She nodded. ‘You could lead a force there? Excellent! Bravely done!’ She sounded so pompous that Kunrad had trouble keeping a straight face. No more than a slip of a girl, really, Gille’s age or less, probably, but determined to be taken seriously. Despite her fine features and delicate tip-tilted nose, no doubt. Well, she deserved it. He gave her a very grave bow, hand on heart in the Merthian manner, and she looked surprised.
‘Well, Mastersmith K-Kunrad, I am the Lady Alais Kermorvan, daughter of Lord Ieran Kermorvan of Morvan that was. This is my father’s captain-in-chief, Ferlias. I think it best we take you to our destination, another few days’ journey, and you can present your information to the Lord Warden there.’ Nose still in air, she turned to the captain. ‘Please see they are tended with your man, while we rest briefly. Then they can all lie in the rear carriage on top of the baggage—’ There was a brief squawk from the front carriage. ‘No, Nanny dear, I shall see they do not bleed into it! On blankets, of course. That can be done? Then see to it, please. I –’ she glanced back at the carriage with an air of resignation, ‘– had better ride inside for a little.’
The captain was practically chuckling. ‘Very good, highness! I’m sure you’ll reassure her. Very well, my lads, take your ease in the sun a few moments, and I’ll send you a man with some healing skills. And some food and drink you could use, I guess!’
‘Captain,’ rumbled Olvar, ‘you could just leave the horse.’
The captain glanced at him a little suspiciously, and then at the others, as if Olvar had less right to speak; then allowed himself a stern smile and turned away.
‘Did you see that?’ demanded Gille, amazed, as they waited for their wounds to be tended. ‘As if Olvar was a servant or something!’
Olvar chuckled dismissively. ‘Let ’em!’
‘I guess,’ said Kunrad, painfully easing off his boots, ‘that they’re not too used to his looks down here. Think it sets him apart, maybe; I’ve heard that. But they’re amiable enough, in their way – even Little Lady Bountiful there!’
‘I just wonder how amiable they’ll stay!’ said Gille darkly.
‘I, too. So not a word about our quest, until I say otherwise. I have a debt to collect, and that’s all you know. Later I may tell them more.’
Their hurts were well tended. The Lady Alais, it seemed, had provided salves and bandages from her own travel-chest, and an old sergeant applied them with a skilled hand. They clambered wearily into the carriage, and helped make the injured soldier comfortable there, slung hammock-fashion from the roof. He was cheerful enough about his wounded leg.
‘Luck o’ the draw, isn’t it? Twelve years a trooper, never a scratch and now this!’
‘I’m sorry it was on our account!’ Kunrad told him. ‘And grateful!’
‘Ah, don’t mention it! Got to stick together ’gainst those lousy bandit bastards, haven’t we? Old man Kermorvan’ll see me right! A good lord, even if – well, we all grow old. And the Lord Warden, too. They don’t forget a man! Soft job in the castle guard, most like, or the stores or armoury if I’m really hobbled. No worries …’
Weak with loss of blood, the soldier soon drifted off as the coach rumbled on its way, and the smiths settled down among the blanket-topped chests. The road was scarcely even, and the coach-springs were small answer. Swaying and cramped as they were, though, it was a better bed than they had slept in for some weeks, and with fewer fears and forebodings. Soon they too were deeply asleep.
All the rest of that day they slept, through halts and starts, unmoved, and through the night as well. Morning sunlight, slanting through the carriage window, travelled on to Kunrad’s face, and he awoke, blinking in the warmth and staring at a roof he did not recognise at first. The air seemed impossibly warm and full of strange scents, and from somewhere near by came the sound of running water, soft but massive. There was no sense of movement. Grudgingly and by degrees it all came back to him, and he tried to sit up, winced and stretched. That woke Gille, and he Olvar; the soldier’s hammock hung empty above. They peered out of the window, and saw him stretched out on a grassy slope, noisily eating from a bowl. He waved. ‘Back to life, are we? Thought we’d have to have you stuffed! Morning’s halt to let the ladies rest, an’ you too. There’s breakfast at the fire there. Or you could take a dip first – wish I could!’
There was the sound of splashing from down the slope, and Kunrad suddenly felt the grime of the Marshes encrusted deep into his skin. ‘I stink,’ said Olvar.
‘I agree,’ said Gille. ‘But I’m not exactly rose essence, either. Come on!’
They were halted in a wide meadow beside the banks of the Marsh river, and though it ran black and cold even in this bright sunshine, it was a fairer prospect than its lower reaches. The soldiers, leaping and horsing around at the edge, were startled to see how vigorously the former fugitives raced down to join them.
‘If I’d been weeks a-starving in them hag-bound marshes I’d’a been half way to a frog meself!’ grinned one.
‘Don’t remind me!’ laughed Kunrad, sinking into the chilly shallows with a delicious shudder. ‘I feel like I’m bearing half the muck around with me now!’
Another man jerked a thumb at a rock. ‘Er, there’s a cake o’ soap there, if you use that stuff in the North, like—’
‘Oh, yes!’ said Gille, rolling into a lazy backstroke. ‘All the civilised comforts. We’ve even learned how to wipe our arses, you know – in polite society, that is!’
The soldier grinned weakly. ‘No offence, friend – but I just don’t know, you know? We don’t hear much about you, how you live, like – ’cept tales about, well, good lads an’ all that, stout stuff but a mite – you know?’
‘Barbarians, you mean?’ smiled Kunrad, sitting up to his chest on the grey sand.
‘Well, didn’t mean that exactly—’
‘Don’t blame you in the least,’ Kunrad laughed, ‘especially as we looked when we leapt out at you. We’ve been a shade short of such comforts this last month. Your soap should bring back some of our civilised gloss. We’ll gladly submit to inspection afterwards!’
It had not occurred to Kunrad, weary and desperate as he was, what kind of a figure he must have cut at first, wild-haired, filthy and unshaven. No wonder they had been talking down to him! The soldiers were ignorant, but their attitudes would reflect what most sothrans expected from the North. He would have to spruce himself up to make any kind of good impression, let alone get his story taken seriously, and now was a good time to start.
‘That look a bit more human?’ he asked a while later, tossing the soap to Gille.
‘Well, it’s not muster fashion!’ grinned the soldiers. ‘But you’ll do!’
‘Give the girls a fright, mind!’ added another archly. ‘With them muscles, I mean!’
‘Yeah, should’ve been watching my tongue!’ laughed the soap’s owner. ‘Could tie me in little knots, any of ’em!’
‘Ah well, they’re smiths, see, aren’t they? Keeps ’em in training, all that banging away! Powers, I see what you mean – them poor Northern girls!’
They seemed fascinated by Olvar; even the ones who had left the water sat on the bank to watch him. It turned out they were laying bets to see if he was the same shade all over. Gille bristled, but Olvar himself only laughed mightily, and swapped dubious jokes with them. Kunrad hoisted himself out on the bank and, retrieving their swords, thrust Gille’s upright in the ground as a mirror and began to shave with the edge of his own. This too collected a horrified audience. ‘Either he’s made of saddle-leather or that’s some flamin’ sword!’ was one comment.
‘I’d cut my friggin’ throat if I tried that!’
Kunrad smiled as he felt his skin clean and smooth once again. ‘I wouldn’t do this normally, but my razor’s buried deep in my pack somewhere, if I’ve still got it. Now – where in Hella’s name are my clothes?’
‘Thought you could use ’em washing and that,’ the soldiers laughed. ‘We’ll lend a
couple of spare tunics for now. Top-quality sackcloth, same’s our issue.’
All that long morning they ate and lazed in the hot sun, and it was only at midday that their clothes reappeared, to their great surprise very neatly mended of the worst tears and snags they had suffered.
‘That was the ladies done that,’ said the soldier who brought them.
‘The ladies? That was … very kind of them! I wouldn’t have expected—’
‘She’s a peach,’ grinned the soldier. ‘Goes all grand on you, but underneath she really cares! There’s some treat you fine, but – no touch, know what I’m saying? And there’s one or two treat you … well, maybe you’ve got ’em too.’
‘Not so many,’ said Kunrad. ‘And in the North we don’t let ’em lord it so much. A rich merchant’s a man you hearken to, if you’ve any sense, but a man nonetheless like any other.’
‘Sounds better all the time, friend!’ He eyed the black tunic Kunrad was pulling on, and the gold embroidery around its neck. ‘Seems to me you might be one of the better ones yourself, though. You a big bug up there?’
‘Any mastersmith counts for something, yes. We’re respected. But nothing like a lord, and I wouldn’t want to be!’
‘Dunno why not!’ said the soldier a little ruefully. ‘You might make a better stab at it than most!’
‘Stabbing’s not my strong point, I suppose.’
‘And that might be why. It’s often the best lords as like it least, say I! Well, there’s my sergeant’s sweet voice a-callin’! I’ll take the tunics for you, sir. Good day!’
‘Sir!’ said Gille. ‘That’s new!’
‘Yes, I noticed. I wish he hadn’t, somehow. I – never mind!’ Kunrad pulled on his sheepskin jerkin and stretched luxuriously. The heavy cloth of the tunic was still a little damp, but after the Marshes he hardly noticed.
‘Can’t blame him, though!’ said Olvar.
‘That’s so,’ agreed Gille. ‘You’re beginning to look the part again, Mastersmith. More than ever, maybe.’
He held up his sword, and Kunrad blinked with surprise. He had changed, though he would not have noticed until now. It was partly the hair, grown longer so it had to be pulled back. But the amiable roundness had been worn from his face, and some, at least, of the vagueness from his eyes. The shape of his bones showed through his cheeks now, and it was a squarer-looking chin he tilted to the reflection. The lines were deeper, too, graven marks of experience on a countenance grown stronger and more alert.
‘Suits him, I’d say,’ remarked Gille. ‘Goes with that commanding air he’s come by – man who keeps his promises, that kind of thing!’
‘Well, I did, didn’t I?’
‘Oh sure,’ said Olvar. ‘But we can’t be having you getting all swell-headed about it, can we? Our duty to look after you, o mighty master, hand and foot and – well, there’s thanks for you!’
‘Didn’t think he even knew what that gesture meant!’ agreed Gille. ‘Hold hard, here comes our host!’
The captain greeted them as he strode down the hill, mopping his brow. Evidently he had not been swimming, and regretted it. He stared at Kunrad as he rose to greet him. ‘They told me you were recovered, but I hardly guessed – a tough-fibred race, you nordinneichs must be. Well it is, then, for my lady sends me to ask if any of you would rather ride today, we having spare mounts.’
Olvar preferred the carriage, but Gille and Kunrad chose horses, and Kunrad attracted more attention as he mounted. The horses were huge compared to the short-legged Northland breeds, leaving Gille at some disadvantage, but Kunrad’s long limbs suited his very well. The captain gave an order, and the column formed itself around the coaches once again. ‘Where shall I ride?’ Kunrad asked him.
‘Why, wherever it likes you, sir,’ said the captain, ‘front or rear, so you don’t get in the way of the carriage teams. If trouble threatens, take post by me and let the spears take the first of it, as is sound tactics. You and I and your lad there, we’ll back ’em up. But I don’t expect more, not now.’
‘I’m told the corsairs have been striking inland in the South here as well, though.’
‘That they have, sir, this deep inland and further, even to the hills. But chiefly using the river to bring their bloody reivers in through the Marshes, and we’re turning south from the river now. They don’t normally cross the Marshes, not them!’
‘Yes, and I can give you about a hundred good reasons why!’ Kunrad shivered. ‘I wondered. Of course they had to send out foot parties after us.’
‘That’s so. And by what you say, it looks like we’ll be boating back the other way now!’ The captain rubbed his hands. ‘So it be that my Lord Warden can make the Syndics stir down there in Ker Bryhaine. They never take enough heed of what happens so far north. I would you were bound that way yourself. You might put the fear on them properly!’
‘Well, captain, as it happens, I may be. I was on my way south when we were taken, so—’
The captain nudged him gently, and tipped his head to one side. Kunrad looked that way, and saw the Lady Alais come riding out from behind the carriage. He did his best to bow on horseback, and again it seemed to surprise her.
‘Well, Master K-Kunrad, you seem in good health already!’ She had a pleasant smile, when she wasn’t acting a part, thought Kunrad.
‘Thanks to your care, lady. We were never more lucky in our lives than to happen upon you!’
She nodded. ‘As well you did, for that road is not used so much these days. The corsairs have raided the fords where it crosses the river, further north, and plundered so many of the villages and farms—’ She shook her head furiously. ‘Something must be done. Maybe you’ll be the key! I was happy to help you, and I’m richly rewarded if that’s so!’
Kunrad bowed again. ‘But what reason brought you on such a perilous path, lady?’
She laughed, and then hastily assumed a haughty face again. ‘The very best! I’m going to be married!’
‘Oh,’ said Kunrad. ‘My … compliments, lady. And best wishes! May I ask who the lucky man is?’ He suddenly felt a complete loathing for whoever it was.
She smiled, warmly, looking past him to the south. ‘The Lord Warden. And I’m the lucky one, I’m sure! He’s such a man. So powerful, but … well, you’ll meet him. He’ll like you, I’m sure!’
‘The Marchwarden, is this? So his realm is around here somewhere?’
She smiled again. ‘All around here, everywhere. He rules the whole north of our land, as a viceroy almost. All this is his realm, you know, from the mountains to the sea. Even my father holds his land and castle from him. Of course he’s not a young man any more, but he’s wise and good and kind …’ She prattled on, while Kunrad tried to formulate tactfully a question that had to be asked.
‘Forgive me, lady,’ he put in, when he could, ‘but do you know of a place called Anlaithann?’
She stared. ‘Of course. It’s in the far south, near the edges of the desert. They grow a lot of fruit there. Why do you ask?’
Kunrad felt deeply relieved. ‘I … well, I have my own reasons for coming south. I was travelling to collect a debt there. A debt, and justice.’
She nodded. ‘Then again, you had best ask the Lord Warden, than leave it to the Syndics. He is a just man, and will smooth your path, where the Syndics would be unlikely to lift a finger. So few people are troubled these days.’
‘I think there were always few. It’s a matter of how many of them are in power at any one time. It changes from one generation to the next. You now, you care, and I’m grateful! You stopped that charge, you risked yourself at our side … And you’ve even turned needlesmith for us!’
She laughed at the Northern nickname for a tailor. ‘It was no trouble, believe me. I was bored, I don’t get enough to do with my hands. And I learned a little about you. That’s gold bullion thread around your collar, isn’t it? And those characters mean something, that’s clear. I should have known you were a man of consequence, even
before you were cleaned up.’
‘Of no consequence to equal yours, lady!’ he answered, a little irritably. ‘A mastersmith is much less than a lord. We don’t have lords, I’m afraid.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ she said, with mouth slightly pursed. ‘All men equal and rule by the people, that’s it, isn’t it? Except that some people rule more than others, don’t they? A lot more. Those with the money, the family, the connections – or, I suppose, the talent. Just like ours, really; for if you have those, then you will become a lord in our land these days, or a Syndic, which is worse. So why do Northerners pretend their ways are any better? It is a pretence, isn’t it? A sham, a … a semblance of rudery and wildness you insist on keeping up!’ She snorted. ‘Like this jerkin of yours! So rough and wild it looks, as if you’d just stuck a half-tanned sheepskin over your shoulders. But it isn’t, is it? It’s made to look that way, very carefully made. Lots of little diamond-shapes of sheepskin, all carefully laid together on some very soft leather lining—’
‘Doeskin. They’ve some special way of tanning it—’
‘It’s beautiful, yes! But if you can make stuff like that, or that tunic of yours, why dress up as a barbarian?’
‘Look, that’s not the point! The jerkin’s made like that so it can be repaired easily – when a piece of fleece gets torn or old, you replace it. It’s tough and it’s comfortable and it lasts. And it’s warm, it keeps the wind out; and that’s important in the North. We’ve made jerkins like that for hundreds of years, since Morvan or before.’
‘And you go on wearing them, just to be obstinate! Pretending, just as with all that beautiful jewellery and stuff you people make. And swords and things too – it’s all marvellously made, you’re very clever at handicrafts, so why make yourselves out to be superstitious savages? You don’t need to go on pretending you put all kinds of magical powers into it.’
‘We do,’ said Kunrad, so simply and baldly that she stared. ‘Put them in, I mean. Though I’ve never thought of them as magical, at least the way you mean it. It’s just part of our skill, our unity with the things we make.’
The Castle of the Winds Page 20
