by Jane Glatt
straw with her back to the wall of the cell. She pulled her knees up under her chin and sighed. Yes, Thorold wanted power. She’d known that all her life, had lived it as a child, Thorold’s need to control everyone in his household - his wife, his children, his servants, everyone. Now he was positioned to extend that power over every single person in Soule. His son would hold the title of king but Thorold would wield the power. She’d been so focused on her own plans for revenge that she’d barely given a thought to what the prophecy meant to Soule.
What would it mean to have someone other than Thorold in power? She thought back to her childhood. She’d watched him manipulate people simply because he could - the torment he’d visited on an elderly groom when his horse wasn’t ready - the scalded serving girl who had set the too-hot soup before him. And now the entire kingdom of Soule would be vulnerable. A Soule under Thorold would become a very hard place for the poor, the weak, the ones without money and power and connections.
Like the people she knew in Thieves Quarter. What would happen to Pater and his nephew Martyn? Would they be in a position to give those with even harder lives a fresh piece of fruit every now and then? And what about Mistress Dudding, with her tidy seamstress shop, and Eryl and his gang? Life was already hard. With Thorold in power many of them wouldn’t survive.
Brenna saw a flash of Thieves Quarter, buildings ablaze and the night sky lit with by fires. She watched from afar as a roof collapsed and flames shot high into the air. Then it was gone. She shuddered and clutched her arms tighter around her knees. Was this a vision? Is this what will happen under Thorold’s rule? She prayed to the old gods that this wouldn’t come true.
She’d thought to discredit Duke Thorold and prove that he was a traitor. Now she realized that wouldn’t be enough. Thorold’s power was too entrenched. Even if he was condemned, Beldyn would pardon his father once he was king.
Only the Brotherhood was willing to oppose Thorold – and then only if she led them.
She didn’t want this. She didn’t believe she was the one foretold by the prophecy. But did it matter? The Brotherhood believed she was the one. Kane believed she was the one. It seemed that the choice was either her or Thorold. Could she walk away from Kingsreach, from Soule, knowing that she alone had a chance to change things, that she alone had the chance, just a chance, to try to make things better?
No. Thorold could not be allowed to rule Soule. He could not be allowed to twist the laws and mistreat the people for his own gain. Brenna would and could use the Brotherhood and the prophesy to make sure he didn’t succeed. She wasn’t the heir but she would be the figurehead for the Brotherhood so that Thorold could be defeated. Time enough later to decide who would rule, as long as it wasn’t Duke Thorold.
With the decision to work with the Brotherhood made, a sense of peace, a sense of rightness seeped into her. More relaxed than she’d been in weeks, Brenna closed her eyes to wait.
Early in the afternoon the door to the cell room opened and Dasid entered.
“It’s time,” he said. “The king has asked Duke Thorold and Kane to convene in his audience chamber. As we’d hoped, Thorold has not charged you with trespassing or theft. He’s claimed that you are a runaway indentured servant with an outstanding debt owed to him.” He passed a clean white shirt through the iron bars to her. “Put this on. Kane asked that you be present and the king has agreed. You can leave your pack here.”
Brenna turned her back, pulled her black shirt off and donned the white one. It was a little big, but at least she was no longer dressed as a thief. She shoved her pack under the straw, turned and stepped through the open cell door.
“I’m ready,” she said. She tried to smile, but her stomach was in knots. What if Thorold’s claim on her was granted? What if he convinced the king to hand her over to him? Kane said she should trust him and right now that was the only thing she could do.
“It shouldn’t be too bad,” Dasid said. “We have a defense for this charge. But don’t show any anger towards Duke Thorold. He’ll be calm and reasonable when stating his case and we’ll be the same. Above all, try to look like you’re not a threat.”
Brenna nodded and followed Dasid through corridors and past the curious stares of Kingsguardsmen. Dasid stopped in front of two guards who stood beside a small wooden door.
“Here we are,” he said and pushed it open.
The room they entered was large, its arrangement vaguely familiar. Then she placed it. Duke Thorold’s salon was set up the same, although his room hadn’t been this grand.
King Mattias sat on the throne opposite the door. He wore a fine black leather vest over a shimmering white silk shirt. Black brocade breeches were tucked into black leather boots so supple Brenna knew they would make no sound on the marble floor. His thinning grayish hair was held back with a simple black ribbon.
The stark black and white clothing emphasized the yellow tinge under the pallor of the king’s skin. He was very ill. How long would he live? A year? Two? The prospect of Thorold reigning over Soule became real to Brenna. Her steps faltered when she remembered her vision of Thieves Quarter in flames. Then Dasid took her elbow and pulled her towards the king.
Two tables in front of the throne were piled with various scrolls and books. Kane stood behind one table, serious and commanding in his formal dress uniform.
At the other table sat Duke Thorold and his scholar, Fridrick. Brenna concentrated on remaining calm as she walked past Thorold and stopped in between the two tables. Dasid backed away until he stood at Kane’s side.
“So this is the woman all the fuss is about.” King Mattias’ voice was still strong, despite the obvious signs of illness. “She hardly looks worth it to me.”
At the humor in his voice, Brenna looked up. Shocked, she quickly lowered her gaze. Up close, the king appeared even more ill. With effort, Brenna brought her attention back to the proceedings. She had to know her own fate before she could spend energy on what ailed the king.
“Your Majesty, she does indeed seem worth little,” Thorold said calmly. “But it is the principle of the matter. Indentured servants simply cannot be allowed to run away without paying their debts. I’m sure that Captain Rowse will agree with me on that.”
“I certainly agree with Duke Thorold on that point, your Majesty,” Kane said. “However I am currently not able to verify that this woman did run away from the duke’s household.”
“You dare to challenge my word?” Thorold’s voice was low and dangerous.
“Unfortunately it’s not your word I’m questioning, my Lord Duke, but your record keeping.” Kane gestured to the books on the table in front of him. “After our discussion with Duke Thorold this morning and after interviewing the woman in question, Kingsguard Addems and I checked all the Comackian records surrounding the year in question. We’ve found no reports indicating that one of the Duke’s servants ran away. There is no record of any outstanding debt owed by her. There isn’t even a record of her being indentured in the first place. In the absence of these proofs I simply cannot hand this woman over to the Duke. I would be failing my oath to uphold the laws of Soule.”
“This is most unusual, Captain,” King Mattias said. “We certainly must hold to the law. Duke Thorold, what think you of this?”
“Your Majesty,” Thorold said. “I feel I am in the unfortunate position of having my word brought into question because of a clerical error.”
Brenna heard the edge of anger underneath the conciliatory tone in Duke Thorold’s voice. Someone would pay for this later, she knew.
“This woman,” Thorold continued. “Was certainly part of my household, as was her mother before her. I insist she be given back into my custody at once.”
“Your Majesty,” Kane said. “Once again we seem to have run into some, um, clerical errors. We’ve not been able to find any reference to this woman’s mother. I’m at a loss to explain this since the accounts from the two time frames in question are clearly written by two different
hands. Frankly, I’m concerned about the validity of any of Duke Thorold’s accounts. Duke Thorold, do these same clerks record your tax accounts?”
King Mattias glared at the duke. Thorold didn’t squirm but Brenna did see a bead of sweat roll down his neck. Had Thorold been cheating the king out of taxes? As a thief she knew how much people hated being stolen from. The king would be no different.
“Your Majesty,” Kane continued. “As I said we did question the young woman. She admits to growing up in Duke Thorold’s household, the daughter of an indentured servant. We might simply be dealing with a clerical error. However, according to the young woman she left on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, as is her right under the laws of Soule. And there is nothing in this record to show she had any outstanding debts.”
Kane had turned the tables on the duke. Thorold would be forced to defend all of his accounts, including the ones that proved she was not indentured to him, just to keep his tax records from coming under more scrutiny.
As the discussion flowed around her, Brenna turned her attention to King Mattias. His sallow, yellow-toned skin, his thinning hair and the sweetish scent of his illness reminded her of Mistress Dudding’s brother before his liver failed him completely. But some of the other symptoms - the glassy eyes and the sweat that
