Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy

by Marian L Thorpe

  “He is good with the boy,” he said. “When he has served some time on Skua, he would make a cadet-master.”

  “You were Dern’s cadet-master, were you not?” I asked. The fire and the wine had made me sleepy. Had Casyn not been there, I would have followed Pel to bed.

  “I was,” he said, with his slow smile. “He was nine. He had a good mind, even then. His class was my last before I moved on to other roles.” He took a sip of his wine. “I must ride south, now, Lena. The Emperor’s winter camp lies in that direction, and I must report to him within the month. If you would be willing, I would ride with you and Garth until our paths diverge.”

  “I would be honoured,” I said, sitting up in my chair. The cat, disturbed, jumped down to wash her face in front of the fire. “And glad of your company and your guidance on the road. But I can’t speak for Garth.”

  Garth came back down the stairs. “Speak for me on what?” Casyn explained. “Of course you are welcome, sir,” Garth said, “but we’ll be slower than you. Neither of us are accustomed to long hours in the saddle.”

  “No matter,” Casyn said. “I can make up time after our ways part, and I should not push Siannon too hard for the first while anyhow. How long do you need, Lena, to finish your work on your boat and prepare?”

  I thought. “Five days? Is that too long?”

  “Not at all,” Casyn said. “Five days it is.”

  Later that night, I woke wondering whether Gille had asked Casyn to accompany us. The thought disturbed me in a way I could not quite define. Garth, always a light sleeper, stirred beside me. “What is it, Lena?” he asked. I told him my thought. “If so, what of it? We’re both glad to have Casyn with us, just as much for his company and as for his knowledge of the road. I doubt Gille thinks either of us need protection. Go back to sleep,” he said gently. He rolled over. I fitted myself along the warmth of his back and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  †††††

  The track widened, allowing Garth and me to ride abreast, behind Casyn. Looking back, I could no longer see even the smoke from Tirvan’s chimneys. Stop that, I told myself. Look around you. This is new. The plateau we rode on was rocky, heathland and bog, without trees. A raven croaked from a boulder.

  We came to the road. I had expected a cobbled track, but the builders had made it wide enough for two wagons to pass. Paved with squared stone, it spoke of permanence and age. Casyn signalled a stop. We rode up beside him.

  “North,” he said, pointing, “the road goes to Serra and Delle, and beyond it to Berge where it turns east again to run below the Emperor’s Wall on the northern border. South, it meets the sea near Karst, and then again turns east to Casilla. The closest inns are an easy day’s ride in either direction.”

  A map nestled in my saddlebag, drawn by Casyn, showing the villages and inns on the road. If no one at the first southward inn had news of Maya, I would accompany Garth to Karst, riding northward again as spring approached. The northern road, Casyn had counselled, would be treacherous for a lone traveller in a matter of weeks.

  “Is there an eastern road?” I asked. When Casyn had brought me the map, I had focused on the inns, knowing that I was most likely to find Maya—or at least hear word of her—at one of them.

  “No,” he said, “or, at least, not a true road. A beaten track runs at the edge of the plain from the eastern end of the Wall to where the mountains meet the sea. There is a fort there, and the paved road runs out from Casilla to the fort, but the route north from there is used only by patrols, or messengers with urgent business. It is a lonely ride and dangerous. I have done it once or twice. Wolves and bears roam the mountains.” He looked up at the sky. “It is going to snow. Shall we ride?”

  We turned south, riding side by side on the hard surface as Casyn talked, telling us stories of other journeys on this road, in other seasons. The snow began, large flakes that melted on the ground. No wind blew, and I heard little sound beyond the horses’ hooves on the cobbles and our voices.

  After two hours, we stopped where a spring bubbled up into a pool. Someone had dug it out, modifying the flow so that the water rose into a clay-lined basin to run down into a broader pond. “Let the horses drink from the lower pool,” Casyn directed. “We can take water from the upper.” The water was cold, tasting of iron. I stretched, flexing the stiffness out of my upper thighs and stamping my numb feet.

  When the horses finished drinking, we returned to the road. The land had changed from the flatness of the plateau to a series of gentle hills. The road rose and fell as we steadily lost altitude. Trees grew in small clumps. The snow stopped.

  At the bottom of one hill, the road bridged a fast-flowing river. Beside the river, on the northern bank, a path wound into the hills to the west of us. “Where does that go?” Garth asked.

  “There is a valley, about three hours ride from here, where the hunting is reliable,” Casyn replied. “A hunt party comes most autumns to take venison, and sometimes boar.” I felt as I had the night Tice told me about the south, ashamed of my ignorance about the world beyond Tirvan. The men knew a wider world, but women rarely left their home villages except to take up work in another. Tonight’s inn lay only a day’s ride from Tirvan, but I could think of no one who had ridden out to it. Our safe harbour will become a prison, I had said to Maya, long months before. Perhaps it already had.

  We stopped again at noon near a small stream in open woodland that bordered the road. Casyn removed the horses’ tack, leaving on rope head collars that allowed them to graze unimpeded. The clouds had thinned a bit under a weak sun. I gathered twigs and, in a blackened ring of stones, built a small fire to boil water for tea. Garth shared out dried meat and cheese and apples.

  We ate without hurry. The heat from the tea in the tin mug felt good against my hands. “Where is the Emperor’s winter camp?” Garth asked.

  “At the southern edge of the grasslands,” Casyn answered, “there is an area of rolling hills and small lakes before the land changes again to the fertile fields of the south. His camp is there. It’s reasonably warm, and there is good hunting and fishing.”

  “What’s he like?” I asked. The Emperor’s name was Callan. He had been elected to the role some eight or nine years back by the senior officers of the Empire. Beyond that, I knew nothing of the man.

  Casyn considered. “He’s a bit taller than me, with dark hair, although it is mostly grey, now. He has great tactical knowledge, and sound and considered judgment, but he does not let himself be bound by tradition. He approved the recruiting of spies and asking the women’s villages to defend Tirvan was his idea.”

  “You seem to know him well,” Garth said.

  Casyn smiled. “I suppose I do. He’s my brother.”

  I laughed. “I said to Dern, once, that I did not think you were quite the average soldier. I’m glad to have been proven right.”

  Casyn leaned forward to pour himself more tea from the pot in the coals of the fire. “Being the Emperor’s brother does not confer much status, except that I am also one of his advisors. And I have known him since I was seven and he was eight, which may give me a bit more knowledge of how he thinks, and why. We were in the same regiment until our early twenties.”

  We finished the tea. Garth brought water from the stream to cool the ashes of the fire. We re-saddled the horses, mounted, and returned to the road.

  We kept the horses to an easy pace, but after another hour of riding, my legs and back ached. I shifted in the saddle, trying to find a more comfortable position. The mare slowed, tossing her head, not understanding my unintentional signals. I tightened my thighs, ignoring the pain, and took a tighter hold of the reins. The day grew dark, the clouds bringing an early dusk. My thighs and shoulders burned with soreness. Just when I thought I could stand it no longer, we came to the inn. It sat to the right of the road, a long, plain, two-storey building, with an archway at the midpoint leading into an interior courtyard. I had expected a smaller building, built of wood as T
irvan’s houses were, with maybe a paddock and a stable, but the inn was built of stone and slate. It looked as if it had stood here a long, long time, growing over the years to house many men and horses. The sense of age disturbed me, somehow.

  We rode through the archway into a cobbled yard. A woman came out from one of the buildings that enclosed the courtyard. “General,” she said, “we haven’t seen you since the spring.”

  “Mari,” Casyn said. “Is all well here?”

  “Aye,” she said. Casyn dismounted easily. We followed his lead, Garth steadying me when my numb feet threatened not to take my weight. Mari stepped forward to take the reins.

  “These are my companions: Lena of Tirvan, and Garth, Watch-Commander of the Empire’s ship Skua.” Casyn said, giving Garth the courtesy of the rank he would soon hold. “We’ve ridden from Tirvan today, at an easy pace, so the horses need only the usual ration of grain and hay. We’ll be staying only one night, weather allowing.”

  “Aye,” Mari said again, and with a nod to us, led the horses into the stable. We walked across the cobbles toward the inn. My leg muscles quivered with exhaustion. Casyn opened a door. We stepped into a hallway that led into the main room of the inn. I blinked in the sudden dimness. A bit of light came from a fire burning in a massive fireplace at one end of the room, and a bit more from small windows near the low ceiling, its crossbeams darkened by years of smoke. Under my feet, huge flagstones lined the floor. Tables of equally darkened wood, with benches on either side, took up half the room, and some chairs stood near the fireplace. The room was empty.

  “Livia,” Casyn called. A door opened in the far wall, and a young woman came through. She was about my height, with close-cropped hair and broad shoulders.

  “General,” she said in a tone of surprise. “I didn’t hear anyone ride in.” Her eyes flicked to Garth and me. “You’ll want some supper.”

  “And beds for the night,” Casyn agreed. But right now, drinks for us all.” He introduced us as he had before. I stood swaying slightly with exhaustion.

  “Welcome,” she said, disappearing back through the door. We took off our fleece coats and our gloves. Casyn motioned us to the chairs near the fire.

  Livia returned with a tray bearing three pewter mugs. I took a deep draught: cider, cellar-cool. On a low table, Livia placed a plate with some cold sausage wrapped in pastry. “Supper will be a couple of hours,” she said. “This will help tide you over.”

  Garth took a piece, handing it to me. “Eat.”

  “Thank you,” Casyn said to Livia. “All is well here?”

  “It’s been quiet,” Livia said, leaning against the back of a chair. “A group of women from Han rode through a week ago, but they only stopped long enough to water their horses and to give us the news of victory. A number of men left this morning, so you just missed them. Bren of the tenth was here two days back, coming down from Delle. He left a message for you. I’ll get it.” She left the room. I could hear her talking to someone. I took another mouthful of cider. After a minute or two, she came back, to give Casyn a folded and sealed note.

  Casyn broke open the seal to read the note, nodding to himself. He slipped it into the pocket of his tunic. “Before we leave, I’ll give you a message for Turlo,” he said to Livia. “He was at Berge, so you should see him in the next few days.”

  “Bren left a message for him, too,” Livia said. She turned to me. “There is a hot pool,” she said, “if you would like to ease your muscles after the ride. Find me when you are ready.” I considered, my mind working at half speed. The thought of a hot soak was appealing, if I could find the energy to walk anywhere. My feet tingled with cold inside my boots, even by the fire. Casyn had told me a day or two before that the inns maintained the same strict rules that the villages did for all but the two weeks of Festival. I would bathe and sleep separately from the men. I wondered if perhaps the rules had changed here, too, this autumn.

  I ate another sausage roll and finished my drink. Sighing, I pushed myself up. “I’m going to the baths,” I said. I walked across the stone floor, feeling the stiffness in my legs. The door opened into a kitchen where Livia sliced carrots with a small boy playing near her feet. She turned as I came in.

  “Ready for the pool?” She bent to pick up the boy. “My son,” she said, smiling. I followed her out into a low brick hallway with arched ceilings. A short way down this passage, she opened a door, releasing a waft of sulphur. The oval pool was four paces across. It bubbled up from its underground source into a brick-lined basin, spilling out at the far end of the room into a shallow, tiled channel before disappearing under the wall. Wooden benches lined two walls, and robes of undyed wool hung on pegs beside towels.

  “This is the last inn to have a hot pool on the way south,” Livia told me. I remembered the Han riders’ appreciation of Tirvan’s baths.

  “I always took them for granted,” I said, and “I’m glad of this one.” I sat on a bench to pull of my riding boots.

  “Is this your first time on the road?” Livia asked.

  I looked up. “Yes. I seek my partner, Maya, who chose exile rather than fight. Did she come this way?”

  Livia considered. “Dark haired, travelling on foot?”

  “Yes. Long hair, halfway down her back?” I struggled to speak calmly.

  “I remember her. But she wasn’t alone. She was with a woman from Berge: Alis, I think her name was.” The child in her arms fussed, and she stroked his hair.

  “Do you know where she was headed?” I asked, suddenly not tired.

  “South,” Livia said. “The southern inns are busier. They would likely have found work once they were past the Grasslands road ten day’s ride from here—three weeks on foot. You will find her,” she said, unconcerned.

  “Gan!” the boy said, struggling.

  “Yes, all right,” Livia said, putting him down. “Find your Gran. She is in the linen-room.” He ran off down the corridor. “He does not like to be still. May I stay and talk to you while you soak?”

  “Yes,” I said. She sat on the bench. I finished undressing and stepped into the pool. Under the surface of the water, a step, or platform, ran around the circumference of the pool. When I sat, the water came to just below my chin. I cupped some water into my hands, washing my face, running my wet hands through my hair. “What is life like at the inns?”

  Livia laughed. “I can only speak for this one. I was born here. Eight of us live here, and three children. We farm a bit and make cheese and cider. We keep horses for the post riders and hold and pass on messages. Spring and fall, in a usual year, it’s busy. In between, there are always messengers, officers like the General about the Empire’s business, and hunt parties. And a few women, moving from one village to another.”

  “What’s a post rider?” I stretched my legs as the heat penetrated my muscles.

  “A messenger on urgent duty. They ride from one post, or inn, to another, changing horses at each so that the animal is fresh. The Empire pays us to stable a few horses for them and keep them exercised and shod.”

  “Are all the inns a day’s ride apart?”

  “A day’s easy ride. Two days walking. The post riders stop at three inns in one day, eighteen hours in the saddle, six hours to eat and sleep. They can ride from the Wall to the Eastern fort in about ten days if they must.”

  “I can barely ride at a gentle pace for a day,” I said ruefully.

  Livia laughed. “What did you do, in Tirvan?”

  “I fished. Maya and I have a boat, called Dovekie.”

  “You fought?” I heard no judgment in her question.

  “Yes,” I said. “I killed two men with a knife. If I wake in the night, shouting, it’s because I am dreaming of it.” Not quite the truth, but it would do.

  “I’m sorry,” Livia said, flushing. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It happened. I’m trying to learn to live with it. What were you to do in the invasion?”

  “Nothing directly. If you
hadn’t been victorious, if the first people on the road again had been men from Leste, I was to ride north to the Wall. There are ways across the hills. I too learned how to kill with a knife, to protect myself. But I didn’t have to do it.” The water draining away gurgled in the silence of the room

  Livia broke the silence. “The young officer—Garth?” I nodded. “He looks like your Maya, if I remember her rightly.”

  “He’s her brother.”

  She stood. “I should get back to the kitchen. Mari will have taken your saddlebags to your room. I’ll show you where it is when you want. You may use a robe and leave it in the room.” She hesitated. “Your room adjoins the men’s, and no one else will be on that floor to see who sleeps where. If there were other travellers, I wouldn’t tell you this. I would rather not be woken by your bad dreams, if there is a cure.” She smiled. “I can make you anash tea in the morning if you wish.”

  I looked away, embarrassed. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged. “He’s too solicitous, and you watch each other. Mari, who misses nothing, saw it first. With only us, it means nothing, but were there other men here, there would be consequences. I imagine,” she went on, gently, “that the General has let him know, while they are alone.”

  “Casyn did caution us,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Stay in the pool as long as you like. Supper will be ready in an hour.”

  I soaked for another ten minutes, then dried off and put on one of the robes, enjoying its warmth and softness. I left the wet towel hanging near the door, picked up my clothes, and walked barefoot down to the kitchen. Livia stirred a stew while an older woman kneaded bread at the centre table. The kitchen smelled wonderfully of lamb, rosemary, and yeast.

  “This is Lena, from Tirvan,” Livia said. “My mother, Keavy.” Keavy smiled a welcome and pummelled the dough. I followed Livia up a narrow stair to the next floor. “These are the back stairs. You don’t want to go back out into the common room. It’s cold.” She showed me to a small room overlooking the courtyard. It held a wide bed, a washstand, and a woven rug on the floorboards. My saddlebags sat neatly on the floor beside the washstand. I could see a chamber pot tucked under the bed. “When you’re dressed,” Livia said, “turn left out of the room. You’ll come to the main stairs. Call when you come down, or just put your head through the door, and someone will get you a drink.” She left. I dressed in lighter, woven trousers and shirt, rather than the felted wool of my riding clothes. Those I hung from pegs on the back of the door. I found my comb and ran it through my hair.