by DAVID B. COE
“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Aindreas finally said, his voice ragged.
“Then you would have killed an innocent man,” the gleaner said.
Aindreas regarded him warily, his eyes red. “Who are you?”
“A friend of Lord Tavis’s, and of yours as well, though I doubt you’ll believe that.”
The duke’s eyes widened with recognition. “You’re the one who freed him, aren’t you? You’re the bastard who took him from my prison!”
“I helped him get out of Kentigern, yes.”
A dangerous smile spread across Aindreas’s face. “You I can kill.”
“Enough, Aindreas!” Kearney said. “If I have to I’ll grant him asylum, too. But this talk of vengeance has to end.”
Kentigern shook his head in disbelief. “Now you’re protecting a Qirsi? This is a conspiracy, isn’t it? I’ve heard rumors of such a thing. But I never thought that you’d be party to it, Kearney.”
“The rumors you’ve heard are true,” Grinsa said. “There is a movement growing among some Qirsi in the Forelands whose aim is to wrest control of Braedon and the six kingdoms from the Eandi. And I believe your daughter was a victim of this movement. But the duke of Glyndwr is no more a conspirator than he is a sorcerer, and the same can be said for Lord Tavis. Indeed, I believe that he’s a victim of the movement as well.”
“The boy? Absurd!”
“Is it? What better way to weaken the Eandi courts of Eibithar than to plunge the land into civil war. And what better way to do that than to take the land’s two most powerful houses and turn them into bitter enemies?”
“So you believe that a Qirsi killed Brienne?” Shonah asked. “And then made it seem that Tavis had done it?”
“I believe that Qirsi gold paid the assassin who murdered her. I can’t be certain of anything beyond that.”
Tavis started to say something, but the gleaner stopped him with a hard glare and a shake of his head. Shonah would have liked to know what her son was thinking, but she trusted this Qirsi and if he wanted the boy to keep silent, she wouldn’t pursue the matter. If there truly was a conspiracy—and at the mere mention of the possibility, an icy fear had settled deep in her bones—there was no telling who among them could be party to it.
“What do you think of all this?” Aindreas asked, his eyes fixed on his first minister.
The man gave a small shrug. “We’ve all heard the rumors. There’s nothing new in that. But I’ve seen no evidence of this movement in Kentigern, and I can’t believe that a band of Qirsi could defeat our defenses so thoroughly as to murder the Lady Brienne and implicate the boy.”
The duke nodded. “I’m inclined to agree.”
“I’m sure you are,” said the one named Keziah. “And two turns ago you would have said the same if asked whether a man could escape your dungeon.”
Aindreas’s face reddened.
“Both our houses have suffered, Aindreas,” Shonah said, keeping her tone so gentle that she might have been speaking to a frightened child, “though I’d never deny that Kentigern has lost far more than we have. But if there’s even a chance that this conspiracy exists, don’t we owe it to the land to learn more before we try to destroy each other?”
“You all just expect me to let the boy go, to forget what I saw the morning after she died?” Aindreas shook his head. “You’re all mad.”
“There’s little else you can do, Aindreas,” Kearney said. “Unless you’re willing to risk war with both my house and Javan’s.”
“The dukes of Kentigern will never forget this, Glyndwr. Long after I’m gone, my people will curse your name, just as they do Curgh, all because of what you do here today.”
“That saddens me, Aindreas. I gave the boy my word that I would protect him. I certainly intended no offense to you or your people.”
“You chose Curgh over Kentigern!”
“I chose peace over war, and would do so again without hesitation! But know this.” He paused, looking at Shonah as well. “If I learn that Tavis is guilty in this matter, I’ll return him to the prison in Kentigern myself. Glyndwr does not knowingly harbor murderers.”
The duchess glanced at Tavis, who met her gaze and gave a single nod.
“I understand, my Lord Duke,” she said. “I thank you for the consideration you’ve given my son and I accept those terms.”
Kearney inclined his head slightly, acknowledging what she had said. Then he turned to Aindreas. “Lord Kentigern?”
“As you say, Kearney,” the duke muttered, refusing to look at any of them, “my only choice is to make war on both your houses.” After a few seconds he raised his eyes, glowering at Tavis. “If you want that demon in your castle, you can have him. If you’ve any sense at all, you’ll lock him away until he rots.”
“Does that mean we can end this war?” Shonah demanded. “Will you let my husband go?”
Aindreas hesitated, the hand gripping his sword tightening until his knuckles were the color of Qirsi hair. “Yes,” he finally said. “I’ll let him go. But I will not allow his ascension to the throne.”
Hagan drew his sword. “Then there’s a war to be fought after all.”
The duke turned his horse to face the swordmaster. “So be it, MarCullet. But I will not allow a house of liars and butchers to rule this land.”
“And I won’t allow one man’s blind need for vengeance undermine the Rules of Ascension!”
“This war is over!” Kearney said, spurring his mount forward until he was between the two men. “If I have to I’ll place my army between the two of you. But I will not allow you to destroy this kingdom.” He pointed at the gleaner. “Didn’t you hear what he said? Don’t you understand that this weakens us?”
Before either of them could answer, a cry went up from the battle plain. Shonah spun around, expecting to see the armies fighting again. Instead, however, she saw several men running in their direction, some from Curgh and some from Kentigern. Ahead of them rode Villyd, Aindreas’s swordmaster. All of them were pointing to the south toward Kentigern Wood.
Looking that way herself, Shonah saw immediately what had alarmed them. The low heavy clouds that had darkened the past several days had lifted with the morning. The clouds that remained continued to cover the sky, blocking the sun. But the threat of rain had passed, and one could see clear to the horizon where there were no trees blocking the view. To the south, however, the sky remained murky, and the light mist that had hung over the wood the night before had been replaced by a sooty grey haze. Somewhere beyond the wood, something was burning.
“I can smell it.”
The duchess didn’t realize she had spoken aloud until Hagan looked at her and nodded.
“It might just be the wood,” Kearney said.
“Or it might be my castle,” Aindreas said, staring grimly at the sky. He looked at Hagan again. “Is this your doing?”
“I swear to you in the sight of all the gods, it’s not. All the Curgh army is either here or back at the castle.”
Aindreas turned to Glyndwr. “Kearney?”
“I have no reason to attack the tor, Aindreas. I think you know that.”
By this time Villyd had reached them, breathless and wide-eyed. “It’s the Aneirans, my lord. Mertesse, probably. I’d wager all the qinde I have to my name.”
“Their spies must have seen you leave,” Hagan said.
Aindreas nodded. “So it seems.”
“We mustn’t rush to conclusions, my lord,” said Kentigern’s first minister. “As Lord Glyndwr said, it could just be the wood, or a fire on the grasses east of the tor.”
“After three days of rain?” Hagan asked. “I find that hard to believe.”
The sky was darkening with each moment that passed, the smell of smoke growing increasingly pungent.
“He’s right, Shurik,” Aindreas said. “That’s no grass fire. I have to get my men back to the castle.”
“Would you allow me to ride with you, my Lo
rd Duke?” Kearney asked. “We’ve a long way to ride and the Aneirans may have the castle when we get there. Another army might give you the advantage you need.”
Kentigern took a breath, then nodded. “My thanks.”
“We’d ride with you as well, my lord,” Shonah said, “if you’ll have us. I know that when this day dawned we were adversaries, but we’re all subjects of this kingdom, and we’d be honored to stand beside you against the Aneirans.” And my husband is a prisoner in your tower.
The duke’s mouth twitched, as if he found the very idea of riding with the men of Curgh distasteful. But after a moment he nodded again. He turned toward Tavis, his expression hardening.
“I suppose you’ll be riding with us as well.”
The boy’s eyes flew to Shonah’s face, then to Grinsa’s. Neither of them moved or said anything.
“Yes, my lord,” Tavis said at last. “I offer my sword and my life to the defense of Kentigern.”
“Fine.” Aindreas turned away, but quickly faced the young lord a second time. “Just stay away from me, boy. If you come within reach of my blade, I swear I’ll kill you on the spot, Glyndwr’s asylum be damned.”
He swung his mount away and started back toward his men, not bothering to wait for a reply. Shurik and Villyd followed, saying nothing.
The duchess and the rest sat in uneasy silence and watched them go.
“I didn’t kill her,” Tavis said again. He was looking at Shonah, but she could tell that his words had been intended for all of them.
“I believe you, Tavis. I told you that already.”
He nodded, staring after Aindreas. “I know you did. But sometimes I think that I’ll be protesting my innocence until the day I die.”
“You’ve convinced the duke here,” Hagan said, nodding toward Kearney. “And this gleaner as well. That’s good enough for me.”
For the first time since being reunited with him, Shonah saw her son smile. “Thank you, Hagan,” he said. “You and Xaver have proven to be far better friends to me than I deserve.”
“It’s about time you realized it, boy,” the swordmaster said, his words softened a bit by a broad grin. He faced the duchess. “I’ll ready the men to march.”
“What about the dead?” the duchess asked, wiping the smile from his face. “Are we just going to leave them?”
“You offered Kentigern our aid, my lady. If we’re to be of any use to him, we have to march now.”
She nodded, knowing that he was right. “Very well. Prepare the men.” To herself she added, May Orlagh forgive us.
Shonah turned to Tavis once more, favoring him with a smile. “Ride with me?”
“That wouldn’t be wise, my lady,” Grinsa said, before Tavis could answer. “He’s under Lord Glyndwr’s protection and so should ride under the duke’s banner. It would be presumptuous of him to ride at the head of the Curgh army. It might also be very dangerous.”
She felt the color drain from her face. She so wanted for all of this to be over. But even now, with the armies of Curgh and Kentigern preparing to fight side by side, there was no peace for any of them.
“It’s all right, Mother,” Tavis said, though she read the hurt in his dark eyes. “I’ll be fine riding with Lord Glyndwr and the gleaner.”
She made herself smile. “Of course you will.”
They remained there a moment longer, gazing at one another. Shonah wanted to put her arms around him again and hold him close as she had when he was young. She sensed that perhaps he wanted the same. But that time seemed impossibly far away.
“You’re welcome to ride with us, my lady,” Kearney said. “If you have no objection to riding under Glyndwr’s banner.”
“My thanks, Lord Glyndwr. I have no objection at all. I believe it would be appropriate for me to lead Curgh’s army from the battle plain. But once we’re under way, I’d be most honored to join you.”
Kearney smiled. “The honor will be ours, my lady.”
Shonah tipped her head in thanks. She glanced at her son one last time, searching for something to say. In the end, though, she merely turned away and followed Hagan and his men.
Smoke continued to darken the southern sky, and the fine haze that had drifted through the wood now covered the plain as well. Aindreas’s army had gathered near the edge of Kentigern Wood, while Hagan had assembled Curgh’s men on the near side of the bloodied field. Beyond them lay the dead, their bodies strewn on the grasses like the discarded playthings of some spoiled child. Already a pair of buzzards circled above them. Several crows had landed a short distance away and were hopping in ever-closing circles around the bodies, as if summoning the courage to begin their feast.
These men deserved better, and yet the fires burning beyond the wood demanded that they be left there. Javan might have been fighting for his life at that very moment. Or he might already have been dead. They couldn’t afford to linger here, not for a moment.
“Be kind to them, Bian,” she whispered, turning her back to the battle plain. “Kinder than we’ve been.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Kentigern, Eibithar
Xaver was asleep when the first cry of warning went up from the westernmost towers of Kentigern’s outer wall. At first he thought that he was dreaming once again of the night they found Brienne’s body in Tavis’s bed, when the voices of Kentigern’s guards and their pounding on the young lord’s door roused him from his slumber. As the shouting continued, though, he forced his eyes open to find his chamber being brightened by ward fires burning atop the castle’s towers. For an instant he feared that Aindreas had returned already, and that he had found Tavis.
“The castle’s under attack.”
He turned toward Fotir, thinking the minister had spoken. But the Qirsi was looking toward the door.
“Did you say something, my lord?” Fotir called.
“Yes,” the duke answered.
Fotir rose from his bed and stepped to the door, as did Xaver.
Javan was already up, peering into the corridor through the small barred window near the top of his door, his eyes gleaming with torchlight. “I said that the castle is under attack.”
“You don’t know that,” one of the guards said, sounding frightened and terribly young.
“Listen to the cries of your comrades, man! Look at the ward fires! What else could it be?”
“The duke went to stop Curgh’s advance! He wouldn’t have failed, and even if he had, your army couldn’t be here already.”
Javan closed his eyes briefly, as if fighting an urge to rail at the man. “It’s not Curgh attacking, it’s the Aneirans, probably Mertesse.”
“Impossible!” But the guard didn’t sound as if he believed his own denials.
“Maybe I should check,” the man’s companion said in a low voice.
The guard eyed Javan warily, but after a moment he nodded.
“If you’re right, my lord,” Fotir said, “and Mertesse finds you here, he’ll execute you. As far as the Aneirans know, you’re Eibithar’s king.”
The duke gave a slight shrug. “That may be so. But this is Kentigern Castle, First Minister. Even with Aindreas away and much of his army with him, the siege is likely to fail.”
“So what should we do?” Xaver asked.
“We can’t do much of anything, Master MarCullet. That is, unless our friend here would like to free us from these cells.”
The guard frowned, and looked away, drawing a smirk from the duke.
The second man returned a few minutes later, breathless and flushed. “He was right,” he said, nodding in the direction of Javan’s door. “It is the Aneirans. They’re by the river still, building their engines. But it seems they’re planning a siege.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
The man gestured at the two rooms. “Stay here and guard them, at least for now.”
For what seemed an eternity, they all just waited, listening for any sound that would tell them what was happening beyond t
he castle walls. After a time, Xaver returned to the window and looked down on the castle’s outer ward. Kentigern’s soldiers were running in every direction, no doubt trying to prepare the fortress for the coming assault. But Xaver had little sense of what they were doing. He saw no sign at all of the Aneirans. Eventually, he crossed to the doorway again.
“The danger lies mostly in Aindreas’s absence,” Javan said abruptly, as if continuing a conversation that had been going on for some time. “It doesn’t take many men to defend a castle like this one. In fact too many soldiers can cause a good deal of confusion during a siege. But without a seasoned commander, soldiers tend to make mistakes. If the castle falls, that will be the reason.” He glanced at the guards. “Who’s in command right now?”
The two men exchanged a look, appearing uncertain as to whether or not they should answer.
“The night captain,” one of them finally said.
Javan shook his head. “No, I mean who’s in charge of the castle’s defenses. Not who’s overseeing tonight’s watch.”
“The night captain,” the man repeated. “He not only commands the night watch, he’s second captain of the guard.” The man glanced at his friend again, swallowing nervously. “He’s a good soldier and skilled swordsman.”
The duke started to respond, but in that instant, another cry went up from the west. A few moments later the shout came again, and then it repeated a third time.
“The master bowman,” Javan said. “Mertesse must be approaching the west gate.”
Xaver rubbed his hands together, hoping the first minister wouldn’t see how they shook. Despite the duke’s faith in the strength of Kentigern Castle, he didn’t like being locked helpless in the prison tower during a siege.
“You’re sure we’re supposed to stay here?” one of the guards asked.
The other nodded, but kept his silence.
The rhythmic cries of the master bowman continued, to be joined a short time after by additional shouting. Xaver peered across the corridor, trying to see from the duke’s expression if he was alarmed by what they were hearing. Javan seemed intent on the noises of the fight, but he didn’t look concerned.
