“How many men are in Hennoch’s army?” Niklas asked, nodding as Melkir replied with a number. If Melkir was correct, Hennoch’s forces were smaller than those Niklas commanded.
“And then there are the mages,” Melkir muttered.
“What about the mages?” Blaine pressed.
Melkir was fading fast. His voice had dropped to a whisper, and his skin was ashen. “Talishte… turn the mages they find… makes them loyal to Reese and Pollard. Find where they’re hiding.” His last words were almost too quiet to hear.
“Get your questions in fast, he doesn’t have much longer,” Carr prodded. Kestel gave him a murderous look.
“Perhaps this is where I come in?” Geir said, looking to Penhallow, then Blaine, for confirmation. “I don’t think the man can tell us more than he has, but I may read things from his blood that he has forgotten he knew—or that he overlooked.”
“You’ll see that he sleeps?” Kestel said, knowing that Geir took her meaning.
“Aye,” Geir replied with a nod. “And he won’t wake.”
The prisoner hung limply against the ropes that held him, and would have fallen had he not been bound. Geir knelt beside him and raised the man’s left forearm in his hands.
“It’s time for you to rest,” he said in a low, smooth voice that Blaine knew would be heavy with compulsion, glamouring Melkir to Geir’s will. Melkir took a deep breath and slumped, eyes closed.
Geir looked to Carr with an expression that made his opinion of the situation clear. “If you ever put us in this position again, I will read your blood once I’m finished with the prisoner’s.” Carr had the good sense not to speak, but anger was clear in his gaze.
Blaine swallowed hard as he watched Geir drink from the prisoner. Geir paused after a few moments, and Blaine guessed it was to process the images the blood had revealed. After a moment, Geir bent his head once more and did not stop until Melkir was dead.
“I can sketch out what I saw later,” Geir said, rising without a fleck of blood on his mouth. “There was more about troop strength, outposts, supply lines that could be helpful.” He shook his head. “I saw his memories. Pollard has Reese’s talishte looking for any mages who haven’t already sworn fealty to a warlord. Once they’re turned, they owe Reese allegiance for several lifetimes, and their magic is guaranteed to be in support of whatever he wants.”
“Lovely,” Kestel said drily.
Geir looked to Blaine and Niklas. “There was one more thing, something that Melkir didn’t understand, so he didn’t realize what it meant. He overheard Pollard assure Hennoch that Reese would be rejoining him very soon.”
“I thought Reese had been sentenced by some talishte tribunal,” Blaine countered, frowning.
Penhallow nodded. “He was. The Elders passed judgment on him, and he’s to be imprisoned in an oubliette for fifty years. No small punishment, even for an immortal.” He paused. “The imprisonment should be secure, even against other talishte.”
“Maybe Pollard was lying,” Kestel said. “Trying to make Hennoch think Pollard still had Reese’s backing.”
Geir shook his head. “Remember—I saw what Melkir saw. It didn’t look like Pollard was spinning a tale.” He met Blaine’s gaze. “I think we have to face the very real possibility that Pollard—and some of Reese’s talishte supporters—believe they can free him.” He gave Penhallow a grim look. “I know this doesn’t make you happy—and it certainly won’t please the Wraith Lord.”
“What about him?” Niklas said, gesturing toward Melkir.
“He’s dead, but most assuredly not turned,” Geir replied. “You can deal with the body as you wish.”
“I should make you bury him,” Niklas said, glowering at Carr.
“He had valuable information,” Carr countered. “And this is war. People die.”
Niklas bit back a retort and turned to the soldiers. “Take the body to the refuse trench, and cover it with rocks. It will do.” He looked back at the others. “I can’t justify putting soldiers at risk to bury him outside the fence.”
Blaine eyed Carr. Anger at the disruption of the wedding mingled with repulsion at the prisoner’s treatment, and concern over Carr’s sanity.
“You didn’t have to come.” Blaine knew that the sharp tone in his own voice masked his disappointment. Long ago, he and Carr had been close.
“I make it a point never to miss food,” Carr said. He took a swig of whiskey from a flask he withdrew from a pouch on his belt.
Carr had made it clear that he would have preferred Blaine stayed in Edgeland. Judith and Mari had welcomed Blaine and his friends back to Glenreith. Carr doesn’t seem to realize that without the army, Glenreith would be easy prey for Pollard’s troops.
Carr tipped his flask in salute. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some of that venison, if there’s any left.” While Niklas was talking quietly with the soldiers, Carr slipped up the steps.
Niklas shot him a glance that gave Blaine to know that his old friend had guessed his thoughts. “Quit blaming yourself for Carr’s bad decisions,” Niklas said. “He’s not a child.”
Blaine sighed. “I know. I just wish he weren’t so out of control. And short of chaining him up in the cellar, I’m not sure how to stop him. We don’t have the extra guards to assign him a jailer.”
“Even Judith can see that Carr hasn’t fully recovered. I’m not sure he ever will.” Niklas shook his head. “Fortunately, he’s only putting himself at risk—at least so far. I’ve tried confining him to quarters, setting him to hard labor, cutting his rations, and he pulls the same kind of fool stunt as soon as he’s free. I have no desire to flog him, and I doubt it would work anyhow,” Niklas added. “The only time he isn’t disruptive is when he goes out on a scouting mission, but it’s always a toss-up as to whether or not he’ll come back again. He seems to up the stakes every time he leaves.” When Blaine said nothing, Niklas paused, then went on. “And you’ll be happy to know,” he added, “Folville’s men are holding their own in Castle Reach. They’ve had some problems with the Tingur, but nothing they can’t handle. I guess Lysander’s had his sights set on other targets.” Before Blaine could answer, Niklas gave him a pointed glance. “This is your wedding day. Let me worry about Carr. Your bride is waiting.”
Blaine nodded. “Thanks,” he said, though Kestel looked as concerned over the situation as he felt. Niklas headed up the steps, but Penhallow laid a hand on Blaine’s shoulder.
“Stay a moment,” he said. Kestel hung back, making it clear by her stance that whatever was to be discussed would include her as well.
“I feel your strain,” Penhallow said quietly, meeting Blaine’s gaze. “The anchoring is taking a toll.”
Blaine nodded. “Not sure yet what to do about it, so I just keep fighting. But we’ll have to figure it out before too long.”
Penhallow nodded. “Dolan and Nidhud are working out the ritual to anchor the magic, but the way magic is right now makes it difficult.” Penhallow looked as if he had been under a great deal of stress, something unusual for a talishte.
“Connor is different,” Blaine said, and he thought that for a second, he saw a flash of guilt in Penhallow’s eyes.
“It was necessary to save his life,” Penhallow replied. “Connor came very close to death.” He grimaced. “I fear Bevin is still coming to terms with the situation.” They fell silent for a moment, and then Penhallow spoke again. “Nidhud spoke with you of the Knights’ proposal?”
“Yes. It was actually what I had hoped would happen anyway,” Blaine responded.
“Nidhud and Dolan are certain Mirdalur is the place where the ritual will be most effective,” Penhallow said.
“I’ll be heading back there with Niklas after the wedding, at least until I’m needed elsewhere,” Geir added.
“Once Dolan is ready, and the mages here feel like they’ve got it worked out, I’m willing to give it a try,” Blaine said. “I’ll be very happy to have the anchoring resolved.�
�
Penhallow nodded. “I think we all will.” He grinned. “But for now, go back to your wedding and forget all this. You’re on home territory, and for the moment, no one’s attacking. The storm should keep it that way for a day or two, at least. Geir and I will stay on watch.”
“And if the information the prisoner provided is valid, it might give us an edge the next time we face off against Hennoch. That’s more than we’ve been able to say for the last several months,” Geir said as he clapped Blaine on the shoulder. “Enjoy it while it lasts. The winds will shift soon enough.”
Geir and Penhallow headed back upstairs, leaving Blaine and Kestel alone on the steps. “Someday, when all this is over, I’ll take you on a proper wedding trip,” Blaine promised.
Kestel chuckled. “Where is there to go? We’ve already been to the edge of the world.”
“There is that,” he admitted. “Maybe we’ll find out that there’s somewhere that didn’t fall to pieces in the Cataclysm.”
At the top of the steps, Blaine took Kestel in his arms and kissed her. “Maybe someday, we can create a place where you’ll be able to really relax without worrying,” he murmured.
Kestel squeezed him tight and leaned into him for a moment. “I can’t say that I’ve ever known what that feels like. But it’s a nice thing to imagine.”
Blaine took Kestel’s hand as they walked toward the great room, where Verran and the others were still playing music. “I wish I could have seen Glenreith before the Great Fire,” Kestel said, looking at her surroundings. “It would have been nice to see it in its heyday.”
Blaine made a face. “Assuming you could have come on a day when my father wasn’t at home,” he replied with a sigh. “And to be honest, though Carr doesn’t remember it this way, Glenreith had seen its best days before Father’s time. Merrill tolerated father because of his military service, but no one liked him.”
“At least your aunt was able to keep the servants on,” Kestel added. “It would have been impossible for Judith and Edward to hold things together with just Carr and Mari.”
Blaine nodded. “Really, where was there to go? A few of the servants went to look for family after the Great Fire, but most of those came back. Judith did her best to make sure everyone was fed and sheltered. And since the Cataclysm, there are precious few supplies to be had even for a pile of gold.”
Despite the candlelight, Blaine could see that the hall looked shabby. Paintings and tapestries that Blaine remembered were missing, sold to raise the cash Judith had needed to keep the manor functioning.
“You seem far away,” Kestel observed.
Blaine managed a self-conscious smile. “Just remembering. I’ve often wondered what would have happened if Father had died on a hunt, or fallen over with a bad heart. I would have taken over the lands and title, and the manor might have had a few prosperous years before the world went up in flames.”
“Maybe,” Kestel said. “I’ve wondered something similar about the night I was caught by the guards. Then again, odds are we’d have both been killed by the Great Fire.”
“Probably so,” Blaine conceded. “I just don’t like knowing that I left them in a lurch.”
Kestel stopped him with a hand on his arm and met his gaze with determination. “Gods above, Mick, you saved their lives.”
“Carr certainly doesn’t see it like that,” Blaine replied.
“Carr may be more like your father than you want to admit,” Kestel said. “If you can’t bring yourself to believe that Carr has changed so much, then blame the Madness.”
Blaine led Kestel to the large window. Moonlight was bright on the snow. From the front gate of the protective walls down to the army camp in the valley ranged a no-man’s land, a wooden stockade patrolled by the army that Niklas commanded. Farther down, Blaine could see Arengarte’s roof and what remained of the old grist mill.
“Carr’s eight years younger than I am,” he said. “When we were children, we spent as much time as we could as far from here as possible to get away from Father.” Blaine smiled sadly. “Mari tagged along.”
He pointed down toward the valley. “We would go fishing, or hunt rabbits, or imagine the most amazing adventures out in the woods.” He sighed. “Carr used to beg me to make a lean-to and let us live there, away from Father. But I knew that sooner or later, we had to come back.”
“You were close then?” Kestel asked quietly.
Blaine nodded. “Carr was only six when Mother died. Mari was just ten. I ended up becoming the parent to both of them.” He was quiet for a moment, remembering.
“I learned how to draw off Father’s attention so that he’d come after me in his temper. When I couldn’t keep them safe, I learned to bind up the wounds, and I found a healer who would treat us in exchange for food we stole from the kitchen.” Blaine shook his head. “When we were without a tutor, I read to them, made sure they learned their lessons.” He fell silent again for a bit. “I would have died for them.”
“You nearly did,” Kestel said. “If Merrill hadn’t known what your father was really like, you would have hanged. You did everything that you could. Mari adores you,” she added. “You can see it whenever she looks at you. You’re her hero.”
“It never really occurred to me that things could get any worse,” Blaine replied. “And the day I killed Father, I didn’t really think at all. I just wanted to make sure he never hurt Mari again. If Carr even crossed my mind, I would have thought about him not having to worry about getting beaten again.” He shook his head. “I never meant to ruin his life.”
Kestel took Blaine by the shoulders. “If it hadn’t been for you, Carr wouldn’t have a life to ruin,” she said. “If anything ruined Carr’s life, it was your father.”
A fierce look burned in Kestel’s eyes. “Those nobles who ostracized your family, who do you think hired me as an assassin to do their dirty work for them? My specialty was killing abusive, philandering husbands and making it look like an accident.”
“Now I’m doubly sorry I didn’t know you back then,” Blaine replied, but the humor of his quip never reached his eyes.
“Your noble peers weren’t horrified that you murdered someone,” Kestel said, temper flaring in her eyes. “They were offended that you did the deed yourself, in broad daylight, and refused to deny it.”
Kestel stretched up to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good man, Mick. But you worry too much, even for a warlord. Carr will find his way, either here with you, or on his own.”
Everyone in the room clapped when Blaine and Kestel rejoined the wedding party. Dawe pressed a glass of whiskey into Blaine’s hand, while Mari offered the same to Kestel. Blaine wandered over to where Verran, Borya, and Desya sat, taking a break from the music. “I never thought you would actually make it back to Glenreith in time for the wedding,” he said. “How’s the traveling-minstrel business?”
“Never a dull moment,” Verran said, in a tone that made it clear that not all of the excitement had been welcome. “Borya and Desya can hold their own quite well in a bar fight, and I’ve been glad more than once for the soldiers and talishte you sent along with us.” He grinned. “By the way, the talishte musicians Geir sent us are rather amazingly good.”
“I’d expect that even you’d improve with a couple of lifetimes’ practice,” Piran said with a grin, joining them. Kestel kicked his shin with a look of feigned innocence, and Piran mock-glowered at her. Blaine sighed, unable to resist smiling at the long-running friendly feud.
“Lysander and Rostivan seem to be the ones we have to worry about,” Borya added. “Penhallow’s forces took over Reese’s old manor at Westbain, and the alliance between Penhallow, some of the Knights of Esthrane, and Voss seems to have that corner of Donderath under control, at least for now.”
“Did you get any feel for the size of the armies, or how well provisioned they were?” Blaine asked, sipping his whiskey.
Borya shook his head. “No. We went around them because we were afraid w
e’d be conscripted if we were seen.”
“Probably a good idea,” Kestel agreed.
“Of course, no one would want to conscript musicians and actors,” Desya added. “What use could we be in a fight?” His feral grin made the irony of his statement clear. Blaine had seen both the brothers in battle, and knew just how lethal they could be. Even Verran, whose fighting usually was limited to throwing rocks, could hold his own. The guards and talishte who accompanied them were even better equipped.
“It’s harder to put spies in place now,” Kestel said, and took a sip of her drink. “Before the Cataclysm, it was easy to have someone sign on as a servant or get an invitation to a ball.” She shook her head. “These warlord groups are going to be tight-knit.”
“And if we can think of having talishte or mages screen new recruits, I imagine it’s occurred to the other warlords, too,” Piran added.
“I think we’ve had as good cover as anyone would get,” Verran said. Blaine glanced at his old friend. Verran looked a bit thinner and scruffier since he had been on the road, but it was clear in every word that he was relishing the action. “No one gives us a second glance.” He shrugged. “It’s like we’re invisible.”
“And we made good money performing, too,” Desya said with a grin. Borya jabbed him with an elbow. “Hey!” Desya protested. “Any money we earn is money Blaine doesn’t have to shell out to keep us in the field. We might even turn a profit.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Borya said. “He means we had money for ale.”
“My minstrel friends and thieving partners are enjoying the adventure,” Verran said. “And they add an air of authenticity.”
“You mean, they’re running from the law,” Piran said drily.
Verran shrugged. “What law? But running, yeah, that, too.”
“We’re not always paid with coin for our effort,” Desya said. “Everyone barters now. But we do usually take in enough in vegetables to have a nice stew for dinner,” he added.
“Is the countryside functioning at all?” Kestel asked, eager for news.
Verran shrugged. “If you mean, does it look like it did before we were shipped off to Velant? No. It looks like it was blown up and burned down and then drowned.”
War of Shadows: Book Three of the Ascendant Kingdoms Saga Page 29
