselves onboard before the tide went back out.
“Is it good luck or good planning?” Dasid asked.
“Luck,” she said and abruptly turned away, heading down towards the water.
She still hadn’t used her magic, at least not on purpose. Although when she’d set
the broken leg of one of the villagers she’d muttered a strengthening spell before she realized it. She’d then spent half the night despairing over ever being able to control her power. If she returned to Aruntun perhaps Mistress Utley could teach her some ways to manage or even get rid of her abilities but until then she wanted to minimize her use of them. But she knew there would be a time when she’d need to use her power again. She knew it and was afraid.
Soon the supplies for the village were unloaded and their party was rowed aboard. The horses and wagon remained in the village, along with a few of Dasid’s men. They would take them back over the mountain pass, hopefully evading Duke Thorold’s militia. Dasid assured her that the three men were his most seasoned woodsmen and that all of them had preferred their chances on the mountains rather than taking to the sea. Brenna could understand not wanting to sail, at least.
Brenna struggled to stay on her feet as she made her way to the hold with the others. She gratefully sank to the deck of the hold, content to let Dasid and Wils supervise the boarding of the rest of the men and women.
“Well lass, it’s not much of a sendoff fer a queen visiting a king.” Pater sat down beside her and leaned his back against a crate.
“Less likely to raise any questions,” Brenna replied. She’d been trying not to think about her meeting with Mannel but she’d have nothing else to do for the six days that it would take to get to Whitehaven.
“Dasid is going to talk to the captain soon as we set sail. Seems to think the man’s an honest one and don’t like transporting slaves at all.”
“That’s good,” Brenna said. “It would mean no one has to stay in the hold.”
“Yep. Not that you’re like to venture about much.” Brenna looked up at Pater to see him grinning at her. “I hear from Dasid that ye don’t get along too well on a ship.”
“I wish he hadn’t said anything,” Brenna said. Pater chuckled and she bristled. “It’s not funny.” Her face flushed and she remembered the humiliation she’d felt on the Sea Sprite when she’d fallen flat on her face day after day.
“No, I don’t suppose it is to you. But he got a perfect right to tell,” Pater said. “He’s in charge and you’re his responsibility. Anything that might make you less capable, well, he needs to know. He told me ‘cause he wants me to keep an eye on ye, that’s all.”
“I don’t need someone looking after me.” How dare Dasid ask Pater to watch her as though she was a child?
“Ye do, lass. The last few days ye been in a mood. Now there’s no use denying it,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest. “We all seen it and Dasid, like I said, he’s in charge. But without you this mission will fail and all our efforts to get ye to Langemore will be fer naught.”
“If he’s so worried then why hasn’t he talked to me?”
“Told me he’d tried to talk to ye about it and ye got mad like it weren’t his business and walked away.”
“Well, he didn’t try very hard then,” she said. She ducked her head in shame. Dasid had approached her a few times and she hadn’t been willing to listen.
“No, but I s’pose he thought it better to live and try again later.” Pater gave her a long look. “Not the best idea, making a powerful witch mad at ye.”
“But I wouldn’t hurt him,” she said, and then her shoulders slumped. But she had hurt Gaskain. She’d killed him and she hadn’t even noticed.
“I know that,” Pater said. “But still, ye hafta agree, making the most powerful witch ever known angry isn’t the best idea.”
And Brenna did agree. Even her friends were afraid of her, and with good cause.
“Brenna, I know ye’re still upset about Gaskain but ye have to get past it.”
“How can I? I used him up and killed him with no more thought than if he was a fly.”
“Did ye like Gaskain?” Pater asked and she nodded. “Aye, Dasid says he was a fine man and Wils, he and Gaskain practically grew up together in Duke Ewart’s militia.” Pater looked directly into her eyes. “And I’m tellin’ ye that the most disrespectful thing ye can do to the man is make him yer excuse for not seein’ this through. He believed in ye Brenna, and he died trying to help ye. Don’t dishonor him by doing less than ye’re able to, or not using all the skills and talents the gods saw fit to give ye.”
Brenna watched Pater walk away, her teeth clenched in anger. How dare he? He had no idea what she’d done, what she’d become. She had Thorold’s blood and was true to the line. Her tears caught her by surprise, angry as she was. But once she started she couldn’t stop and she sobbed quietly as she sat alone in the hold. She hadn’t asked for any of this, not once. All she’d ever wanted was to be able to live her life as she saw fit. Now she was constantly being forced to do things she didn’t want to do. Like kill a friend.
But the last thing she’d wanted was to insult Gaskain’s memory, and Pater was right, she had. After such a sacrifice he deserved better from her. Wiping her tears away, Brenna made herself two promises. First, she would not let Gaskain’s death cripple her and keep her from using magic and second, she would never, ever kill a friend again. Not even to save herself. She would not pay that high a price again.
The ship they sailed on was named the Swiftsure and when Brenna finally lurched her way to the deck, she was introduced to Captain Filbee and his first mate Telfer. Pater noticed her weaving across the deck and grabbed her, otherwise she would have landed at the good captain’s bare feet.
“Brenna,” Dasid said when she joined him and the captain. “Captain Filbee has expressed his relief that there are no actual slaves.”
“Aye, I didn’t like takin’ them afore but I thought they’d just be left in that ramshackle village by them other guards,” the captain said, scanning the horizon. “Couldn’t let that happen, being that they were such a sorry lot already.”
“So what happened to them?” Brenna asked. She lost her balance and stumbled into Pater, who grunted as her weight hit him.
“I sent ‘em to a friend in Whitehaven,” Filbee said, his eyes on her as she tried to stay upright. “He’ll have found them work by now I suppose. Are you all right Mistress? You’re not going to be seasick the whole trip are you?”
“No, I’m not so lucky as that,” Brenna said. “I’m a healer. Seasickness I can fix. I can’t seem to stay on my feet. I’ve been on one other sea journey and I never got used to the motion.”
“Never got your sea legs, hmm?” Filbee looked her up and down. “Didn’t happen to ship with Captain Chaffer did you?” he asked and Brenna groaned.
“Don’t tell me I’m the laughing stock of the whole coastline,” she said. She grabbed onto Pater again as her feet threatened to slide out from under her. “Bad enough Rian Chaffer and his whole crew knew, please don’t tell me I’m an amusing story told in pubs from here to Smithin.” Brenna felt her face redden with humiliation.
“Not in that way,” Filbee said quietly and she looked up to see him nod to her. “Captain Chaffer said to look out for you is all. Said there’s a healer with no sea legs but that she’s precious cargo, the most precious there is. He said to take you wherever you want to go and give whatever help you need.”
“Oh, well, that was kind of him,” Brenna said.
“Not kind at all, really,” Filbee said. “Sea faring folk, we stick together. We usually let you that live on the land worry about who rules which piece of rock but we know that bad politics on land make for bad business at sea. Chaffer says you’re the one to straighten things out.”
Brenna looked up at Dasid, who nodded at her. She sighed. That’s as clear as it could get, she supposed. She was the one who was to straighten things out.
“I guess that’s true enough,” she said. She was aware that both Pater and Dasid relaxed at her words. Brenna took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Brenna quickly settled into a routine aboard the Swiftsure. She spent the short days on deck, trying to soak up as much of the weak, fall sun as possible. Two fu
ll nights were spent communicating with Kane and others of the Brotherhood.
She finally told Kane about Gaskain. She felt his sorrow through the old steel but he’d echoed Dasid and Pater - Gaskain had been a Brother and sworn to help her and he would have been proud that he had, despite the cost to him. It didn’t ease her heart much, but at least Kane didn’t blame her for his death.
Kane and Eryl had been staying in one of the old hiding places Brenna had insisted they keep and she was grateful to her cautious, younger self. The place she’d chosen so many years ago now was now a safe haven for Kane. Eryl was venturing out at night but Kane was staying put. Thorold’s troops were looking for him and he didn’t have the thief skills Eryl had.
Brenna had only ever been able to contact Marcus Brunger through old steel with Kane at her side, boosting her power, but Eryl had been able to get word to him through his network. The Guild Master would leave food and water in a safe place for Eryl to pick up. He also promised to forward any messages he received to Kane in the same way. Without Gaskain for Brenna to contact, word from Silverdale was hard to get. Unfortunately written messages were over a week old by the time they reached the Guild Master’s hands, but it was the best they could do.
Brenna’s conversations with Yowan and Madelay were soothing. Her grandparents both agreed that Gaskain’s death was a tragedy but that she owed it to him to succeed and use all her talents. On the second night Avery joined them, relaying through Yowan that all good leaders had doubts about abusing those who were pledged to them and that Avery would be suspect of one who did not.
Brenna’s deepest fears were finally laid to rest by a comment from the Duchess of Aruntun. She said that Brenna’s struggle with Gaskain’s death only proved how unlike Thorold she was. Avery was certain that Duke Thorold had never lost sleep over his abuse of one of his men, just as she was sure his only regret in handing Neal to the High Bishop was that he had escaped and still lived.
