By the time Lillet had finished tidying her hair Risha was exhausted, and plummeted into a hot and restless sleep. Shredded images twisted and tangled in her head, disappearing before she could fully grasp each one. Nolan sat beside her for a time — or she imagined he did; the boundary between real and imagined seemed slipperier than usual. She woke once certain that Ciaran was with her, only to find the room empty, then woke certain she was alone and found Minna watching her intently.
‘You’ll do,’ the woman said, and held a cup to her lips.
It was another day before Minna allowed Risha out of bed. Even with Lillet’s help, the effort of dressing and walking downstairs tired her more than she’d expected.
Nolan studied her carefully. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Much better.’ If she kept her sentences short, she could manage without gasping for breath.
‘Food and rest,’ Minna said, setting a plate of porridge before her.
‘I’ve been resting. I feel as if I’ve slept for days.’
‘That’s because you have,’ Lillet said. ‘For more than a week.’
Risha eventually gave up trying to work out how many of those days she could recall. ‘Is there any news of Lyse and Ciaran?’
Nolan shook his head.
‘Of anything?’ She coughed, pressing one hand against her ribs.
‘No. Risha, should you be out of bed?’
‘Some people prefer not to be told what’s best,’ Minna said.
That night she dreamt of Ciaran. The woman stood before her, arms outstretched, wrists tightly bound. When Risha reached to untie the bonds, Ciaran pulled her hands away. ‘You have more important tasks.’
From behind a door came the sound of weeping.
‘So many,’ Ciaran said. Her face had become a skull covered only thinly with flesh, her hair wispy and grey. ‘So many will die.’ Her eyes were hollow sockets of bone.
Risha woke with her heart pounding in her chest. The night seemed to squeeze tight around her, the candle Lillet had left burnt to a stub.
Ciaran. She focused the thought as she had in her childhood when she called to Nonno.
There was no reply. There was no reason why there should be: the mental link between them had existed only when they touched, and at Ciaran’s instigation.
Even so, the dream’s message was clear: she must warn Donnel.
When dawn sent shafts of light through the slanting window Risha rose and dressed herself, refusing Lillet’s help. Downstairs she pestered Minna until the woman gave her a task — peeling carrots — which she managed without coughing.
Croft returned in the afternoon, Webb with him. Both men’s horses were lathered and their clothes streaked with sweat and dust. Minna poured two draughts of beer. Croft drank fast and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
Minna refilled his tankard. ‘Take your time. A few minutes will make no odds.’
Croft shook his head, his eyes seeking Risha’s. ‘My lady.’ He took three rapid breaths then drew himself up. ‘Athan is dead. Vormer has seized control of the Council, and styles himself Convenor-Regent of Havre.’
It was Minna who broke the stunned silence. ‘Nolan, you might see to the horses.’ She placed two bowls of stew on the table. ‘Eat.’
With food the men revived enough to tell what they knew, which wasn’t much beyond Croft’s first stark announcement.
‘Army’s encamped near the El, a couple of days’ march south of Leighton. They’re a rabble,’ Croft said. ‘Which might change once they’re blooded.’
Risha shuddered. ‘How did Athan die?’ Her mouth felt hollow as she spoke the words. The news did not seem real.
‘Can’t answer that, nor where.’
Nolan paced. ‘Who leads them?’
‘No one we know.’ The men’s eyes met.
Nolan’s nostrils flared, his lips a white line.
‘When they marched north from Whitelaw I trailed along,’ Webb said. ‘It seems like most of the guard have been sent north. There was a lad I knew who’d been recruited — dragooned, more like. I managed to get him alone, but he couldn’t tell me much beyond who their commanders are. Strangers, every one, and all singing Vormer’s praises.’
‘Madness,’ Nolan muttered.
‘At least it tells us who the traitor is,’ Croft added.
‘Perhaps,’ Nolan said. ‘It could be sheer opportunism.’
‘No.’ Risha’s voice sounded stronger than she felt. ‘Vormer is more than an opportunist. He was involved in the death of my grandparents.’
‘You have proof of that?’ Nolan asked. ‘From Donnel, or—’
‘I just know it.’
‘How?’ Croft asked. Minna had gone very still.
‘I—’ Risha hesitated, her eyes flicking between them and settling on Nolan. ‘I saw it.’
‘You were only a baby. How could you remember?’
She shook her head. ‘Not then. At the reception, when I arrived in Havre.’ She took a steadying breath. ‘Vormer was beside me when I first saw the portrait of my grandmother. I … he … he was standing in a pool of blood. His clothes were soaked in it, his hands dripping red.’
There was a moment of silence, like a shocked gasp of breath. Several breaths.
‘She has the Gift,’ Minna said.
Risha’s eyes swung towards her. ‘I don’t know what that means.’
The woman’s gaze was dark and steady, her eyes like black pebbles.
‘Are you sure it wasn’t a dream? Something you imagined?’ Nolan demanded.
‘It was real. Then … gone.’ Her chest felt tight.
‘She’s had no training,’ Minna said. ‘Has it happened before?’
Risha wet her lips. ‘When I was young I had a — a friend I would share thought pictures with. I thought everyone could do it, but when my foster-father found out he forbade it. I hadn’t known it was wrong.’
‘It’s not wrong, girl! Why would you think so?’ Minna’s hands curled into fists on her broad hips.
‘Who knows of this?’
The weight of their combined scrutiny pressed against her. ‘Cantrel. During the siege he saw the effort it cost me, to reach Timon in Havre. And—’
‘You can mindspeak as well?’ Minna looked aghast.
‘Not … not really. With Timon it only worked that one time, and only because of Nonno.’
Nolan blinked. ‘Nannet? Your mother’s nurse?’
A wave of coughing overtook her.
‘Enough talk for now,’ Minna said. ‘Bed for you, my girl.’
As the woman helped Risha to her feet, Nolan spoke. ‘I’ll ride to Leighton in the morning to see if I can learn more.’
Lillet spoke from the foot of the stairs. ‘I could take you to Leighton. Egret could get us there and back in half the time it would take by road. Less.’
Minna made a noise deep in her throat. ‘Lillet, fetch the stone from the hearth to warm the bed.’
Risha was shaking by the time they’d negotiated the stairs. As she undressed, coughing wracked her, stealing the air from her lungs. Minna poured a measure of tonic, nodding encouragement as she drank. ‘Rest now.’ The woman touched a thumb to Risha’s lips, as if she was wiping away a spilled drop of liquid.
Her gaze shifted to Lillet. ‘As for you: I don’t say it’s a bad plan, but I’m not blind.’
Spots of colour rose in the young woman’s cheeks.
‘My old black hen is off the lay,’ Minna added. ‘You might ring her neck and pluck her for the pot.’
Lillet ducked her head and turned for the door.
‘And mind, Lillet: there’s more steps than one to a man’s heart.’
The door closed and Minna settled heavily in the chair beside Risha’s bed. ‘It’s past time that boy settled,’ she observed.
Risha didn’t answer. Her breath rasped in and out of her lungs as if they were made of stiffened leather. Minna watched her in silence for a few moments.
‘The Gift was more common when I
was a girl,’ she said at last. ‘My own aunt had a talent for seeing, though she never made much of it.’
Risha closed her eyes, to better concentrate on catching the words through the tidal throb in her head.
‘Mindspeaking: now, that’s an altogether rarer talent, and one that requires training to master.’
Risha thought of Nonno, explained away by Pelon as the product of a lonely child’s imagination, now a careworn old woman cast into Marister Hela’s care.
‘You’ve had none?’
Risha shook her head.
Minna sighed. ‘Here’s what I think: if your grandmother had lived she’d have undertaken your training, and helped you find a path to managing your talents. Failing that, your mother might have taught you. Your mother’s nurse, now: she probably shared the same bond she has with you with your mother. Can you still reach her?’
‘Her … her mind is not entirely there any longer.’
‘Ah. Old age takes us in different ways.’ Minna absently massaged her left shoulder. ‘Do you know when you’ll have a vision? Ever go searching for them?’
Risha considered the images which sometimes engulfed her, sharp-edged and real as if she stood in their midst, until they broke apart and left her hollowed out with confusion. She shook her head. ‘But what I saw.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It was true? About Vormer?’
The woman’s lips thinned. ‘Likely so, but whether it was something done or yet to come: that’s the bit that it’s hard to know.’ She put her broad hands on her knees and pushed to her feet. ‘You should rest.’
Words tumbled from Risha’s mouth, catching them both by surprise. ‘Did Ciaran have children?’
Minna paused. ‘Two. A girl and a boy. She lost them, and their father, the day your grandparents were murdered. He’d taken them to Havreport to greet your mother. Ciaran was ill, else she’d have gone, too. Spent enough time, after, wishing that she had, I don’t doubt.’
There was a lengthy pause during which Risha tried to imagine waking from an illness to the news of such a loss.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I dreamt of her. And … and the children.’
Minna’s lips pursed. ‘Well. You sleep now.’
‘I think … I think I should talk to Nolan.’
‘After you’ve slept.’ She forestalled Risha’s protest with a finger. ‘There’s nothing that can’t wait a few hours. You’re worn through. I’ll send him up later.’
When Risha woke her head felt clearer. Faded sunlight lit the wall by the bed, highlighting each sweep of the plasterer’s handiwork. She stared at the curving pattern before rolling onto her back.
‘Are you feeling better?’ Nolan asked. He was sitting near the door.
Risha pushed herself up against the pillows. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was harsh as a crow’s. She cleared her throat.
Nolan handed her a cup of water and moved the chair to where she could easily see him. There was something reserved in his expression. ‘Minna said you wanted to speak to me.’
Risha sipped the water, trying to gather her thoughts. She had slept without dreaming and felt better for it, though barely awake. ‘Will you sail to Leighton rather than ride?’
‘If you’ve no objection.’
‘Why should I have?’
He made no answer.
‘Do you think there’ll be news of Athan? Of how he died?’
‘Perhaps not that. But of Vormer’s plans, if we’re lucky.’
She finished the water and held the empty cup in her lap. After a moment he took it and set it aside.
‘I’m sorry for falling ill,’ she said.
He looked startled. ‘My lady, the fault and all apologies are mine. I could have delayed our departure, or stopped at an inn to wait out the storm. To let you get soaked and yet still make you ride …’ He shook his head.
‘I’ve been soaked often enough without falling ill.
You and Croft were just as wet. Truly, Nolan, I feel a fool.’ ‘You’re anything but that, Risha.’
She had wanted to tell him of her dream about Ciaran, but felt awkward, now it came to it.
‘It’s none of my business,’ he began abruptly, ‘but this link with your mother’s nurse.’
‘Nonno,’ Risha supplied.
‘Could it … does she know where you are? Can the — the link be used to find you?’
She shook her head. ‘You saw the way she is. Her mind drifts. I can no longer reach her. And anyway, who would try?’ As soon as the question was spoken Risha knew the answer. The attempt to stop her reaching the hospice, to stop her finding Nonno: it had been Vormer. Risha grew cold. ‘Nolan, you don’t think …?’ Images of the frail old woman, vulnerable and addled, twisted into images of soldiers.
‘No. I just wanted to be sure.’
Fear wormed up from her belly. When she’d been young, Nonno had soothed her hurts and kept loneliness at bay, but since leaving the mountains Risha seemed to have brought the old woman nothing but trouble.
‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it,’ Nolan said, watching the emotions play out on Risha’s face. ‘But, if you wish, I can send a message from Leighton asking Marister Hela to arrange for Nannet to be moved. As a precaution.’
‘Could you?’
‘Of course.’ He hesitated. ‘There is one other thing.’
She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
‘It’s not my intention to pry,’ he said stiffly, ‘but you mentioned Timon.’
‘Oh.’ She shook her head. ‘No. We can’t — that is, when I asked for help during the siege it was Nonno who made it possible.’
‘So you and Timon are not in communication?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Do you not think I’d have told you, had I access to news from Havreport?’
The relief in his face, though quickly masked, told her it was exactly what he’d thought. Risha frowned.
He stood up. ‘I’ve troubled you enough. Minna said I wasn’t to tire you.’
‘I’ve only just woken.’
‘And I’m very glad of it. You’ve no idea how relieved I was — we all were — when …’ He dipped his head and was gone.
Risha listened to his footsteps retreating down the stairs. She hadn’t told him of Ciaran’s warning — but they had already sent a message to Donnel. By now Fenn would have despatched a courier; perhaps even Gorth himself. She must ask whether there had been any word from the woman. Her eyes drooped and she closed them with a sigh. The ache in her head had faded to a dull stutter of discomfort; not quite enough to distract her from the worry Nolan had placed at its side.
Goltoy’s bait
Mica snuffled her palm, lipping for another crust of bread. Risha scratched his ears and glanced at Croft. ‘Do you think we might go for a ride tomorrow? Just a short one.’
‘If Minna agrees.’ He shrugged at her expression. ‘Sooner you’re well again the better. Best way to achieve that might be to do as she says.’
Mica turned at the rail and Risha ran her palm along his flank.
‘I’ve got a question,’ Croft said. ‘You don’t have to answer it.’
She glanced sideways.
‘While you were ill, you talked a bit. Some of it made no sense. Sometimes, well …’ He paused. ‘The thing is, I heard, years ago now, that Ciaran and Talben shared the Gift. If I’d bothered to think about it I’d probably have said I didn’t believe it.’
She waited, but he simply stood beside her feeding oats to whichever of the horses pushed their way to the rail.
‘Ciaran does,’ she said. ‘I don’t know about Talben.’
Croft grunted softly and reached into the bucket at his feet for another handful of grain.
‘I can only hear her in my head if we’re together. Which is as useful as having a horse you can only ride when it’s tethered.’ She thought a little longer. ‘It’s different with Nonno. If Ciaran and Talben had a bond like that, she’d have known if he’d been murdered.’ Which perhaps meant
he hadn’t — the implications went both ways.
He said nothing more and they walked slowly back to the house. They’d almost reached it when a question surprised her by popping out of her mouth. ‘Is Nolan angry with me?’
Croft sucked his teeth. ‘Not so much angry. Miffed, more like.’
‘About what?’
‘Maybe you should ask him.’
The dog chained near the gate began to bark. Risha looked up.
‘Too soon to be Nolan and Lillet.’ Croft’s hand slid to his sword. ‘You go inside now.’
She looked back as she reached the door. Two figures were striding down the slope towards the farmyard. ‘It’s Fenn,’ she announced, but it was the stocky figure beside the riverwoman who held Risha’s gaze.
Gorth gripped her shoulders. ‘Your riverwoman’s news had me worried near to death, lass. Seems like every time I turn my back, you find your way into trouble.’
His scowl was entirely false. Risha grinned. ‘It’s good to see you, Gorth.’
‘Aye, and you.’
‘You look better than you did,’ Fenn said, her eyes scanning Risha’s face. ‘I wasn’t expecting to find you up.’
‘She shouldn’t be,’ Minna announced from the doorway behind them. ‘Perhaps you’ll be better able to convince her of that.’
Risha suffered being settled in a chair and having a rug draped over her knees as if she were a helpless old woman. Even the vile-tasting tonic Minna put into her hand couldn’t dampen her spirits.
‘There was no sign of Egret in the bay. Is Lillet not here?’ Fenn asked.
‘She’ll be back tomorrow. She’s taken Nolan to Leighton for news.’
‘Ah.’ Fenn paused. ‘You’ve heard about Athan?’
Risha nodded. ‘And that Vormer has seized control of the Council.’
‘Slime-crawling snake,’ Gorth muttered.
‘Is there any word from my father? Does he know it’s Lyse that Harbin holds?’
Gorth’s eyes flickered towards Fenn. The woman’s brows drew inwards. ‘We can’t assume so yet, though Cantrel will waste no time in forwarding the news.’
‘Forwarding to where?’
Fenn leant forward, her chair creaking beneath her. ‘Lord Donnel rode north a fortnight ago. There’s been another uprising in Fratton.’
Donnel's Promise Page 11
