“It’s what I aim to do as soon as he returns,” Niklas said.
“Good. I’m glad you already made plans. It saves me trying to talk you into it,” she said with a smile.
Niklas leaned back in his chair, relieved that Judith was in agreement. “Edward said that Carr came up to the manor this morning.” He let his voice trail off, looking to Judith’s reaction for information.
Judith drew a deep breath. “War changes people, doesn’t it?” she said quietly. “Carr was so young when he went off, but there was no talking him out of it, and I knew you’d watch out for him as best you could. It’s a hard way to grow up.”
Niklas looked away. “Carr saw far more action than I wanted for him, but keeping him out of the fray wasn’t really an option.”
It was a charnel house, Niklas thought, passing a hand over his face and pushing his hair out of his eyes. Toward the end, it was almost impossible to tell which forces belonged to which side, we were so covered with muck and blood and soot. As if the horror of gut wounds and severed arms and legs wasn’t bad enough, the mages had to bring their own particular brand of misery down on us. Gods above and below! It’s a wonder we didn’t all go barking mad.
He realized that he’d fallen silent, and from the look in Judith’s gaze, he guessed that his expression exposed more of his thoughts than he intended.
“Carr said he wasn’t feeling well, and he went up to his room. I sent Edward up with tea and a bit of lunch for him. I imagine Mari will look in on him when she comes in.”
Niklas looked puzzled. “Where’s Mari?”
Judith chuckled. “Doing her best to ferret out her brother’s secrets from his friend, the silversmith. Dawe, I believe, was his name. He’s been doing something down at the forge, and Mari’s taken it upon herself to wander down there each day. She says she’s lending a hand, but given how few visitors we’ve gotten in the last years, I suspect she’s starved for news of any kind.”
“I may just have a few questions for Dawe myself, especially if Blaine isn’t around,” Niklas said. “They’re a tight little group, and I’m trying to sort out the connections.”
Judith gave him a knowing look. “You mean, you want to know if Mistress Kestel has a prior claim on her.”
Niklas chuckled. “Don’t get me in trouble! But I will allow that she’s a fine-looking woman.”
Judith sighed. “Blaine’s had his share of heartache when it comes to women. First Carensa. Then the woman he made a handfasting with up in Edgeland died of fever.” She looked at the fire and seemed to be staring into the past. “It would have been so different if Blaine hadn’t killed Ian.”
Niklas drew a deep breath. “I’d best check in on the supplies we’ve stored up here and then see what information I can pry loose from Dawe before I head back to the camp. Just wanted to let you know that we’ll do our very best to make sure Glenreith is safe.”
“As safe as anywhere can be these days,” Judith added. “Thank you.”
Niklas left Judith and headed down the stairs. Glenreith had always been like a second home to him, and it was easy to take momentary comfort in the familiar surroundings. For just an instant, he could imagine that all was as it had been, with Blaine awaiting him to take off on an adventure, dodging Ian McFadden’s temper. Before Velant and the war, before everything changed.
He headed for the forge and was surprised to hear raised voices coming from that direction. Concerned, Niklas picked up his pace and rounded the corner in time to see Carr swing a punch at Dawe.
Before he could close the distance, Mari jumped down from the fence where she was sitting and launched herself at Carr, fighting like a wildcat to pull him off Dawe. Dawe was defending himself, but Niklas could see that Blaine’s friend was trying not to injure Carr, although Carr showed no such compunctions and looked livid with rage.
“Stay away from her!” Carr shouted, pummeling Dawe. “Keep your filthy convict hands off my sister!”
“He didn’t touch me!” Mari protested. “I just came down to bring him some lunch. We were talking, Carr. Go away!”
Carr wrested free of Mari’s hold, giving her a shove so hard that she stumbled and fell. Dawe, who had been willing to hold his punches, glowered and bucked Carr free. Before Niklas could wade into the fray, Dawe had sent his fist to connect hard with Carr’s jaw and managed to put himself between Carr and Mari.
Niklas adjusted his course to come in behind Carr, but he caught a look at the young man’s face. Carr’s eyes were dilated, his hair was wild, and his features were twisted with unreasoning fury. Sweet Charrot, Carr’s got the madness! Niklas thought.
Carr reached for a weapon and grabbed one of the pokers from the forge. Dawe barely managed to snatch up a pair of tongs in time to deflect the blow. Dawe pushed Mari behind him, shielding her with his body, and ducked another swing from the iron poker Carr wielded. Mari was shrieking at Carr to stop, Carr was screaming curses at Dawe. Out of the corner of his eye, Niklas saw several of the groomsmen and servants heading toward the disturbance.
Before Carr could get in another swing, Niklas tackled Carr. “Drop it!” Niklas commanded, but Carr kept thrashing, the poker still in his hand. “I order you to drop it, soldier!”
Carr fought even harder, nearly breaking free of Niklas’s grip. They were surrounded now by several men who had come at the sound of the scuffle. The flailing poker kept Dawe and the others from getting close enough to intervene. Niklas managed to wrestle Carr backward until they were near one of the large wooden pillars that held up the roof of the forge. Carr hurled himself to the side, trying to break free, and Niklas used his momentum against him, slamming Carr’s right wrist against the wooden post hard enough that Carr howled with pain and dropped the poker.
“Get off me!” Carr shouted. His words were slurred as if he were drunk, but Niklas could smell no alcohol on him.
“You’re a fool, Carr, and a brute,” Mari snapped. “Go back to the camp and stay there.”
Two of the other men came forward to help Niklas wrestle Carr to the ground. Carr bucked and kicked, fighting with all his might, until one of the men returned from the stable with a length of rope. It took four men to pin Carr while Niklas tied him up, and even bound, Carr rocked back and forth, straining against his bonds, shouting threats until Mari took a kerchief from her belt and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Get him into the house and up to his room,” Niklas said grimly. “I’ll explain what happened to Lady Judith. He’s been taken by the madness, so we don’t dare untie him.”
Mari stared at her brother with a mixture of pity and fear. Carr was fighting and attempting to bite his captors; none of the men looked as if untying him had crossed their minds.
Niklas glanced over his shoulder at Dawe and Mari. “Are the two of you all right?” he asked.
Dawe looked shaken, while Mari’s fists were clenched as if she would like to have taken a swing at her brother. “We’re fine,” Dawe said, although Niklas could see that one side of his face was already beginning to bruise from where Carr had struck him.
“I’ll get a cold cloth for Dawe’s eye,” Mari said. “Take care of Carr.” She paused, and the anger drained from her face. She looked to Niklas. “Will he be all right?”
Niklas sighed. “No way to tell, Mari. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Two men hefted Carr between them, one holding Carr’s shoulders and the other his feet. Carr had finally stopped fighting, although the look in his eyes was murderous. With a sigh, Niklas followed behind them, wondering how he was going to explain this to Judith.
“Head for the servants’ door,” Niklas instructed. “We’ll make less of a spectacle that way.”
Word had already reached the house, because the cook and scullery maid were on the back stoop craning for a look. They moved out of the way for Niklas and the two men carrying Carr, watching wide-eyed.
“Send for Lady Judith,” Niklas instructed the maid. “Carr’s been taken ill. We’re
taking him to his room.”
It took all three of them to wrestle Carr up the back stairs and into his room. When Carr was safely deposited on the bed, Niklas turned to the groomsman. “Ordel, my battle healer, has experience with the madness. I need you to bring him here as quickly as you can.”
The young man looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but in the room. He ducked his head in acceptance. “Yes, m’lord. I’ll be back shortly.”
He had barely left when Judith rushed into the room, followed by Edward. She took one look at Carr, bound securely and looking worse for the wear from the fight, and then looked to Niklas.
“The servants were abuzz about a fight in the yard. Sweet Esthrane, what did Carr do?”
Niklas sighed. “He was raving about Dawe being a convict and not wanting him to have anything to do with Mari, and then he attacked him,” he replied wearily. “He could have killed Dawe.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Judith asked, her eyes widening.
Niklas shook his head. “Mari’s shaken up. Carr clipped Dawe pretty hard.” He paused. “I suspect Carr’s got a broken wrist. I didn’t have a choice: No one could get close to him while he was swinging that damn poker around. I’ll have my healer tend him.”
Carr began to strain against his bonds, managing to hurl himself back and forth on the bed. The gag in his mouth only muffled the string of curses he was shrieking. Judith blanched. “Oh dear,” she murmured as Carr’s language grew increasingly obscene.
“It’s the madness.” Niklas took Judith by the elbow and steered her out of the room. “We’ve seen several cases in the camp. He didn’t recognize me when I intervened, and even a direct order made no impact.”
Judith turned to him and met his gaze. “Is Carr going to die?”
Niklas sighed and looked down. “Hard to say. Most of the time, the madness kills. We haven’t been able to figure out why, or how it falls on some but not on others. On occasion, someone pulls through. My battle healer has powders and potions that will put Carr to sleep and keep him sedated so he can’t hurt himself or anyone else. I’ll post a guard around the clock. Then we’ll have to trust the gods.”
Judith nodded. “What of the others? Are we all at risk?”
Niklas shrugged. “My healer doesn’t believe it’s catching. All we can do is let it run its course.”
“And pray to the gods for mercy,” Judith murmured.
“If you still believe in that sort of thing, yes,” Niklas replied.
Over the next two candlemarks, Niklas stood silently in the back of the room as Ordel, the army healer, worked on Carr. Between the two of them, they had forced a sleeping potion down Carr’s throat, and Carr now lay quietly, still bound. Niklas had watched as Ordel applied a poultice and splint to Carr’s broken wrist, then treated the bruises and cuts from the fight.
“I’ve mixed some fragrant plant leaves in with the candle wax to soothe his sleep,” Ordel said as he stood and stretched. “And I’ve mixed powders with the wine in the carafe,” he said with a nod toward the table, “to help keep him drugged while the madness runs its course.”
“What are his chances?”
Ordel looked back at Carr and shrugged. “No way to tell. It’s often not the madness that kills them – it’s that they won’t take food or drink and they starve. If we can keep him fed and get water into him, and keep him from damaging himself further, there’s a chance.” He grimaced. “Some take fever, others don’t. If he doesn’t, his odds are better. We won’t know for a while.”
Niklas nodded. “Thank you for coming up to the house.”
“Sure thing, Captain.” He managed a grin. “Never thought I’d get to be personal healer to a noble house.”
“With luck, Carr will be the only one who requires your attention,” Niklas replied. The soldier arrived who would stand on guard through the night, and Niklas slipped out, leaving the healer to his patient. Judith was nowhere to be seen, so Niklas slipped down the back steps.
Dawe was back at the forge, although his eye was purpled and swollen. Niklas stood by the forge door for a few moments, watching as the lanky man moved with confidence born of long practice. He was heating a length of iron in the fire but had not resumed pounding with his mallet. Mari had taken a seat on the fence that ran along the open side of the forge. Despite the cold, the heat from the blacksmith’s fire made it far too warm for a cloak, and Mari had only a light shawl wrapped around her shoulders over her work dress.
“How is he?” Niklas asked Mari with a nod toward Dawe.
“‘He’ can hear just fine, and he’s all right,” Dawe responded without looking up.
“I’m sorry,” Niklas said, grimacing.
Mari snorted. “You’re sorry? For what? Carr’s my brother. If he’s an idiot, it’s to our shame, not yours.”
Niklas shrugged. “He’s my soldier. Hard to stop feeling responsible just because we’re back home.”
Mari smiled sadly, and for a moment, Niklas could see her as the half-grown girl she had been when she would tag along, unbidden, whenever he and Blaine would head off on their boyhood adventures. “Carr was going to war with or without you, Niklas.” She shook her head. “Gods above, Blaine was right. Without him to lighten you up, you’re positively grim with responsibility.”
Niklas managed to chuckle. It was an old joke among the three of them, from what felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, when he and Blaine were in their teens, Mari was just a slip of a girl, and she was out to prove that she could keep up with both her brothers. Carr, much younger, had not been included on the forays.
“Did he hurt you?” Niklas asked.
“He knows better,” Mari said. “I swore I’d never let anyone lay a hand on me like that, after Father —” She broke off abruptly. “After what happened,” she finished quietly and looked away.
Dawe finished the iron bar he was working on, set it in water to cool, and dusted off his hands on his leather apron. “Thanks for lending a hand,” he said. “I didn’t want to thrash Mick’s little brother, but I also didn’t fancy being pounded on.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. “Took enough of that in Velant.” Dawe’s sleeves were pushed up, and Niklas could clearly see the brand on his forearm.
“I can send my camp healer over if you need him,” Niklas offered.
Dawe shook his head. “Got over worse than this in Velant on my own. Mari got a cloth with cold water to put on it, and I’ll find some ice in the yard tonight. Good thing it’s winter.” He grinned. “In Edgeland, finding ice was never a problem.”
Niklas leaned back against a post. “How well did you know Blaine – Mick – up there?”
Dawe chuckled. “Shared a cell in Velant, worked chained together in the mines for a few years, spent time in the fishing fleet. And when we earned our Tickets of Leave, I shared a house with him and the others that we built ourselves.” He shrugged. “Pretty well, except that Mick never once mentioned he was a lord.”
“The five of you must have been pretty tight,” Niklas said.
Dawe poured a cup of water from the pitcher that sat on a table to one side of the forge. “If you don’t have people watching your back in Velant, you don’t survive,” he said. “Mick, Verran, Piran, Kestel, and me, we made the oddest bunch you could imagine, but we lived through it.”
Niklas nodded. “Sounds like the army.”
Dawe cast a look at the fire and pumped the bellows until the flames roared hotter. “Don’t know much about the army myself. I used to be a silversmith.”
“What’s that you’re making?” Niklas asked.
Dawe grinned, his teeth bright against the soot that streaked his face. “I like to tinker. I’ve been fiddling with the crossbows, trying to make them fire faster, since we keep having to fight off Pollard’s men and the biters move too damn fast.” He held up one of the versions he had made in Edgeland.
“I’ve made a few improvements to the mechanism,” Dawe said, pride coloring his voice. “Experiment
ed with the range. It’s always a trade-off between range and force. For my money, I’ll take range, especially if we’re fighting biters. Rather not have them get close to me, if you know what I mean.”
“I thought Lord Penhallow was your ally,” Niklas replied.
“Penhallow’s all right, I guess, though he and Connor disappeared and haven’t shown back up again. Not sure I completely trust anyone who’s dead, if you know what I mean.” Dawe chuckled. “Whenever I say things like that around Kestel, she reminds me that I’d have never been able to navigate the politics at court being so blunt. Good thing I didn’t have to.”
“How does Kestel figure into this?” Niklas asked. “She seems like an odd match for you four.”
Dawe moved a new iron bar to the fire. “Mick fought off a guard in Velant who was beating Kestel – she was chained at the time, or she might not have needed the assist, being an assassin and all. Spent a day and a night in the Hole for it, too.”
Reign of Ash Page 29
