He wanted to get the business of the whore behind him. He didn’t know what he was going to do yet. Cassien knew that if he had to kill her he’d need to follow her for a few hours and make it appear as though one of her other clients had done the deed. He couldn’t have her found anywhere near the Yew Inn or her brothel.
He started to notice a steady trickle of men arriving and realised this would not to be a quiet experience. At the Abbey, the Brotherhood bathed in tubs dragged into a single cold room. The more senior the Brother, the hotter and cleaner the water. Cassien couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever bathed in clean hot water, not even at Wife Wiggins’s, who swore it was freshly drawn, but Cassien knew she had lied; he’d shared enough tub water to tell fresh from used. He felt a twinge of uncertainty and was fighting a desire to head back to the inn when a familiar voice hollered.
‘Master Cassien!’ He swung around and could see young Hamelyn running at full pelt. Cassien lifted a hand in relief. The youngster arrived, not even out of breath, and smiling. ‘The innkeeper sent me here to find you. Are you taking a bath?’
‘I need a shave and hair trim more than a bath.’
‘I know someone who can do that better. And even more privately.’
Cassien was impressed. ‘How do you reckon I need discretion?’
‘Hidden weapons, sir. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn.’
‘No, I’m glad you’re here.’
‘It’s not a very elegant establishment.’
‘Take me. I no longer care.’
Ham was carrying a sack. ‘I brought you this, Master Cassien. The innkeeper is putting it on your tab.’
Cassien peered inside and saw a small loaf and a hunk of cheese.
‘I heard your belly growling earlier.’
‘Shar’s breath, but you’re attentive and smart.’
The lad nodded, grinning.
‘Thank you,’ Cassien said, taking the sack. ‘I hadn’t realised how famished I was until this moment.’ He reached in and took the heel of bread out. ‘Here,’ he said, ripping the bread in half. ‘You look pretty scrawny yourself.’
Ham caught the food nimbly.
‘Half the cheese is yours, too. Tell me, Ham, who do you belong to?’ Cassien asked, falling in step as the boy led them down a small alleyway.
‘Belong to, sir?’ Ham asked in between chewing.
‘Please, I want you to call me Cassien. In fact, I insist and, as I’m paying, you have to do exactly as I request.’ Ham smiled tentatively. ‘Yes,’ Cassien continued more gently, ‘belong to, as in family.’
‘I have no-one. I live at the orphanage, share my takings with Master and Wife Bally, who look after the orphans of Orkyld.’
‘I see. I was orphaned,’ Cassien admitted, ‘but I was fortunate to be given a home with a large and generous family.’
‘You look prosperous.’
‘Looks can be deceiving,’ Cassien admitted, ‘but I have means, yes. And I would like to employ your services full-time.’
‘As what?’
‘Ham, you said you could hear my sword.’
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because a sword that speaks is obviously magical and I suspect that’s not something you wish attention drawn to. I know your sword, you see. I watched it being forged.’
Cassien halted. ‘I thought Wevyr worked in complete secret on his special jobs.’
‘Normally he does. But I heard it. It spoke to me.’
‘Now you’ve got me intrigued.’
‘I was making a delivery to Master Wevyr for one of the nobles, at an unusual time. Night, in fact. I didn’t want to disturb the swordsmith, but his lordship insisted, paid us both double for the bother. I couldn’t find Master Wevyr initially, then I heard a strange murmuring that was half-sung, half-spoken. I thought …’ He shook his head.
‘Thought what?’
Ham looked embarrassed. ‘I thought the voice called my name. I walked toward the forge. I knew I shouldn’t disturb anyone, but the calling felt insistent and it was in my head. Hard to describe, sir,’ he said, forgetting himself.
‘You’re saying it’s magic?’ Cassien asked quietly.
The boy shrugged. ‘I’m just telling you how it felt.’
‘So you went inside the forge?’
‘No. I found a peephole and spied inside. I saw the iron of your sword being poured.’
‘You sound scared.’
Ham took an audible breath. Then lifted a shoulder in a manner that suggested he didn’t like talking of this. ‘We’re here … Cassien,’ he said, pointing to a shabby shop entrance.
‘Thank you. Ham, can you hear my sword now?’
He nodded. ‘I can hear it making normal sounds of metal as you walk, but I know others can’t. I can also —’
‘How do you know others can’t hear it?’
‘Can you hear it?’
Cassien shook his head. ‘No.’
Ham said nothing but looked down.
‘You can also … what?’
Again the boy took a deep breath. ‘I can still hear it murmuring. It went away for a while but then called strongly to me today. It’s how I found you when you arrived in Orkyld.’
‘You found me? No. I picked you at random.’
Hamelyn gave a sad smile. ‘The sword called me to you. It didn’t actually say anything in words so much as I somehow knew it needed me to meet you.’
‘Shar’s balls! What’s happening here?’ Cassien growled to himself, hating the notion that he was being manipulated. ‘What did you see in the forge?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘Why?’
‘It was too odd.’
‘Tell me, Ham. I have to work out what’s going on. We’re both involved and we’re being coerced.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I need to make sure neither of us is in danger but especially that you are not.’
‘Don’t worry for me. Besides, the sword is my friend. So are its companions.’
‘What companions?’
‘The other blades and weapons,’ he said in a tone that suggested he was surprised Cassien needed to ask.
Cassien was privately astonished.
‘Don’t worry, though,’ Ham assured. ‘I think only I hear them.’
‘What did you see?’ Cassien pressed, crouching down now, so he was below eye level with Ham. ‘Tell me!’
Ham hesitated and then, as if listening to some inner voice, relief appeared to ghost across his expression. ‘I saw an elderly man. I knew he was old, but he didn’t seem so despite his silvered hair. His movements were easy, his smile even easier and very …’ He searched for the word. ‘I don’t know how to describe it except to say that when he smiled I felt warm inside.’
Cassien blinked. ‘Was he wearing simple robes?’
Ham nodded. ‘Pale grey. He was almost without colour and yet he possessed —’
‘The brightest blue eyes with strange flecks of gold.’
‘Yes!’ Ham exclaimed, forgetting his former reticence. ‘I don’t know about the flecks of gold, but from a distance they were bright and blue.’
‘His name is Fynch.’
‘Ah,’ Ham said, his body relaxing in relief, ‘that’s the name I’ve been hearing.’
‘From whom?’ Cassien asked, startled.
‘From your weapons.’
Cassien took a deep breath to calm his growing bewilderment and excitement. ‘Tell me what Fynch was doing, Hamelyn. Please, it’s important.’
‘He was bleeding his arm into Wevyr’s crucible of molten metal,’ Ham replied.
TEN
Florentyna had just finished hearing ‘matters’, as they were called. It was a duty that Empress Valentyna had instituted during her reign alongside Cailech, taking the view that ordinary people with very ordinary conflicts often needed some formal system of interventio
n in their disputes.
‘If we’re going to run a successful union of realms then something as fundamental as rights of possession shouldn’t just be for the entitled,’ Valentyna was famously quoted.
And so began what was known colloquially as the Court of Hearts. It met each neap tide and Valentyna initiated a trend that ensured the sovereign, or her senior representative, would attend to mediate. To her credit, historical records showed that Empress Valentyna made the effort, often rearranging her formal schedules to be present for at least one session per moon cycle and the people adored her for it; and especially for recognising the need for everyone’s conflicts to be given a fair hearing, no matter how inconsequential. The empress organised for each party to have a court advocate, paid for by the Crown. This generosity was based on the premise that whatever the empress, or her representative, decided in each ‘matter’ was accepted without further debate or claim.
It was a successful experiment and a highly popular one, soon picked up and duplicated in a number of other realms by rulers who saw it as a sign of a progressive nation. Valentyna presided over her petty sessions well into her elder years and one of her deathbed wishes was that the Court of Hearts be continued and taken seriously by her heirs. These days it had grown into a strong court capable of passing minor civil laws.
Even so, Florentyna was growing tired of the Court of Hearts being her most important task. She’d been at the Gathering of Crowns the previous summer; it wasn’t her first, but she was still waiting for the senior rulers to take her presence seriously. While people were always interested in discussing strategic union through marriage, few held quite the same enthusiasm for what she had to say. It infuriated her but Reynard, her chancellor, had soothed her silent rage.
‘Bide your time, majesty. One day they will be falling upon your every word, but for now show your appreciation to King Alred of Grentchen, to the Princes Kerrich and Isgar and their respective realms, and even to the Queen Dowager of Jaspay Seth.’
‘We are wealthy, powerful and quite capable of crippling trade on many of their routes if I choose to flex this region’s collective muscle,’ she’d growled. Reynard had nodded his agreement, his expression filled with sympathy for her gripe. It only fuelled her irritation more. ‘What’s more, King Alred was being polite simply because he knew my father. The two princes you mention were certainly pleasant, but only because they took time to appreciate the low cut of my neckline and besides they need Morgravia’s support as both the realms they stand to inherit are impoverished.’ She hadn’t finished. ‘As for the dowager, she was simply conversing with the only other woman in the room. Her son, the king, didn’t bother to attend. Her conversation seemed to be about lace or marriage!’ She groaned. ‘People only ever want to speak to my elder male counsellors about state issues!’
‘And yet each of those four, whom you speak of with disdain, swam against the tide and while others ignored you — or spoke to your counsellors — that quartet paid you the sort of attention a queen of your standing and wealth demands. Reward them. Alred’s lands are fertile and his mountains rich with silver. The two princes may be poor now but you have no idea what they’re capable of; Kerrich in particular is wily and knows his waterways are rivers of gold because very soon other realms are going to need them for their booming trade. But both are good men of sound values with strong ambitions. As for the dowager, while it might have seemed she was holding forth on subjects that were of little interest to you, don’t for a moment believe she wasn’t testing you. She is mother to one of the most eligible kings, who happens to be monarch of one of the richest kingdoms. And while he is but a young man now, showing little interest in marriage or anything but sating his more basic desires, that will change. I’m sure she alluded to that while you both spoke. I would quietly caution you never to underestimate the power of a woman’s influence or strength, especially a queen.’ He had tapped her hand in a fatherly fashion. ‘I never do,’ he added and smiled affectionately.
Good old Reynard. He’d always managed to say the right thing at the right time to gently show her the errors of her ways and make her feel ten years old again. This occasion was no exception. She was wrong to ignore anyone who might strengthen Morgravia.
And it was true she’d taken a dislike to the young King of Gyntredea, mainly because he’d ignored her. Nevertheless, it had profoundly irritated her that before Reynard disappeared, it was to him that most of the dignitaries cleaved, probably believing her incapable. And now they cleaved to Burrage, who had inherited the role of chancellor, doing a fine job of it and very much a man in the mould of his predecessor — and someone who was formerly in awe of her father, the old king.
And so, on this day’s Court of Hearts, when an elderly man calling himself Pel was shown in — escorted by a bewildered Burrage, who went so far as to shrug before saying, ‘He has requested a few moments of your time, majesty, saying it concerns a matter he can’t explain but needs to share the facts about’ — her interest had been piqued.
Pel looked harmless but two strapping soldiers flanked him.
‘Should I be scared of you, Master Pel?’ she asked.
Pel had already struggled to his knees to bow as low as possible. He seemed reluctant to so much as lift his head to her. ‘Oh no, my queen,’ he said, his voice muffled . ‘I have been searched twice. I swear I come only with information.’
‘He says it’s about Chancellor Reynard,’ Burrage whispered.
This caught her attention fully. She waved a hand at the soldiers, who picked him up, set him back on his feet. She heard both his knees sigh their protest as he straightened.
‘Can I offer you a chair, Master Pel?’ she asked gently.
He slowly shook his head. ‘Thank you, no. Majesty, may I speak privately, please?’
She stared at the newcomer, who gazed at her in earnest. She wanted the information he had brought.
‘Clear the court, please, Burrage,’ she finally said.
‘But your majesty, we have —’
She glanced at him and he promptly covered his lips with a finger as though silencing himself. ‘At once, my queen,’ he said and went about his business, apologising to other petitioners for the delay, until only he, Florentyna, the soldiers and their charge were left in the petty sessions hall.
‘Do we need guards still, Burrage?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid I will insist upon that,’ he said.
‘Then perhaps we can ask them to retreat a way so Master Pel doesn’t have to feel like a prisoner.’
Burrage nodded at the men, who moved far enough that Pel could speak without being heard, but not so far that they couldn’t cut him down within three strides if he threatened the queen. Florentyna thought the man looked far too weak and weary to be doing much more than sitting down.
She stood, slightly lifted her gown to avoid tripping, and glided gently down the three stairs, not at all threatened by Pel even though Burrage instantly stepped between them and the two soldiers reached to their sides. She lifted a hand to calm everyone.
‘Master Pel, where have you arrived from?’
‘From the west, majesty. I am curate for the parish of Stowell-in-the-Marsh. I assist Rural Dean Flek. My home is Harpers Riding, where the parish tithe barn is located.’
‘I see,’ she said, wondering what this might have to do with Reynard.
‘And you’ve ridden here to tell us about Chancellor Reynard, I gather?’
‘I rode a day and a night without stopping, your majesty. An event occurred two days ago in our tithe barn.’ She nodded but he didn’t notice, barely paused to take breath. ‘There was a stranger, you see. He looked harmless. Confused actually. I thought he’d slept off a night on the liquor in our barn.’
‘And?’ Burrage encouraged. ‘What struck you as so odd that you have come this far to tell us of it?’
‘He was naked, which was curious, but not so disturbing that I was frightened. He seemed bewildered and I suggested he
gather his wits, put on his clothes and be on his way before I returned, because Dean Flek is a stickler for the rules, your majesty. His tithe barn is the most successful and well run in the region.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ she said, remaining patient. ‘And what happened next?’
‘I returned. It would have been within one bell’s period and I thought no more about the man, fully expecting him to be gone.’
‘But he wasn’t, I’m guessing,’ Florentyna said. ‘Was it Chancellor Reynard? Do you know him?’
‘I don’t know him to speak with but he once passed through our region and accompanied Dean Flek on a tour which included the tithe barn. I was introduced to Chancellor Reynard and although we shared but a few words, he was a most charming man. He would not remember me but he is not someone you forget.’
‘No,’ she agreed, desperate to hurry the story but knowing she mustn’t interrupt his thoughts.
‘The stranger was not Chancellor Reynard. He was …’
‘Was what? Come on, Pel, spit it out,’ Burrage urged, no longer as patient as his queen.
Pel looked up and regarded them both with eyes that Florentyna felt looked haunted. ‘He was gone but he’d left behind Dean Flek.’ He cleared his throat. ‘He’d killed him.’
‘Rural Dean Flek is dead?’ they repeated together, both looking mystified.
He nodded. ‘Forgive me, your majesty, but I believe I am still in shock.’
She inclined her head, concerned. ‘Burrage, a small cup of brintas, please,’ she said, signalling Pel. It was brought immediately and the older man swallowed the slightly spiced wine. It appeared to revive him although he refused more after only two small sips.
‘Thank you, your majesty,’ he said, slightly breathlessly. ‘I feel somehow responsible for Dean Flek’s death because I didn’t take notice of the threat. Now, on reflection, I can see how confused and troubled the killer was. I thought he was drunk but he could well have been sick or addled in the mind somehow.’
‘You’re sure the stranger killed him?’ Burrage asked.
Pel shook his head. ‘I didn’t see it happen so no, I am not certain. However, who else could have done this? And the stranger was acting so peculiar that I suppose it now makes sense that he was somehow out of his mind and capable of seeing threats where they may not have been. I thought it was liquor but it was madness. Dean Flek’s throat was slashed from ear to ear.’ He checked himself in front of the queen. ‘It was vicious. No-one of sound mind would do such a thing, surely? What’s more, Dean Flek was a stickler for time. He kept to the same rituals, but he was early in arriving at the tithe barn.’
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