by Duncan Lay
Gokmen glowered at her then snapped out orders in Kottermani.
“If you are not pregnant then we are as good as dead,” Ely muttered, her teeth almost chattering in fear.
Bridgit merely gave her a wink.
It was obviously a nervous wait for Ely but Bridgit was curious to see what this doctor was and if he was anything like a priest or priestess. He turned out to be an elderly man with kind eyes and soft hands, who handed her a clean jug to fill with urine. That was strange enough but then he sniffed it carefully and took a mouthful, rolling it around his mouth with a thoughtful expression before spitting it out and washing out his mouth. Bridgit did not know whether to be fascinated or revolted.
She watched as the doctor and Gokmen spoke quickly.
“He says he has more tests to do that will take two days to be sure but he believes you are pregnant,” Ely said softly, relief in her voice.
“Can he tell if it will be a healthy babe?” Bridgit asked urgently.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” the girl admitted.
Bridgit felt her heart slump a little at that but rallied as Gokmen approached.
“It seems you are telling the truth,” he said roughly. “For now anyway. But I shall speak to Prince Kemal on his return.”
“Ask him carefully, if you value your life,” Bridgit advised. “For he listens to me.”
“So what do I do with them?” Gokmen gestured towards the two frightened women.
“Let them go. They have been punished enough by a morning in the sun. And everyone knows what will happen if they do anything else. But you should tell your guards to let my people have a break for a piss now and again, with all the water they are drinking. And you can send that doctor down to come and see the children, as well.”
Gokmen hesitated for a long moment and she had to quell a sudden shudder of fear that he would order her punished anyway. But then he began shouting at his men and she did not need Ely to translate to know the slave master had buckled to her bluff. The two women were freed, pausing just long enough to kiss her hand.
“Thank you! Bless you!” they said.
“The baby is Fallon’s,” she whispered, embracing them. “I lied to them, but we shall be long gone before they discover it.”
They hid quick smiles, bowing their heads, before heading back to the fields.
“Now, escort me back. It is too hot out here,” she said, hiding her triumph and wanting to sit down somewhere cool before she vomited in public.
*
Gokmen did not accompany them back, something for which Bridgit was heartily grateful. She was barely able to believe what she had done. Yet the way the guards kept away from her said it had worked. Of course there would be all sorts of trouble when Prince Kemal returned, so she had to be away by then. That was the only thing that would save her unborn child. The icy despair that had gripped her melted away in the heat of that knowledge. She looked around the city as they walked, trying to understand it.
“Ely, tell the guards we must walk back through the markets. The children are getting bored of the food they are given and I need to see what else is available,” she said.
Ely looked back at her worriedly. “They will not like that,” she said slowly.
“Tell them Prince Kemal’s baby will become sick without it. And they will be punished when he returns and I tell him,” Bridgit fired back.
Ely gaped at her and she shoved the girl towards the guards. “Quick now!”
The guards had argued briefly among themselves before agreeing, as she knew they would. It was a dangerous game, but now she was playing it, there was no way to stop. So Bridgit and Ely found themselves walking through one of the city’s markets, the nervous guards about three paces behind. She doubted the guards could hear them talk and, even if they did, they wouldn’t understand what was being said. They would be able to tell if there was an argument under way though, so she decided to keep things light.
“So, where did you learn our language?” she asked Ely.
“That is not important.”
Bridgit heard the tone in Ely’s voice and cursed herself. She needed to start this far more gently if she was going to win Ely over. She was a slave: of course she was going to be suspicious.
“Well, what do you think the children might like to eat?” She changed direction. “They are bored of lamb, flat bread and dates. You must have potatoes here?”
Ely shook her head. “It is the wrong season for them. They are grown in a different part of the empire, anyway. But maybe they would like to try oranges.”
“And what are they? Some kind of animal?”
At this Ely burst out laughing, a surprised giggle that she covered with her hand.
Bridgit was torn between feeling foolish at having said something silly and relieved that she had made Ely laugh.
“No, they are a fruit. They are shaped like a ball and when you tear the skin off, there is sweet, juicy flesh beneath.”
“I like the sound of that. Anything else? What was your favorite when you were a child? If you liked it, I am sure the rest of the children will enjoy it.”
Bridgit congratulated herself as Ely thawed out gradually, talking about some fluffy grain that soaked up meat juices and gravy.
She was glad she had taken the time to speak to the young woman, for she drew involuntarily nearer to Ely when they entered the market. It took Bridgit back to the first day in Adana, when they had been overwhelmed by the smells and noises of the strange place.
She was thankful she wore the hood, for it allowed her to hide her surprise and her disgust at some of the things she saw.
The meat stalls were the worst. She had seen sheep and pigs and cattle butchered before, of course, but the strange, tall animals with the humped backs, were a revolting sight. Meat was meat but the lines of animal heads, tongues lolling out, flies landing on them, turned her already-fragile stomach.
The fish was a much more welcome sight.
“Can you ask the guards to bring us fresh fish for the children?” she asked Ely.
The young woman pulled a horrified face. “I would not do that,” she said. “They will send us only the ones they cannot sell, that have been sitting in the hot sun all day.”
Bridgit sighed. “Then the fish will have to wait for some cooler weather. I take it there is cooler weather here?”
“Not much,” Ely warned. “In other parts of the Empire it changes but here the sun is always hot.”
Bridgit thought about that. “How big is the Empire then?”
Ely chuckled. “I have been told that if you set off on a fast horse, you could ride around it in perhaps ten years. It goes on and on, takes in all different countries and people.”
“Have you seen much of it?” Bridgit asked carefully, trying to approach the question she really wanted to ask in a different way.
Ely looked at her but then shook her head. “Hardly any.”
Bridgit was tempted to press but decided to take it easy, instead. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a stall full of strange nuts.
Ely showed her the fruit and the nuts and Bridgit made a point of trying as many as possible, encouraging Ely to do the same. At first the stallholders sneered at them but Ely said something to the guards and they instantly changed their tune, going from angry to fawning in a moment.
“The name of Prince Kemal carries much power here,” the young woman explained.
There were many interesting things to try, but although Bridgit liked the strange nuts, she did not want to bring any back for the children in case they choked on them. The oranges were another matter entirely. Sweet and juicy, they made her tongue tingle.
“It was almost worth coming here just to taste them,” she told Ely with a smile. “The children will love these!”
Some quick-fire Kottermani later and they found themselves returning to the house with sacks of oranges, and the promise of more to come.
Nola and Riona were ho
rrified at the punishment Bridgit had averted, relieved that she had stopped it, happy that the decisive Bridgit was back and shocked at the way the children fell upon the oranges like a flock of seagulls onto fish scraps. Then the doctor arrived, carrying a bag full of strange powders and seemingly wanting to give one or more to every child.
All three were kept busy cleaning off sticky faces and fingers so the children were in a fit state to see the doctor, and Bridgit saw another way to work on Ely. “Ely! Can you clean up those three over there?” she called, pointing to where three girls sat, a pile of orange peel around them, licking their fingers and laughing.
For a moment she thought the young woman would refuse but then the girls held out their hands to her and she went across to them.
“Watch these ones,” Bridgit hissed to Nola. “I’ll go and talk to her again.”
She hurried across to where Ely was trying to wash off the sticky juice with a little water. “Do you need a hand?” she asked gently.
“I think we have the last of it,” Ely said, letting the girls race off.
“You are good with them. Do you have younger brothers or sisters?” Bridgit asked.
For a long moment she did not think Ely was going to answer. “I have a younger sister,” she said in a whisper.
“You must miss her.”
Ely nodded, a tear trickling down her cheek.
“I bet you wish your parents were free.”
Ely nodded again, the tears falling faster now. “They are both dead now,” she said hollowly.
“I am so sorry.” Bridgit did not even think about what she did next. She just reached out and hugged the girl, bringing her into an embrace.
Ely stiffened and for a moment Bridgit thought she had made a terrible mistake, then the young woman dissolved into tears and sobbed into her chest. Luckily Bridgit had plenty of experience in looking after crying children. “There, there, you are safe now and among friends,” she said softly, patting the girl’s back.
But, inside, she was rejoicing. Surely she had found the key to escape here.
CHAPTER 7
Fallon carried his shillelagh, as normal, but also had both his sword and a pair of knives. Brendan had stripped the leather and wooden hilts off a handful of small daggers, making something that was pure metal and so immune to a Fearpriest’s powers. They were unbalanced and Fallon doubted they would be easy to throw, but he needed as many weapons as he could find. Inside he was cold. His decision was made and he yearned for his chance to avenge Cavan.
His three friends followed a few paces behind. Nobody else had been willing to come with him but his friends had insisted. Yet he could not rob them of their chance to find their families or Gallagher of the chance of happiness with Rosaleen.
He was filled with a mixture of hatred and anger as he pushed open the waiting-room door with his left hand, right hand on one of the stripped-down knives.
“Right on time,” Regan told him evenly. “I am pleased to see that.”
Fallon did not bother to reply, he just stared across the room to where Swane stood with his back to them. He was dressed well, in what looked like the style of clothes Cavan would wear. His hair was cut like Cavan and, despite knowing that Cavan was gone, for a moment, Fallon felt his heart jump, for he looked so much like the dead Prince.
He took a step towards Swane before Captain Kelty and a dozen guards formed a barrier. If Aidan had been there too Fallon might still have run at them but he wanted them both.
“The nobles did not send for Prince Cavan to mediate for them in their meeting before they see the King,” Fallon said, watching the way Swane was standing there, all relaxed, no shackles on him, as if he were mocking them.
“They did, but the Prince sent his apologies. I believe the Duchess Dina was forced to serve in that capacity,” Regan said evenly, betraying no hint of surprise at the news the nobles had been meeting in secret. “Time to go in.”
Fallon wanted to wait but decided it was better to look like he was beaten and then strike later. He forced his feet to take him closer to Swane as Regan opened the door into the meeting hall.
“My Lords and Lady! Prince Cavan!” he announced loudly.
Fallon could hear chairs scraping back as the nobles rose to their feet, then he led the way in, Devlin, Gallagher and Brendan falling in behind Swane. Fallon’s back itched to have Swane behind him but nothing happened as he took up position where Swane would sit, marking where he would like to put his dagger. Time dragged before Regan opened the door again.
“His Majesty King Aidan the Second!” Regan shouted and the nobles applauded.
Fallon watched Swane clap along with the rest of them, appearing to be slightly bored by it all, and clenched his teeth and his fists.
“That’s it. Just look like you usually do, as if there’s a foul stench under your nose,” Kelty whispered to him as he took up his position to Fallon’s right, behind the King. Fallon was tempted to make his move then but Kelty was watching him like a hawk. Patience, he told himself. Your time will come.
“Let the meeting begin!” Aidan called, thumping the table.
Fallon let it all wash over him. He could only stand it because he knew what would come at the end.
Then he glanced down the table and caught the eye of the Duchess Dina. Alone of the others, she was not staring at the King, her expression rapt. Instead she was looking at Swane and up to Fallon. He saw her raise an eyebrow at him, then he broke eye contact, worried he might give something away.
She said nothing, however. At least, nothing about who was sitting in Prince Cavan’s seat. When she did join in the conversation, it was to flatter the King and make him laugh and, usually, get him to agree with what she wanted.
She wasn’t the only one doing it, but she was better at it than most.
On and on it went, until finally Aidan thumped the table. “I have one final announcement,” he said loudly. “You know that my wife sadly died from a strange illness nearly fifteen summers ago. Since then I have remained unmarried.”
The nobles all made sounds of sympathy but Fallon only remembered Cavan’s story – how Aidan had beaten and raped his wife until she killed herself.
“I have been alone, without companionship since then,” Aidan went on.
Again, the nobles murmured their support, while Fallon bit his lip as the image of the King raping the Count of Londegal’s mistress filled his mind.
“But that is about to change. I can tell you, my dearest friends, I am to marry the Earl of Meinster’s eldest daughter two moons from now, and hope to present you all with a new Prince or two by next summer!”
The table cheered wildly, nobles patting the back and shaking the hand of the beaming Earl of Meinster.
“Let that be the end! All business is to be held over until our next meeting!” the King announced over the general excitement.
“His Majesty King Aidan!” Regan shouted and the cheering nobles sprang to their feet, still clapping as Aidan walked out, Kelty leading the way with half the guards to push back the excited nobles.
Fallon glanced across and Regan nodded to him, so he signaled to his friends and led Swane out of the room. He felt his heart pound and he prepared to strike. First cut down two guards and then kill the King, before turning on Swane. It would be quick and bloody and confused, which was how his friends would escape. The King had paused to speak with the Count of Londegal, so the time was perfect.
He prepared to draw his dagger when a hand grabbed his arm. He turned, his free hand rising to strike down the fool who was about to stop him – to see Duchess Dina there.
“Don’t do it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper and reaching his ears only. “Think of your son. Swane and Aidan are not worth it.”
Fallon was about to tear his arm free when he realized what she had said.
“You know—” he began, his eyes darting behind, to where Swane had stopped, four paces back.
“That is not Cavan.
They have killed him and are using you. But don’t sacrifice yourself. There is a better way for revenge.”
Fallon paused in shock. “How did you—?” he gasped.
“It was written all over your face. But look behind me and see that it was doomed,” she said.
He glanced over her shoulder and spotted three of Kelty’s guards had appeared on the other side of the table, all holding loaded crossbows.
“They can’t stop me,” he spat, pulling his arm free.
“Listen to me. I can show you how to kill them and still hold your wife afterwards,” she said urgently. “I will come and tell you. Just don’t do anything foolish.”
Fallon hesitated, uncertainty clouding his mind for the first time.
“Think of your boy. He needs you,” she said, then stepped back.
He looked at her, and back towards the King – to discover Aidan had disappeared into the waiting room once more. He rushed forwards, Swane and the others following, but a quick look inside the waiting room revealed that Aidan had vanished: only Kelty and guards remained.
“You did well, but we can take it from here,” Kelty said, reaching out a hand towards Prince Swane.
Fallon felt sick with anger and disappointment and relief. “All yours,” he said. He refused to look at Swane, although he could feel the man’s eyes boring into him as he stormed out the other door. He did not know whether to be furious or grateful to the Duchess. There would be another chance but what of her words? Was there another way of killing them?
“What happened?” Brendan was the first to ask, once they were safely away.
“The Duchess knew it was Swane, not Cavan. She knew what I was going to do and stopped me,” Fallon said shortly.
“Well thank Aroaril for that. What did she say?” Devlin asked.
“That there was a way to kill them both and still have Bridgit back.”
“What is it?” Gallagher asked.
“She didn’t say,” Fallon grunted.
They walked in silence for a while.
